Muddy Ditches!

Muddy Ditches.

The fragrant scent of the pine's amber colored sap aroused my senses as I peered into the pine cone's prickly sticky gaps.

A path that led to an array of over ripe blackberries hanging on irresistible bushes was the highlight of a summer day. The excitement caused me to forget the potential danger of an unexpected field snake crawling up the side of my bike!

A nosey neighbor is now a whimsical thought. She would run from front to back porch just to snitch on all the neighborhood kids as we'd play Dodge-ball til our hearts were content- but the tattling started when the throwing of pungent turtle eggs, at each other began.

In the middle of the front yard an 8ft. basketball goal lured me frequently to play the game of 21 - regardless, at dust or beneath the blistering rays of the sun.

A giant trampoline, a big kiddy pool, and - an enormous camping tent was all a part of my outdoor adventure. I would utilize and appreciate each of them - realizing they were bought with hard earned expenditures.

The old faucet that extended out of a worn wooden house will always make me smile; it was there that a bleeding gash from doing mischievous deeds, was quickly rinsed so I could sneak past my step mom's observant eyes!

There was a field in the rear of the backyard that never had time to grow thorns or thistles, because our country garden, resembling a produce aisle - was reverently planted there.

I would play hide and seek behind trees and on the side of a tattered metal shed - Then, I'd jump rope while watching rambunctious kitties run, wrestle and play with each other throughout the fun filled day.

One of my fondest memories is washing my long sandy brownish black hair outside with the crumpled water hose and afterwards I would stand on elongated cement blocks and pretend to be Cher singing on a heavily peered at stage.

And, oh, how the dusty clay roads would secretly yell my name. It was there that memories was made that can never be fully explained.

There was a long winding side road that few travelers went, but when we were allowed to walk the route - it was time well spent. There were houses nestled at the back of the end lane, and kids that was as excited to see us, as a squirrel is when capturing nuts. But, we were only allowed to stay a few hours before our step mom's voice seemed like it was whistling through the trees - it's time to come home!

The holidays were a very special time. Each year Santa was busted because gifts galore was discovered one day stuffed inside the hot water heater closet. We'd allege to be asleep the night before, while our step mom would strategically place presents under the infamous glass tree - poising majestically on the table - and even more gifts would be laying on the quaint living room floor.

And, the Christmas dinners was a sight to see! The brown sugar glazed ham, sweet potatoes and hen all contended for a place inside the small oven - then came the stuffing. There were pots of greens, rice and beans that covered the white ceramic stove top - and the sweet potato pies adorned on the counter were fragrant enough to bring the bears and deer out of the woods - oh my!

Let, me not forget to mention my secret hang - out, the wooden bookshelf. I spent hours laying on the floor there reading poetry instead, of doing homework. On the bottom shelf was a whole collection of encyclopedias that a traveling salesman had convinced my step mom to purchase - maybe he didn't like kids!

All, I can attest to is; those books became a thorn in my flesh - from that moment on there was no reason for me not to excel in school. Yet, the poetry book was the kryptonite that kept me vulnerable to an inward romantic odyssey.

Well, there was this big blue dictionary that I loved to read and rehearse the terms. I'd lay across my bed and the wooden shutters would be opened to give way to more light. Oh, how time would past as I turned the pages just to find more column of words to recite. The memory of that dictionary has volumes of importance to me - Ahh!, Is that why I'm a writer today or the reason words keep me utterly intrigued?

There was this small yard camper that my grandfather would go on fishing trips with, but little did he know that it doubled as a make - believe tree house for me. I would walk up the 3 stairs, go inside and bend down to lay on the miniature sized bed - with a tiny window beside it that gave me the opportunity to peer outside - only to see that old metal shed!

It was a tree in the middle of the back yard. One day as I was walking by it, I suddenly stopped and looked upward - and there sat my brother on the top branch with his finger to his mouth wanting me to hush. The look in his eyes was conveying please don't snitch, and, suddenly a smirk coupled with a bratty thought made me ponder, hmmm, I wonder will his punishment be Grand-daddy's belt or a long gnarly switch?

I sighed and began to walk away, realizing he was hiding from our step mom and I didn't have the heart to tattle - at least not that time.

So, to be totally transparent of the reason I would grin when visiting the old homestead, is the joy of playing in those muddy ditches after the rain - and that memory will always be stuck in my little girl's childhood head as pleasant and peaceful - that's home to me!

If you've enjoyed my poem, click on the heart - and consider leaving me a tip. Thank you!