The time seemed too suddenly slow ...
The wheels on our old 1960, bird-egg blue,
Ford LTD Country Squire turned onto
Creekstone Farm Lane.
Six, road-weary kids, long-ago silenced
by the humming of the wheels during the
three-day journey to Papa and Gram's
sunny country farm, suddenly stirring from their
hypnotic revelry, as the dust kicks up from the now,
slow-spinning wheels.
Each one had been, plum tuckered-out, except me!
I sat in such anticipation of being able to romp and stomp,
roam freely around the long cast shadows within and outside of
the big red barn as the fall days cooled into a chill in the air,
as the first evening came too soon.
Wakening the following morn by the crowing call of the Wellsummer rooster,
I rise enthusiastically to the smell of Grams country breakfast, a feast ...
topped off with the mouth-watering blackberry preserves and fresh baked biscuits.
As expected, today, my chore -- to help Papa harvest the ripened apples.
Hardly a task that I find unsavory ... knowing that Gram is going to slice those
fresh tree-ripened Red Delicious and sun-sweetened apples,
then bake her "over the top", melt in your mouth, cinnamon apple pie.
Sojourning to Creekstone Farm Lane is nothing short of living life
each moment to the Highest and Best reviving my soul ...
what memories, all precious, I shall take away ...to carry me
until next year.
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