Sometimes on summer evenings after supper, if you tried to get them to come to the door, they wouldn’t for the simple reason that they were sitting in the back yard. They couldn’t hear the knocking. Mother sewed for the public and had an in-house fabric shop which was open whenever someone wanted to come. My dad after retirement had become a permanent grounds/garden keeper. They each worked until they decided to stop for the day. After “calling it quits” on summer days, they often took advantage of the coolness of the late afternoon under the little pecan tree in the back yard. That’s where a person who knew their habits could find them when they couldn’t be found in the house. These times have provided memories that are a permanent imprint on my soul. Meandering, seemingly meaningless conversations drifting from one topic to another were entertaining and instructive. Like most parents, they taught indirectly, unintentionally, not realizing the impact they made. They were simply being themselves, O.B. and Nellie. ...so glad they were.
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