Listen To Me Honey by Fay Risner

countrysides.
    We are stuck in between high rises
and paved streets. So much about nature is a mystery to us. I
didn't pay any attention to what Mrs. Longfellow tried to teach me.
I was just thinking maybe I'd have a second chance with you. Think
you could teach me, Grandpa?”
    “I
can sure try, but that kind of hands on education cain't be done in
a few hours. When I was yer age, families had to know about plants.
We knew which ones to pick fer food, dyes fer clothing and
medicine. We had to know which ones were edible, and which might
make us sick. We had to be good hunters and fishermen to put food
on the table, especially durin' the Great Depression.”
    “What's the great depression?”
    Art shook his head. “Ya really
didn't pay any attention in history class. Weell, ya best read
about the Great Depression and Eleanor Roosevelt fer
sure.”
    The pickup bounced over the rocky
pasture as Art drove past the peacefully, grazing cattle. He headed
to the west boundary.
    Sure enough, he pointed out where
the fence wires were broken. “Weell, I've seen the fence a might
worse. We only needed to splice a piece of wire onto the top two
barbed wire strands and staple the wires back to the posts. The job
won't take long.
    After Art tied the barbed wire on
the roll to a wooden post, they walk along the fence holding the
ends of a steel pipe stuck through the middle of the wire roll. As
the prickly roll turned on the pipe, the silver wire fell off
behind them.
    “This roll of wire is heavy,” Amanda
puffed.
    She glanced over the fence, wishing
they could hurry the fence fixing. She wanted to take that walk in
the timber.
    “It
is that. Set the roll down for a minute.” Art hooked the wire
stretcher to the strand, tightened it and sliced the end to the old
wire. He stapled the wire to the wooden posts back to where he tied
the loose end.
    “Now
grab yer end again.” They started the trip along the fence again
with the second strand.
    Suddenly, the sun disappeared
behind a cloud A strong, cool breeze gusted, causing the tree tops
to sway. Low, heavy, gray clouds darkened the sky, swirling and
changing to black. Lightning streaked across the sky, followed by
distant rumbles that soon turned to loud thunder.
    The bird calls sounded frantic as
they warned one another a storm was near. The gray mourning doves
repeated their plaintive coo hooo coo.
    The song sparrows chirped loudly in
concern. A cardinal flew over them, headed for cover of the grove
of oak trees.
    “It's going to storm. There goes our mushroom hunt. We’ll
be lucky to get the fence finished,” groaned Amanda.
    “Run
fer the pickup. These gully washers don't last long. I'll join ya
soon,” Art said.
    The rain pelted the pickup as
Amanda watched Art get soaked while he hammered the last few
staples into the posts. He raced for the pickup, threw his hammer
in back and hopped in.
    The shower change from large water
drops to small hail that bounced and melted on the warm pickup
hood.
    Amanda asked, “Did my dad help you
make fence and mushroom hunt?”
    Art rested his arms over the
steering wheel. “Ya betcha. Jeff had to do all kinds of things
different from what city life is like when he was a
kid.”
    As suddenly as the rain came, it
moved away. The sun peered through the thinning clouds. The only
sounds were the faint rumble of far away thunder, and water
dripping from trees.
    “See, I told ya the rain wouldn't last long,” Art said.
“Now we can go mushroom huntin'. We might get a little damp around
our pant legs and socks, but it will be worth it if we find some
morels.”
    Once they climbed over the fence,
Art said, “We can cover the timber faster if we don't walk side by
side.”
    “What if I get lost?”
    “Y'all cain't get lost. This is a small timber enclosed
with a fence. We'll always be in seeing distance of each
other.”
    So Amanda walked to within seeing
distance of Art and headed the same direction he did. The spongy
soft humus felt funny