Wait, Those Are Blueberries?

Scott woke up and rolled to the side of the bed. He sat up and looked around, not entirely sure of where he was. He didn't really recognize anything. Then he remembered that he wasn't at home. He was in New York with his mom and sisters. They were visiting the Buckingham family. He and his sisters had spent the night in a guest cabin that was available for their use. He stretched and got dressed before groggily making his way through the small building in search of his mom. He found his mother in the kitchenette fixing herself a cup of coffee and both of his sisters sitting at the table.

Scott poured himself a cup of coffee and added some non-dairy creamer. He tentatively took a sip and sat down across from Kelsey.

“So,” Scott addressed his mother. “What are we going to do today?”

“Well,” Christa replied with a smile. “As soon as you've had enough coffee to function, we're going to head over to the house for breakfast. After that, we'll just have to wait and see what the Buckinghams have in store for us.”

“I can function now,” Scott declared through a particularly strong yawn. 

“Sure you can, sweetie,” Christa smiled. “Just finish your coffee and we'll head out.”

Scott finished his coffee as requested and the whole family piled into the van to head over to the house. They got to the house and piled back out and made their way into the house for breakfast. Breakfast was a flurry of activity as due to the large number of people present. Afterwards, he dishes were collected in the kitchen. Someone started washing the dishes while other members of the two families set about cleaning up the breakfast mess. Christa directed Scott to dry the dishes so he wandered into the kitchen and found a dish towel. He picked up a plate and ran the towel over it and set it on the counter as he didn't know where anything went.

“Hey Scotty,” Lolly greeted the towel wielding Henning. “We don't actually dry our dishes because we dirty them so quickly. You can just go play outside with Jimmy and Daniel if you'd like. We'll get the dishes cleaned up”

“Are you sure?” Scott questioned. 

“Yup,” Martha interjected from the doorway.

Scott shrugged and dropped the towel on the table on his way outside.

“Scott!” Christa exclaimed from the dining room. “What do you think you're doing? I told you to dry the dishes.”

“But mom,” Scott stammered. “They said they don't dry the dishes. They said I could go play.”

“Really?” Christa responded skeptically. “I'm gonna check on that. You stay put for now.”

Scott waited impatiently as his mother stuck her head into the kitchen to verify his tall tale. He heard the back and forth between his mother and Aunt Martha. 

“Scott says you don't dry the dishes. Is that true?” Christa asked.

“Oh yes,” Martha replied. “With a family of ten, we dirty them so fast it's hardly worth the bother to dry them.”

“Well,” Christa chuckled. “Here I thought he was just pulling my leg.” She returned to the porch where Scott was waiting, “I guess you're good to go.”

Scott turned on his heel and joined the Buckingham brothers at the rope swing. The rope swing hung from a large oak tree in front of the house. The tree was rooted in the soil at the bottom of a small embankment that dropped off in front of the house. There were a few stone steps that allowed a person to walk down to the lower part of the yard without fear of falling. The rope had a board attached to the bottom that could be sat on, so the children would stand on the edge of the embankment, straddle the rope and jump off. The rider would enjoy a quick descent as the swing followed a broad arc out and back.

They all thoroughly enjoyed the rope swing with the occasional exception of Scott. He did enjoy the swing. The problem was that Scott was significantly heavier than the other riders which made the rope stretch slightly and it caused the limb to which the rope was attached to sag a little more than it did for other riders. The problem that arose due to these unforeseen factors was that Scott's feet would hang lower than anyone else's which allowed them to strike the rock steps when the young man wasn't paying attention. And Scott had a very well developed habit of not paying attention. (Scott still has a well developed habit of not paying attention as his lovely wife can attest.) After a few painful incidents and a threat from his mother to have his rope swing privileges revoked, he learned to pay enough attention to keep his feet up.

“Hey kids,” Martha called from the front porch. “If we had some blueberries to work with, we could have blueberry muffins. Do you want to go blueberry picking?”

There was agreement of various levels among the children so they collected various containers in preparation for the task ahead. The Hennings were quite accustomed to blueberry picking. They went to Wades Fruit Farm on a regular basis during berry season. The children didn't always find it to be the most exhilarating activity and often made this fact known to their mother. Christa would have nothing to do with their hesitation on this particular day. She lead by example with her trademark over-exuberance which sent a clear message to her children. They were going to pick blueberries and they were going to be happy about it.

