It’s time to rake leaves and get ready for winter. So there are a lot of trips out to storage sheds or up to attics. I took another trip up to The Attic and pulled out a story that was published a few years back. I still drive by this farm, and I think about that rake. It’s my reminder to check my heart and make certain I’m not hanging on to habits and attitudes that ought to be let go before they are so deeply ingrained that they can hardly be uprooted.
We Spend Our Years as a Tale That is Told . . .
Just a few miles from our house, there’s an old, dilapidated rake that was left in a grove years ago. I noticed it one summer when we’d gone to pick strawberries at Puryear’s Produce farm in Halifax County.
Seasons and years have passed since that rake was first abandoned. Rebecca Clark Puryear was almost a teenager the day her daddy bought his new rake. She remembers that day nearly seventy-five years ago as though it was yesterday.
“My daddy had bought a new rake that could be pulled by a tractor. This one was pulled by a mule, and he always unhitched the mule from the rake right there next to the stable and corn-crib,” she explained.
I suppose that John Clark came in from the field that day, stopped at his usual place near the stable, and unhitched the mule from the rake for the last time. I don’t know if he planned to move the rake at some later time or not.
At any rate, life happened . . . A hackberry sprout began to grow in the empty space beside the stable and corn-crib, next to the deserted rake.
To finish reading, you just open the door to the Attic and you’ll find the story here.