Growing up in the Tug Valley

I love this time of year as springtime valiantly tries to squeeze through the many “winters” we deal with.

Hearing all the frogs croaking brings back many fond memories.

Seeing the pink dogwood blooms, the red tulips burst out with their bright colors, and the yellow daffodils never fail to put me in a good mood.

Those short, cloudy, gray and gloomy days of winter are thankfully behind us as forever hopeful spring ushers in the birth of new foliage on our beautiful mountains. The various green leaves of the many native trees start to overtake the mountains and cover the brown that has been around the last few months.

The warmer temperatures make me feel better. The warmth helps these old joints and makes it somewhat easier to take walks with my dog Petey.

The sunshine and blue skies also bring back memories of playing sandlot baseball with my friends growing up in Nolan, W. Va. We fantasized about playing for our beloved Cincinnati Reds one day. We could not wait for the school day to end so we could gather on the lot next to the railroad tracks and pick sides for our games.

Then there was fishing on the banks of the old Tug River with our cane poles. We would dig earthworms for the bait and try to catch catfish and carp. It didn’t matter what we hooked; it was just a thrill and triumph to haul in a fish.