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A village is definitely a beautiful place to go for a vacation.
A little footpath leads us to a hand pump, somewhat rusty but still providing a cool refreshing drink-- we can prime the pump. The sky is absolutely breathtaking with its soft ribbons of orange and violet.
As Dad douses its rusty throat with water, it gurgles for a minute or two, then belches back a flood of sparkling clear spring water, free from the chemicals the law requires of modern water systems. The sun, ablaze with beauty, casts our long shadows across the porch and onto the wall behind us.
Dad is removing the loaves from the belly of Old Bessie, our coal-burning cookstove.
He leaves them to cool in neat rows on our homemade plank table.
Swinging it down off the back of his chug-a-lug of a truck and instantly throwing his other arm up to keep his balance, he staggers with his load toward the back door.
Hoisting the block of ice into place, he gives a long, loud sigh of relief and drops the shiny quarter into his pocket.The house is set back about 200 feet from the road, and as we saunter up the narrow dirt pathway, lined with neat rows of flamboyant orange gladiolas on each side, the tidy appearance of the small, unpainted frame house entices us to enter.Up the steps and onto the porch, we can't help but notice a high-backed rocker on one side and a bench worn smooth by age on the other.Unlike most city folk the villagers get up very early in the morning and start their daily chores. There were ponds and green fields alongside the roads.Even the paddy fields on either side of the roads were covered with green crops. I could feel the cool breeze of the morning as I walked along the road. It was quite eye-catching to see them walk in a straight line to go to school.Just to the left is a doorway, minus a door, beckoning us to investigate the aroma drifting our way.As we step into the kitchen we are overtaken by the rich smell of freshly baked bread.Little ahead I saw some boys and girls going to school. It was very encouraging to see education fostering even among the village children.While walking down the village road, one can hear different birds singing among the big trees. Since there were no street lights the moon seemed to shine brightly.The crickets and frogs join in while bats dart overhead in search of a juicy tidbit for breakfast. The house itself joins in the chorus with its creaks and cracks of contraction as the coolness of the evening settles around us.For the people of the cities and town, village is a very beautiful and rejuvenating place.