Worms on the hook
Lines in the water
A tug and the flop of a fish
Sitting by the fire as grandma cooks
The family circles the table all around
Grandpa in his own special chair
Blue Gill frying, permeating the air
Beans snapped, corn husked, biscuits baked
Eyes bigger than stomachs, our bellies were full.
The hogs squeal in delight with the scraps
Eggs gathered in the hen house
Kitty Clover in the barn ready for milking
Pammy Biscuit, Graham Cracker
Private names for just grandma and me
Remembered until the day I die
I remember than summer a lot – we were moving and stayed with my grandma and grandpa on their farm for two weeks – of course my little 4 year old brain thought it was an entire summer. I loved all that the farm offered – family and fun and lots of hard work even for a 4 year old. My grandpa died when I was 6 and grandma lived there until she was an old woman (and even then she only moved into a trailer on the property). Kitty Clover was one of grandpa’s cows and for Christmas I gave him a tiny china cow with Kitty Clover written on the tag. I miss that simple life.