“Okay,” Christa began. “So, I'll follow you guys.”

“Oh no, Christa,” Martha explained. “We pick our blueberries in the woods. We don't go to a berry patch because we have blueberries that grow wild.”

“Oh,” Christa replied. “Well, I guess you still lead the way.”

With that, the two families struck out on their mission of gathering berries for the masses. The Buckingham family lead the way through the woods. They followed well established paths through the trees branching off occasionally in search of the small bushes that bore the blueberries. The air in the woods was cool as the leafy canopy overhead shielded the berriers from the hot summer sun. Squirrels scampered away from the group of people and shot up nearby trees where they sat perched on branches and scolded the hikers for disturbing their home. Their angry chatter along with the summer song of fluttering birds was the soundtrack of the berrying quest. Finally, after about thirty minutes of searching, one of the children raised the alarm. They had found blueberries.

“Over here,” Jimmy called guiding the others. “We found a whole bunch of them.”

“Sweet,” Kelsey exclaimed as everyone rushed to where the boys were already picking.

There, a couple feet off the path, were six or seven small bushes that were just under two feet tall. The small branches were dotted with dainty little berries about the size of a pencil eraser. Jimmy and Daniel were already picking the berries off the bush two or three at a time and dropping them into a bucket. Scott approached the bushes and paused.

“Wait a minute,” he interjected. “Are you guys sure these are blueberries?”

“Yup,” Jimmy replied as he dropped a few more berries into his bucket. “Want to taste one to be sure?”

“They're just so tiny,” Scott declared as he picked a berry off the bush and popped it into his mouth. “I guess you're right. When we pick blueberries at home, their as big around as a dime, sometimes as big as a nickle. Is this always what you get when you pick blueberries?”

“Yes it is,” Christina replied with a smile. “They're wild blueberries so they're small and it gets a little colder in the winter than in Ohio and spring comes a little later, so the bushes don't get as big and the berries are smaller.”

“Okie dokie,” Scott shrugged his shoulders. “I guess we just have to pick more than I thought.”

The dual family berry party trekked through the woods for well over two hours searching for and picking the wild blueberries until they had enough for their intended purpose. The whole experience was completely different from what the Henning four had expected. Even Christa had to agree that she had something different in mind when she had so enthusiastically agreed to go berry picking. The whole crew had a good time all the same. 

“I suppose the thing to remember when picking wild blueberries,” Christa surmised between breaths, “is that it's more about enjoying the time with the berry pickers than actually picking the berries.

Doughnuts and Zucchini Are Not Interchangeable

Scott, Kerry, and Kelsey settled into the back seat of the family's Astro van. They were all getting ready for the trip to New York. Christa had decided that it was time for her to visit her good friend, Martha. Martha and her husband Jim were living in New York with their eight children Tisharia, Lolly, Christina, Jimmy, Daniel, Maryanna, and Lydia. The Henning kids were really excited for the trip. Trips away from the farm were rare and it was always a toss-up who would get to go since there always had to be enough people left on the farm to take care of the cows. 

Scott claimed the back back seat, while Kerry took up residence in the center seat. Kelsey took shotgun where she would act as the D.J. and occasional navigator. Christa climbed into the passenger seat clutching her purse and a used business envelope that contained her husband's handwritten directions. Dale had spent a significant portion of his life as a truck driver and was practically a walking atlas.(For the younger generations, an atlas was kind of like a GPS except it was a paper map that required a certain amount of skill and common sense to use as all the recalculating was done by the driver.) He also didn't see that point of tossing a used envelope when there was still a perfectly good side left.

“Okay, kids,” Christa declared confidently. “We're ready to go.”

She backed out of the parking spot and took off down the long gravel driveway. Kelsey picked up a large CD case off the floor and paged through the contents looking for the first installment of the trip soundtrack. She pulled a Michael Card CD out of the plastic sleeve and slid it into the CD player and settled into her seat as the music began.

Scott settled into the back seat with a book and a bag of snacks. The ride to New York was largely uneventful. 

