Autumn Memories

Nut gathering. My Dad loved the outdoors and planned activities for us no matter what the season until the summer I turned eight. A massive heart attack that year sharply limited his ability to get out and about for the rest of his life. But before that, every autumn he would take us to Sanders Park in Kenosha County, just about ten miles away from our home. Tucked away among the scarlet maples and rust-brown oaks were amber-leaved hickory, black walnut and butternut trees. Of course the squirrels had been there before us, but we still found a peck full of sweet wild nuts. Getting to the nutmeats wasn’t easy; as we would help Dad hull the nuts our hands would end up stained brown…a color that would stay on our skin for days. Sometimes getting at the meat of Scripture isn’t easy, either, but the “stain” of it colors our souls for eternity.