they remind me of one of my favorit summers growing up.
we were on the powwow trail, it was a good year, mom made good money that year so we weren't alway scrimping during the traveling
i remember being along side a swamp at one point, moss hanging form the trees, everyone setting up camp, the sky was getting dark and people were talking, laughing. the tourists had left, camp fires were going and th smell of food filled the air, mingling with the sound of the cicadas. they rose and fall and i walked along the swamps edge, dodging in and out with a couple of other kids form the trail.
we had ditched our regalia and were all barefoot. we climbed trees catching the cicadas, counting how many we could catch then letting them go, then we played foot ball with someone's shoe.
we were sun burned, and thankful for the cooling night air. hen we ate dinner we regailed our parents with tales of how many of those things we found. That was a magical time in my life.
One of my earliest memories , were of being in a back yard , barefoot again, with my mother, discovering their shells, playing with them, my mother explaining their life cycle. i was very little but i remember it clearly.