One day, word came to us that a trash fire had gotten out of hand at a neighbor’s and was headed toward our house. We ran over with wet tow sacks to fight it, but it was wind-blown and quickly surrounded us. We had to jump over the fire to get out. You would never believe how hot a fire can be if it's right under you! Well, I saw that was not going to work, so I ran to the tractor, half a mile away, and hooked up the disk. I plowed a fire line around our house, hay stacks, propane tank, and crops. We were able to hold it there. The ranger told me, “You did a heck of a good job today.” My head swelled out of sight.
When I was little, sister Barbara pretty well dominated me. But once, she was swinging on our tree swing and would not let me have a turn. I picked up a rock and threw it. As luck would have it, (my bad luck!) it hit her in the head. She jumped off that swing, ran at me screaming, and I don't exactly remember what happened after that. I think I've blocked it out! Barbara Lou had developed a well-earned reputation as a hot head, but settled down some when told she was going crazy like Aunt Lula. We once got to wondering about this Santa Clause thing. We decided that since he came down the chimney, maybe he was holed up in the attic. We crawled up and explored it real well. By the time we had finished, we both needed to go to the bathroom real bad. Well, it was dark up there, so we did. When we got down, there were two brown stains on the ceiling above Mom and Dad's bed. They never went away, and we never heard the last of it.
We were going down to the creek, and Barbara wanted to change boots. She took mine, and I put on her big, loose boots. She started running down the rocky hill to the creek and I, as always, followed. Those big boots got my feet all tangled up around each other, and I sprawled out, hitting my head on a sharp rock. I thought I was never going to stop bleeding. I still have a hole there in my head. As always, I'm pretty sure Barbara managed to blame that all on me!
Taking a bath in the winter time was a major undertaking. We had to haul the water up from the well, way down the hill, heat it on the wood cook stove and put it in a round washtub. We took turns, and being the youngest, I was just naturally last. I was nearly grown before I realized bath water was not supposed to be brown. Summer time baths were easy. We had a nice round hole in the rocks down on the creek, a natural bath tub. Once, a water moccasin took over the tub while Dad was taking a bath, and ran him plumb up the hill. I had always heard they sometimes did that, but in my many dealings with moccasins, they just never acted like that. That is until years later, Harold and I were fishing down on the river. I was sitting down by the water, minding my own business. I was making an important business phone call on my cell phone, and I noticed a moccasin fifteen feet away, just looking at me. He started swimming toward me, and, not wanting to kill him since I was in his backyard, I just pushed him back out in the river with my fishing pole. He came back, a little faster this time, and I did it again. He came back real fast this time, managing to get into my mesh gear bag lying by my side. I never missed a lick with my business call, just dumped it back out in the river. Finally, it got tangled in my hook at the end of my pole, and I had to kill it. I had to call the lady back I was talking to, and I told her that if any of the information I had given her did not make good sense to just ignore it.
I visited Aunt Lula a lot when I was growing up. I always hollered, “Anybody home?” She always answered, “Nobody home!” She always made the best mackerel salad. Once, she found a dead Civet cat in her well and since it was trapping season she brought it over to me. Now, the Civet cat is the first cousin to a skunk, but it had a good looking fur, so I set in to skin it. When I made the first cut, it sprayed all over me. I went in the back door of the house to wash up, and everybody else went out the front door!
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