Memories of Magical Times

Summer days with a paper grocery bag

On the side of the dandelion populated hill

Picking the yellow flowers for my dad to make wine

And being paid twenty-five cents a bag if there

Were no stems inadvertently left on the yellow top.

Running down to the river 

Every Saturday morning

To check on ‘our’ frogs eggs.

Watching how the dots formed a tail, then legs 

And then the eggs disappeared into the completed frog.

Learning to teeter totter

And perch my skinny bum on the hard wooden seat

Then scooch up the metal pole so I had the weight

To push my older sister up

Then being careful not to bump because it hurt.

Tracking the dog in the winter bush

As we saw it was playing with a rabbit

Only to find the rabbit foot lodged in a tree

In its desperate attempt at freedom.

Leaving the scene distraught.

Playing on the money bars

With a friendly gaggle of

Giggling girls.  

Seeing who could cross the fastest

Or who could do the most difficult moves.

Riding in the camper

bunk that extended over

The truck cab and waving

At the other kids who passed us

Doing the same.

Canoeing in the slough with my 

Grandmother at the helm

Watching the dark ripples with fascination

And then jumping back 

As a water snake glided by.

Now I’m recreating the memories

On my own acreage

And hope my grandchildren have 

Good memories of a little slice

Of country.