Admiring the dogwoods as I walked that path with dad after the work day was through.
He walked and talked of life, nature and wisdom showed from him to the light shades of the sky of blue. Showered at times with a mist, the forest, fragrant with a purity you would have to know it to appreciate the cleanliness of the naturality. The blossoms were sweet when opening and the vines hung from the trees that we used to play on, swing and drop like monkeys.
Summer time was always a good time. In the morn, always breakfast served up right. Dad and Mom’s early conversations muttered and is what sleepily awakened me in security and peace.
By ten, when warm and bright, chores for me were done outside (were not paid a dime. we didn’t expect or want it). My big brother worked by himself and dad taught me everything I needed to know, then we were free to run anywhere we wanted to go! We knew “best be back by sun down!”
Down the rolling pastures, over the barb wired fences, looking for mysteries as we caught craw dads (searching for something very valuable … like gold!) Nancy Drew was it and I was “Scoop Cayton”. We were a team. So on we walked the dirt roads, on the sides wild ferns grew and still do. The buttercups smelled so sweet and I, drinking sweetness on my tongue. One single drop from the honey suckles on the bank (the darker yellow were much sweeter to me).
Ronnie eats flowers! I told him he was stupid and I know I’m not aloud to do that. Mom was always gathering, storing for the winter and dad bought, raised, and sold stock from the sale yet the old billy goat deal between him and Jim, his friend had to convince him to take it. A week later, dad bent fixing the source to the trough. Dad laughed after I saw him the maddest ever had I seen! “whoop! whoop! whoop! he laughed with Jim and said, “I’ve never heard a billy do that” and how he landed in the water trough… I wasn’t aloud to interrupt the men, but I did inquire what happened to the goat.
No information was given about the animal.., as Jim chuckled and dad shook his head.
Yes, I was concerned for all the life there but somehow, the food was good (except for the rabbit and squirrel, they floured and fried and lied and said it was chicken). We picked the spare corn off the ground that the combine missed(with permission). Most farmers left a row for the deer. It was natures way for the hard days of all the creatures of those Appalachian hills.
