To Grandmother's House We Go | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: To Grandmother's House We Go | Previous Challenge Entry
By Dian Ramsey
04/09/08
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One chilly, fall, November day, my family went to grandmother’s house to rake the leaves in her yard. The wind whistled through the bare branches of the trees as it nipped at our ears. The yard was a shiny brown carpet of leaves that crunched like potato chips when we walked on them. Our grandparents had our rakes ready when we arrived. We were assigned our area of the yard to rake. My sister and I raced to get started. We raked until we could not rake any more. The piles of leaves grew with each stroke until they were almost as tall as we were. The yard went from a shiny carpet to a crooked chain of mountains.

Finally, when my sister and I could not rake any more leaves, we would jump and play in the
leaves. Leaves went in all directions. Some would get caught in the wind and dance in the sky
like little fairies. Others slipped under our shirts and tickled our tummies. Still, others got caught in our hair. We looked like a little reindeer with antlers. Grandfather would laugh until
tears streamed down his cheeks. Grandmother would remind us we had to finish our job before we could roast hot dogs and marshmallows when we burned the leaves. We scurried back to work. There was a secret to getting all our leaves raked fast. My sister and I raked our piles into the grownup’s piles. They could rake faster and rake more leaves than we could.
Finally, all the leaves were raked into the driveway. Grandfather and daddy would rake them into a large pile. When they were finished, we could not see the front porch of the house. That was some gigantic pile of leaves. Grandfather lit a folded piece of newspaper and stuck it under the pile of leaves. At first nothing happened, but then little bright orange sparks came up out of the leaves. Some would come up and go out. Others would jet into the sky like a colored fountain. Then all of a sudden, it was as if a fire breathing dragon came up out of the leaves. A burst of orange flames appeared followed by a mysterious cloud of smoke. As the fire burnt bigger and bigger, it roared like the fire breathing dragon it resemble

Grandfather had prepared sticks to roast our hot dogs and marshmallows. We held our hot dogs over the fire until they were squeaking and beads of juice were popping out of them. We dressed them in buns with all the trimmings, then gobbled them down like hungry bear cubs, letting the pungent flavor of the roasted hot dogs tantalize our taste buds. Next we roasted marshmallows. Some would get so hot they would drip down to the ground like thick cream. Others would be brown and crunchy. Then there were the marshmallows that were just right. They were sticky, gooey, and melted with a sweet slightly burnt taste that left our mouths watering for more. Soon the fire was gone and all that was left to remind us of our wonderful day was the smell of smoke on our clothes and a few leaves that escaped the wrath of the dragon.

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