During one period, my father was unemployed for several months during the Great Depression. One of my less desirable jobs had always been to load up our toy wagon with empty containers and trash and pull the wagon up to the local garbage dump. I was embarrassed to be seen hauling trash past all the houses located along Spring Street as it merged into Valley Road near the edge of town. One day while my Dad was at home without any work, I complained to him about this order from my mother. Being a most sympathetic soul, he thought of a way I might avoid the task. The solution for him was simple. Since he needed a little exercise and had nothing else to do, he would dig a hole several feet deep in the front yard and bury the trash.
The next day he started digging a hole about four feet by four feet in size. After digging down several feet, however, he struck a few unusual stones that attracted his interest. Forgetting about the trash to be buried, he dug down further about six feet and covered the hole with boards. The next day, his project grew. He built a short ladder so that he could get down easier into the hole. But his curiosity still wasn't satisfied, so, week after week, he built a platform and then another platform as he went deeper and deeper into the hole. As he dug, he threw the dirt up from one platform to a higher platform and then made a pile in the yard. Finally, one day after digging down about 20 feet, he suddenly rushed up all his ladders and jumped quickly out of the hole. He had unexpectedly struck water. In a few days the water had risen within four feet of the top. He suddenly had a well, which in time proved to contain the best tasting water in town!
Monday, March 9, 2009
Summer Days
During the summer, when my brother John and I were still in grade school, we spent some time out on our grandparents’ farm. We often went out to the backwoods to pick and eat wild strawberries and wild blackberries. The wild berries always tasted better than the cultivated ones. Close to the house was an orchard containing around 50 fruit trees of different kinds. I remember that there were several varieties of apples, pears and cherries. We were especially fond of the cherries. One day we had been up in a cherry tree eating delicious dark red cherries. After a while, I climbed down. John was still up near the top, exuberantly eating the best cherries. John shouted down at me, “Gee whiz, these are good cherries.” I verbally agreed.
The cheerful chatter was broken by a sudden moment of silence. Next came the sound of tree limbs snapping and breaking as John leaped straight from the top of the tree to the ground and immediately started to run as if he had gone nuts. I ran too. When he finally calmed down, I discovered that my six-foot tall, 160-pound powerful younger brother had been challenged for cherries in the tree top by several tiny yellow jacket bees. In the presence of bees his courage – and mine – had wilted.
The cheerful chatter was broken by a sudden moment of silence. Next came the sound of tree limbs snapping and breaking as John leaped straight from the top of the tree to the ground and immediately started to run as if he had gone nuts. I ran too. When he finally calmed down, I discovered that my six-foot tall, 160-pound powerful younger brother had been challenged for cherries in the tree top by several tiny yellow jacket bees. In the presence of bees his courage – and mine – had wilted.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Fresh Green Grass
In the winter, cows were kept in the barn overnight and let out to forage in backwoods areas. Each spring, when green grass had grown a foot or so tall, the cows were let out of the barnyard into designated fields. Fed dry hay all winter long, the cows became ecstatic when suddenly offered fresh green grass – just like humans switching from stale dry bread to fresh bread.
I watched the scene with curiosity one spring morning as a field of green grass became available for grazing. The field was rectangular, with the longest side equivalent in length to about two city blocks. When the gate was thrown open, the huge, normally slow-moving cows suddenly became excited and, like a stampede, they ran into the field to feast on tasty green grass. One cow ran a few feet, and then barely stopping, reached out to the right side and hastily grabbed a mouthful of grass. Then off she ran another few paces and reached out to the left side and grabbed another mouthful. I couldn't understand where that grass was going since the cows didn't seem to have time to swallow it. In about half an hour, I would guess, the cows had reached the end of the field and the level of excitement had diminished.
However, one would hardly believe the odd and unexpected behavior that developed next: About half of the cows began reaching through the loosely wired fence next to Farms Road to eat the dusty and dryer grass and weeds on the other side. I then began to understand that cows – as well as many humans – often tend to think that the grass on the other side of the fence is “greener.”
I watched the scene with curiosity one spring morning as a field of green grass became available for grazing. The field was rectangular, with the longest side equivalent in length to about two city blocks. When the gate was thrown open, the huge, normally slow-moving cows suddenly became excited and, like a stampede, they ran into the field to feast on tasty green grass. One cow ran a few feet, and then barely stopping, reached out to the right side and hastily grabbed a mouthful of grass. Then off she ran another few paces and reached out to the left side and grabbed another mouthful. I couldn't understand where that grass was going since the cows didn't seem to have time to swallow it. In about half an hour, I would guess, the cows had reached the end of the field and the level of excitement had diminished.
However, one would hardly believe the odd and unexpected behavior that developed next: About half of the cows began reaching through the loosely wired fence next to Farms Road to eat the dusty and dryer grass and weeds on the other side. I then began to understand that cows – as well as many humans – often tend to think that the grass on the other side of the fence is “greener.”
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