Old country roads remind me of walking to church come Sunday morning and walking back come Sunday night. They remind me of walking to the little country store with mama's list in hand. Those early morning walks to catch the school bus and walking back in home at end of day, stopping long enough take our shoes off and wade across the little creek come warm weather, is priceless.
The fresh morning smells of honeysuckle, wild roses, mountain laurel or crabapple blossoms drifting in the spring time air, or walking in those big snows that were knee deep in the winter, rolling in the snow and throwing snowballs at each other along the way.
Taking refuge under a big tree come a hard, summer's rain and still takin a wetting and loving it to no end. Then we ran through mud holes with our bare feet, busting em wide open, never thinking about getting the toe itch till it was to late.
Ahhhh, how can I forget the huckleberries and that sweet taste. We knew exactly where they came up and picked em fast as they ripened, along side the road.
And those delicious blackberries we picked for mama to can and looking forward to that fresh blackberry cobbler, all the while eating more than we picked. Never thinking twice about the chiggers or poison ivy till it was to late.
Climbing over barbed wire fences and ripping our clothes to pick poke salat for mama. She didn't take to kindly to the ripped clothes or the dangers of getting snake bit but the poke salat changed the subject really quick.
Riding an ole, rusted bicycle around every curve and bend, with nary a brake knowing we'd hit the ditch or the creek. It's a wonders we hadn't broke our neck or worse.
And trying to outrun the others to get the mail every day and stumping our toes along the way. They never did have a chance to heal. When cold weather settled in and we had to wear shoes we'd still hobble down those ole roads.
I couldn’t count how many trips we made to and fro carrying gallons of milk from the neighbors when we were between cows, hungry for some good cornbread and milk to go along with supper, sometimes making a complete meal out of it.
And how can I forget takin a few poufs off of a cigarette butt after snatchin it outta the yard when daddy threw it down. Ahhhh, the sickness and turning green that followed, I'd sure like to forget and is still a reminder today. I said then and there, "never again.” Whewww.
It didn't matter the season or the weather, we made memories to last a lifetime and those ole dirt roads paved the way.
There's so many memories that still linger. I go back quite often and listen to the echoes of a childhood full of many seeds that's been sowed. How can we ever forget an old dirt road.
© Susie Swanson, 2019
Susie, you know, I still love those old dirt roads to this day. There's always something interesting to be found on them. Your story was delightful, and I love hearing about all the adventures you had when you were a kid. I used to walk to the little country store with my mom's list in hand too. I never walked the roads in the snow though. What fun that must have been for you. I often wonder what the huckleberry tastes like, and your mama's blackberry cobbler sounds delicious. I can just see your mom's face when she saw your ripped clothes from climbing the fences.ReplyDelete
I love visiting with you and listening to your stories - a time when it was much simpler in many ways and neighbors looked out for each other and hearing in the distance when our Mothers called out, "supper is ready!" Thanks for taking me back to that sweet time, Susie.
Ah, this bring back great memories. How blessed we were to play in the mud and puddles and creeks. I remember blackberries and chiggers. ripping my new skirt on the barb wire fence, and my aunt's cigarette, which was my first and last puff, Thank goodness! I always look forward to your stories. Have a blessed weekend.ReplyDelete
Wonderful scenes from the past in your memories, Susie. I hope you have a lovely weekend.ReplyDelete
I've walked on country dirt roads, too, and loved every minute of it! Thank you for the memories.ReplyDelete