by Keith Hayman
It is Monday, July 8th, and I have been trying to think of a good story to write about. As I headed out the door this morning, at the crack of noon, I heard a loud crashing sound in the woods on the other side of Momís house. It was a big bulldozer knocking out a lot of trees. Those woods bring back a lot of memories of when I was growing up. When I was about eight or nine years old, Dad, Don, and Ted took me rabbit hunting, and this is the spot where I got my first rabbit. Those woods are where I learned to ride my first mini bike, and Shane and Amber have ridden in those woods with me as long as they can remember. Over the years I kind of thought of those woods as my back yard. When Shane and I rode over to have a look, we just sat there on our four wheelers and watched as our trails and our woods were torn apart. Well, time goes on and the woods are not the same, but I will always have a lot of fond memories from those woods next to Momís house. Soon we will have a new family moving in, and I am just glad it is not a bunch of greenhouses.