The strangers came at twilight, which meant that a torch or two had to be lit.
Baucis and Philemon made their guests comfortable, 
Prepared as much food as they could (though holding back a moiety for themselves)
Set the table as best they could.

Jupiter, greatly pleased, in a generous mood after the simple yet excellent banquet,
Offered to grant the two one request,
Thinking that surely since they had agreed so well before,
They would agree now.
They did agree, but not as the Great One had expected:

“Well, Lord, now that you mention it,” the old woman began,
“it is so hard to manage a farm and work the land – we are so old.
Got to get up even when pain comes morning, noon, and night.
Got to clean constantly – the dirt of the floor gets into everything, Lord:
We eat it, drink it, wear it, everything! It’s so small, so quick-moving.
Gets in the hair, eyes, mouth, clothing, everywhere!
The stream is so far away! We must haul clothes down there, and back again,
Heavy with water.” Baucis was chatty now. (Someone new to talk to.)
“A well outside my door would be nice.”

Philemon thought a man-to-masculine-figure approach might be in order:
“We long ago lost the pleasure of the body, and that was so important.
It made up for all the other rest of our struggles.
You should have seen her when she was young – a regular nymph!
We still try, but … years ago, when we could get to the river easily,
Could wash up after work and a meal, bring in water, make a nice fire,
Well, it was different.
If it’s all the same to you, Lord, forgo the well and give us back our youth.”


-2-

Since lightning had not struck her, Baucis began to lament again:
“We don't mean to complain, Great One, 
But you have made life so hard for us!
No money, sometimes, no food and the animals die for no reason;
You gave no child to care for us in our old age.
The winter hurts our bones, and the summer burns us,
Hands are rough and sore, and who want to begin to touch when they're tired?

Jupiter listened to this and more as they warmed their laments.
“Oh, and about those little flying and crawling things that bite us….”
Jupiter looked over at Mercury, who merely rolled his eyes.

Jupiter stood, then, and said, “I shall grant your first wish now.” 
He stretched out his walking stick and their home changed,
Became a temple of marble and gold, generously ornamented.
Amazingly, this temple to Jupiter, once their ramshackle house
Now stood in the middle of a lake, was the only thing visible in the lake!
Then Jupiter stretched out his hand, and the old couple 
Suddenly found themselves at the temple door, 
Their feet going deep into the lately lamented earth,
Rough skin turning into protective bark, 
Bodies of flesh no longer in pain
Because they had become wood, fresh sap in their veins,
Branches entwined, leaves beautifully wide. 


Mercury pulled at his father's sleeve. “Come away now, Father, Jupiter.
Let them struggle for light and air and water more quietly.
We get enough of this on Mt. Olympus!”


     

DOWN ON THE PIG FARM
© Jean Hull Herman


Out in the middle of nowhere,
The lonely pig farm stands
Or sits or squats, depending on how
The farmer keeps his lands.

The pigs decide how the day will go:
Are they cheerful or feeling truculent?
They're not too sure about the wife,
But they think the farmer's succulent.

The wife's young cousin, a bristly girl,
Came to stay at the farm one day.
But after she and the farmer rolled in the mud,
The pigs chased her away.

This curly, brief tale has a moral:
Even pigs have their standards for a cousin.
They love their swill; they're happy a-hoof;
But they've got no tolerance for fussin’.


The life of the average Athenian some 4000 years ago was typically
a family of a man, his wife, children. They'd live on a farm, since most
had to grow enough food to feed themselves, and/or raise animals for 
use and trade. Goods could be made and traded, too, if enough was
left over after the needs of the family were met. Everything had to 
be created from raw materials: clothing came after the crops (cotton 
or sheep); metal was forged and clay shaped, wood chopped; food over 
open fires. Their farm might be apart from others, or within city walls.
Few were the families who later were stronger, richer, city-dwellers.