For some reason, I miss them most at this time of year, when my homeland is breath-takingly beautiful. I love to go there then and wander amongst new life bursting out everywhere.
I love the smell of sawdust, of freshly cut oak logs under the sprinklers, of dogwood blossoms.
I love to traipse around in the mud of the lower lumber yards, just like my Daddy did.
No matter how times my Mother would ask him to take off his muddy boots so he wouldn't track mud though the house, and on the rugs, he would occasionally forget.
I know how she felt now and sometimes do it myself after a day outside. I love to remember their predictable rows. In a strange way, it was always reassuring to me when they fought over the mud on his shoes.
A video from Mel's movie with music by Jeff Buckley. Rough images, but gripping sounds.
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