 Sunday of a mornin'... Sunday of an evenin'... Wednesday of a evenin''... My husband drives the two of us to church. We pass by a white, antebellum farmhouse beautifully situated on a knoll, adorned with green shutters, lovely porches upstairs and down, gabled windows, intricate fretwork adorning both the porch pillars and the gables. It looks cared for and cherished. Sitting just a bit below the old farmhouse, both using a private, common driveway off the main road, is the newer farmhouse, probably fifty years or so, a Southern Ranch, red brick, beautifully landscaped with mature trees and shrubs. Two similar trees stand at opposite corners of the front of the house, each tree in the Spring bearing lavender blossoms and in the Fall bearing yellow berries. Twas the dawg days of Summer I first took note of the trees... my mind's eye traveling back in time... to a simpler time... to Tyler Street... to Grammaw's China Berry Tree... in the the Spring bearing lavender blossoms and in the Fall bearing yellow berries. Its leaves lent shade to Grammaw's yard nigh unto her screen door. "Y'all come sit a spell," she would say. Behind her slammed the screen, While tea she poured in colored, tin glasses...I always chose the green. Cottage cheese filled when she bought them from Jack Strange's corner store. Her crocheted glass booties to soak up the sweat. We'd always ask for more. Grammaw's cat Sam, their old orange Tabby, twined in and out tween our feet. We ate watermelon from Grandad's garden, coolin' off from the dawg day's heat. "Lookie," there's Sam at Grammaw's screen door, lookin' in through the screen to the kitchen, 'neath the old gas stove with legs and claw feet, Sam's cat food dish was a sittin'. "Let him in", said Grammaw, "cats don't eat watermelon you know." Those old metal chairs with cushions she made, folded up old towels for their seats, "So your legs won't get burned," as she patted and smiled, "Sit down, take a load off your feet." Spreading its shade like a parasol round, the chairs they made a circle. We sat a spell, we sipped our tea, neath Grammaw's China Berry Tree. The Dawg Days, I Reckon,
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