Friday, October 2, 2015

Timeless Provision

The past returns to us in tastes and smells. Sometimes all it takes for me is one ripe pear and I'm transported to Newark, Delaware, sometime around 1976, as I park my bike against a fence to look for grounded pears beneath an ancient tree.

The tree grew next to a roadside fence marked "No Trespassing" along a winding road through the midst of a game preserve owned by the DuPont family. I remember the pear tree was also near an old stone barn, an ancient barn, the kind familiar to locals scattered throughout the region.

I don't remember if the tree's trunk was inside or outside the fence, but its pears dropped in the soft grass alongside the road, sweet and free for the taking. A long ago farmer may have planted the tree, but it no longer had a caretaker. Nor did it need one. The tree simply was. It was wild and free. And it fed a deep hunger.


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