Summer Days in the Country

“Red rover, red rover, send Davy right over.”  We gripped each other’s hands as tightly as possible, but being older and bigger, my cousin, Davy, almost always broke through our line.  It was a million years ago. . . or maybe just yesterday that my three cousins, my brother, sister, and I would play in the grass in front of our grandparents’ home.  The summer heat would only slow us down for a moment, and then we’d be off doing something else.  Cops and robbers (or cowboys and Indians) was always exciting—you never knew when the other side would jump out at you.  My grandparents lived in the country and there were so many places to run and hide.  I looked forward to our week at my grandparents’ place—the warm sun on my back; running around with the cousins (although we were never barefoot like them); picking blackberries for my grandma’s pies; cats everywhere; chasing the geese and the geese chasing us; my grandpa calling his cows; watching the pigs; feeding the (somewhat) tame raccoon M&Ms; fishing in the pond with my dad; presenting our plays on the front porch for family; the shed with old clothes, antiques, and lots of spiders; sharing a big bed with my sister and several dogs and cats; the family gathered on the front lawn on July 4^th watching my uncle set off small fireworks. . . Ah, such great memories!  It almost makes me want to head outside and run barefoot through the grass. . . but maybe I’ll just wait until I can make a blackberry pie instead.