“Shall we do some screening?” my dad whispered to me across the Saturday morning breakfast table. He held his hand sideways across his mouth and looked askance, not wanting anyone to hear.

It was spring, warm enough that the places of road pavement were warmed by mid day. We took the old strainers that we had used in the fall for applesauce and tomatoes. All fall we had boiled and boiled, then ran the garden products through the “screener” as mom called it, waiting for the liquid to drain off. 

Now it was different. “Don’t let mom know. She wouldn’t approve of us screening today.” He said as we clandestinely took the “screeners” from the pantry cupboard and snuck out the back door. 

Our driveway was on a turn midway up a hill. When the snow plow or sander came by they inevitably deposited lots of stuff. Those cold winter days were far away as my dad and I sat down on the turn, the sun warming our faces. We began to fill the screeners with deposits of sand that a few months earlier provided traction to prevent cars from hitting our mailbox. 

Dipping our hands into the warmth and putting the sand into the screener, “AH…perfect,” He said. We sat on the ground shaking sand through the screener. Shake shake shake. Shake, shake, shake. Eventually the dirt would shake shake shake be gone and all that was shake shake shake left were the perfect sized shake shake shake tiny rocks. We did this for several hours. 

Then, up the driveway we walked, with sacks of screeners in a bag. Down to the basement with the train set, the model railroad beds were made. Now we had to lay the tracks. This involved cutting small pieces of balsa wood for ties, putting tiny nails into them to affix the o-gauge rail, and mixing the screened tiny pebbles with diluted elmers glue. We then spread the screened materials so it looked like a real railroad bed. “Perfect,” dad said, “This is just what it should look like!”

Now it was different. “Don’t let mom know. She wouldn’t approve of us screening today.” He said as we clandestinely took the “screeners” from the pantry cupboard and snuck out the back door. 

Our driveway was on a turn midway up a hill. When the snow plow or sander came by they inevitably deposited lots of stuff. Those cold winter days were far away as my dad and I sat down on the turn, the sun warming our faces. We began to fill the screeners with deposits of sand that a few months earlier provided traction to prevent cars from hitting our mailbox. 

Dipping our hands into the warmth and putting the sand into the screener, “AH…perfect,” He said. We sat on the ground shaking sand through the screener. Shake shake shake. Shake, shake, shake. Eventually the dirt would shake shake shake be gone and all that was shake shake shake left were the perfect sized shake shake shake tiny rocks. We did this for several hours.