by Lana G. Hurn
Cassie’s Dream
Lana Hurn
Copyright 2013 Lana Hurn
Cassie’s Dream
The Visit with Grandma
Ranson’s Creek had become Cassie’s get-a-way wonderland. A place she felt the world was hers. She could share the closeness of her grandmother, Casandra Anne Ranson, through stories that Grandpa Jack would tell. And, as for Grandpa, he could probably fill up an ocean with all the stories he had bottled up inside of him. They were endless! He never ran out of things to talk about.
Cassie was too young to remember her Grandmother, but Grandpa Jack Kolbert kept her memory very much alive by the stories he shared with her about their past.
“Years gone run’n”, Grandpa called them.
Ms. Annie loved to travel so she and Grandpa had been to many places.
She also loved oil paintings and had taken up the art herself.
Over the years she had accumulated many paintings and Grandpa had them on display at home.
While Sandra was small, Ms. Annie had an oil painting made of her and it still hangs in the entry hall of the Kolbert home.
Each Saturday morning as weather would permit, Grandpa would pack their gear and they would head off down the old dirt road known as Hickory Path. Grandpa talked and Cassie listened! She loved the many stories that always kept her captivated. It was hard for her to understand how many stories that Grandpa seemed to have inside of him.
He had a way of making Cassie laugh and they always had good times while making their way down to Ranson’s Creek to fish. The property had been in the Ranson family for decades.
Ranson’s Creek was a majestic looking place with its cascade of both large and small rocks that overlapped one another. There were small streams that seemed endless as the water ran from beneath a huge boulder from the side of the mountain. Its path ran peacefully dropping into the creek below.
Grandpa and Cassie carried their small tin cups to catch the clear spring water to quench their thirst after the long walk down the old dirt road.
They could never get enough of the watery bliss.
Cassie kicked at the small gray and brown stones that covered the walking path, while daisies swayed alongside the road freely. She would stop long enough to ponder which tree she thought the squirrels would leap to next.
Cassie enjoyed nature and watching animals.
Hickory Road was the place to see many assorted animals. Sometimes they crossed paths with deer, cattle and horses. Sometimes a fox would appear from nowhere.
Grandpa had several animals at home and Cassie had been taught to respect them and make them her friends.
Her small dog Jasper was the best friend of all. She told him all of her secrets and he always kept them quietly to himself
Cassie would find herself awaiting a new or continued story about her Grandmother and listened with great interest and anticipation as Grandpa shared his fairytale stories about his beautiful young bride.
The rocks at Ranson’s Creek had a very special meaning for Grandpa. That was where he had first met Ms. Annie.
Ms. Annie had been fishing with her father, Mathew Ranson one Saturday morning and when Grandpa first saw her he knew he was looking into the face of an angel.
Jack Kolbert knew right then, Ms. Casandra Ranson would one day be his bride.
For years the tradition of going down to Ranson’s Creek were still being carried out. Each generation kept it alive and it went back before Grandpa’s time.
The fishing there was pretty great too.
Jack Kolbert was a handsome man with curly black hair and a stature that was admired by many. He was better known as Zeb to all the folks around Johnson County.
Mr. Kolbert would be celebrating his seventy-ninth birthday in less than two weeks, but didn’t look a day over sixty.
Everyone for miles around knew that if they needed help they only needed to let Zeb know and he would be right there; weather permitting of course because he loved helping others.
Upon approaching the huge cascade of rocks, Cassie and Grandpa would sit for hours. Their fishing poles would dangle into the creek below while they enjoyed the sunny morning glow of the brilliant sun.
Cassie would lie on her back as she gazed upon the old walking bridge.
It had been rumored that President Andrew Jackson had fished from that bridge as a boy. Then he made his bed under the twinkling stars as if they were telling him, “Good-night”.
Whether it was true or not, Cassie dearly loved the story.
Cassie enjoyed looking down into the water as she watched her reflection in the ripples of water. The ripples would stretch her facial features in all directions and Grandpa would laugh.
Each Saturday, she and Grandpa followed the same defined routine as if they had been programmed like robots.
She had fun watching the tadpoles off to the side scurrying about in a small puddle of water. Cassie had always hoped that one day she would get to see one turn into a frog.
Grandpa had been taking Cassie down to the creek for several years and hated to miss a Saturday morning. They didn’t care whether they caught fish; they just enjoyed their time together.
Cassie looked so much like the photo of her grandmother Annie from a picture that was in Grandpa’s room.
Her blonde hair fell in curls as it framed her small, delicate face as she looked downward. She even marveled herself at how much she resembled the photo of Ms. Annie.
Rising to her knees she stretched out while Grandpa baited the hooks with worms.
She positioned herself on her back and listened to the water slapping the sides of the huge overhanging rocks. It was as if she was listening to a lullaby when water would splash into parts of the shallow water.
She and Grandpa would watch the small white caps that splashed and tossed against the rocks.
They had a game where they would close their eyes and imagine being on a pirate ship, held captive, while waiting for someone to rescue them. (Not really wanting to be rescued; they enjoyed their little game).
Cassie laughed out loud as she looked upward to see a huge flock of birds swooping into a tall oak tree high above their heads and Grandpa calling out for Cassie to look-out.
It was very warm and peaceful lying there in the sun’s warm’s rays and Cassie’s mind escaped the thought of fishing.
She closed her eyes for a few moments while letting her thoughts run deep, while listening to the rippling of the water passing over the rocks.
Suddenly, she heard Grandpa call out!
She felt his hand on her arm as he called. “Well look at that,” he said.
The warm summer breeze was rushing across her face.
She could hear the wrestling of the tree branches as they nestled against one another on the side of the mountain.
The sounds of birds and animals made their echoes clear as they called out in harmony. Cassie pretended they were singing just for her.
While lying there with her eyes closed, Cassie felt as though she was floating high above the clouds when she quickly opened her eyes and looked around for Grandpa.
Everything was so quiet; so perfect. She again closed her eyes.
But as soon as she had, Grandpa called again! “Look Cassie!"
Only a couple of seconds had passed when Cassie opened her eyes and stood up.
When Cassie looked straight ahead, she saw the most beautiful breath-taking mansion perched high at the top of the hillside.
A heavy wind parted the huge spruce trees just past the old walking bridge, as if calling out to Cassie, “Look!”
As she gazed through eyes of amazement, she looked at Grandpa and asked, “What is that place Grandpa?”
Of course Grandpa
, looking straight ahead could not answer Cassie. He had never seen that place before himself.
Cassie had never seen a mansion, but certainly this had to be one. To Cassie, it could have easily been Cinderella’s because it was so mammoth in size.
Grandpa was gathering the fishing gear when Cassie looked back. She knew that he wouldn’t mind if she went a little closer because he was still at the rocks.
So, she decided to get a closer look.
As she kept climbing upward and closer, she enjoyed all the sights.
Cassie walked through a thicket of emerald green ferns and giggled as their swaying back and forth tickled her legs. They were as high as her knees.
Grandpa had taken Cassie everywhere but she could never remember a time that they had seen anything as beautiful as this.
“Where is this place?” she kept asking herself.
This looked more like a fairytale than anything Cassie could picture in her mind.
“Wow, I wonder who lives there!” she said aloud.
Cassie stopped long enough to brush the pine needles from her clothing.
As she continued, she peered through the thick standing pine trees that seemed to touch the sky. She felt as though she had
