Honeysuckle Hideouts & Glass-Bottle Cokes

Images @Brandeelottphotography

Simple Summers playing in the creek

Disclaimer: I am not professional of any sort, I do not give “professional”  or  “medical” advice, my blogs are simply my religious beliefs, biblical devotions, and personal opinions.

"Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory." — Dr. Seuss

What did summer look like when you were a kid?

For me, it was long days playing outside. My sister and I spent nearly every summer day outdoors until the sun disappeared behind the trees and Mama called us in for the night.

Our house was surrounded by woods that felt enormous back then. Just off the driveway was a patch of vines covered in honeysuckle. To anyone else it probably looked ordinary, but to us it was the entrance to a secret hideaway. We'd step through those vines and let our imaginations take over.

My dad wedged an old skateboard between two uniquely shaped trees for us and we called it our kitchen. Down one of the little paths we had worn into the woods was another tunnel of vines that became the hallway of our "house." We'd haul down toys, old dishes Mom was willing to part with, and spend hours making mud pies and pretending.

In the backyard, Dad had built us a triangle shaped treehouse where we played for hours. In our younger years, long vines hung from the trees, and my sister and I would pull them back as far as we could, take a running start, and swing out into the air. It felt like we were flying.

Some days, we'd head down to my uncle's store. We'd pick out ice cream bars and glass-bottle Cokes, then sit out on the porch with Dad and all the other older men. The chairs hardly had cushions left. Some were mostly springs, some were old metal chairs, and some were wooden stools that had probably been there for years.

My mother and I

My uncle had his chair right beside the old Coke machine that, to this day, I swear held the coldest Cokes ever made.

There were a lot of stories told on that porch.

Boxes of tomatoes would be stacked nearby, and I can still remember how good those BLTs were. Tomato sandwiches with Miracle Whip on white bread tasted like summer itself. I didn’t like tomatoes much. Its hard to explain some days I could eat them and like them with a lot of salt and pepper, other days not so much. Looking back, it's funny how the things we remember most are often the simplest.

My Grandmothers home

If you're from my area, then you already know exactly what I'm talking about. But if you're not, just know that summer in a small town came with traditions all its own.

One of those was Trade Days.

Every June, for one weekend, people would gather with tents full of everything imaginable. Looking back, it felt like half the county showed up. You could find tools, antiques, homemade goods, plants, old treasures someone had cleaned out of a shed, and plenty of things nobody actually needed but somehow ended up taking home anyway.

One Saturday morning, I asked Dad if we could go fishing. He agreed and said we ought to run down to Trade Days first to see if they had anything we needed. Looking back now, I think he just wanted an excuse to go to Trade Days.

We spent the morning walking through every aisle and every tent. Dad would stop and visit with folks he knew while I looked around at all the treasures. If you've ever been to a small-town trade day, then you know half the fun is just wandering around to see what you might find.

Toward the back of the property was where the animals usually were. There would be chickens, puppies, goats, rabbits, and whatever else someone happened to bring that year.

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My boy enjoying his summers in the same ways I did growing up.

That's where I saw him.

A goat.

And naturally, I decided I absolutely had to have him.

Dad gave me a choice: the goat or fishing.

Now, any sensible person would probably choose fishing.

I chose the goat.

Without a second thought.

So we loaded that goat into the vehicle and headed home.

My mom happened to be over at my grandmother's house that day. As we pulled into the driveway, you could hear the television playing from the porch. The movie Curly Sue was on, and Mom and Grandmother were settled in watching it. You could hear my grandmother laughing from the porch.

Dad and I snuck up onto the porch with the goat, trying our best not to laugh.

The goat let out a little noise.

Inside, I heard Mom say, "Ilene, I hear a goat."

My Grandmother replied, "Girl, you do not hear a goat."

The television got quieter for a moment.

Then the goat made another sound.

Dad and I were barely holding it together outside.

A few seconds later, I heard my Grandmother say, "Carol, I think I heard it too."

The front door swung open, and there we stood.

Me.

Dad.

And a goat.

The looks on their faces were priceless.

Somehow, over the course of one Saturday morning, our family had gained a new member.

Billy the billy goat.

Looking back, I don't remember whether we ever went fishing. I don't remember what was for supper that night. I don't remember most of the things we probably bought at Trade Days.

But I remember the goat.

I remember the laughter.

And I remember the way those ordinary summer days somehow became the stories our family still tells years later.

Summer was a season that felt endless.

As I got older, summers meant days spent in the creek fed by the Coldwater River. We stayed in that water for hours, only leaving when we absolutely had to. We'd come home sunburned, tired, and happy, only to do it all over again the next day.

Looking back, our summers were simple. We didn't need much. No big plans. Just woods to explore, creeks to splash in, treehouses to climb, front porches full of stories, and imaginations big enough to turn ordinary days into adventures.

My dad

It's fun to reflect on what was simple back then. The things that seemed ordinary at the time somehow became the memories we cherish most.

Maybe that's why I love photographs so much now.

The older I get, the more I realize that the moments that shape us are rarely the big ones. They're the afternoons spent outside until dark. The conversations overheard on a porch. The cold Coke on a hot day. The creek water. The treehouses. The honeysuckle. The goat that somehow came home instead of fishing gear.

Those moments felt ordinary while we were living them.

Now they're priceless.

Some of the simplest summers gave us some of the very best memories.

"The older I get, the more I realize that the things I miss most cost nothing at all."

- anonymous

My grandmother