When spring unlocks the flowers,
to paint the laughing soil;
When summer's balmy showers
refresh the mower's toil;
When winter binds in frosty chains
the fallow and the flood,
In God the earth rejoiceth still,
and owns its maker good.
--Reginald Heber.
Coming to this Country as a small child, I grew up unlike other children, not knowing how to behave as an American. We truly were Greenhorns, not letting go of our Polish culture. The older we became, the more we changed aligned more with our fellow Americans.
My love affair with Literature began in High School in the Freshman year with a Lit. teacher that I adored. Every single morning, she would write on the blackboard a famous line or verse such as " The early bird gets the worm" or something similar. I loved to see what the new verse would be and as a Greenhorn, it opened up a whole new world to me.
During those four years, we kept journals, dutifully read our book lists, explored poetry and my favorite . . . .reviewed book reports. The very first books I've ever read were the Sherlock Holmes Mysteries and my love of murder mysteries took root.
I believe that it is not only the solving of the mystery that I enjoy, but also the entire era. They way people dressed, the morals that were presented and valued such as family and virtue. The Norman Rockwell version of life or at least that's how it appeared.
Yet, my favorite scenes were the small villages that these murders occurred in. The cottages were very old fashioned and the gardens supreme with the aromas of roses over spilling into lush landscapes of various color and structure. Beautiful vines scattered up and down the sides of the brick cottages. Cobblestones lined the streets and everyone rode a bicycle with a basket in front.
The images of Norman Rockwell come alive with those perfect images of the perfect life. Who wouldn't be drawn to such a life? I know I definitely am.
I've always imagined myself as Miss Marple, living in a quaint little village, taking residence in a lovely cottage surrounded by every flower known to men. That English Country life is shown as a peaceful life where manners and etiquette were everything. The entire village showed up to Church on Sunday or a Funeral of a friend or any other village function. Everyone knew everyone else, right along with their personal business.
That's exactly how I see myself living during the last years here on this Earth. I want to live in a small town where I can sit on the front step watching the life around me while a skein of yarn rests at my feet, my fingers working nimbly. I could host tea time parties for fellow women or perhaps a bible study. Of course, there has to be a crocheting ministry.
I could write stories using as characters all my neighbors and fellow townspeople. I've always felt there was more life in a small town than a big city. In the city, people really don't get to know their neighbors opting instead for a quick hello and have a nice day.
But a small town is full of gossip! You can count on it!
I haven't always felt this way. There was a time where only the city appealed to me. I wanted to live in an area where everything I needed was within six blocks in any direction. I loved the hustle and bustle of being able to access anything I needed or wanted even at 3 a.m. in the morning. Only in the city could one find 24 hour service of any kind. I expected the streets to be cleared of snow and salted during winter and any power outages to be restored within the hour.
That was then, nowadays, all I want is peace and quiet living as Miss Marple did in her quaint little village. Sitting in her rose garden with a ball of yarn in her lap observing the coming and going of ordinary and simple people. I want to be simple and ordinary. I want to be Miss Marple.
Have a Blessed day everyone.
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