There is nothing like the country

Young parents with small children, move to the country,  if you can.   I started out in the rural south,  on my grandfather's farm,  in Wade Station, North Carolina.    Wonderful days!  The absolute best days of my entire life!

One thing for sure, we NEVER wore shoes in the summer.  Yes,  we stumped our toes and bruised our feet over and over,  but,  there was nothing like squishing that soft white hot baby powder fine  dust  between our toes,  as we walked back and froth from granddaddy's house to Aunt Maggie and Uncle Lee's.

Little would be "street urchins" blessed from humbled beginnings , blessed, put directly in the laps of "good, honest, country folk" as caregivers.  PTL!

I remember playing "Hide and Seek", "Goosey, Goosey Gander" and other childhood games,  but,  for some reason this activity stands out in my mind today.   Just for fun  we would walk gingerly in some one else's tracks, trying desperately not to stumbled, to smear the imprint.  I always looked for the biggest tracks.  Tracks that looked like human spatulas.

"Well, I guess you heard …";  I traced my mother's tracks. What I saw and finally understood will curl your hair!   Praise the LORD!  Dear LORD,  thank you for keeping me blind!

PTL!

I press on   ...