A Tree for Me, Hickory
Just like out in the woods we would eventually get distracted and go running from our positions on the front stoop to go play games in the back alley or some other kid activity. Meanwhile the hammers, bags of nuts, and bits and pieces of broken shells were strewn all over in the front of the house. You wouldn’t believe how far some of those shells will fly when hit with a hammer. Anyway, our mother used to like to walk around in her stocking feet. When she would eventually encounter one of the sharp shells she’d scream at us to clean up the front porch. We’d scatter even further than the nut shells. This would happen every fall, as sure as you could count on the trees turning color. That was Hickory nut season then and it sticks with me to this day. I’ll love those trees forever.
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