The Stone That Stole The Sky

Summer bid spring good-bye and her days lingered lazily.  The river’s edge was streaked with green where the fresh currents poured in, then circled the base of the long ridge that dominated the landscape on the opposite side.  It created a thickly forested portrait. 

Evy sat cradled in the fork of a giant hickory tree, listening to the leaves whisper secrets.  Her heart held secrets.  ‘Daydreamin’s the best way I know to share ‘em without speakin’, she thought.  ‘Nature’s a safe place; an’ mountain folks is just part o’ nature.  Some folks don’t hold with daydreamin’, countin’ it use-less.  But not to me.  Can’t rightly tell how, ‘cept bein’ like sweet medicine, soothin’ an’ healin’ together.  It’s night dreamin’s got no sense, not havin’ a say in the matter.  Sides daydreamin’s when I get my best ideas an’ answers to things puzzlin’.’ 

There were even best spots for doing it, like the broad fork of the hickory tree by the river.  That was the closest to the sky and heaven and far away as she could get.  And just maybe the sorting was really the Good Lord talking, helping her along. 

Having a bird’s-eye view of the bend of the road, she could see Paw coming home.  With the ease natural to a child, she swiftly made her way to the ground, up the bank, past the sorghum field, past the old log house to the barn. 

“Hi, Paw.” Evy stopped, catching her breath. 

“How’s Evy Girl?” he asked, giving her a one arm hug, hoisting the harness to his shoulder.

“Right dandy, Paw,” she said, running her hand over Sal’s sleek coat.  Evy led Sal into the barn.  Picking up a brush off the top of a barrel, she concentrated on the rumpled hair where the harness had laid.  Sal nuzzled the side of her head as if to say, “Much obliged, I’ve been a-hangerin’ for a scratch.”  Gratitude ended quickly as Sal heard corn poured into the grain box and the rustle of hay dropping into the manger.  Not wanting Buck to feel left out, Evy gave him a firm brushing on his well-muscled rump.

Soon the hogs started snorting as loud as a “Happy Pappy” sleeping in his rocking chair.  The chickens sang a warm-up scale with Honeysuckle the cow.  They all made the barnyard sound like an out-of-tune marching band.  Evy wondered,  ‘How’s it animals know when it’s feedin’ time anyways?  Like they wuz wearin’ a time-piece with a supper gong.’