Some of our best times at the cabin were when friends or cousins would come stay with us. Grandma and Grandpa were nearly always there, and often some of dad’s brothers and their families would join them for a weekend. Sometimes Aunt Amy and Uncle Joe, Grandma and Grandpa Johnson, or our other cousins or friends would come up to see us, too.
One summer Uncle David and Uncle Ray and their families came for a visit. Dad and his brothers hiked up the creek, through Gillett’s place. It rained that afternoon, as it usually did during the monsoon season. All us kids and the aunts and grandma took shelter in the big cabin downstairs. The big kids played scrabble with grandma, the little girls played with paper dolls. The boys played with an old bear skin on the couch that opened backward to make a bed. Uncle Tillis gave grandpa that bear skin. It had black, wiry hair, glass eyes, and sharp yellow teeth. His claws were long and sharp, and they were good for scratching your back or scaring a little cousin. We played and visited, while the rain hammered down on the tin roof over our heads, so loud we could hardly hear each other talk.
The afternoon had been hot and sultry before the rain started, but now it was cool, almost cold, and when the rain finally ended everything was misty and wet. Rain drops glistened like diamonds on the wild grape leaves that twined from the porch, over the arbor, and up into the cedar tree outside the front door. Our shoulders got wet as we brushed past the leaves when we ran back outside to play. The first person in the swing was showered with raindrops, shook loose from the leaves above.
As evening shadows began to close over the cabins, mom and the aunts began to wonder where the men were. Supper was cooking, and it was time to bring the children in when someone heard a faint “Hello” from across the creek.
“Be quiet! Listen!" We all strained our ears, looking toward the creek.
“Helloooooooooo!” we heard again, over the roar of the creek. Grandma and the teenage cousins hurried out the gate, getting soaked as they brushed through the overhanging grape leaves. They picked their way across the wet rocks in the wash and hurried to the creek. Mom kept the little ones inside the yard, waiting to see who was calling us.
“It’s the boys,” grandma soon called back to us. Then mom left us with some of the older cousins, and she hurried to see what was going on.
Dad and his brothers were stuck on the other side of the creek. The rain had caused a flash flood to come roaring down the mountains. They had climbed out of the gorge to get away from the water, and then hiked home. They thought they could cross over the creek to our side at the log crossing, but the water was rushing over the top of it. They walked along the creek all the way until they were across from the cabin, but even where it usually was shallow and easy to cross the water was too rough and wild.
Mom talked to dad across the roaring waters of the creek, and when she was sure he was ok, she came back to the cabin to finish dinner and feed us kids. Dad and his brothers had to wait on the opposite bank of the creek until the water calmed down enough for them to get across. They were mighty hungry before they got to eat dinner late that night.
No comments:
Post a Comment