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zle loader across my knees. It was a beautiful scene, the frost glistening on the grass, and the birds beginning to rustle about and get on with the day’s activities. As long as I sat there, I didn’t see a deer, but what I saw was worth telling you about.
In two of the brushy patches, there were black cherry trees. Some folks call them choke cherries, and others just refer to them as wild cherries. As a kid, I remember when there was a storm in the summer, we had to walk around the fields where the milk cows were, looking to make sure that no limbs had blown off the wild cherry trees.
If I remember this correctly, we didn’t want the cows to eat any of the wilted leaves or cherries from these limbs, because it was supposed to make them sick or kill them. One of my farmer friends will let me know if I am remembering that incorrectly, and, if so, I will correct it later. But, here is the good part.
As the sun was just beginning to show itseff these two trees, standing perhaps 100 yards apart, received some
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