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By ANN WORTHINGTON
There she stood, with arms stretched right straight out, stuffed shirt sleeves that seemed to be swollen with muscles much too large for a lady.
Her skirt was tattered and torn, and flapped in perfect rhythm with the wind. Her head was shaped like a pumpkin, with motionless eyes that stared straight ahead.
An old straw hat that had seen better days hung precariously on her swollen head.
A few yards away stood an old man. He was dressed in the same fashion. His faded plaid shirt was stuffed full of something much too large for his shirtsleeves, which gave him the look of the world’s greatest body builder. However, his arms were stretched straight out too.
His tattered overalls hung by one of the galluses, and the other flapped in the evening breeze. His straw hat sat on his head at an angle, and very often a crow or some other kind of bird would dare to make a landing on the man and woman’s arms to take a closer look at this man and woman.
The birds wanted to spend an afternoon pecking away at the rows in the field that contained a bountiful garden; however, the people in the field seemed to dare the birds to land on their turf.
I guess by now you guessed I have been describing a scare crow. My parents made lots of these figures during their lifetimes.
When I was a little girl, I used to play all around these stick figures, pretending the man and woman were real. Because we didn’t have neighbors living near us, so I mostly played by myself.
I was reminded recently of the scare crow and hadn’t thought about them in years. When my husband planted his garden recently, he complained that the birds were scratching up all of his seeds.
I told him he should make a scare crow, and of course, he nearly fell out laughing at my silliness. He was brought up in the city, while I was brought up on a large farm.
I often tell him he doesn’t know what he missed, but we always wind up howling with laughter as we reminisce about our childhood.
As I close my eyes, I can still see my parents as they worked, often until way in the night, mostly side-by-side as they made wonderful old memories for we children to enjoy; however, it was hard work for them at the time.
My friends, my time is up and I thank you for yours, so until next time, enjoy your memories, cherish your family while you still have them, and may all of you have more blessed days than ever before. Be blessed.
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