Fresh peach ice cream slow frozen in Uncle Rich’s hand cranked churn.
Lightning bugs dancing around hollyhocks on a gentle summer eve.
The sweet aroma of fresh mown alfalfa wafting in from Mr. Vander Linden’s field.
Barn owls hooting softly as tiny field mice scamper off in every direction.
A million mile moon drifts across the sky between dim clouds and sparkling stars.
Dad whistles bits and pieces of an old gospel tune and Mom hums in harmony.
Sport and Blackie gruffly growl half hearted warnings at cats who edge too close.
Long ago halcyon days, 1950’s Iowa, Those memories never leaves my soul.