Strawberries!!!

In the early Thirties, summers in Mars Hill were magic. We had no TV, no computers, and no incentive to stay indoors. We went barefooted, rain or shine, and clothes were on the edge of naked, just a little 3-cornered halter left our backs bare to the sun. When I heard the strawberries were ripe on the hill, I couldn't wait. With tuna sandwiches, a bottle of cherry Koolaid, and my friend Tillie in tow, we took off for a strawberry "picking". Two large coffee cans on strings were an optimistic addition to our equipment.

Through the gravel pit behind Mrs. Hallett's house, up over the hill toward Davenport's house, and we were there--a little meadow near the swamp. It was strawberry heaven--tiny red berries hanging in clumps, so juicy and tart they gave you goosepimples. When the cans were half full, we stopped picking, lay on the thick grass, wolfing down the tuna sandwiches and Koolaid, with berries for dessert.

Carefully swinging our cans of berries we headed back over the hill and down into the gravel pit. Something new had been added: a truck driver was digging into one bank of the pit. As we approached, he yelled out, "Hey, look what I found!" Of course we had to see, too.

It was bones! As he dug farther, more and more bones, huge ones, appeared. We were so excited we rushed home to tell mom and dad about the great find, sure something prehistoric was about to make our neighborhood famous. We were soon disappointed to learn it was merely a dead horse, buried by an early farmer.

The strawberries made a much greater hit with our families!