I have dark purple violets out here in the back yard. I remember mama cutting a clump out of some growing down at Way's Woods and bringing them home to plant by the old wishing well and around the clothes pole. That was at least fifty years ago and they are still blooming in the same place altho I had taken down the wishing well three years ago 'cause the roof was rotting and the stones were falling out of the base. But the violets still come up each spring and each year I still have the memory of the trip to the woods. All of us neighborhood kids would go down to the woods where there was an abandoned lumber mill and we would gig frogs and cut their legs off and we would build a fire, someone having brought a skillet, salt, pepper, and bacon grease, and some potatoes to roast, and we would fry up those frog legs and have a feast. Then there was the sledding hill on the other side of the woods and it was called Way's Hill. Great place to play, have our little secret meetings, go swimming in the creek, and pick flowers for our May Day baskets. We had another woods called Baker's Woods, but we didn't go there much 'cause there was an old hermit who lived there in a little old run-down shack, and we were scared to death that he was going to grab and kidnap us. What great scary stories we made up about him. It is said that we can never go back home, but all we have to do is close our eyes and we are transported back to the days of our childhood in an instant, and we re-live those glorious days when we weren't afraid of anything more than our own imaginations. Ah, those were the days.
© By susi Taylor (Texaswishr@aol.com)