I never liked cold weather, so it’s not surprising that I especially loved summertime; no shirt, no shoes, no school! Getting hot and sweaty was no issue for me. Holding a water hose over my head or standing by a lawn sprinkler only added to the pleasure of being outside on long sunny days. I even enjoyed splashing through puddles on warm rainy days. The drainage ditches and road shoulders were an extension of our front lawn, so I wold spend hours wading in the water that collected in the ditch. It was a great place to search for and catch “crawdads”. Pieces of wood made boats for my “army men” to float around as I played war.

Most years Daddy would order a dump truck load of sand for filling holes and leveling areas of the lawns and planting shrubs. For a few weeks, until it was all used, it made a favorite play spot for making roads for my little plastic cars that came in boxes of cereal, or digging caves and building forts for my toy soldiers. Small sticks made great barricades and fence posts, and little boughs from trees or shrubs could be used as trees. I liked to set up up all my soldiers in foxholes, behind barricades, or behind mounds, and throw small clumps of sand at them like artillery shells. Using a set number of clumps to throw, I would see how many men I could knock over to determine whether or not I had won the battle! My imagination was the only limit to the hours of enjoyment that I spent on those piles of sand.

I learned from my brother, George, how to throw a tennis ball up onto the roof of the house and catch it when it rolled back off. One late afternoon, when I was six years old, I was playing this game when I threw one ball too hard, causing it to go over the ridge of the roof to the opposite side of the house. I quickly ran around the house to find it, and as I was walking through the lawn, surveying the shrub beds, I suddenly felt an extreme pain on the inside of my right foot. I jerked my foot up as I looked down, astonishment turning to panic as I saw a Ground Rattler coiled to strike again. I don’t know how high are how far I leaped, but I’m sure that I could have qualified for a college track team! Motivated by fear and adrenaline, I was able to hop, on one leg, around to the front of the house while holding my other foot in my hands, crying and screaming “snake, snake!!” I’m certain that God was orchestrating events because as I rounded the corner of the house, Daddy was pulling into the driveway, coming home from work. The whole family was alerted to the sound of my screams. Daddy jumped from the car, ran over and picked me up, looked at my foot, and carried me inside as he told Kurt to go look for the snake. He took me straight to the bathroom and set me on the edge of the bathtub. He grabbed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a fresh razor blade from the medicine cabinet, knelt down and took a swig of peroxide, swishing it around in his mouth, then spitting it on the floor. After pouring more peroxide on my foot, he made two “X” cuts across the fang marks on my foot. He then proceeded to chew and suck on my foot, spitting dark red blood on the floor. He continued until the cuts were bleeding bright red. Iodine and a bandage came next, causing additional pain that was probably worse than the bite! Kurt had come in to verify that he had found and killed a small Ground Rattler. I was placed in bed while Daddy called the local doctor, who affirmed the actions taken and prescribed rest and lots of fluids. If there was a good side to the experience, it was Daddy bringing home six-packs of “Grapette” soda for me. It took about two weeks for the swelling in my foot and ankle to subside, and I understood why Butch swelled so much after a bite. It was a profound experience for me, as my fear of snakes grew exponentially. I had held Garter snakes that George would catch on occasion, but I wanted nothing to do with any kind after that! Actually, my disdain for snakes continues to this day!

Another group of creatures that caused me fear were spiders; any type, any size, but the larger they were, the greater the chills down my spine. Grass spiders were bad enough, but the large yellow garden spiders would really make me cringe. So many times, as I made my way through the woods, I would suddenly find myself face to face with one of these huge spiders with it’s web stretched from the tree branches! I never got used to it.

One morning, as I was pulling up my jeans, a large grass spider that had spent the night inside them came running up the front of my t-shirt! I was immediately slapping at it, screaming and dancing a jig. Mother came running in from the kitchen, afraid that I had caught on fire from the gas heater, and she scolded me good for scaring her so badly. I wasn’t very sympathetic with her after the terror I had just experienced, but I was still alive, and I knew to keep my mouth shut!

Did I mention my “care-free” life around the farm?