Remember when the sun was our friend?

By Dolores Renfrow - Country through and through

Various magazines are full of warnings about the sun; wear sun block when exposed to the sun’s rays and so on …

Why is the sun no longer kind to us? Is the rumored hole in the ozone layer the culprit?

There was a time when the sun was our friend. I have many memories of the past – memories of warm sun shining on my freckled face as a child while I ran though Daddy’s fields of wheat that were ready for harvest.

“Right smack dab” in the middle of the wheat field, I flopped down on my back and lay there, staring up at the soft white clouds floating in a gorgeous blue sky; and as the winds softly sighed through the amber wheat, the warm sun touched my face.

I have never forgotten that moment. It was such a peaceful, gentle time; and the sun was my friend.

I also remember how the sun shown on Daddy’s old straw hat, stained with sweat from endless wearings, as he worked the soil. I remember how Dad’s black Angus cattle glistened in the sunshine as they made their way to the ponds of water.

I can still visualize the long rows of milo, shining in the warm sun that Dad grew for feed for his livestock. And the sun was his friend.

Then there was Brother and his “side kicks,” Norman and Leoden; tanned brown as biscuits, wearing their old cut-off britches, swinging over the creek on grape vines and dropping off mid-stream into the clear sparkling waters with a yell! And the sun was their friend.

Now they tell us that the sun is our enemy. What happened to us?

Do we not all long for a more kind and gentle world, as we remember in years past?

I know that I surely do and I suppose that is why I find comfort today in small likes like dew on a rose bud, the call of a “Bob-White” in the fence row and the laughter of a good, kind neighbor.

I pray that we can preserve what we have left of the good things this world provides. I hope we have learned a valuable lesson to love and protect this planet of ours; and maybe some day you great great grandchildren and mine can run in a golden wheat field, waving with nature’s bounty and the sun will be “their” friend.

By Dolores Renfrow

Country through and through

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