Extemporaneous musings, occasionally poetic, about life in its richly varied dimensions, especially as relates to history, theology, law, literature, science, by one who is an attorney, ordained minister, historian, writer, and African American.
Monday, November 13, 2017
FARM BABY REFLECTIONS
FARM BABY REFLECTIONS
I don't remember much from my grandparents' farm as a small boy.
I do remember sweet sugar cane, however, and the watermelon and cotton. I remember riding upon the back of a mule that was hitched to a cane mill-grinder, that ground the cane into a green liquid as the mule circled . Someone lifted me upon it.
I do remember the sound of a long green watermelon splitting open, when it was sliced. It sounded like a log being split apart and the smell was was divine; its meat delicious!
I also remember cotton, billowing fields of cotton and riding atop the wagon high atop the cotton regally.
Such memories, remembrances endue, endear, endow me to land.