The Matter Is Life Read Online Free PDF Page A

already know why.

EVERGREEN
GRASS

I am a old, old lady and I know a lot of old, old sayins that I know to be true cause I done lived long enough to see em out to be so. Some sayins ain’t nothin but smart-soundin words that make out like they know what they talkin bout, but some of em is really sure enough true.
    Like, the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. You got to watch that grass! Or maybe you oughta just watch your own grass and keep that green! Cause that grass on the other side will fool you sometime. Look greener while it be dyin all the time.
    See, I don’t live far from one or two families out here in the country and I have in mind one couple I knew for a longtime. Can’t even spell their name right, but when you say it, it sound like Gunioff.
    Mr. Gunioff had made his way up from the bottom by havin built a solid farm, married, had children, raised them and finally waved good-by to them as they went out into the world to seek their own fortunes. He then settled back with Mrs. Gunioff to enjoy a good solid middle age to death. They was both quiet people, tho he more than she. She did like to go to church and little community social events and things like that which didn’t interest him none at all! She was a slight-built woman, gray-haired, neat, sweet. She was friendly with the neighbors, the closest ones bein the couple up the road apiece, the Conets.
    Mrs. Conet was a little youngish, brown-skinned, very nice lookin woman. Mr. Conet was hardworkin, quiet, dark-brown man. Always courteous. Went to church a lot with his wife, like he used to go with his mama. Reason I mention them, is cause I happen to know that Mrs. Conet was a fussy little woman, always comparin her husband and everything he did to all the other men round here. Nothin was enough for her. But I guess he loved her cause he put up with all her fussin and complainin. Half the time she didn’t know what she was talkin bout. Like to run that man crazy, I magin. The other half the time, I don’t know bout cause I live closer to the Gunioff family, so I saw them more.
    He, Mr. Gunioff, liked to fool with his sheep and cows and his horse and the chickens and his dog. Gently taciturn, he was bored with much of life and he was, of course, boring.
    What first comes to my mind is the day he drove his wagon one bright morning, returning from town where hehad purchased some poison to set out for the animal that had killed one of his sheep. As he drove he noticed the green fields he loved and the blue of the sky with the birds flyin overhead. He enjoyed the sight of the birds ever so much more then the shootin of them for sport. He could smell the air … all was good. All, that is, except for the animal who had killed his sheep. Oh, well, he was going to fix that!
    When he arrived home he waved the package containing the leg of lamb at Mrs. Gunioff, who nodded back from her sewing, and went to the kitchen to prepare the poison. He carved into the lean red meat and as it separated so smoothly, he felt a sense of pleasure and made several extra slices and holes in the meat before he realized he had enough and began to stuff the poison into the open parts thinkin all the time of how he would stop this menace before it went too far. Some damn wolf or something eatin his stock! He sat everything out later that evenin and went to bed early with his gun and a lantern by the door so if he heard any noise he could get up and out and see what was goin on with no time wasted.
    Bedtime was early for both Gunioffs and he had slept lightly for bout an hour or so, when he was awakened by sounds from the yard. He rushed up and out, grabbing his lantern and gun as he did, running softly as possible to the place he had set the trap.
    The wild animal there had eatin most of the leg of lamb right there without takin it away and was now in the throes of death. Its body jerked and writhed over the ground. Its eyes bulged and glared, its mouth was