HEAVENLY HILL COUNTRY

 

Bluebonnets 2012

April is the cruellest month, breeding

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

So wrote T.S. Eliot in “The Waste Land.”

Poor fella.

He never lived in the Hill Country.

No wonder he was depressed.

The very title of the poem is the first clue.

Waste Land?

Mason’s far from it.

And April is far from being “the cruellest month.”

However, one thing’s the same.

April has been known to bring spring rain.

And thankfully we got some this year.

The cruelest month for Mason might be put to a vote.

Everybody’s got their pick.

August comes to mind right quick.

Clear.

Dry.

Downright hot.

Day after day after day.

Week after week, with no end in sight.

The acme of summer.

Or perhaps February.

Too cold to spit.

The well pump might freeze.

Livestock born too early don’t make it.

Or December.

Unseasonable rain.

Raging rivers.

Devastation.

In Eliot’s cold country, the stirring of those “dull roots” stirred up despondency instead of delight.

Darkness does, indeed, run the course of all things dormant.

And dwells in all things hidden, buried, or dead.

But then it was said, “Let there be light.”

And with it, the dichotomy of light.

It can blind.

Pierce.

Expose.

Burn.

But light also warms.

Heals.

Nourishes.

Awakens.

And guides one.

And experience has taught us

That true livin is an art

That escapes most city people

And they really aint so smart.

So I’ve weighed the facts and figgers

For their quality and worth

And found these Texas Hills to be

The finest place on Earth.

–Carlos Ashley, Texas Poet Laureate (1949-1951).

Yessirree Bob.

That’s Mason.

Read more poetry!

Renee Walker is a poet, writer, and real estate broker on the Square with her canine assistant, Buster.  

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