Thanks Philip For The Picture.
I read a posting on Facebook that had me reminiscing a bit. I remembered a piece I wrote many years ago, before my books were published. When I read it, I still wax super nostalgic. My minds fertile plains can instantly, and effortlessly carry me back to those wonderful days and nights. I hope you too can remember the good times.
Hello, it has been a
bright and sunny day down on the farm. We just finished cutting hay, which is
about six weeks late. Spring and summer have been interesting to say the least.
Summer on the farm is a busy time, but it also is a special time.
Even when I was a kid, I remember the warm breezes that seemed to always have the scent of some flowers mingled with the smell of summer. I would take off my shoes the day-after school let out, and they didn't go back on unless there was a trip to town, relatives or church. I would have a pair of cut-off jeans, and that was my wardrobe for the summer. I was young enough that I just had a few chores to do. So I had plenty of time to play and explore the woods and fields of our farm that lay on the outskirts of a small town called Scroggsfield, in the state of Ohio. I would spend time playing in the crick and catch frogs and tadpoles by bunches. My dog and I were inseparable all through the summer, unless a trip to town, relatives or church. We would hunt squirrels and chipmunks and anything that got in the way. Sometimes the barn cats would be fair game until mom caught us and ended our safari. They were grand days and I always seem to remember the good things. I don't remember pain or fear or anxiety, none of the bad stuff, only the pleasing and fun things stick in my head. Like chasing lighting bugs at night and filling a jar with them, listening to a Whip-poor-will sound his beautiful call, or maybe listening also to the Bob-whites raising their voice above the din of crickets, frogs and the faithful night life that seemed to harmonize like a giant and grand symphony.
On good nights, I would sleep-out under the stars. I would lie on my back, with my dog at my side, and look up into the depths of the sky. The stars would seem so clear and close that you could reach up and touch them. I learned many of the constellations, and of course the Big Dipper was my favorite. Sometimes if you looked close, you would catch a glimpse of night birds in the air, and their silhouette caught against the star light. All in all, it was a perfect time. A time when a small boy was at peace with all around him, and the world was never a threat. There was no cares to weigh you down. It’s hard to put into words, but it was like you were just meant to be there.
Even when I was a kid, I remember the warm breezes that seemed to always have the scent of some flowers mingled with the smell of summer. I would take off my shoes the day-after school let out, and they didn't go back on unless there was a trip to town, relatives or church. I would have a pair of cut-off jeans, and that was my wardrobe for the summer. I was young enough that I just had a few chores to do. So I had plenty of time to play and explore the woods and fields of our farm that lay on the outskirts of a small town called Scroggsfield, in the state of Ohio. I would spend time playing in the crick and catch frogs and tadpoles by bunches. My dog and I were inseparable all through the summer, unless a trip to town, relatives or church. We would hunt squirrels and chipmunks and anything that got in the way. Sometimes the barn cats would be fair game until mom caught us and ended our safari. They were grand days and I always seem to remember the good things. I don't remember pain or fear or anxiety, none of the bad stuff, only the pleasing and fun things stick in my head. Like chasing lighting bugs at night and filling a jar with them, listening to a Whip-poor-will sound his beautiful call, or maybe listening also to the Bob-whites raising their voice above the din of crickets, frogs and the faithful night life that seemed to harmonize like a giant and grand symphony.
On good nights, I would sleep-out under the stars. I would lie on my back, with my dog at my side, and look up into the depths of the sky. The stars would seem so clear and close that you could reach up and touch them. I learned many of the constellations, and of course the Big Dipper was my favorite. Sometimes if you looked close, you would catch a glimpse of night birds in the air, and their silhouette caught against the star light. All in all, it was a perfect time. A time when a small boy was at peace with all around him, and the world was never a threat. There was no cares to weigh you down. It’s hard to put into words, but it was like you were just meant to be there.
I can't go bare footed anymore or run around half naked, but I still love laying out at night and looking up at the stars. They seem like old Friends and faithful companions luring me back to the days of my youth, but I can't go, no matter how much I would like to. I am bound by time and age, but it would be grand to feel the cool wet grass of the night between my toes one more time and soar like the night hawk whose earthly chains are eternally broke free.
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