Peggy Thornton
Nature’s Wonder
Many things create memories that stay with us throughout our lives. Nature’s surprises are such things. The first time seeing a rainbow, watching a raccoon washing his food before eating it, and the cheerful and persistent song of a wren are some examples. We are sometimes struck with awe and wonder by nature.
One such experience for me is fairly recent. A few years ago was the first time I examined a milkweed pod. The variety of textures were interesting. The roughness of the outside of the pod contrasted with the soft white surface attached to the seeds. The surprise for me was when I picked one of the seeds free and the beautiful white silk attached to it fluffed out and more seeds and fluff followed, some floating in the air. I was delighted. Who would guess that all that fluff had been so tightly packed into the pod? How far would those delicate strands carry the seed? How many new plants would be started from one pod?
Nature provides us solace and relief from everyday responsibilities, but it also creates lasting memories of special moments and wonder.
Peggy Thornton
An Early Memory-April 18, 1954
When I was young, my family lived on a street on the top of a river bluff. Whenever anything happened on the river, everyone from town gathered at the end of our street to watch.
April 18 was Easter. The bunny delivered eggs and my sisters and I dressed in our finery for church. I loved it that on that day our finery included hats, gloves, lace trimmed socks, and my favorite, black patent Mary Janes. After church we visited with family and friends and enjoyed my mother’s traditional ham dinner.
During a light supper in the evening, people were gathering at the end of our street. My mother rose from the table to go see what was going on. As she entered the crowd, she overheard someone say that Clifford Shedd and his wife drowned. When he realized my mother was standing there, he said, “I’m sorry, Alice, your brother, Helen, and your cousin Derwood went fishing. The boat overturned. Derwood is struggling down there to get to shore, but Helen and Clifford never surfaced.”
Mom ran home and told my dad. He bolted out the door and down the bluff paths all the way to the shore where a group of men had gathered. They were waiting for a boat that was coming and urging Derwood to keep swimming. Dad took one look at Derwood and plunged into the icy river, grabbing the last hand of the human chain that was forming. He grabbed Derwood’s arm and pulled him to shore. Many years later when I saw Derwood at a gathering, he told me my father saved his life that day. He could not swim anymore.
There was no sign of my aunt or uncle. The wardens put dragnets across the river the next town down for recovery of remains. Days went by. Every day we drove to a house near the nets in the next town seeking news, but there was nothing. A girl named Hazel lived in the house near the nets and I looked forward to playing with her every time we went there. It was a terrible time for my family. Days turned into weeks. After six weeks we had news from the wardens. My aunt’s body washed into the nets. There was a funeral and her family had closure.
Summer arrived and our vigil went on. The trips to the house by the nets were every three or four days now. My grandmother refused to give up hope that her son had survived. She would say that maybe Uncle Clifford hit his head and was wandering around in the wilderness on the other side of the river. It was sad and so hard for her.
September came and all the children on my street went to school except me. Now it was just mom and me driving to the house by the nets, maybe once a week. My new friend Hazel wasn’t there, she went to kindergarten. The leaves turned beautiful colors, then in November a trapper who was setting traps by the river found my uncle’s remains tangled in weeds near the riverbank. The ordeal of not knowing was over.
Clifford and Helen Smith Shedd were a handsome young couple married almost five years. They had just built a new home together. They loved the outdoors, fishing, and hunting, they were adventurers. They slipped away from us, beyond the veil, to the next realm and their next adventure together. Through my childhood, I always admired a lovely big picture of them in a special frame at my grandmother’s house.
April 18, 1954 was Easter Sunday the year I turned four.
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