Her name was Phoenix Jackson. Far out in the country there was an old Negro woman with her head tied in a red rag, coming along a path through the pinewoods. Yes, they are 100 free.It was December—a bright frozen day in the early morning. In light of the current health situation, we would like to extend the following PRINTABLE ACTIVITY BOOKLETS, ACTIVITY SUGGESTIONS, & FLYERS to use as a courtesy while practicing social distancing in your communities. SENIOR LIVING MEDIA ACTIVITY ASSISTANT & PRINTABLES.
Printable Short Stories For Seniors Skin Had AHer skin had a pattern all its own of numberless branching wrinkles and as though a whole little tree stood in the middle of her forehead, but a golden color ran underneath, and the two knobs of her cheeks were illumined by a yellow burning under the dark. Her eyes were blue with age. She looked straight ahead. She wore a dark striped dress reaching down to her shoe tops, and an equally long apron of bleached sugar sacks, with a full pocket: all neat and tidy, but every time she took a step she might have fallen over her shoelaces, which dragged from her unlaced shoes. This made a grave and persistent noise in the still air that seemed meditative, like the chirping of a solitary little bird. She carried a thin, small cane made from an umbrella, and with this she kept tapping the frozen earth in front of her.Don't let none of those come running my direction. Keep the big wild hogs out of my path. Keep out from under these feet, little bob-whites. Old Phoenix said, 'Out of my way, all you foxes, owls, beetles, jack rabbits, coons and wild animals!. Now and then there was a quivering in the thicket.The cones dropped as light as feathers. The sun made the pine needles almost too bright to look at, up where the wind rocked. The woods were deep and still. But before she got to the bottom of the hill a bush caught her dress. 'Now down through oaks.' Her eyes opened their widest, and she started down gently. 'Up through pines,' she said at length. 'Something always take a hold of me on this hill—pleads I should stay.' After she got to the top, she turned and gave a full, severe look behind her where she had come. 'Seem like there is chains about my feet, time I get this far,' she said, in the voice of argument old people keep to use with themselves. Never want to let folks pass—no, sir. 'Thorns, you doing your appointed work. 'I in the thorny bush,' she said. It was not possible to allow the dress to tear. She did not dare to close her eyes, and when a little boy brought her a plate with a slice of marble-cake on it she spoke to him. Up above her was a tree in a pearly cloud of mistletoe. She spread her skirts on the bank around her and folded her hands over her knees. 'I wasn't as old as I thought,' she said. Then she opened her eyes and she was safe on the other side. Lifting her skirt, leveling her cane fiercely before her like a festival figure in some parade, she began to march across. Xbox 360 external drive limitBut she talked loudly to herself: she could not let her dress be torn now, so late in the day, and she could not pay for having her arm or her leg sawed off if she got caught fast where she was. There she had to creep and crawl, spreading her knees and stretching her fingers like a baby trying to climb the steps. So she left that tree, and had to go through a barbed-wire fence. But when she went to take it there was just her own hand in the air. It whispered and shook, and was taller than her head. It took a while to get by him, back in the summer.' She passed through the old cotton and went into a field of dead corn. A pleasure I don't see no two-headed snake coming around that tree, where it come once. 'Glad this not the season for bulls,' she said, looking sideways, 'and the good Lord made his snakes to curl up and sleep in the winter. 'Who you watching?' In the furrow she made her way along. Big dead trees, like black men with one arm, were standing in the purple stalks of the withered cotton field. It could have been a man dancing in the field. At first she took it for a man. Then there was something tall, black, and skinny there, moving before her. She shut her eyes, reached out her hand, and touched a sleeve. 'Ghost,' she said sharply, 'who be you the ghost of? For I have heard of nary death close by.' But there was no answer, only the ragged dancing in the wind. It was as silent as a ghost. Dance, old scarecrow,' she said, 'while I dancing with you.' She kicked her foot over the furrow, and with mouth drawn down shook her head once or twice in a little strutting way. I the oldest people I ever know. 'I ought to be shut up for good,' she said with laughter. 'You scarecrow,' she said. The quail were walking around like pullets, seeming all dainty and unseen. At last she came to the end, to a wagon track where the silver grass blew between the red ruts. Then she went on, parting her way from side to side with the cane, through the whispering field. Old Phoenix bent and drank. In a ravine she went where a spring was silently flowing through a hollow log. 'I walking in their sleep,' she said, nodding her head vigorously. Deep, deep it went down between the high green-colored banks. 'Sleep on, alligators, and blow your bubbles.' Then the cypress trees went into the road. 'Nobody know who made this well, for it was here when I was born.' The track crossed a swampy part where the moss hung as white as lace from every limb. So she lay there and presently went to talking. A dream visited her, and she reached her hand up, but nothing reached down and gave her a pull. Down there, her senses drifted away. Over she went in the ditch, like a little puff of milkweed. She was meditating, and not ready, and when he came at her she only hit him a little with her cane. A big black dog with a lolling tongue came up out of the weeds by the ditch. 'Anything broken, Granny?' 'No sir, them old dead weeds is springy enough,' said Phoenix, when she had got her breath. He lifted her up, gave her a swing in the air, and set her down. 'What are you doing there?' 'Lying on my back like a June bug waiting to be turned over, mister,' she said, reaching up her hand. 'Well, Granny!' he laughed. It was one of the bobwhites, with its beak hooked bitterly to show it was dead. You can't even see it from here.' 'On your way home?' 'No sir, I going to town.' 'Why, that's too far! That's as far as I walk when I come out myself, and I get something for my trouble.' He patted the stuffed bag he carried, and there hung down a little closed claw. 'Away back yonder, sir, behind the ridge. The deep lines in her face went into a fierce and different radiation. 'I know you old colored people! Wouldn't miss going to town to see Santa Claus!' But something held Old Phoenix very still. 'The time come around.' He gave another laugh, filling the whole landscape. He a big black dog.' She whispered, 'Sic him!' 'Watch me get rid of that cur,' said the man. 'He ain't scared of nobody. 'There is no telling, mister,' she said, 'no telling.' Then she gave a little cry and clapped her hands and said, 'Git on away from here, dog! Look! Look at that dog!' She laughed as if in admiration. 'How old are you, Granny?' he was saying. Moores, Life of Abraham Lincoln for Boys and Girls. Lincoln and the Little Girl. Noah Brooks, Abraham Lincoln. The yellow palm of her hand came out from the fold of her apron.Printable Short Stories About Abraham Lincoln. Her chin was lowered almost to her knees. But she was slowly bending forward by that time, further and further forward, the lids stretched down over her eyes, as if she were doing this in her sleep. Orison Swett Matden, Winning Out.
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