Lawn Adventures Steve Cooke hat old house on Boston Street had quite a yard. You'd know the house if you saw it, with the curvy, ivyshrouded front driveway and the rocks on the roof. The house itself wasn't much to look at from the outside, but it was where our family always managed to gather for holidays, birthdays, and any other time we just felt like getting together. I drove by it once, later on, after the family had grown old and things changed, but it just didn't look the same anymore. The current owner had even killed all the ivy. I will bet he found a few of my toys in there, especially the G.I. Joe’s with the Kung-Fu grip. My favorite place was always the back yard. Magic could happen there, and to a sevenyear-old boy, it frequently did. An adult probably wouldn't see too much. He could quickly pace the length in twenty or thirty fast strides and go back along the width in half as many steps. There was a birdbath in the far corner, but I never really saw any birds use it for bathing. I thought the ugly statue in the middle probably scared them away. They did like the feeders that were sitting, squatting, and hanging around the place. My granddaddy always made sure they were full of that red juice, seeds, and anything else he could put there. He knew all the bird names, and said he could even tell their mood, by the tunes they were whistling. He sometimes would whistle back with a different tune for each bird, but mostly we watched. My granddaddy liked them all, except for the pigeons. He had something against the pigeons.
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Lost Lake Folk Opera 49
