My dear friend, and Grandmother to many, Beryl Farland passed from this Earth on March 15, 2006 of a heart attack. The first memory of Beryl I have is how she looked me right in the eye, and said something to the effect of: I Love You. You are a Wonderful Creation of God. Beryl was very passionate about life and through her gentleness and writing she had a way of bringing joy and love to others, especially to children. Beryl was not only a Grandmother to me but took both of my children under the softness of her wing. Beryl loved to go rock hunting, to write poetry and to work in her garden. Beryl was a very graceful woman, whose words were as refined as classical poetry. When she learned I was sick, and that there is no cure for my illness, she worked hard to find other ways to heal myself. I miss her so much. I know Beryl is happy, and exploring majestic crystal caverns or tending a magnificent garden in a peaceful place. My prayers go out to all the friends and family of Beryl Farland, We are one family in our memories and appreciation of her.
To honor Beryl, I have taken a letter she wrote and turned it into a found poem.
__________________________
I was born in Winnebago County, IA.
Played in the “woods”
many happy hours.
Picked wildflowers,
named the trees,
had my “playhouse” there.
Roped my “house” with twine.
Had a pond there
by digging a hole
and putting a large old can in it
and going to the real pond
to fish out tadpoles and
get them in my pond.
They were my children!
Blessings to you and yours this wonderful season.
Love, B.
PS Don’t know if I ever mentioned it before, but….
The Native Americans
lived on the grounds
before my father
purchased the land
and he and his brother
cleared the land
for their fields.
He found many artifacts -
no wonder I have had such lovely
enchanted days there,
wading in the creek,
picking the dog-toothed violets,
(or shooting stars as I called them)
cow-slips in the marshy areas,
honeysuckle,
and various other “treasures”.
Early in the Spring
I would watch
for the first Dog-toothed violets.
They were always first
and covered the floor of the woods.
What a great, grand sight.
Pick fist fulls of them
and take them into the house.
where my mother
would find a jar
to put them in.
Then she would
set them in the kitchen window.
Lovely memory.
Good Night and Pleasant Dreams.
12/19/2005, Beryl Farland (©2006, Lynn Mari)
