Visit to the Country Place, Part 3

Visit to the Country Place, Part 3

Welcome to Christianity Oasis. This is Visit to the Country Place, Part 3 from our Sojourn With Luz Leigh Collection. We hope you enjoy this enlightening reading and it helps you on your own be-YOU-tiful Christian walk.

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Sojourn With Luz Leigh

Visit to the Country ... 3rd Installment

Written by Luz Leigh - 05 August 2009

During my next visit to the country place, our tour continued. There is an area down the hill from the camp house, toward the bayou, that is referred to as the chimney dirt hole. This was an area from which his grandpa would dig the mud that he would use to make chimney rocks. After digging the needed amount of mud, grandpa would add moss which he gathered from oak trees even closer to the bayou's edge. The moss was added to strengthen the rocks. After fashioning them into the proper size, the rocks were sun dried, much the same way the Indians made adobe for their homes.

We passed the cattle as they lay in the shade near the dried up crawfish pond. A day-old baby calf was curled up near its mother who eyed us as we drove near her baby. The mother cow was familiar with the truck, but I was in the passenger side near her and she knew me not. I just smiled as one mother to another, making no sound. Another day, we drove through the pasture, into the edge of some woods, looking for this baby calf. I was the first to spot him because Edwin was having to pay close attention to his driving. The little road (trail?) we were on was very narrow with trees close to each side of it.

As we drove closer to the bayou, I saw the palmetto plants, always a good indication that water was nearby. Areas where wild hogs have rooted up much of the pasture land were pointed out. There was no need to point it out; because the ground was so rough, I felt the jolts as he slowly drove the truck over them. I was told to be on the lookout for deer or coyotes. I'm not sure there was any possibility we would see any coyotes, but by now my Edwin had picked up on my fear of a lot wild animals, coyotes in particular. I saw none.

However, later I did spot three deer running through the woods toward a crossing. I began to excitedly point and try to say something to call his attention to the deer. He later told me he thought I was having some sort of fit, I was acting so funny. I could never be a deer hunter. First, I could not sit still and quiet for any length of time; then even if I could raise my gun, get the deer in my sight, I doubt I could pull the trigger. I have no aversion to others deer hunting; it's just not something I would be able to do. There have been times when mention was made of my sitting in a deer stand. Well, my thought would be that if I could carry me a good book, a bottle of green tea and some Ritz crackers, "riding a stand" might not be all that bad.

After stopping the truck near a branch, (for you city folks, that is a small stream leading to a larger creek, bayou or river), we walked around looking for the illusive sassafras tree. Edwin was just sure that was the area where he and his mother dug for the roots, but we found it not. He said maybe Obama took it, just like other things for which he has no use that he has taken. I chuckled at this dry humor. Being more practical, my suggestion was that the tree may have died. After all, his mother has been dead nearly twenty years.

We returned to the truck, with him saying he has not given up on finding the sassafras tree. He also mentioned that I might want to check for ticks. TICKS? Man, I thought the fire ants had totally eradicated those pests. By now, I had begun to pick up on the fact Edwin is a kidder.

Making our way past the lake, which, I was told probably didn't have any bass large enough to keep. (Was this so he would not have to let me use his precious rod and reel to try and catch a fish?) We spotted what no rancher wants to see ... a large tree laying on the fence. Upon closer inspection, it was determined that the larger limbs had prevented the main trunk from tearing the fence down. There is no immediate danger of the cattle getting out of their pasture and into the adjoining neighbor's wooded land. I suggested that since the tree that fell came from the other landowner's property, that man should be contacted about removing said tree. Boy, am I brave or just stupid? A woman does not make suggestions like that to a rancher who already knows what must be done in a case such as this. I could see the mental wheels turning, even before he spoke. He patiently explained to me how, using his chainsaw, he would go about removing certain limbs first, working his way to the larger trunk. Again, my mouth opened with a suggestion before my brain went into gear. It was my opinion that he should wait until his son or one of his brothers or a nephew could be there with him as he undertook the removal job. Saying nothing, he just looked at me and shook his head. I've seen that look before; my late husband Jack had a way of saying "butt out" without ever uttering a sound.

Edwin, pointing to a large Bois' d arc tree, said as a little boy he had worn out the knees of many pairs of pants, crawling around under that tree. He had little trucks to push around and haul whatever his little brain chose to haul that day. The tree now stands at the corner of the cow lot that is used to pen cattle in preparation of hauling calves and older cows to market.

We shall stop for now. Stay turned for the next episode ... which includes a picnic and a description of the camp house. This you do not want to miss.

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