Tag: nostalgia

cold beer memories(2)

Ian HunterLeave a comment

a hot summer

Working outside all day

finally home tired and weary

time to relax and unwind

slowly opening the fridge door

fully stacked with cold beer

reaching for his favorite

gazing at the label like a long lost friend

the ice cold bottle melting the sweat from his hand

unscrewing the top like champ

that whooshing sound is music to his ears

wakening his anticipating taste buds

lifting the bottle to drink

catching the sweet smell of the beer

instantly recognizing that aroma

old memories flashing across his mind

as the bottle met his lips

thoughts of sweet kisses from his first love

the cold beer flooding his mouth

cooling his baked neck from within

sinking half the bottle in one go

slumping into a porch chair

catching a breath of the hot humid air

his closing eyes instantly raising the theater curtain in his mind

seeing again the birth of his first child

watching him playing outside

teaching him to ride a bike

taking him on fishing trips

more thoughts of his young son flashed in

hearing young running footsteps approaching

the theater curtain in his mind closing as he opens his eyes

the young boy beamed I missed you grandpa 

you and me

Ian HunterLeave a comment

you and me

back in 1963

like pods in a pea

we would always agree

you and me

we climbed a tree

just to see

how far we see

you and me

so carefree

splashing with glee

in the Irish Sea

you and me

now I’m a retiree

you are a divorcee

I often think of thee

you and me

The plough

Ian HunterLeave a comment

Jimmy walked the same trail every day

a short loop through the woods next to his house

it was wide and well maintained

today was cool and showery

something caught his eye behind a tree

he went over to investigate

an old rusty metal plough half buried in the ground

he wondered how it came to be there

and why he had never noticed it before now

miles from any open fields in a mature wooded area

he came back the next day to dig it out

with a couple of makeshift skids

he towed the old plough home with his 4×4

it was badly rusted but cleaned up well

a nameplate read property of Kelsall Farm 1957

there was a family with that name not far away

he took some photographs of the plough and went to see them

old man Kellsall lived there with his wife

he recognized the old plough from his fathers farm

it brought a tear to his eye

recalling how he used to ride the tractor as a boy

the farmhouse was destroyed in a fire in 1965

his father passed away soon after

the plough was the only remaining evidence of the farm

Jimmy towed the plough to the Kelsall home

he set it on a platform in their front yard

old man Kelsall smiled from the window

as he ploughed through all his childhood memories

I love trains

Ian Hunter3 Comments

there is something special about train travel

tracks make your route somewhat predictable

arrival is mostly unaffected by weather

the bumps in the track are hypnotic

the world seems different when viewed from a train

scenery flashes by like a silent movie

outside sounds are muted

its your own private low flying cocoon

steam trains are so romantic

monuments to the past

fire breathing smokey monsters

driven by grease stained men

electric trains hum

like a jammed sewing machine motor

occasionally emitting sparks

as a reminder of the unseen power source

drinking hot tea is a circus balancing feat

when the train is lurching along

would you like milk with that

says the very tired but still smiling attendant

however hard you try to appear really cool

your walk along the moving train

mimics the stagger of a drunken sailor 

as you are involuntarily thrown against startled seated passengers

on board announcements can always be heard

but never truly understood

they are spoken in a special secret train language

forcing you to ask strangers what was just said 

new friendships are formed

the age romance is not dead

you can really get to know people on a train

with the knowledge that you will never meet them again

snowbird migration time

Ian Hunter1 Comment

I awoke from a dream about summer fun to feel cold air on my face

did we set the AC too low I wondered

then I realized it was not summer any more

deep into November and an icy blast was upon us

weather reports of wind chill warnings do not bring me joy

as I look out over the cold waters of the bay, my thoughts drift back to summer

did I really see dolphins jumping there a few months ago

are these really the same waters where we boat, fish and swim  

perhaps that was all a hibernation dream

maybe my body has been put into cryogenic suspension

will I ever wake up to see summer again

the sun is out now, bright blue skies are inviting me to step outside

I convince myself it cannot be that cold and open the door

I was so wrong, its like walking into a freezer

I take a few steps to the side of the house and I am in an arctic wind tunnel

millions of tiny ice daggers stab my face

my fingers are going numb as I rush back inside.

How can this waterfront home with poolside summer living be transformed into an arctic winter wasteland

who decided to cancel our mild winter

what happened to global warming

why is there ice on top of the pool cover

why am I stuck inside with no desire to walk on the beach or ride my bike

cabin fever morphs into igloo fever

single malts and warm cuddles with my bride keep me sane

put the gas fire on

baby it’s cold outside

we shall soon fly south for the winter

snowbird migration time