March Poem: Afternoon on a Hill

It'a March!

Spring is near.

It's such a glad season.

I can't think of March without thinking of windy afternoons and the big, green fields of my childhood.

No, I don't come from Ireland.

I've lived in Southern California my whole life.

But for a few months every year, the dry California hillsides and fields are gloriously green.

When I was growing up, there always seemed to be an empty field nearby, full of waist high grass, all beautifully green in early spring.

In the afternoons, the wind would blow and I'd head out in the fields, enjoying endless blue skies, picking poppies, and wading through the grass.

The sunshine would be bright, but not hot.

I'd imagine I was Anne, and out for a field day with Miss Shirley and my classmates.

They are some of my happiest memories.

And now, oh how very blessed I am, I share those kind of days with my children.

Out on field days with their classmates, no less.

Dreams really do come true.

Each month our home school group memorizes a poem together.
A different family is responsible for choosing a poem every month.
At the end of the month, when we remember, the kids recite to one another.
We've learned some wonderful poems together.
This month's poem is so perfectly beautiful I had to share it with you.
I feel like it captures the very essence of those windy, spring days of my childhood.
I hope you like it as much as I do.

Afternoon on a Hill

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

   

I will be the gladdest thing

      Under the sun!

I will touch a hundred flowers

      And not pick one.

I will look at cliffs and clouds

      With quiet eyes,

Watch the wind bow down the grass,

      And the grass rise.

And when lights begin to show

      Up from the town,

I will mark which must be mine,

      And then start down!

I hope this weekend finds you feeling the wind in your hair, seeing blue sky overhead, and enjoying some green grass at your feet.

And if you've still got snow, enjoy a dream of what's to come.

Happy March!

Love from,

Greta


PS. And for all my fellow Anne fans, here is exactly what I was picturing when I walked those fields on windy afternoons.
Did you too?