Fields Of Gold

When I was a child, my grandfather, Papa, always seemed to have something up his sleeve for us. It was almost like he had ideas and stories stored away for days when things didn't go quite right, or what we wanted to do we weren't able to do.

We spent the weekends in Capitola at the beach house on Depot Hill. A small long house, you could roll a bowling ball from one end to the other without hitting anything. Maybe we had made plans to go to the Boardwalk but then that didn't work out. Papa used to get this little grin on his face, and put his tongue right behind his closed mouth like he had a secret. And then he used to say, lets go pick poppies. He would then instruct us on how we had to do it, be fast, pick only the full blossoms and get back into the car and off we went.


I don't remember exactly where we went, but there were huge fields of wild California Poppies within a 1/2 hour of the beach house. We would run in with piles of the pretty flowers, only to have Nana yell at Papa that we could all get arrested for picking them.


I just remember it was so much fun, and was a such a simple thing that made a long lasting wonderful memory. And it made a boring day into golden picture in my mind.



You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Among the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold

So she took her love for to gaze awhile
Among the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold

Will you stay with me will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
And you can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold

I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We will walk in fields of gold
We'll walk in fields of gold

I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We will walk in fields of gold
We'll walk in fields of gold

Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
As you lie in fields of gold

You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Among the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold


Sting