Prairie page #1

I’m certain I can trace exactly how it all began…

She always left it near the mason jar…on the thatched spindly counter top…while baby Josiah twirls a cylinder wooden block adorned with a painted face criss cross applesauce.

Two nights before the heavy rains soaked the sod and led to a fierce leak that dampened the bedding. Trees were once familiar friends now lumber is a forgotten luxury. Searching for cow chips the prairies’ rotted treasure. Scurry each nightfall to return our foul smelling prizes to our underground castle native clay and straw plaster.