Fond memories of corks bobbing, the smell of fish frying and the cacophony of redwing blackbirds singing exude from this Hoosier cabinet. Whenever I look at it, these feelings, smells, and tastes become alive. It held Mom's entire table service, dinnerware, flour, coffee, sugar, salt, and pepper at our one-room cabin on Logue's Lake. The privately owned small lake located in the prairie west of Lamar, MO was the closest glimpse we had of a resort lake, but was actually an over-sized farm pond.

Here, my Mother taught my brother, two sisters, and I how to fish, gig frogs, run trot lines, pick mulberries, blackberries, and morel mushrooms. We learned how to conserve water as drinking water did not come through a line, but was hauled in a cream can. The pitcher pump over the cast-iron sink simply drew water from the lake for washing - when it worked.

Mom took us rabbit hunting in the multi-flora and Osage Orange hedgerows so we fried a lot of cottontails in this little cabin. She fed many a group of hungry folks on mid-summer evenings while we watched the north star. Her biscuits were yummy tender morsels made from the flour sifted through the side flour bin. The white china plates were full of cracks and chips and the old silverware was that heavy metal that tasted like metal if you were paying particular attention - which we seldom were.

When the bullfrogs began their "knee deep" chorus, I could see Mom leaving the dam where the cottonmouths lived with her old fly rod carrying a stringer of perch and bass and maybe even a catfish. We'd have the rowboat ready with gunny sacks in hand for frog grabbing.

Sure am glad this old kitchen cabinet can't talk as these special memories and the possible disclosure of many a kid's trick are just mine alone!

Zoe Medlin Caywood