After a few hours, they finally got close enough to their destination that in was impossible for the children to remain immersed in their various activities. After all, they weren't in little Paris, Ohio anymore. They looked out the window and were surprised to find their surroundings to be strikingly similar to the towns they roamed back home. There were no skyscrapers or traffic jams. They weren't sharing the road with flocks of yellow taxis carrying rushed commuters. They were just in a regular old city with regular old stores.

The three kids looked at each other with obvious confusion. They had not expected to drive for hours just to end up somewhere that looked a lot like Ohio. However, due to their mutual desire to avoid looking silly, they kept their confusion to themselves and waited to see what would happen.

“Hmm,” their mother mused from the driver's seat. “We should stop and pick up a treat. What do you think?”

Her passengers eagerly agreed in the hopes that the treat to which their mother referred might be something of the overly sweet variety that they enjoyed on a rather limited basis. 

“I think I saw a sign for a Dunkin' Donuts,” Christa continued. “Where is that doughnut shop?”

She drove down the unfamiliar street until she arrived at the doughnut shop. Unfortunately, it was more than obvious that the Dunkin' Donuts location in question was closed down for remodeling. 

“Well,” Christa sighed. “I guess we'll be showing up at Martha's house empty handed.”

The children grumbled under their breath in disappointment as the van was guided out of the city and into the countryside. Just as the children had settled into their various distractions, the van pulled off the road into a small gravel parking area.

“Are we here?” Scott questioned from the back seat.

“No dear,” his mother responded with a smile. “I saw a farmer's vegetable stand and I though I would check to see what they have, since we couldn't get doughnuts.

“I doubt there's going to be a good doughnut replacement at a vegetable stand,” Scott muttered as his mother got out of the car.

The three children waited in the car while Christa perused the merchandise. A few moments later, she climbed back into the van and placed a large paper bag on the floor in between the front seats.

 

“What did you get, mom?” Kelsey asked as she peered into the paper bag.

“I got zucchini,” Christa replied with obvious excitement. “There was a ton of it there so I got it for a good price.”

“Really, mom?” Scott clarified from the back seat. “You couldn't get doughnuts so you got zucchini instead? They're not even in the same food group!”

Christa shrugged her shoulders and smiled as she put the vehicle in gear and pulled back onto the road. It only took a few more minutes before the van arrived at it's intended destination. Christa guided the vehicle down a long driveway and parked in front of a large house built in a style reminiscent of Victorian architecture. There was a large tree out front of the house with a rope swing hanging from one of the larger branches. A volleyball net was set up off to the one side of the tree. Various members of the Buckingham family, who were occupying themselves around and inside the house, ran to greet the Hennings as Christa put the car in park.

Christa handed the bag a zucchini to Tisharia who whisked it off to the kitchen before the Henning children could explain that the zucchini was supposed to be doughnuts. The children spent the afternoon playing together. Up until that day, the Henning children were the ones showing the Buckinghams around the Henning home. This was the first time that the Buckingham family had been able to host the Hennings. Jimmy and Daniel showed Scott the woods while Kelsey and Kerry spent the afternoon with the Christina, Maryanna, and Lydia. Tisharia and Lolly spent most of the afternoon with Martha and Christa, preparing dinner.

The call for dinner sounded through the clear summer air. Scott sighed heavily as he braced himself for the large bowl of steamed or fried zucchini that he expected to find waiting for him. It wasn't as if he didn't like zucchini. He actually did. However, this particular zucchini was doomed to be tainted by the reality of the fact that it was supposed to be doughnuts. 

The children filed into the kitchen where the food was served buffet style. Scott dished his plate up as he walked by the table. He reached the end of the line and topped off his plate with a couple of slices of sweet bread that were still hot from the oven. He walked outside and sat on the front porch and looked at his plate.

Wait a minute, he though to himself. I don't see any zucchini.

“Hey Kelsey,” he whispered to his sister. “I thought we were going to have zucchini tonight.”

“We are,” Kelsey responded smugly. “That bread right there is zucchini bread.”

 

“Really?” Scott replied with genuine surprise. “This bread has zucchini in it?”

“Yup,” Kelsey smiled. “Pretty good, huh.”

“You bet,” Scott smiled. “It's almost as good as doughnuts.”

Note from the author: this is the first in a couple of stories highlighting some of the more memorable events of that particular trip to New York. We had such a wonderful time with the Buckinghams it just wasn't fair to try to cram it all into one post.

