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Clara Hembree Demos

Tahoma, California, US

The Hillside

English (North American)
Voice Age
Senior (55+)
Written by Clara Hembree -
By the end of the fourth season the forget-me-nots, lupin and poppies covered the entire hillside. Every spring they bloomed. It was as if they knew they had a job to do. It was to brighten the valley with their color. It was to give the honeybees somethin’ to chew on. It was to cheer us up after the long cold winter. It was to give us something so incredibly beautiful to behold as we carried our basket of bread and cheese and a little elderberry wine up there for a picnic. Now that was some wine. There’s no wine like wild elderberry wine. What a scene it was to be a part of. We never felt like it was some way off fantasy. We lived it. Every moment of it. We worked that land and we worked hard. It made those moments when we paused to look up at that hill even more special that you can ever imagine. The land spoke to us. It spoke directly to our souls. There were no barriers. We were there. The land was there. We cultivated only as much as we needed and the land always gave us in return an abundance that made our minds wonder how in world it happened. The only thing we needed to give back was appreciation for that hillside. Appreciation. Not just lookin’ at it. Caring for it. Loving it. That was how it was once the land accepted us there. It was that fourth season that we started to bloom along with that hillside every spring.