A leisurely walk this week with the sun on my face brought back summer memories of days free of responsibility, exploring the woods and fields around the old greenhouse where we lived in Palisades, N.Y. Maybe in those Depression days we had too many potatoes and rutabagas, for many of those memories are around eating.
In the spring, the huge old cherry tree would give forth dollops of sweet sap in the grooves of old injuries. It was better than any stale baseball card bubblegum.
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