A story about an old man in Scotland who has cut peat on his beloved land for years. It is also a story about death.
At the sign of twisted pines near Wiley Road, there lay entrance to a valley where miles of peat fields grew in the Scottish autumn sun. Gentle moor winds cooled a man off as he cut patches of the rich sod for loading onto mule drawn wagons. It took six, feathered ankled Shires, to pull the heavy sod-laden flats four miles across the craggy land, to their dockside destination. Shires, who are noted for their might in pulling strength, were still used these days, days when the automobile had since replaced the many beasts of burden from long ago past. However, now in the clash of the twentieth century, the scenery about retained its somber, old-world ring, as the beat of the loamy earth rushed nutrients in bolt action, to the growing things who were blessed to be in touch with the earth’s very life’s pulsation. Nessie was somewhere in his loch and Henry “Sod” Fields slowly, but productively worked his way to the center of his land.
Sod fields, sod thatched roof, sod for fuel. Thatched broom for sweeping the hearth, that doubled as a fan to blow the fires bright on a cold winter’s night. Autumn had turned to December before Sod had realized and it was getting close to the Christ child’s birthday. Food was a plenty as the beloved sod fields lay in rest until the first of May. He was old, he was gray. He lived in the fields and his name was “Sod”. Not one thing more could he think of that his soul longed for other than his life long dream being fulfilled. A dream-wish where he rides out of this world and into the next, on a bonnie prancing white mare draped in the colors of Scotland. His wasn’t a death wish. Rather, it was an old man’s logic that all folks die and he was well into his eighties. He figured he might be getting close to when there comes the time that old death would steal him away from these fields. In a way he’d be glad not to have to fool with anymore new-fangled inventions such as the electric light fixture, with its hot or burned out bulb to have to contend with. He didn’t much care for electric wake up clocks either! And most of all, he missed the days of old.
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