If I could ever have an afternoon off, I would hire that Josh Murdick guy to mow my yard, then take a nap and pay him less than I told him. If he would give me any crap, I wouldn't pay him at all and tell him to do a better job next time.
My favorite place would be the summer of 1965, when they were baling hay and we were into the second day of mowing the yard. Running around under those huge elms, getting drinks from the pump, really excited that something was going on. The women would bring out sandwiches and lemonade for the hay balers and we would hang around them at lunchtime, amazed at the work they were doing and watching the tractors and hay wagons and all. Then we might go in after they went back to work and eat some watermelon pickles and have some Koolaid, maybe mow the yard for a while, then maybe sit behind the corncrib, watching cars driving on the highway in the distance toward Bayard, dreaming of the day when we might be able to travel like that.
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My favorite place might be the Kelso Park trails in the summer of 1973. I don't think I need to say anymore.
Does anybody else remember Perkin's Pond? Lots of parties and memories both good and bad.
If I could ever have an afternoon off, I would hire that Josh Murdick guy to mow my yard, then take a nap and pay him less than I told him. If he would give me any crap, I wouldn't pay him at all and tell him to do a better job next time.
My favorite place would be the summer of 1965, when they were baling hay and we were into the second day of mowing the yard. Running around under those huge elms, getting drinks from the pump, really excited that something was going on. The women would bring out sandwiches and lemonade for the hay balers and we would hang around them at lunchtime, amazed at the work they were doing and watching the tractors and hay wagons and all. Then we might go in after they went back to work and eat some watermelon pickles and have some Koolaid, maybe mow the yard for a while, then maybe sit behind the corncrib, watching cars driving on the highway in the distance toward Bayard, dreaming of the day when we might be able to travel like that.
If Verin wants me to mow, he should call me. I would have to take a good look at his yard first, though. I would do a good job.
You know, it's not in Jefferson, but spending an afternoon along a quiet inlet in West Okoboji with a fishing pole sounds pretty good right now.
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