Yesterday I spent part of the morning picking red raspberries. My son had told me they were ready so I went down for some. They were not as nice as I hoped but I got about a quart of them. They reminded me of Don. He had a patch of red raspberries at his house before we got married. He would pick some and bring them up or he would call me to stop and pick some up. They were beautiful and so tasty. By the time we married he was tired of the weedy patch and mowed them down.

I also thought of Linda, a neighbor who had a lot of red raspberries near her home. She made jelly and pies with them and put some into her freezer each year. Sometimes we went down to pick some if the crop was heavy.

As I sat, after I picked, on my son’s patio I thought of the years that I lived down there in a trailer. At that time, we could see clear down to the highway. Before we married, I used to sit on Ethel’s couch and watch the traffic. I could see when Aunt Evie and Uncle Norm drove their Volvo up to see her sister. I could see Dick when he returned from his guard meetings.

I sat there to rest and observe. I saw many birds flying in and out of the pine trees. Those trees are so much larger now.

They were quite small in those days. I did observe there were no crows. At my home I have a lot of crows that wake me up each morning about 5:30 a.m.

I remember taking Preston and Jared down when we removed trees. They watched the men oh so carefully as they climbed the tree and removed branches. That year I removed my cottonwood trees and well as trees over at Jill’s place.

Once I worked with the guy, he was careful so I added to the job. I had bid the job out, and he came in with the low bid. After I removed the trees, another bidder showed up and asked why I did not choose him. I told him he did not have the lowest bid. He told me he could have done better. I told him I expected his best bid at the beginning. He even removed the tree stumps which I really appreciated since those were in my yard.

Picking red raspberries also reminded me of my mother. She lived near the lake and there was a lot of fruit near there. When red raspberries were in season, we could count on her bringing some over with her. When she arrived, my children ran to help her because they knew she always had some goodies in her car. She brought us fruit during every season.

As I sat on the patio the memories just kept coming. Memories are funny. It takes something to trigger them.

Of course, that also reminded me of picking blackberries on the back forty. There were blackberries up there when we bought the place. I had a baby and could not take him up there to pick. My sister-in-law and mother-in-law picked me up there. Years later, after a big storm went through, we had a lot of berries once again. By then my children were big enough to go up there with me. The view from there has changed as well. At that time, we could see the highway, but today all you can see are trees and more trees.

I remember there was one tree that the children rode on like a horse. They used to pretend a lot. Pretending is good for children. They had all kinds of things that kept them busy. I am not sure that children get to pretend like they used to. My children did not participate in organized sports in those days. About the only thing there was, was Little League Baseball and they had no interest in that.

Oh, the YMCA was there, but we lived too far away for that to be practical for them. They got plenty of exercise on the farm. I am so glad my children were born close together. They were best friends in those days. Their other friends lived just up the road – their cousins.

Life is so different today. Many cousins only see each other once or twice a year. My children were fortunate to be able to be with cousins on a regular basis. I grew up the same way. One of my cousins moved to North Carolina and I really miss her. I used to ride over to see her and her sister quite often. Now it is just a phone call.

Ann Swanson writes from her home in Russell, Pa. Contact at hickoryheights1@verizon.net.