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The "Cooper Shop", where the flour barrels were made, was another favorite spot. The rhythmic "rat-a-tat-tat" of the coopers' hammers and the pungent, acrid odor of charred wood as they "fired" each barrel, comes back clear as when, on a summer afternoon I sat at the open door, fascinated by the uniform movements of each cooper. 10 The Pasture Behind The Barn It is raining - a hard, pouring, summer rain. Water will be running in the pasture branch. I hurry down to see if my effort to build a rock dam across the branch has been effective in creating the Waterfall I had planned. No builder cares to dwell upon his failures, so we draw the curtain against that episode. Long years later a glimpse of that branch behind the old barn and my fruitless, childish effort to create a waterfall flashed before me as I looked in wonder upon tons of water falling from the crest of a lofty mountain - water tumbling over giant rocks on its way to a swift flowing river or some quiet valley stream. 11 The Sweet Briar Rose A rose grew on the bank of that pasture branch - a sweet briar rose. Its single, delicate pink flowers shed a fragrance unlike any other. In later years, as I worked among scores of roses