For me, an outdoorsy farm kid, the best streets aren’t really streets at all. At least not in the normal sense of streets.
Imagine if you will, walking down a dirt path that’s only as wide as a single tractor tire, green grass flowing on either side, the smell of freshly worked ground, insects chirping, and birds singing. The best part of this path, was not only did it lead to a small flowing creek shaded by trees, but the sights and smells changed based on the time of year… rustling corn leaves, smell of harvest.. all enticing to the senses, and calming. It was conducive to thinking, and aided in many a creative tale that I would weave.
Though not all the streets I enjoyed as a kid were that enjoyable. Ever try to catch a piglet in a cornfield? That is one experience I do not wish to repeat. While moving the piglets from one area to another, there was one who managed to wiggle out of the cart, and where did it go… directly for the cornfield. Running along a thirty inch row of cultivated dirt, that had long since hardened in the hot sun, getting slapped in the face by corn leaves, (not the softest of edges on those things) chasing a little piglet. Unfortunately for me that wasn’t even the worst of it, I caught the little escapee, only to drop it back on the ground. Why did I drop it? Well, when you grab a piglet by it’s middle to pick it up, guess what…. it squeals. Needless to say it startled me, despite that fact that I knew it would squeal, and I dropped it. The chase was on again. I did catch it again, and this time when it squealed and squirmed I kept hold of it.
Despite that experience, it did not keep me from taking those thirty inch clay hardened streets, to do things such as pick sweet corn, or analyze a field for weeds, insects or diseases that may have been causing harm to the field. During later months while taking these familiar streets, I would get pollinated, but that’s a story for another time.