The mouths of babes are stained from Popsicles and dirty hands show the drips of the melted confections sometimes revealing rivers of evidence flowing down the calves and into the rolled down socks peeking out from red keds. A little dust off the road won't matter much before they are all dumped into the sudsy bath water where they can play with floating ivory soap while mother prepares a cool supper plate of salads and cold meats.
Voices shriek and a game of "what about this" ensues as they pass the black kerosene balls that mark the edge of the roadway where the pavement has been excavated and readied for new asphalt in the morning. They pretend to be pirates and the balls are the weights that are fastened around the ankles of prisoners who walk the plank. They haven't been lit yet but it won't be much longer before the town workers come by to ignite a flame. As they pass the pig farm the odor is strong because the wind is nearly non existent and the air sits still. The children all hold their noses and as they pass by the fence that corals the hogs they begin to make oinking noises until they enter the pathway to the cooler shaded woods. The path winds around a pond and bull frogs welcome them with a croak. Finally they reemerge from the other end of the fern draped pathway and stroll back to their house.
I went to the farm stand with my girl friend this afternoon and today the shaded shadows under tree lined roadways beckoned me to remember what it was like at 4:30 in the afternoon when I was a child. There was no one walking today and the streets were busy with traffic but I took a moment to pretend there was no one on the roadway and just the laughter of children could be heard with the rattle of wheels from an old pram keeping tempo. I drove into my yard and fetched the colors of farm fare from the back seat and I placed the just picked veggies on my kitchen counter. I cradled them in my hands for a moment to breath in the fresh warm aroma and then I sucked a cherry tomato into my mouth letting the seeds pop and swirl in the warm juice just before it all trickled down my throat.....ahhh the taste of summer fresh from the garden. A different memory and different sensation but unique to the season none the less and I drifted off to the memories of childhood and thought to myself how lucky I had been to live during the time of simplicity, dirt and innocence! Pin It Now!