On Top of Old Smokey (or vise-versa)
On Top of Old Smokey (or vise-versa) I remember it like it was yesterday. I grew up on a cattle ranch, with the nearest neighbor over a mile away. I was 16 and alone at home. It was late summer and the rest of the family was working in the hay fields while I was home and working in Mom’s garden. Mom had planted a large vegetable garden in the back yard but the weeding seemed to always fall to me; although, truth-be-told, I did enjoy the solitude away from the rest of my large and noisy family. It was a hot summer day and I was only wearing a halter top and a pair of loose, hi-cut running shorts. I was on my hands and knees weeding in the garden, when I felt a …