Tuesday Morning

MaryinAfrica, if I knew where Beana came from I'd tell her to hush.  She writes her stories in a spiral notebook like a diary of thoughts and begins each entry as Dear Spiral Notebook:

Dear Spiral Notebook:

I wish I knew how far the walk was to Miss Olas house, but distance is a memory I can't conjure up in  my head.  It could of been a mile or ten for all I know.  Grownups didn't have a sense of worry back then about how far a kid had to walk.  Your legs were just what got you places.  I do remember pine trees that went on forever and there was always a pine cone to kick within toe distance.  It wasn't a road really, more of a path that was sometimes sandy and sometimes padded with pine needles. It always smelled good though, I can tell you that.  Miss Olas house was white, well no, it wasn't really a house but a room made to look like a house on the outside.  It made my stomach feel so rushed up when I would get close because it was just good there.  I think now that it was just good for me, but I know now that it weren't that good for Miss Ola or her sisters that lived in the little houses behind hers. I reckon I'll get to that though.  Beana.

• Hey today is my Wednesday because I'm taking off work on Friday. Yahoo.My neighbors went to a strawberry farm about 20 miles south of me and brought me back more strawberries than I know what to do with.  Yum. 
  DON'T WORRY BE HAPPY