BANNER MOUNTAIN GIRL # 37 from my diary

September 1980 —The September breeze touches the hickory leaves gently. Buzzing insects twitter across the dry, dusty lawn. Although the rain from last evening helped the grass to turn green again, more rain is desperately needed across the state.—Freeda Baker Nichols

Hickory, 2012- 098

Hickory

A Little Rhyme Time Fun

High in a hickory tree this little squirrel hides from me. With a "hickor nut" in his paws, he sits there and gnaws and gnaws.

High in a hickory tree
this little squirrel hides from me.
With a “hickor nut” in his paws,
he sits there and gnaws and gnaws.

All of a sudden! Lickety-split! I thought for sure, he'd had a fit! He jumped onto another limb and hid so well I couldn't see him.

All of a sudden! Lickety-split!
I thought for sure, he’d had a fit!
He jumped onto another limb
and hid so well I couldn’t see him.

And then I saw he was hid like a thief in the fork of the limbs behind a leaf. Can you find this squirrel of gray before he jumps and runs away?

And then I saw he was hid like a thief
in the fork of the limbs behind a leaf.
Can you find this squirrel of gray
before he jumps and runs away?

 

Kippy, the Squirrel and Cougar, the Kitten

I'm Kippy the Squirrel.  I think I'll go for a walk.

I’m Kippy the Squirrel. I think I’ll go for a walk.

Oops! There's Cougar the cat! I think I will run!

Oops! There’s Cougar the cat! I think I will run!

Hurry, Tree!  Come closer to me! Cougar's too near, I fear.

Hurry, Tree! Come closer to me! Cougar’s too near, I fear.

I made it up the hickory tree. Safe as I can be.

I made it up the hickory tree. Safe as I can be.

What do I do now?

What do I do now?

Cougar stopped below.  I don't know why.

Cougar stopped below. I don’t know why.

I know what I'll do.  I will wait right here. There's only one way down from the tree.

I know what I’ll do. I will wait right here. There’s only one way down from the tree.

Unwanted Hickory Nut

Ripe hickory nuts ready to fall, Andrews, SC

Ripe hickory nuts ready to fall, Andrews, SC (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A hickory nut
damp in February snow
hugged the ground
that shielded roots
of its mother tree.

No squirrel
to crack the nut. No one to
choose it for toppings on pies.
Alone, it embraced
the cold earth.

Snow melted. Sun dried
the hickory nut. March wind–
cutting like a lion’s tooth–whistled
and puffed until topsoil
buried the little nut.

April sun,
warm as an iron, heated
on a wood-burning stove,
pointed to earth
with white-hot rays.

Delicate and pea green,
sheltered by arms of the
mighty mother tree, a tiny
hickory shoot peeked shyly
from its shell.

c Copyright, 2013, Freeda Baker Nichols