Daily Report

By: Tiffanie Helterbrand

The sounds of whippoorwills, hoot owls and crickets make me remember my Granny and Papaw’s farm in White Oak.  I learned and experienced so many new things there.  My earliest memories were of spending time in the garden.  It was the most amazing garden I had ever seen.  I would first walk along the end of the massive stretch of land, counting the rows and keeping track of how many of each fresh vegetable grew there.  I pretended to be the bookkeeper and so my Granny bought me a small purple notebook that I covered with stickers until the color purple had vanished.  I took great pride in knowing I had such a big responsibility of keeping inventory of the crops.  And I couldn’t disappoint the boss.  At the end of each visit to the garden I would give the “Daily Report” to Papaw.  He would be sitting on the crackled white swing hanging at the end of the porch.  I would stand on the short red step stool that Papaw had made just for me so that it could be my stage.