Memories

Daffodills,& Daisies,Blackberries & Plums,the Old Oilfield roads,and pinetree's higher than the sky.Gardenens growing,the of red beans,& cornbread,on the stove with a pot of coffee at it's side.The smell of a Hot Sunny Day,and clothes blowing in the breeze.Busy Bee's Buzzing,Ant hill's building. Green grass,and and barefooted,the smell of hay,as it's being cut for the day.The aroma of pigs,from down in the backyard. Right beside the cackling sound of the chickens,in their yard.With grazing Cows,slowly walking around slapping their bodies with their tails,to keep the flies,& wasp, away. The sweat from Our, foreheads just rolling away,but playing so hard,and not another care in the world.Picking the Plums,&Blackberries,and other fruits,from their vines and trees,and coming into moma's house with black oiled feet, from the roads we had walked on for moma, to make her best Blackberry Cobbler,& Plum Jellies,after she had cleaned our scratches,& stained hands,& faces,from the berries we had picked.Those,are just a few of the Days of the Memories in the Past of the Childhood.From more than 25 years ago,Today.