Summer was a wonderful time be a country kid. It meant NO SCHOOL for three whole months, running barefoot, sleeping in the front yard, riding our bikes to the store while collecting beer and pop bottles along the way to trade in for a few pennies worth of candy, eating strawberries, carrots, and tomatoes straight from the garden grit and all.  It also meant more chores but we got them done morning and night, then ran like wild little Indians the rest of the day. We built forts, caught pollywogs in the culvert, waded the ditches after a rain,climbed trees, dug big worms for fishing, life was not dull, and I NEVER heard the words spoken, "I’m bored." We made our own fun. We knew better than to lay around the house or Mama would give us something to do.  Sometimes she sent us out to the garden to gather things that were ready for harvest. I didn't mind any of it except the sticky, itchy, okra. I loved the crispy fried okra though so I'd cut it to enjoy it cooked. Let me fry you some before you say yukky.

All moms were acquainted with our mom and treated us like their own. If their kids were in trouble—so were we, if they were hungry—so were we, and so on. Everything and everyone was shared back and forth in the little area.  I learned vitally important lessons too from the way others worked and played on their particular parcel of land. I even learned how to make a great piecrust, buttermilk biscuits,cornbread, and Devils Food Cake, from Mama when I was too young and short to reach the cabinet. Remember those cabinets with the flour bin on the side, a white work space, a place for condiments on top, and for pots and pans on the bottom?  I'd love to have one now.  

 All summer we played and worked at things like the garden. I loved the garden and watching things grow.  I remember planting  a couple of dry pinto beans in a pound coffee can, which was shorter than now, and being completely thrilled  to watch it grow.  

We had a big yard to play in and lots of trees to climb.  We run and jumped and got all those skinned knees from sliding down on the hot dirt in the road. We'd jump up then and run some more with blood running down all mixed up with the dirt. I don't remember ever running crying to Mama with a skinned knee because I knew she would wash it off and put that dreaded Methiolate on that burned worse than the bloody knee. Out in the garden I remember stickers that seemed to jump out and stick to my feet. I'd just sit down and rub a hand full of dirt on them until they came out then up I'd get and head out again. We were tough and our feet were tougher from running barefoot.  Those summer days were carefree, fun, and happy for a bunch of ragamuffin kids that saw no danger.  

I'm not fond of Summer now because I don't like the heat but it didn't bother me then. I'd get out of bed and outside I would go to check and see if Brenda was out yet. Mama usually had to call me back in to eat breakfast and do my chores.  After breakfast and chores we all congregated to decide what we'd do first.  Dark didn't even phase us and we'd keep going until we were called in to get cleaned up for bed which was a chore in itself. Sometimes we got a second wind and Mama had to quieten us down and threaten us with a 'whipen' if we didn't hush up "right now"! When we did finally get quiet we had no problem sleeping soundly because we were tired.   What wonderful memories!