Artwork: Snake River Fantasy by Margie Zirker

Picture this ~
The air teases with the subtle chill of an oncoming fall. Colorful leaves drift slowly to grace the ground. The delighted squeals of school children accent the afternoon. The pungent aroma of burning fields hovers in the autumn sky. Life is slowing down. Folks linger on front porches, visiting with neighbors. Stories skip from ear to ear as neighborhoods reconnect.

In the not so distant past, folks gathered to put up crops, quilt bedding, build barns, and chat long into the night by a blazing fire. Tables laden with the bounties of the season would bow in the middle, groaning with anticipation, waiting for the celebrations to begin. Storytelling was always a part of such times. Trappers, early settlers, the old folks, even the town comic would all find a place of honor near the tables and begin to weave their tales. The news would spread from home to home and lane to lane, and the celebration would begin. Folks would trade necessities, arts and crafts, jokes, laughter and tears. Yet those days are gone, some say. We say they need not be gone, and they should never be forgotten!

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