Kentucky is my land
It is a place beneath the wind and sun,
In the very heart of America.
It is bounded on the east, north and west, by rivers,
And on the south by mountains
I didn’t have a choice as to where I was born,
But if I had had my choice,
I would have chosen Kentucky.
And if I could have chosen wind to breathe,
I would have chosen a Kentucky wind.
With the scent of cedar, pine tree needles,
Green tobacco leaves, persimmon and sassafras.
I love the wind blowing through the red bud and dogwood trees.
If I could have chosen a spot in Kentucky,
I would have chosen Covington.
The place where I was born,
Where generations of my people have lived,
And some still live.
Here, too, I have always lived where
I followed the little streams and creeks,
That flowed over rocks between the hills and rivers.
Where in season we hunted the wild game,
Skilled as an Indian, with dogs by my side.
I enjoyed this land of sun-lit waters, and
I enjoyed the four seasons.
Kentucky has four distinct seasons.
I learned as a young child each season is three months long.
The two seasons I wanted to be longer and longer,
Were the Kentucky Spring and Autumn.
Summer:
Brought good earthy smells.
It gives birth to sugar cane, tobacco,
Yellow bantam and silver queen corn,
Hot days would bring blackberries
Dew berries and strawberries.
All I had to do was get my bucket
And gather them.
Autumn:
The quietness of this season
Brings black walnuts.
They drop from the mother tree to the ground.
In their heavy green shells, they ripen.
Hazelnuts fall along the cattle paths.
Autumn winds are crisp and sharp,
Refreshing, and a need for sweater or jacket.
Sounds in the air, of shouts on football fields
With touch downs, cheerleaders, drums
The smell of popcorn.
Warm days and cool nights in Kentucky’s autumn
Has reason,
It brings magical touches to maple trees.
Their leaves become a red and golden hue.
They flutter to ground where the fields
Hold pumpkins, baskets of apples,
And bales of hay.
Winter:
In Kentucky brings freezing temperatures.
Frozen lakes, ice skating, ice fishing,
Smoke, whirling from chimneys,
Heave snow falls from dark winter skies.
Winds blow fiercely
In swirls, they form a white skirt
At the base of a maple tree.
Farmers can be seen in Kentucky’s Winter
Drawing syrup into buckets from the same tree.
The syrup becomes Kentucky’s famous
Sorghum molasses.
Spring:
Comes into Kentucky with bursts of energy
Melting the frozen soil into a warm soft earth
It was in the wind,
I could feel it, I could taste it, I could see it
And it was beautiful to me.
Spring brings back life to our world.
Rain comes in a down pour,
Drenching newly-leafed trees.
The early rains give drink
To the tulips, violets, forsythia.
Calendars are tuned to the month of May.
Hills are alive with white dogwoods
And red bud trees, in full bloom.
The wild crab apple blossoms flutter to
The ground like pink sea shells.
The weeping willow’s narrow branches
Finger the wind tenderly.
Deep purple violets lay nestled in the Kentucky
Blue-grass.
Only in the Spring, only in Kentucky,
Then the first Saturday in the month of May
Is the “running of the horses” in the
Kentucky Derby.
The over-turned earth gives a sweet scent
As throbbed horses’ hoofs race
To win the roses, and the sound
Of My Old Kentucky Home rings in the air.
Only in the Spring, in my Kentucky, from birth
To childhood, to old adult, these have been
My things, my life.
From the nesting birds, to the flowering trees,
The rivers, the creeks, I learned of God’s goodness.
I learned of His miracles.
For me, my greatest miracle has been my babies
And their babies in my life. What fun and happiness
They all have given me.
I rest now, at the feet of Jesus, but my spirit remains
Here in these hills of Kentucky.
But I still have my babies in my heavenly heart
Until we meet again.
(Bernadine Jane Bingham Ogden)
Voice Cousin Johnny Stephenson
Dr. John Stephenson
Former Superintendent of Public Instruction Commonwealth of Kentucky