Every year the rockpiles rise higher, but the stones keep on coming up.I get rather philosophical about these stone piles, started long ago by another family. In some ways they are a link, continuity across generations of agrarian life. When I pick up a stone from the old pile, I'm conscious that I'm touching the same thing that the last farmer touched when the land was last cared for 100 years ago. When I add to the piles, its like I'm carrying on the same timeless task, building the stonepiles they began. When this land passes into other hands, and if they care for it, then they too will add to the piles, and so on down the centuries.
People come and go, we are so brief and transient, but the land is always here. The stones are always waiting.
It puts me in mind of a quote from Elias Contrerez
"There are stones which are still silent. When they speak the secrets they keep, nothing will be the same again, but it will surely be better for everyone. The being and not the having will be valued. Another hand will raise the flag, and the world will be scented, will be heard, will know and will feel as it should be: the honourable home of those who work it."
2 comments:
ARE YOU SERIOUS!!!!!Wow, it is good you put a picture Ha Ha. I might not have believed. Beautiful quote. Rock and stone always evoke strong primal feeling. Did you read the book, or see the movie A River Runs Through It? There is a wonderful passage about rocks and time.
Love this kind of philosophical chat ... love the photo, too. I wonder if the farmer from 100 yrs ago had the same thoughts as you. Pretty cool stuff. (I agree with Julie ... it's a beautiful quote!)
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