Long Neck Tree-a-saur

It was a beautiful summer day, the kind of beautiful day that could only come the day after an all-night-long thunder storm. There wasn't a single fluffy white cloud, wind-blown wisp, of jet trail interrupting the vibrant blue of the summer sky. It seemed that the clouds had been completely spent in the previous night's storm and all that was left was sky. The Henning children were taking a walk towards the north end of the farm, just south of their great uncle Clyde's house. The access road for the oil well ran all the way to the woods, which was their intended destination. (Their intended destination was the woods, not the oil well. While some of the children might have harbored ideas about riding the oil well arm like the giant grasshopper it appeared to be, even they realized it was probably a bad idea.) 

The kids watched the driveway pass beneath their feet as they walked, keeping a keen eye out for unexpected treasure. The driveway was paved with gravel that was somehow a bi-product of some of the local steel works and contained a significant amount of metal. Some of the metal was smooth on one side like a bubble or a drip and rough on the other side which was most likely a reflection of the surface upon which the molten steel had dripped. Other pieces were rough and sparkly and reminded the children of silver or gold that they had seen characters pan for in the cowboy movies. According to their dad, the sparkly pieces had gone through the blast furnace prior to being integrated into the farms gravel.

Every kid had a collection of driveway treasure. They would store their collections of metal chunks in boxes they had built in their grandfather's workshop and often traded pieces amongst themselves. Obviously, these pieces had no actual value, but the value of a piece had little to do with it's position on the real world. A piece's value had everything to do with it's position withing the imagination of the owner. There were precious few make-believe scenarios that were not improved by the existence of treasure. Besides, on rare occasions, these pieces of discarded metal acted as a kind of currency among the children and could occasionally be traded for items of actual value. (These scenarios rarely worked out well as one child always eventually felt cheated.)

Scott bent down and pick something up and eagerly rubbed the dirt away so that he could see what he had found.

“What'd you find, Scotty?” Luke asked excitedly. “Is it a piece of metal?”

“Nope,” Scott responded with a smile. “It's a piece of granite, I think.”

Scott was a collector of pretty much anything. He collected coins, stamps, boxes, model cars, books, and yes...rocks. His tendency to collect boxes was likely the natural result of his impulse to collect everything else. Where else would he store all of his collections? His rock collecting had been encouraged by some members of his family at various points in his life. Someone had gotten him a collection that came in a cardboard box and was labeled with the scientific names of each specimen. His grandpa and grandma had gone on a long road trip and had brought him a rock from every state they had visited. His uncle Wayne Stucky had gotten him a rock tumbler for Christmas one year. Needless to say, all this adult attention to this particular obsession only cause the young man's infatuation with his rock collection to grow.

After a long leisurely walk, the children finally made it to the woods. The driveway they had followed turned sharply to the west and then promptly forked. The right fork went up to the oil well and the continued into the woods. One could follow that fork all the way to Uncle Clyde's house by way of Oldsmobile Pass if one had a mind to. The left fork led to a field that was on the other side of the woods. The kid took the left fork. There was a gully that wound through the woods just off to the right of that fork which was a great environment for all sorts of games and make-believe. Fallen trees that bridged the gully were great for Robin Hood and Little John confrontations. The upturned root clusters of fallen trees provided excellent canvasses for war-time foxhole scenarios. 

The children didn't make it to the gully that day. Their trip was cut short by something that was new and exciting. Off to one side of the road stood an old fireplace that had been constructed out of field stones by craftsmen whose identity was unknown to the children. (The craftsmen who were responsible for the construction of the fireplace were their great Aunt Lois and their Grandpa Henning.) That wasn't what was new and exciting. That fireplace had been there for years prior to this particular day. The tree that was laying across the fireplace was what was new and potentially exciting. 

The fireplace was fairly close to the woods. That particular part of the woods was primarily populated with tree of heaven. (Tree of heaven is an invasive soft-core Chinese import that had been brought to America in the days of colonization. It grows very quickly and quite tall but isn't useful for much other than firewood.) A particularly tall tree of the heavenly variety had failed to stand against the previous evening's stormy gale and had fallen across the stone fire place. The tree itself was devoid of branches and as a result, was extremely straight. The wide end of the tree was still firmly anchored in it's half buried root cluster while the narrow end of the tree extended a good fifteen feet past the fireplace upon which the center of the tree rested.

