Although nature seemed unsure of itself, farmers plowed the rich, brown earth in the distance. A strong, searing smell of burning "sage grass" mingled with wood smoke coming from the cook stove.

Skipping through the yard, I paused briefly to day dream in my moss-carpeted playhouse. Its spacious rooms were all naturally divided by giant immovable rocks, with cedar tree tops serving as the roof. A tiny pink stove and refrigerator made up the total contents of the kitchen, where I made my special "mud sandwiches," using leaves for bread. The other rooms were furnished completely by my imagination.

That day I couldn't linger, so I ran a short distance down the rough, rocky road. Protruding rocks jabbed at my feet through my thin, pointed-toe shoes. The money Mommy had given me jingled in my jacket pocket, and I felt proud to be allowed to walk to the store alone. She said I could have any money left over from her thread. I debated between the lemon-iced cookies and the chocolate bunnies with creamy, marshmallow filling when I reached the turn in the road called the "Old Poplar."

From there, the pathway became enclosed by trees, turning it into a long, narrow tunnel. Ragged patches of sunshine dotted the ground where a few scattered leaves remained from the last fall.

I heard a soft clatter of twigs and leaves to my right and my pulse quickened. I felt eyes piercing from every direction of the path. I wondered if it was the bear in my reoccurring nightmares, secretly watching me. When I began to run, a frightened squirrel scampered across the path a few feet in front of me, and disappeared into the top of a big oak tree.

Suddenly, it darkened; shadows swept across the pathway like a curtain slowly closing on a stage. Hurrying on, I soon reached the clearing where I could see the old, weathered store/post office. I carefully crossed the small creek by holding to a wire stretched from end to end on the narrow footlog, and making giant steps over the missing planks. Only then did I feel safe. Another fifty yards or so through the knee-high tufts of grass and I was there.

The settled smell of tobacco, cow feed, soap, and kerosene greeted me as I entered. The postmistress, who was "behind bars" sorting mail, stopped to assist me. After making my purchases, I walked slowly back the way I came, savoring the chocolate marshmallow bunnies.

The sun peeped out from behind the clouds, and I approached my playhouse before I thought again of the bears.