A Day on the Porch, part 2: Noon

The kids played on the lawn with Molly, tossing balls, shoes, Frisbees, bones, sticks, and whatever else the energetic little pup would squander throughout the day. She had a habit, the children noticed: She’d go out just beyond the fence each day and dig her nose through the grass in search of buried treasure, then return to her bed on the porch and lay the item next to it. Day by day the pile would grow, and no matter where the items were left that eve, they would always be sitting in that neat little pile come morning. Yes, she was a collector, that dog, and a mighty particular one at that.

“Come on, Molly, fetch!” Grandpa heard the children screaming all throughout the late morning and early afternoon, while he, in contrast, gazed vigilantly through his binoculars, checking on the cattle. “Never know when one of them will try and wander off,” he’d always say. “Not good to have to go looking for them before nightfall.” So he always kept a wary eye out whenever he had the chance.

The hummingbirds had quieted by now. Only a few whizzed here and there between the feeders, late breakfast-goers or early dinner-comers, sipping delicately through straw-like beaks, the feeders in constant drain.

The children, huffing and puffing, returned to the porch and sat next to Grandpa, Shirley in the porch swing and Walter in one of the nearby cushioned chairs.

“Won’t be long before you got to replace those things, will it, Grandpa?” little Shirley asked with her wide, innocent blue eyes.

“Nope. Might even have to do it before supper. We’ll see.”

A pleasant silence came over the grounds, where only the sounds of nature, in all its goodness, could bestow its sweet melodies like candy in their ears. Cows mooed, horses neighed, geese honked, fish splashed, larks chirped, and several hummingbird wings buzzed like busy bees all around them.

“My, my,” Walter said after a long time. “I always miss this place when we aren’t here, and every year I remember again why it is I miss it. Just listen to the sound! You’re so lucky, Gramps, to be here all the time!”

Grandpa chuckled, a deep, swell, honest chuckle. “Yes, I guess I am. Boy do I love this place. So glad I found it. Not a single human obstruction beyond the porch but that rowboat on the pond with the dandelions sprouting in it.” The old man sighed in satisfaction. Life was truly good. “Yes, I’m glad I found it,” he repeated, “that’s for darn sure.”

“Just wondering, Gramps, ‘cause I don’t think I ever asked you before, but why do you have so much land anyway?” Walter asked curiously. “How much do you have?”

“Well,” Grandpa began, “I’ve more than the eye can see, and once I’d nearly more acres than the brain can count.”

“What did you do with it all?”

“I sold it, of course.”

“To who?”

“Whoever wanted to buy it. Made a pretty decent profit off it, too. Bought at the right time, I guess. Price will only keep going up from here on out. I still got plenty of land not on this property I can auction off.”

“But why do you have so much?” Walter asked again.

“Well, boy,” Grandpa answered, “As I see it, as I’ve always seen it, it’s important to buy land when you’re young, in some pretty place you absolutely love to death, ‘cause one day you’re going to want to move somewhere where there aren’t a load of people, when you’re old and wrinkly like me.” Grandpa winked. “See, as I see it, there’s no way to make more land. Got to buy land when it’s cheap, I always say. Got to get the land to keep it pretty so people don’t ruin it. Can’t make more land. No, only God can do that.”

“But everything is so darn expensive these days!” Walter cried. “How am I supposed to buy any land for cheap?”

“Well, you probably won’t be finding it in good old California, that’s for certain. It’ll be a little harder than I had it, I’ll tell you that much. But listen here,” Grandpa added, leaning in closer, and Walter leaning in too in order to soak in every word, “If you want something bad enough, by golly, you snatch it up!” Grandpa, in a flurry, reached up his arm and grabbed a piece of air. “You wring its neck and show it who’s boss! See, if you doubt those dreams of yours, then you’ll get nowhere. Hear me? Dreams aren’t meant to be doubted, kiddo. Always remember that. But the pretty side of the argument’s this: If you really trust those dreams of yours, you’ll find unlimited success, you hear me? Do you hear me, boy? Good. ‘Cause dreams don’t deserve a time limit or an age limit, and no ― you listen ― no dream’s just a silly old fantasy. Got that? Good. That’s your lesson for the day.”

Walter thought for a moment, sinking it all in. “But what do dreams have to do with property?”

The old man laughed. “Well, you dream big enough, and you’ll have the money to buy some of that pretty property you want, see? Best get started early though. Start saving those pennies! Can’t make more land, no sir! Going to run out sometime, so save up, and buy up, and keep it pretty. Just put a house on it and maybe a barn, driveway, and that’s it! Let nature be. She deserves to stick around awhile longer,” Grandpa winked again, slyer than the first time.

At that moment Grandma poked her head out the screen door. “Hurry it up or your linner will be getting cold!”

“Linner?” Shirley asked with her eyebrow raised.

“Between lunch and dinner,” Walter whispered. “Like brunch, only later.”

“Goody! Pancakes again?”

“Nope,” Grandma shouted from in the kitchen. “Roast beef!”

“Oh, but don’t tell the young ones where the meat came from!” Grandpa joked.

Both children gazed out at the innocent cattle and Eww-ed in unison.