Being the adventures that they were, the children decided to check out this unusual rock/tree formation. They climbed onto the log and began walking up and down the sloped tree trunk, each trying to keep their balance longer than the others. The trick on this log was that the further south the kids walked, the further off the ground they ended up. This gave them some incentive to leave the rougher games they might have played for different logs. (Neither Robin Hood nor Little John wanted to fall prey to the other's staff when the resulting tumble was for a distance in excess of five feet at the center.) 

As the kids got more and more confident, they wandered past the fireplace bit by bit. It wasn't long before they realized that the freshly fallen log, still being green, had some considerable flexibility and bounced a fair amount once they ventured past the fireplace. Every one of the children saw the potential in that fact. Scott sat down straddling the log. He scooted on his rump to the end log where he was perched ten to twelve feet off the ground. He turned towards his brother and sisters and motioned for the others to follow his lead. Kelsey, Luke, and Kerry eagerly obliged. The children steadied themselves by holding onto the log or each other, depending on the trust that each child had in the person in front. 

“Okay, guys” Scott began. “We're going to bounce on this log and make it go up and down like a big teeter-totter except without anyone on the other end, okay?”

The kids began bouncing on the log causing it to slowly rise and fall. The movement of the log grew in intensity and prompted the children to tighten their grip on the log and each other. After a few minutes, Scott's mind grew bored with the log on the north end of the family farm. The world around him began to morph. The trees changed to exotic tropical varieties and the grass grew tall. The valley around them grew deeper and was populated with all sorts of different dinosaurs. A pterodactyl glided over their heads on it's way to the lake that had formed in the basin of the valley. The brontosaurus the children were riding, lazily meandered through the tall grass, pausing frequently to graze. The dinosaur bent his long neck towards the ground and scooped up a mouth full of green grass before raising it's head to chew.

“Why doesn't he just chew with his head down like the cows do?” Kerry asked from her perch on the dinosaurs neck.

“He's gotta watch out for predators,” Scott replied. “The cows don't have to worry about that. Look over there,” he pointed towards a tall tree on the outskirts of the woods. “That's a tyrannosaurus rex. If our dinosaur doesn't pay attention, we could all become a t-rex's dinner.”

“That's a good point,” Kelsey agreed. “Do you think a t-rex would go after a dinosaur as big as ours?”

“Only if it could catch it by surprise,” Scott replied with the confidence of a seasoned dinosaur wrangler. “Our long-neck is pretty big, so as long as he keeps grazing like he's doing, the t-rex should leave us alone.”

The children spent a considerable amount of time wandering through the prehistoric wild with their bouncing long-neck tour guide. Flocks of over-sized birds flitted and flew through the air and occasionally dove close to the ground scooping up giant grasshoppers and cockroaches. Triceratops grazed on the far side of the lake, brandishing their bony crowns at potential predators from time to time. A stegosaurus fended off a small group of velociraptors who had taken an inappropriate interest in her three spike-tailed babies. After a couple of well places tail swipes, the raptors fled into the tropical forest to nurse their wounds and their egos.

The sun's bright yellow glow began to shift to orange as it grew closer and closer to the western horizon. Scott checked his watch and saw that it was well after five thirty.

“Uh oh,” he mumbled as he turned towards his brother and sisters. “It's time for us to get back to the house. It's almost milking time.”

The prehistoric world around the children faded away as they scooted backwards on the still bouncing log until they reached the fireplace. They stood up and walked down the lower end of the log to where they could easily step on the ground. They walked towards the house all the while discussing the different adventures their new-found reptilian friend could facilitate for them in the future. Scott looked up into the sky where one last prehistoric bird morphed back into a red-tailed hawk and smiled to himself. Oh the places you'll go.

Independence Day

Scott stood up and walked over to the fire. He picked up a stick and started poking at the coals that lay under the lazy flames. Sparks flew from the ashes and rose a few feet into the twilight air before disappearing into the darkness. Fireflies flickered in the waning light almost as if they were a pre-show warm-up. 

