Bedtime Tales

Disclaimer: any resemblance to persons, things, or places is purely unintended.

Remember the feeling of gazing across a lake as the sun sets in the background. As the sun retreats behind the mountain, the coolness of evening creates mists which drift and swirl lazily over the surface. The water is nearly as smooth as glass except for a few riffles which glisten like a hoard of gems.

On the far side fishermen wade out in the shallow water to cast their fly to the wary trout. Spin casting and composite fiber rods have not been invented yet. The floating lines are dressed with a lard-like substance to keep them buoyant. The men control the line with the grace of a ballerina as though in slow motion. They roll cast a loop that glides out and settles the fly softly on the water. I’m only about ten years old at this time and perhaps my memory is playing tricks but it seems they cast nearly a hundred yards of line. Impossible, I’m sure. I couldn’t cast a third that distance with the best high-tech gear available today.

How do you paint this picture that lingers in my memory? It’s not colorful, more a contrast of the bright sun and the sparkling water against the deep shadows of the trees and the hills. The mists add the mid-tone grays which grow as the sun retires. The light gathers in a narrowing band at the horizon and the lake’s surface becomes perfectly calm.

It’s nearly time to walk back to camp. The end of another day yet not the end.

Why is it always Grandma’s house, not Grandpa’s? Grandpa lived there too.

It was always fun to visit Grandma. There were so many wonderful things to explore and discover. Outside in a bucket in the barn were beans and their dried up pods. I don’t know if they were used for food or seed for the next year’s planting. Next to the bucket was a box of photographic equipment. It was very old when I found it. Someone long ago had processed film plates and printed photographs. The barn was two buildings with a pathway between them. The cows were milked and fed in the other building.

The plum tree was just off the back of the house. It was a good tree for climbing. There was a boxelder tree at the corner of the barn that we could climb to get on the barn roof to see what was happening around the yard. It was a good place to stretch out and lay in the sun. It was a popular place to hide when playing hide and seek.

The fields were irrigated and the ditches bordered the property except for the ditch in front that divided the lawn from the apple trees. Just outside the front fence and across a footpath was a gate for the irrigation. Care was needed to switch the water because there was a patch of poison ivy nearby.

My cousin Ralph and I loved to sail boats in the ditch running along the south side of the property. Pea pods made great canoes when propped open with a small twig.

Next to the ditch was an outdoor fireplace with a stovepipe chimney and a plate on the top for cooking. I only remember roasting hot dogs in the fireplace. Perhaps the cooking griddle was too rusted or dirty for cooking. The fireplace was made of stone and cement mortar. The stovepipe was so black and corroded that there were holes all over near the top. The hot dogs sure tasted good.

My name is Bob, Bob White. I am a quail. A few days ago I lived in a shell. I have a mother and father, bothers and sisters. Mom and Dad have tassels on top of their heads. I will have one too when I get older. Now I’m just a ball of fuzzy brown and white feathers. Today we are going for a walk. Father leads the way, then mother and we all follow in a single line behind them. Look, Dad sees something. See how he stretches his neck and bobs his top not. Now he is flying to perch on the top of the fence. Mother quickly runs to the shelter of the thorn bush and we follow behind. From deep within the branches of our bush I can see Tom the cat silently stalking up to where we hide. Mother tells us to curl up together and stay until she returns. Then she dashes out where Tom can see her. She is playing a game with Tom. She holds her wing out on the ground like it is broken and hops away. Tom sneaks up trying to pounce on her but just as he gets ready to jump she flies a little further away. All this time Papa is scolding Tom for disturbing his family. Tom pays no attention as he is still trying to catch Mama. Soon he tires of playing this game and finds a shady spot to curl up and go to sleep. I am getting hungry. Mama scolds Tom for a long time then she comes back to get us. Now I am very hungry. We all scurry off in our line like children following the teacher. I would like to curl up for a nap myself. I was too frightened by Tom’s game to sleep.

Winter’s Food Storage

It was a fine summer day and Mr. Gray Squirrel was busy gathering black walnuts for his storehouse. The summer crop was ripening and soon the cool fall days would proclaim winter’s approach. Scampering from branch to branch then onto the fence with his jaws stuffed with nuts, he paid little attention to those humans watching from the driveway nearby. The fence was made with posts and rails with the fence boards nailed on both sides. There was a hole just big enough to crawl through with a walnut. He had the cavity about half full and there were plenty of nuts left.

Mr. Blue Jay watched from a nearby branch and chirped a warning to be alert. There could be danger about.

Squirrel paid no mind; he was too occupied getting the best ones for his hoard. Back and forth he hopped. He would have a good supply to keep him fed through the winter and spring until the trees provided a new crop.

Many years earlier a chipmunk was scampering in the bright sun among the leaves and pine needles. He sought pine cones for the seeds they contained. He too was storing food for the approaching winter.

A young boy watched envious of the chipmunk’s freedom. In truth, the small animal was bound to a path and activity that should he stray or neglect would lead to tragedy for he and his family. I would like to catch the chipmunk thought the boy to himself. I would make a home for him and we would play together. They boy began the chase but discovered that it was much easier to dream of capture than to make it happen. Usually the chipmunk sought refuge in the trees but once he made the mistake of hiding beneath a 55-gallon drum used to collect trash from the campers. Now the boy thought he had they animal trapped and would take him captive. He tipped the barrel up a little ready to catch the chipmunk when he came out. But he didn’t come out. When the boy tipped the barrel, it pressed down on the poor animal’s head. He lay twitching on the ground. He no longer raced among the leaves and needles but staggered spastically in small circles. There was no healing the mortal wounds and soon the chipmunk lay still. The boy was saddened by the results of his actions. He didn’t want it to turn out as it did. He thought only of his own wants. He knew little of the consequences that could result. Wiser minds could probably not have predicted the ultimate consequences but they would have foreseen that the captivity of the wild creature would not have been good for either the boy or the chipmunk. Scripture talks of ‘looking through a glass darkly’ as we progress through our time on earth with clouded vision for what is to come. Doing the best we can is what we seek. In my work I can erase a line I have misplaced. It is even easier now with electronic graphics. I cannot restore the blameless chipmunk to life no matter how much I would wish to.