Chapter 24 Childhood Drops Away

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Little people grew up. Daddy changed to Dad and Mommy to Mom. People fall in love and marry. Neighborhoods change. Geese fly north, then back again. Spring comes with buds popping out on tree branches, then summer with its warm barefoot days and wheat trucks and the smell of new cut alfalfa and cows grazing peacefully in green grasses. The leaves turn a crimson and start to fall to the ground, covering the grass. Then snowflakes fall on your nose and in your hair. So was life here on our little farm.

BB guns were exchanged, with first a shotgun, and then a rifle. Pack rat hunting and turtle targets changed to walking quietly through tall grasses hoping a pheasant would fly up. A young man would so willingly get out of bed early in the morning to dress up in camouflage from head to foot, drag his sister out of her warm bed, and go sit for hours, waiting for a turkey. They would walk south into the pasture grasses on up into the hedge trees and there they would sit quietly in the leaves. Bret lifts his "turkey call" and blows into the twilight, sending out a noise through the trees. Then they wait, shotgun laying across his lap.

After about two hours of sitting, I would see two figures making their way home across the pasture. Bret has something slung over one shoulder. It doesn't appear to be his shotgun.

"I got one, Mom!" he says, a cute little grin across his face.

"That's a job for you and dad," I said, a bit proud of him.

"I'll help," Kate said standing there holding the shotgun.

"Whatever you want. I'll get the knives and a pan," I answered, disappearing into the house.

Really, it was a beauty. And to think they got it all by themselves. Well, we would have our first turkey in the freezer among the beef and pork already there.

Later in the week, Bret came into the kitchen. "Hey Mom, do you want to go with me this time? I'm going to see if I can find a pheasant."

"Where are you going?"

"Over on the 80 to walk along the pond."

"I guess. It will be good exercise. Just wait for me to get dressed."

Soon we were walking down the road, the gun flung over Bret's shoulder. I felt special to be invited along. As we got to the 80, Bret jumped over the barb wire fence and I clambered over it, catching my jean leg on a barb. "Oh shoot! That hurt!"

On we walked, down the waterway, over a fallen log or two, through some tall weeds and up over the dam. There we sat for what I thought was a long time. I couldn't seem to not talk, after all how often does a mother have a chance for a nice talk with her son who is growing up too fast?

It was soon made known to me that sometimes you just don't visit, and hunting pheasant was one of those times. So I got the hint and sat there digging crumpled bark off the log with a rock. No pheasant that afternoon!

There were trips to the orthodontist, making little mouths into beautiful smiles. There were surgeries to remove unnecessary teeth, and even adenoids. There were oatmeal baths to help with the itch from chicken pox and trips to the doctor's office as a result of attempting to build forts using poison ivy leaves. At night, Bret and Kate would often sit on Bret's bed and talk long into the night, carefully sharing their stashes of candy and engaging in fierce games of Tetris on their Game Boys.

At school, there were parent club meetings, Christmas programs, parent/teacher meetings, and bringing pretty colored cupcakes for Valentine's day. There were Halloween parades down the halls through the elementary library and into the gym. I was always looking for that certain little "spook". There was "Book It" and trips to the Pizza Hut to get that free individual pan pizza after reading a certain amount of books. There were end of school track days. This is where Kate was starting to really shine! She loved to run. She was in about every running event, and usually won! She had quite the collection of blue ribbons. 

There were 4-H days and the County Fair week: picking just the right pigs or bucket calves or buying lambs to raise. Every summer, we would daily see a sweet little calf or lamb being led around the farm by Kate . Or Bret would be running after his pig in an attempt to get it to go where he wanted. Those fair animals grew very dear to our hearts for sure.

Our barn cats sat alone on the front porch these days, with just a few pats from us as we would rush by, and Kate's dolls sat on the shelf, except when the neighbor girl would come over and play.  She much preferred to jump on her bike and take off around the section or run down the road while I walked behind. And of course we always had our trusty little Australian Shepherd, Brownie, running along beside us, darting into the fields to run after a rabbit!

We bought a little blue 4-wheeler at a farm auction. It was out of the shed most of the time. Either Bret or Kate would hop on it and take off to the wheat field to jump the terraces, and even the moles weren't safe! Once Kate "hit it lucky" and ran over one and put it in a jar of rubbing alcohol to preserve it. Weeks later, I found it under her bed! A mother's screaming moment! They loved to go to the pasture and ride up and down the creek banks, making trails among the hanging tree branches and tall grass.

There were family vacations to the Black Hills and Wisconsin Dells and the Grand Canyon. Some of the best "vacations" were right here on the old farm. Bret and Kate would head to the pasture and beside the dry creek they would gather sticks and make ready a place for an evening picnic. We would get some hot dogs out of the freezer, a loaf of bread, ketchup and mustard, and a jug of water. Mark, Bret, Kate, and I would walk out through the tall pasture grass, spread the old quilt on the ground, put a hot dog on a stick and roast them to a crisp brown. After eating, Mark and I would sit there watching the kids climb trees or play in the dry creek bed. The frogs would croak at us as daylight would turn to dusk, there under the big summer sky.

One nice summer evening we loaded up our tents and headed to a pasture south of home. We loved that pasture. We made our way to a forest of walnut trees, down into a small ravine where a small creek ran quietly winding its way through the grasses. To the south was a beautiful lake. We set up camp there among the trees along the little creek. Mark and I in one tent and Bret and Kate in the other. After another picnic supper, we sat there watching Bret and Kate busy themselves while the full moon rose up through the trees, throwing its soft light all around us.

Sometime in the middle of the night, we had a visitor. I lay still, there in our tent, listening to the snapping of the twigs, knowing that an animal was getting closer. Pretty soon I could hear the low bellow of the bull, then another snap of a twig, then that bellow again, as he got closer.

"Mark...Mark...wake up," I whispered shaking his shoulder.

"What is it now?"

"I think the bull has found us! Will we be alright? What about the... "

 I didn't get it all said when we heard, "Mom what is that?" It was Kate from the other tent.

"Just lay still. He is just curious. He'll go away. Just stay in your tent," Mark said in a soft calm tone.

You could hear his breathing just on the other side of that thin wall now. I lay there counting his breaths; one...two...three... He bellowed long and low and I was sure his head would come right through that tent wall! But he turned away and you could once again hear the twigs snap and his low bellow call, as he disappeared down the creek into the night.

Our neighborhood was changing too. A tall, handsome, gentle man knocked on our Jeannie's back door one Sunday afternoon in early March. In his hand he held a bouquet of red roses. That man was Harold. He swept Jeannie off her feet and threw his charm on all of us. In two short months Jeannie had a new hubby and we had a new friend and neighbor. We said "good-bye" to our Grandpa Amos in a little country cemetery about three miles to the north. Little Ruth moved away to be closer to family so their little white farm house came tumbling down and new neighbors moved in.

Life never stands still. That clock of time just makes its way around year after year, changing everything in its wake, and opening new doors of opportunities. Mark and I embraced change as best as a parent can and tried to make the most of every moment as we watched our little boy and girl turn into teenagers.