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Little Creek

We were blessed with a good spring rain and today the sun is shining brightly on a freshly washed landscape.

I hope lots of hay got in the bale. The mower was going until dark in front of my house just across the road and after the rain was over, so I’m sure the hay balers are still working.

I remember how we anxiously watched the sky when we were farming, hoping the rain would hold off andthen watching again and praying for rain. Farming is always a gamble, seems like. But there’s not many things more enjoyable or rewarding, when it comes to our mental well-being. Now our pocket books, that’s another story.

I hope you, my loyal readers don’t get tired of my ramblings and meandering here and there when I have no news, or very much news other than mine.

I just write what my thoughts tell me so I never have a plan.

I do always want to say hello to my friends in far places. Hi to Betty and Lynda and Rex in Arkansas and to Lorene in Ava, which seems a long ways off when you don’t drive anymore and have to depend on your walker.

And Ruth Brown Huffman, I’ve been watching the mail for your memories of youthful escapades for my book.

My so-called book is rapidly being written and I thank you all. And Lynda, you must finish the story of little Pete. You are a good writer.

I just finished hemming the reunion family quilt. It is quite beautiful, but I’ve never seen one that wasn’t.

Here’s wishing Darold a good recovery from having knee surgery. We missed Darold and Ruth and Barb at club Wednesday.

All my kids except Kim were here for dinner yesterday. We had a good day and made plans for the 4th.  I said “a freezer of ice cream” before anything else was named. I can’t even remember having that the last time. It has certainly been a while.

I remember summers of long ago when every Sunday there would be three or four freezers going with many flavors and of course you had to taste them all. We were always at Ma’s with dinner on her big old screened in porch and then the men would begin pounding the ice until it was pulverized. It didn’t come in cubes as it does now, but in blocks. The women would be mixing the ice cream while assorted cousins from 7 or 8 families would be exploring and playing often on the banks of Little Creek, which was just across the road.

I remember one time while dinner was still in progress someone screamed, I think it was Aunt Iva, and the Model A that sat out front was rapidly gaining momentum down the steep little hill. It was loaded to the brim with children with cousin Butch at the wheel. He must have been a good driver because he missed the tree and the barn and made it through the gate and across the road before coming to rest just shy of Little Creek. I don’t remember the punishment. Maybe Butch does. But most of the time everything was good at Ma’s house on Sundays after church and that is a good memory.

My Aunt Bertha Brown was a take charge kind of woman “so she kept everything flowing smoothly most of the time.” In Aunt Bert’s time women still weren’t “liberated” and the men folk were waited on so they always came first seated around the table. Aunt Bert would say “don’t call the kids until its their turn and they won’t be under foot.” Of course they then ate with the women. So the little dears played on blissfully unaware they were being ignored.

Much different now-a-days huh?

The kiddies are the constant center of attention and their needs are met first. So who’s to say Aunt Bert’s way was best. I believe kids should learn to play on their own and depend on their imagination more, but I don’t know everything.

Little Paylie is only three and with her tiny fingers she can make that cell phone tell her anything she wants to know. She is very smart, but I’ve noticed her always wanting a grown-up interacting with her.

And I could write on and on about our Sundays at Ma’s and memories of her big old front porch, but I wonder who would be interested so I will shut up and with not much news to write, it’s goodbye and God bless until next time.

Dylan Evans made it to Missouri for the summer. He is with dad, Greg and Karen Evans and is from Texas. Dylan is already 16. He and Joseph Taber had a birthay on the 13th. They have sure grown up with the blink of an eye it seems. They are each beginning to drive.

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