The children were hanging out at the fire pit below the house. They had cooked hot dogs and s'mores over the fire. Their parents had long returned to the house to do whatever it is that parents do. They were probably reading or something. The children lingered fireside in hopes that the neighbors across the street would maintain their yearly tradition of shooting off fireworks. They weren't like the fireworks that could be viewed at Silver Park in town or any one of the other professional fireworks shows that were available for public viewing around the holiday, but they were still pretty cool. It was basically a private show that could be enjoyed without the hassle of large groups of picnic basket carrying, sparkler wielding, glow stick wearing observers that flocked to the public venues. 

“It's almost nine o'clock,” Caleb declared as he checked his Timex wrist-watch. “They should start any minute now.”

“Well, I'm not sure what they're waiting for,” Kelsey replied. “It's dark enough right now.”

“I don't know,” Scott muttered as he kicked at the dirt with the toe of his boot. “Maybe they're not doing fireworks this year.”

Caleb nodded his head from side to side as he considered the validity of his brothers statement. The younger three gasped in genuine concern at the suggestion that the show might never start. 

“Don't even joke about that!” Kelsey chided. “Of course they're gonna do fireworks. They do them every year. It's a tradition!”

(Kelsey always had a strong appreciation for tradition but sometimes seemed unaware that her family's traditions weren't necessarily someone else's traditions.)

The discussion was cut short by a clear crisp two-tone whistle that sounded clearly from the house's wrap-around porch. Five heads jerked to attention as the children ran towards the house through the opening in the chain link fence. Muted exclamations of protest punctuated each step as they grudgingly, but quickly, made their way up the hill and onto the porch. Dale stood there waiting patiently for his brood to appear. 

“Um,” Caleb began on behalf of his younger siblings. “Is it time to come in already? The fireworks haven't even started yet.”

“I know that,” Dale responded curtly. “Everybody get in the van.”

The children didn't argue because it was not a great idea to argue with their father. As they grew older, they could assume that they would begin to argue with their father from time to time, but they weren't old enough for that just yet. Instead, they walked down the old sidewalk to the gravel parking area where the family's Astro was parked. They climbed into the passenger compartment of the vehicle as their parents got into the bucket seats in the front. 

Without offering any explanation, Dale put the vehicle in reverse and backed it out of the parking spot. The children expected him to turn down the driveway towards the road, but instead, he turned in the opposite direction and began a quick ascent up the barn hill. He turned left onto the top drive and guided the van past the house and in between the Long Barn and the Yankee Barn and past the Honda Hutch. Much to the surprise of his passengers, Dale continued to drive the vehicle right into the hay field at the end of the driveway.

“Where are we going?” Luke whispered to his older brothers.

Caleb and Scott just shrugged in response. While it may have been completely normal to go off-roading in some family's, it was not normal for this family. The only off-roading they did was on tractors and that one time in the blue suburban on the way to school. (The latter was not intentional and is another story for another time.) The van crested the hill and was turned so that the sliding side door faced south towards State Route 172. Dale brought the vehicle to a stop and put it in park.

“You kids might want to open your door and make yourselves comfortable,” he directed as he put the vehicle in park. “Those fireworks are bout to start any minute and I though you might appreciate a better viewpoint this time around.”

That's awesome, alright, and thanks Dad! Sounded out from the back of the van as one of the kids opened the sliding door. The kids got settled into their individual viewing spots just as the telltale screech of the first firework sounded across the valley. The children watched on bated breath as a golden streak curved into the air and exploded with a pop in a shower of read sparks. 

Their father was right. They did appreciate this vantage point. At their traditional viewing point, they were only able to see the upper half of the shimmering sphere of most fireworks and some of them were missed entirely. From the top of this hill, which was almost the highest point of the farm on the west side of the valley, the family could see the whole show. Christa looked across the center console at her husband and opened her mouth to say something. Her thought was interrupted by her youngest daughter who apparently made Christa's comment unnecessary with the utterance of her own.

“Best fourth of July ever!”

Apple Dumplings Are a Balanced Meal

It was a bright sunshiny summer day and the clan of Henning cousins were utilizing it to it's full potential. Kelsey, Kerry, and Joanna were playing in the shade of one apple tree while Scott, Luke, Benjamin and Samuel were playing in the branches of another. The tree the boys were in was forked at the trunk and bigger than most of the trees in the orchard. It's size and shape provided a good canvass for the boys as they exercised the imaginations. On that particular day, they were on a ship. Each boy was armed with a sword that they had constructed under the careful supervision of their grandfather in his back room workshop. Of course, Richard, being the teaser that he was, told everyone that their swords were actually crosses. This was an occasional source of conflict for the boys as they were unable to consistently discern the difference between a good-humored tease and a genuine disagreement.

