When I was reflecting back to the time Frank and I spent the night at the Bolin cabin on Beaver Lake and the night sounds were so loud it brought back many memories of other night sounds and midnight happenings. When we lived in the house that blew away we had a large tree near our bedroom window. As there was a basement under our bedroom it was almost like being upstairs. We always slept with a window open as it was before we had air conditioning. One summer, for some reason or another, a mockingbird decided it would spend the nights in that tree. If it had just been spending the night it would have been o.k. Spending the night his idea was to spend it serenading us starting about one or two a.m. It would wake Frank up. He would lie there ranting and raving about “THAT BIRD” until he got up, put his pants and shoes on to go outside to try to run the bird off. He threw rocks into the tree and talked to the bird like he was talking to a bunch of teenagers. Although the bird was driving me batty I had to laugh at Frank talking to “THAT BIRD”. He would go back to bed when just a short time later “THAT BIRD” was back again singing as loud as ever. This went on night after night. We closed the window which didn’t help very much. I really did feel sorry for Frank because he had to go to work the next day. Although I never let him know , it was bothering me, too. I got payback though. We were trying to make a garden in a place where the Johnson grass was so thick you could dig a pickup full one day only to find another truck load the next. The roots of Johnson grass are so pretty and pink I always thought it too bad that a human couldn’t eat them. We seemed to be fighting a loosing battle so Frank decided to build a portable pig pen. He got two pigs to try to get rid of the Johnson grass. When they would clean out one area we moved the pen to another area. One night there came a flash flood in the middle of the night, and the water was almost up to the house thus the pig pen had to be moved out of the water. We got son Bob up and Frank’s brother, Clifford, who lived next door. The four of us moved that pen. Was I happy? NO! wading around in a pig pen in a pouring down rain at two in the morning wasn’t a pleasant experience. I can tell you moving bee hives in a pouring down rain at two o’clock in the morning is much, much, worse. Frank had three bee hives under an apple tree in our back yard. When, again , we had a flash flood. Why does things happen at two o’clock in the morning? He woke me up to help him move the hives as the water was coming up fast. There I was out in the pouring down rain, still in my nightgown. Frank assured me that the bees were all in their hives. Well! I can tell you they were NOT. Several got up under my long gown and left their calling card on my legs especially the back of my knees. Needless to say I had a few choice words for Frank and the bees, dropped my part of the hive and fled. I didn’t care if the whole hive drowned. Don’t ever let anyone, especially your husband owner of the hives tell you bees are sleeping at two a.m. on a rainy night. It just “Ain’t so”! I can tell you right now I had rather be awakened by a singing mockingbird than move a pig pen or bee hives on a rainy night. by. For years, before the Late Bill Lewis had the creeks behind our house dredged every time there was a hard rain the pasture behind our house flooded almost to our back door.
The next two or three weeks I am taking for my column pages from my book “Life with Frank.” There really isn’t a book, just in my mind. He was a good man who made life interesting. You might say there never a DULL MOMENT.