The month of March has slogged its way off our hills, leaving April to enter. This month has always seemed to me like a little girl in a frilly dress, scattering apple blossoms and warm days with her dainty hand.
We need warm days to dry up the mud March has left behind and help us prepare the gardens for early crops.
Yesterday was a gloomy day, and I muddled around in doom and gloom while thinking about the virus that covers our world. When a granddaughter sort of chided me, reminding me that, "I was not the only one," I asked the Lord to help me and be more concerned about others. I tried to gear my mind to happier days that had passed and think of long-ago happenings.
About that time, one of our dogs — probably Sparkie — turned over a big flowerpot full of aloes, scattering dirt all over the floor. The houseplant actually needed to have the dirt changed, so with broom and dustpan I proceeded to clean the floor. While I was sweeping and floundering around, I knocked another plant over, the crown of thorns cactus that came from my mother.
Have you ever seen an old woman sit down flat on the floor and cry? On top of that, I couldn't get up. I wallowed around there for a while, and then finally was able to get on my knees and pull myself up by my walker. I was missing my daughter Patty, and the whole coronavirus situation overwhelmed me.
It came back to me then, that I was not the only one. In fact, things could be much worse with us. Like the song says, "I have shelter, clothing and food, and I'm blessed."
As I prayed before bedtime last night, I asked the Lord to help me be more thankful for His blessings. Although it is still wet and rainy, "this is a day that the Lord hath made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it." There is nothing out of control with the Lord. So, I began to remind myself of the good days which are now past and gone.
This time of year, my mind always goes back to the camping out times when I was young. Williams River was always our favorite place, although Cranberry River was wonderful, too. Deer Creek, up near the Virginia border, was a smaller stream but left many precious memories of when we camped there. It was icy cold all year, but never crowded.
When we were in school, we eagerly waited for spring break to go camping. We watched the weather forecast closely, but there were times when snow would fall on our campsite and the tent would be covered. I can't remember ever turning back home — we toughed out the weather and it always got better.
Getting ready to go was always another matter. Daddy would spend a couple of days prior to our trip patching the tent (which always had a leak) and gathering supplies. I can still hear him grumbling as he looked for certain gear, saying, "Them doggone boys has carried my minnow trap off, and I can't find my fish net!" (It was probably the one we used to catch baby pigs!) Poor Mom had a lot of work to do too, packing cooking utensils, quilts, clothes for all of us and enough food for a week.
After Criss and I were married, Daddy insisted that we had to go, also. Criss wasn't brought up loving camping as we did, but he faithfully went anyway. It rained that entire week. Mom cooked over a campfire, with a piece of tarp covering it. I remember when she was frying steak and the tarp tipped a little and let rainwater down in her skillet. It was a long time before I could persuade Criss to go again!
I remember one time when Larry and I were just little young'uns that Daddy took us across a swinging bridge high above Williams River. There were missing boards here and there, and we had to crawl across it. It was so terrifying that I had nightmares about it for months.
But there were good times, too. Once Daddy took Larry and me with him far up the river. He left us in sort of a meadow, where ripe, wild strawberries abounded. We felt as if we were in heaven and stuffed ourselves while Daddy fished.
The best camping place we ever had was at White Oak Branch (now closed) where a wide strip of land bordered the tributary. It made a wonderful place for us to play, and with good access to water. It was also the place where Mom went into the brush to relieve herself (we were also taught to make a hole in the dirt and cover it up when we finished) and discovered she was squatting down on a copperhead snake.
I'll never forget how she charged back to the campsite, scratched and torn by the brambles that she ran through, and her bib overalls dragging behind her. It was also the place where I took the sliced potatoes to wash, and spilled them in the water. I scooped them back up, washed them the best that I could, and Mom fried them for supper. Daddy remarked, "The potatoes seem a little gritty." I never said a word.
Now that I have wandered around in the past, my mood has mellowed and I am happy in another spring day. One of Mom's mottos was, "This, too, shall pass." Cardinals are feasting in the bird feeder, the sun is trying to come out and the baby calf gambols on the hillside. All is peaceful here in our world. Let us enjoy it.
April is a special month,
A month of new beginnings:
Flowers bloom and green grass grows,
Ladybugs and butterflies,
Birds gathering for their nests,
Dry grass from the ground.
April is the month for rain,
April showers bring May flowers,
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