As the children passed the time in their various childish endeavors, the adults were busy preparing the garage for dinner. Richard and Mary lived in a house trailer that was not well suited for large family gatherings so more often than not, these gatherings took place in the garage. Dale and Jonathan went to the big gray bank barn and carried the homemade picnic tables out for transport. Caleb stood by with his grandfather as his dad and uncle loaded two picnic tables into the back of Richards green Ford Ranger. Dale and Jonathan climbed into the bed of the truck to steady the load while Caleb joined Richard in the cab. They drove back to the garage and unloaded the tables before heading back for a couple more.

The tables hardly had time to settle into their spots on the concrete floor before Christa and Rebecca got to work preparing them for use. They covered the painted wood surfaces with table cloths and set out Styrofoam plates and bowls alongside a tray of silverware. Mary carried out a relish tray full of carrots, peppers, broccoli, cauliflower, sweet pickles, and candied dills. She set it down and returned to the house for another tray with similar contents. A light breeze blew through the garage bringing some relief from the warmth of the summer day. The table cloths rippled in response to the gentle teasing of the summer wind.

“Okay,” Christa declared. “We're pretty much ready to eat. Would one of you call the kids?”

Jonathan walked to the open garage door and called for the children to come. They eagerly obliged. The boys deposited their weaponry in a pile outside the door and found a seat at the table. The girls didn't have any weaponry to contribute to the stash so they were seated first. The each held their bowl before them eagerly awaiting the main course. Mary, Christa, and Rebecca triumphantly marched into the garage, each carrying a silver nine by thirteen pan. They each sat their pan down on one of the tables and took their seats. 

The contents of the pans were dished out into the outstretched bowls in generous steaming portions. The children placed their bowls in front of them and waited impatiently for everyone to be served. Then they waited a little longer for Richard to give thanks to God for the food they were about to eat. (Richard always prayed in King James.) The prayer ended and they waited a little longer for the milk to be passed around. They poured milk over the contents of their bowls and dug in.

“I love apple dumplings,” Samuel exclaimed between mouth fulls. “No one at school believes me when I tell them we get to eat apple dumplings for a whole meal.”

“Well,” Rebecca replied. “Let's not forget about the veggies. You do need to eat some of those.”

Samuel and his cousins shrugged in hesitant compliance as they helped themselves to their preferred vegetables from the relish tray. Second and third helpings were dished out until the pans were empty and the stomachs were full.

“Now that's what I call a meal,” Caleb declared as everybody nodded in agreement.

Rainy Exile

The rain poured from sky in volumes that reminded the children of the great flood in the Bible. It struck the aluminum porch roof with considerable force creating a sound that was both symphonic and cacophonous at the same time. Scott, Kelsey, Luke, and Kerry stood on the from porch watching in awe as the torrential downpour created small streams and rivers in the front yard. The water collected in the divots of the yard creating puddles that danced and splashed in response to the rain like a scale model of the surface of a stormy sea. The barn hill was awash in muddy dirty water that pushed the gravel to the side and carried it to the bottom of the hill where it collected in irregular windrows.

The children looked at each other, each knowing what the others were thinking. They knew that they shouldn't but they really really wanted to. The wind blew the rain towards them and covered their faces in a fine cold mist. Before the storm had blown in, it was eighty-six degrees outside. The coolness of the summer rain refreshed the children and beckoned them to leave the shelter of the wrap-around porch. 

“Do you think we'll get in trouble?” Kelsey inquired of her older brother.

“Probably,” Scott replied. “Dad's gone though, so we probably won't be in that much trouble.”

The younger three nodded thoughtfully as Scott peered through the window at his mother who was vacuuming the carpet in the living room. It was Saturday. That meant that Christa had been cleaning all day. The Children had completed their hundred pickup and had fled the scent of pine-sol and bleach for the freshness of the outside air. They were just discussing the entertainment options for the day when the storm rolled across the hills and began it's torrential invasion.

