I know I shall never forget Martin County, Kentucky, where I grew up.Â I recall memories of our family, friends, and Beauty, the little hamlet where I lived.Â Reminiscence of those long hot summer days, the colorful artistic pallet of autumn makes my heart warm, andÂ thoughts, withÂ slow moving pictures,Â fill my mind.
In the spring, it was like an angel waved his hand over the land causing the tips of tree limbs to burst into vibrant shades of green, like delicate lace looking up through them.Â Tiny green shoots popped up from the forest floor making a green carpet of softness.
Flowering trees, redbud, dogwood, tulip trees, added a profusion of red, white and yellow colors.Â Wild creamy honeysuckle, purple baby iris, and pink azalea gave spashes of color to the undergrowth.Â I picked the wild flowers, took them home and put them in a Mason jar filled with cold water from the well.
During early and late summer and into autumn, the mountains yielded hickory, black walnut and butternuts. There were black berries, wild strawberries, huckleberries, and possum grapes.Â All these we picked and toted them home in bushel baskets to dry or be made into Momma’s jams and jellies.
We picked wild lettuce, polk shoots, and pawpaws.Â My brother and me gathered rabbit tobacco for old Mr. Moore who smoked it in his pipe and called it Life Everlasting.
The hills would ring with the sweet melody of birds, and in the night, the sound of hootowls and whippoorwills would drift down with the twilight.
In autumn, trees were splattered with color like an artist pallet and leaves fell in profusion like a ticker tape parade. They fluttered down from the mountain tops and scurried along the groundÂ where they whispered against a door frame or corner of a fenceÂ and the breeze would chase them around like brilliant butterflies trying to escape the cold fingers of winter.Â Â I remember Martin County from fifty years ago.