Walking in the hills to go see Daniel
I would dress up real warm and take 2 pairs of old socks and 3 underwears,I had a gallon jug full of wine(generally it was expensive wine,I can't drink the cheap kind) I would pour the wine into the jug and tie the jug to the knapsack, take a suitcase with some goods for the kids up there.I took a belt along (I could strap the suitcase over the shoulder) and apiece of bamboo that stuck up from the knapsack;very useful to dry socks and underwear after washing them in the river.I always wore sneakers ever since I was 10(I still do at 62),I never forgot to take a frying panalong it was tied up to the gear and waggled freely behind and matches of course,Cigarettes when available(If enough dough) if not it was a stack of blond tobacco and paper to roll it in shape(sort of).Awwww let's go,it's early in autumn but this year the cold hit early, I walked on the road to Nice 'till I reach the road that runs along the Var river,up the valley where all the fruits on the trees by the road have been harvested and that's too bad, I'm always hungry but I don't want to touch the food I'm bringing to Daniel; I walk some 6 or seven miles toward the mountains and lo !! in a lot planted with pear trees,a few feet from the road,an enormous, ripe and unique pear(never seen a pear so big before) left there after harvest,in front of the house.The farmer looks at me by the window, a lean face with a mustache and dark brown eyes,his hair is shiny black and straight like the Chineeses.I'm not moving, glued to the ground,watching that tremendously big pear and I can't resist.I did walk in his property, I did go up to that fabulous pear and I touched it,the farmer drew back in the room and I couldn't see him anymore so I waited about a couple minutes but nothing happened,so I plucked the fruit and I bit in it; My saliva glands hurt and it's so good I moan,my stomack makes garggellishy noises and when I'm through with the sugary fruit I've got my face and my hands full of juice and my belly is full,I glance toward the window and I can't see him but strangely I know he's watching me,probably smiling.Everything went as planned, his most beautiful fruit was for a wanderer.So I left, a song in my mind and happyness filled my being,my head was light and I hit the road thanking you know who,for creating that farmer.(to be continued)
1 Comments:
This was a fabulous post. So nicely written. I was there!
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