Scott looked around and slipped out of his rubber barn boots and pulled his white crew socks from his feet. He rolled up his pant legs and stepped onto the sandstone block that served as a step. The step was still mostly sheltered by the porch roof overhang but Scott smiled broadly as the splashing raindrops coated his feet and shins with water. He reached out and allowed the water from the roof to pummel his forearm and open palm. The cold rain sent goosebumps up his arm and a chill down his spine.(The roof on the porch was just a temporary roof that had been laid over the new framing until the whole house was ready to be roofed. The aluminum sheeting had been salvaged from another building and the porch had no gutters at the time.) 

“It's cold!” he giggled as he tentatively stuck his head into the falling water.

That was last straw. He had pushed the boundaries far enough. With a joyous laugh, he leaped from the sandstone step into the torrential downpour of the summer storm. He ran through the yard and jumped into a slide across wet grass. It took his younger siblings less than thirty seconds to follow his example and join him in the rain. All four siblings ran through the summer downpour, fully enjoying themselves despite the eventual consequences for their actions. 

They engaged in a quick game of tag which was an endeavor that was more challenging than usual given the soggy and slick conditions of the yard. They walked gingerly onto the gravel driveway so that they could put rocks and other obstructions in the paths of the streams that ran down the hill. The water was immediately redirected around their obstructions almost as if the streams were living beings. They dropped chunks of dirt and grass into the water and watched it dissolve as the water eroded the obstacle and carried the particles down the hill to be deposited with the other minuscule obstructions. The power of the water seemed so disproportionate to the size and mass of the stream. The children searched for twigs to drop into the water so that they could follow them down the hill until the small improvised water crafts were run aground on the gravel bars at the bottom of the hill.

Water is so magical when viewed through the eyes of a child. There is an inexplicable power in it's ability to change the environment around it. One drop of water is so insignificant, but when it was added to a bunch of other drops of water, it became something significant. If that collection of water droplets was given momentum- that was a force to be reckoned with. That was the force that flooded the earth as Noah and his family became the first sailors in history. That was the force that cut the Grand Canyon from the rock of Arizona. 

Almost as suddenly as it had begun, the rain stopped. The sun came out and a rainbow stretched across the sky. The children stood there entranced by yet another magical talent associated with water. The colors spread across the sky in a banner of beauty. 

“Wow,” Kelsey exclaimed in aw. “It's so pretty.”

Nobody argued with her. They all just stood there and watched. Eventually, the rainbow faded from the sky and the children turned back towards the house. The sun returned in full force and, in combination with the residual humidity from the rain, created a rather uncomfortable atmosphere for the children to play in. The children climbed up onto the porch and approached the door that led into the living room. They were surprised to find that it was locked. 

They looked at each other in confusion as everyone shook their heads in answer to the question that hadn't been asked yet. No, none of them had locked the door. They walked to the front of the house and tried the door to the parlor. It was also locked. They tried the door into the laundry room and the back porch door as well with similar results. The children stood on the back porch and knock on the pine door that separated them from the kitchen.

“Mom!” Scott called on behalf of his siblings. “We're locked out! Let us in!”

“I don't think so!” Christa responded from the other side of the door. “I have been cleaning this house all day. You were the ones who decided to play in the rain and the mud. You can stay outside until I'm ready to deal with you. I am not letting you mess up all my hard work before the end of the weekend.”

The children just stood there completely flabbergasted. At the outset of their transgressive episode, they had accepted the possibility of punishment as the probable outcome. However, it had never occurred to them that banishment from the family abode was a possibility. Of all the punishments they had experienced in the past, exile was not one of them. 

“We're locked out of the house?” Kelsey questioned tentatively.

“Yes,” her mother responded with resolution.

“If we're locked out because we're dirty,” Scott began. “And the shower is in the house, how are we supposed to get clean enough to come in the house again?”

“When you are all ready to come inside and stay inside, I will give you a bottle of shampoo and you can wash up in the milk house,” Christa responded. “For now, you are out of luck. And don't even think about coming in through the basement.”

The children turned around and reluctantly walked back outside. They wandered over to the swing set and settled into their perspective swings.

“Well,” Scott declared. “I guess the answer to our question is Yes. We will get in trouble of we play in the rain.”