If Memory Serves...

    I remember going "over home" to my grandmother's house, also Helen and Matt's home, when we were little. In the fall, a section of the dirt road leading to their house would be littered with strange-looking types of fruit. My mother said they were Osage Oranges, which fell from a tree one of the farmers had purchased as a boundary line for his property. Maybe the trees  had thorns or else  they just grew thick and sturdy enough to be a  barrier. My mother sort of discounted their effectiveness.
   This morning my walk took me to the southern end of Valley Falls, and I saw these alongside the road. They look to me like the osage oranges of yore, though quite a bit smaller.   (They are now pulpy, and starting to decay.