|Climbing Rocks in Rock Land|
Hot is hot, no matter how old you are ... it's the same heat. But somehow, hot didn't matter, when I was a kid.
It was summer and summer was supposed to be hot. Besides, there were so many things I loved to do and they were more important than a few sweat beads running down my face.
There were six of us kids and we used to love going to Grampa and Gramma Shannon's in the summer. It was a ten-mile drive and the whole way there, we planned our day ...
We could go splashing in the river, or fishing on the river in Grampa's boat, or ... we could go to the one special place we all loved more than anything else. We called it 'Rock Land'. I'll tell you about it, but first, you have to picture in where it was.
Grampa and Gramma's house sat just above the river and the dirt road that wound along the river, and it was nestled right at the bottom of a huge hill.
The hill was nearly straight up and covered with huge trees and house-size boulders and rocks for climbing. Mother Nature had situated them in such a way that caves had been formed under some of them.
Rock Land days were full of pretending. We were Indians, or pioneers, living in caves and my brothers were Daniel Boone and Jim Bowie, hunting for deer and bears.
One day, we noticed thick grape vines hanging from the trees above us. We climbed to the top of a rock, grabbed a vine with both hands, and swung out over the hill below -- there was no greater thrill.
|Swinging on a Grapevine|
As I remember, we only had one accident there. My cousin, Bill, who was like a big brother, swung out on his vine one day and right into a hornet's nest.
All of us learned first-hand what the expression, 'mad as a hornet', really meant. They bombarded poor Bill from every direction. He promptly let go of the grapevine, fell head over heels down the hill, and broke his arm.
We boycotted Rock Land for a few weeks after that ... but only for a few.
Yeah, summer is hot, no matter how old you are. But when you're a kid and it's summer and school is out, hot doesn't matter -- it's just great to be alive.
“A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write.” ~CJ Heck