A holiday at my grandfather's farm essays ​

As adults, we often use the scientific method, or process of elimination to help explain things that we cannot. Although, as children, we immediately jumped to conclusions no matter how otherworldly or outrageous our explanation. Whether we believed the sound coming from your closet was some type of terrifying monster, or the old woman that paced the side-walk kidnapped children and turned them into soap, explanation was left to our imagination. I can remember quiet a few thoughts like this, but one in particular has always stood out. It was a story my Grandpa told me one summer. A story about how the sound that the trees made when the wind blew was not the cracking of their branches, but was of them weeping.

I can vividly recall that summer day at my Grandfather 's house on his farm. I sat next to his catfish pond with a fishing pole in hand, watching my bobber gently move across the water as a light wind blew. It was hot, humid Tennessee day and there was no better way to spend it than relaxing next to the water. I heard movement behind me and turned to see my Grandfather hobbli...

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