A Red Bird Day…

Revisiting childhood…

It is a Red Bird kind of day as I carefully walked the bramble-hedged path through the forest that edged our home.  I could hear leaves crunching, not from my shoes… but a lighter slower movement. 

I can hear the crusted creek running beside the path flowing gently through vein like openings in the ice.  I can smell the wood smoke from our potbelly stove. 

I know that on the warming shelves of the old wood cook stove are hot;  biscuits and ham waiting for me to get home from scurrying the woods for nuts and berries, a treat while we sit around the stove listening to grandpa’s latest tale of the war he fought during his youth. 

Then I saw mother watching from the window for signs of my bright colored hat she knitted me for Christmas, she opened the door and waved; I was late and she was worried.  I showed her my overflowing basket, she smiled…I wanted keep her happy so, I did not tell her about the Wolf!




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