Crisp air was painting the ends of the maple leaves, turning them red, reminding everyone that summer is a trickster. She dallies all through June , July and August skipping around in the gentle rain, the summer sun, the soft winds, shinning down her long golden arms, only to take them away, leaving an early morning frost ice the tender lettuce, late tomatoes and pound the fragile flowers.
Gramp dropped small logs into the wood stove, heating the house and boiling the coffee. He was glad Shirley was still asleep because Continue reading
Shirley Jean and Gramp were sitting at the kitchen table in the early morning, eating oatmeal, topped with Gramp’s clover honey and wild blueberries.
“Gramp?” Shirley Jean said thru a mouthful of oatmeal.
“Yes?” He turned to look at her sweet face.
“Is today the day we go to the river for the rainbow trout?”
“Today is the very day. We will get our chores done, wrap our fly hooks, pack our gear, walk down to the river, and canoe to our fishing spot.”
Shirley Jean had a hard time keeping her mouth closed as she was chewing, because the smile on her face wouldn’t quit smiling.
Shirley cleaned the bowls and wiped the table, while Gramp set his wool slippers aside and pulled on his work boots.
One afternoon Little Shirley Jean watched as a car turned up the old road to Gramp’s farm. The car through up dust on both sides as it wound it’s way up towards Gramp’s house. Not many people came calling in the middle of the day so everyone stood watching and wondering if this was a good visit or bad. Continue reading
Shirley Jean opened her eyes. Still fighting sleep, she turned over to watch Gramp walk across the yard, carrying the sliver milk bucket to milk their two cows. Her white iron bed was low enough to look out the wooden framed window next to her bed. She thought her Gramp was the handsomest man she’d ever seen. He was wearing his green pants with the cuff turned up, his faded blue overalls and his dapper straw hat. He walked straight with his shoulders back as though he had no debt. He skimmed the grass, walking as though he were a dancer.
Shirley Jean and Gramp lived on a farm in northern Michigan, where the North Wind blows and the animals are wild.
Gramp was a sheep farmer but also, he had two hefty workhorses, two lovely brown cows for milk, barn cats to chase mice, and a very nice bunch of chickens. Continue reading