Ode to a lost feild.

If you follow my sister’s blog (or are my sister) you may already be aware that my mother has started going through 2 steamer trunks full of old schoolwork. If not, catch up here.

I found an undated, unsigned essay which got placed in my pile, so it might be mine. It might also be my sister’s.

In case it isn’t clear from the essay, we had an empty field next to our childhood house. This is my (or perhaps my sister’s) heartfelt feeling about the demise of our field for the building of a stupid duplex.

Our feilds uses.

Our feilds uses are

we makneg forts hideouts

insects make thier homes

in the feild. wWhen it’s

hot it gives us shade, [ed note: although I have no idea how this could be, since the field had no trees, just long grass]

And it just beutiful

the way it is. I never

want the feild to chang

e, one bit the end


                                                                What’s going to

                                                                happen to our feild


Well for one thing

it’s going to be torn down

for duplexes and thats

why I’m sad and for

another thing insets are

going to be killed and

for another thing Tara

says “They might

even have to tear

our house down” Just

to build those stupid

duplexes the End


Our feild

It then ends with a rough pencil depiction of grasses that looks more like a bonfire. Those bonfire/grasses have a violent scribble over them, I assume indicating the destruction of the field. Very metaphorical for the artistically challenged (definitely me).

So, just a few observations:

First of all, this Tara chick is clearly trouble. Boy did she know how to get under a person’s skin.

Second of all, when I was upset that we were going to lose the field next to our existing house (which by the way has not yet happened courtesy of the economic downturn — yay recession!) I had forgotten that this was a response I learned many years ago.

Third of all, I love how I (or my sister) got on the side of the insects to make the point. Clearly the environmental movement had already begun to make inroads into the elementary school child’s mind. As long as I can prove a grasshopper might die, they’ll have to do what I want.

Finally, I just want it to be known that I (if in fact it is me) hardly ever screw up the ‘ei’ ‘ie’ thing anymore.

That is all the En


About Tentative Equinox North

Theatremaker, Homemaker, Thoughtmaker. Great hair, Probably looking forward to my next nap.
This entry was posted in Gravity, Observatory, Star Catalogue and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Ode to a lost feild.

  1. I’m pretty sure the essay is yours. It didn’t look my my writing.

    I remember the field having plenty of shade. We were short. The grass was long. I remember wading in and feeling like we’d stepped into a whole different world.

    Those duplexes were ugly.

    ….and that Tara was nothin’ but trouble….

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