Thank you God, for:
Weathered old one-room schools, still standing
Miss McPike, my teacher in the two-room school of my youth, who taught me about literature and s'mores
The ancient bell atop our ranch house that summoned us from blazingly hot hay fields in for a mid-day meal
The smell of alfalfa hay wafting up to the straw-filled-gunny-sack-padded seat of my tractor, as I bounced along, singing at the top of my lungs.