It is always interesting to re-construct last night’s dream. That, of course, suggests that vague remnants of it still survive . They don’t always.
I was recently prompted to recall some details from early grammar school days, many decades more distant than last night’s dream , but the memories flooded back amply. The brain is remarkable, isn’t it ?
Allow me to re-construct : I watched an ad for a video baseball game. Pity the youngster who does that rather than play the real game, but that’s a conversation for another day. The game reminded me of playing baseball in my grade school days at Alexandria Twp. School (now Lester D. Wilson School).
Certainly the ball field was evocative of a different era. The left field fence was on the common boundary between the school property and Norwood Reid’s cow pasture. The fence was typical for livestock, a combination of woven and barbed wire. Quite rusty it was.
It was a continual reminder to the left and center fielders to be cautious when leaping for a deep fly ball about to sail over the fence and into cow pie territory . No, not for fear of stepping in cow shit, but becoming ensnared in barbed wire. An outfielder couldn’t just bounce off of this wall after his scintillating catch !
Third base was a piece of river rock. John Shoudt buggered himself up pretty well one day sliding into third. There was no such thing as base pads at Alexandria school. As I write about this stuff it occurs to me that school was one big liability suit waiting to happen, but folks had no taste for such long ago .
A fly ball hit sharply foul toward toward left field flew over School House Road and into Moldoch’s pasture. Here again was the same cow pie concern. It is a stark reminder of days past when a school kid’s most immediate concern was scrapping the cow shit off his shoes before he went back to class.
‘‘Twas the age of innocence .
One thought on “REID’S PASTURE … A Cow Pie Conundrum”
Love this one, Pete. Being an Iowa girl I can relate to dodging cow pies!!
Hope you and Judy are well ~ Ann