October in Cedar Vale

Remember the Octobers in Cedar Vale? Cicadas? Sycamore trees and their leaving of leaves?
Grass seemed to dry up. There was a smell in the air. A giving up......... and a going to.

Then, a scene, I remember, of ranchers coming to town, to the pump, to get water, for their livelihood. The pump was stationed in the middle of town. Between the lumber yard and Church of Christ Church. Pick-ups and other kinds of trucks would mosie up to the pump, get their fill and move off, to secure another day of meal and moisture for the cattle awaiting. Such a communal thing. Everyone was welcome to the water! Don't know whether they had to pay for the water. And, if that was a fact, it was worth paying for!

Octobers in Cedar Vale were special. A time to re-seed. A time to make more of what we were.
A time to remember merchants jaunting off their steps, to give to farmers, ranchers, and city-folk, all they wanted, and more.

I think that if I ever had the chance, to re-live a lifetime, I'd pick an October in Cedar Vale!

The Call of the Cedar Vale Cicadas

Their shrill drone filled the air. It was time. Time for school to start. Time for jeans that smelled new. Time for books that offered worlds unknown. Time, only days remaining, when my Dad and I slept out under the stars, on army cots, to escape the heat....and listen to the cicdas, giving their cadence to the world. We never said much. Just let the night close in. Got cool. And, finally pulled up the sheets to shield away the cool.

As wonderful as was the night, more wonderful the morning! Don't know when I became awake.
A beam of light from somewhere, I guess. No alarm clocks. You just knew it was time to get up!
You gathered up your sheet....and your cot, and headed for the house. A certain sadness filled that moment. It seemed that business as usual was beginning, when a business that was unusal was ending! Didn't want it to end! Yet, there it was...the sun, and the signal to begin!

Why am I writing this? Because I wish that I had slept more, out under the stars, with the cicadas rubbing their wings together, with all those I hold near and dear. Yes, a few camping trips accomplished this. But, it was being with my Dad, those Cedar Vale cicadas, the rustling sycamore leaves, and the shooting stars that crossed over in the night, that made THOSE NIGHTS SPECIAL!