I came across an old song from 1931 that has a sweet melody and a wistful, nostalgic melancholy called Home (When Shadows Fall.) This song, written by Peter van Steeden, Jeff and Harry Clarkson, is an apt description of my mental state most evenings as I watch the sunsets, especially now when it gets dark at 5:30 and the cold night descends. The meaning of home for me at this campground on my journey to the end is a sentimental blending of fifty years ago when I was "at home" with my parents and siblings, and my friends were close at hand; twenty years ago when my own children were all still "at home;" and now when my good wife and I spend a rare, quiet, and comfortable evening together "at home" like old folks. This song says it all.
Home (When Shadows Fall)
Evening brings the close of day,
Skies of blue begin to grey,
Crimson hues are fading in the west.
Evening ever brings to me
Dreams of days that used to be,
Memories of those I love the best.
When shadows fall
And trees whisper, "Day is ending",
My thoughts are ever wending home.
When crickets call,
My heart is forever yearning
Once more to be returning home.
When the hills conceal the setting sun,
Stars begin a-peeping, one by one.
Night covers all,
And though fortune may forsake me,
Sweet dreams will ever take me home.
Here is Johnny Crawford singing this song in 1985:
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