LETTERS FROM HOME: A SNOWSTORM OF BUTTERFLIES, A MOUNTAIN OF SUGAR

Sept. 7, 1995

Dear Carolyn,

DC and I spent the Labor Day weekend at her parents' cabin on the Castor River. By Monday, the roof was reshingled, chairs were painted, the pond had been relieved of a newly fallen tree and its banks were mowed back to the woods.

They think of all this as relaxation.

You know you're an adult when you spend the majority of your time working though you call it playing.

Actually, the family is getting the house ready for the coming of winter. After so much heat this summer you figure winter could be just as extreme. One of the illusions of age is the belief you are able to discern cycles. Who knows how cold it'll be. Wooly worms, some people say.

Walking in the river one morning at the cabin, DC and I came upon a garden party of huge blue butterflies warming on the bank. We gawked at them awhile but they didn't move and we continued on, looking for more of the natural treasures and uncommon encounters a river always yields.

By the time we returned to the spot the air was warmer and the butterflies were beginning to stir. We stood still and soon were engulfed by a swirl of silently beating wings, a snowstorm of butterflies to cap the end of summer.

Thought I might run into you somewhere over the weekend. You're probably preparing for the school year. Everybody's digging in, getting back to work. No time to play anymore.

I came back to town early because my niece Casey was here for a visit. We went to the Grand Prix racetrack, where they rent you a miniature car and you pretend to be a race driver for a few minutes.

Casey is too short to drive so I was her chauffeur. Afraid I nudged one teen-aged boy's car a bit as we passed him. Casey judged me to be reckless on the racetrack but a model of safety on the highway.

DC's taking Casey to the fair next weekend. At this time of year, "Sugar Mountain" invariably pops into my head: "It's so noisy at the fair but all your friends are there. And the candy floss you had, and your mother and your dad."

That was always the single good thing about the beginning of school -- the fair was not far behind. You had to go to work but they gave you half a day off for play.

I wonder how exciting it is to kids in 1995, though. Is the Tilt-A-Whirl passe when there's Batman: The Ride, and does anyone still want candy made of a mountain of sugar?

Now it's time for adults to pay attention and pay the bills, fix the cracks and make it strong. Time for settling in and coming in and staying in. The time for play passing with the darkening afternoons.

But it is reassuring to me that Casey still lives on Sugar Mountain, marking time by the arc of miniature racetracks and carnival rides at the county fair.

Love, Sam

~Sam Blackwell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.