Loved your story, especially the parts about the fresh chicken litter and digging up dirt under the oak trees. We used to go riding of
a Sunday afternoon when I was growing up (back when gas was about 20 cents a gallon or less) and we never passed a patch of
woods without Granny saying, "Stop so I can get some woods dirt." We always traveled with a cardboard box and a shovel in the
trunk. Now I know why she wanted woods dirt so badly. She kept chickens, too, and I can truthfully say that there is no part of
a chicken that goes to waste!
Great memory chains you rattled by this advice! Thank you.
