Way up north, in the far corner of our country, there lives a strange breed of folk. Their speech throws you back to a time when language had more rhythm and rhyme, not normally sounding like you and me. You wonder if it's still English.
They say they're headin' downeast, but on the map it looks more north to me. And speaking of north, they drop the "r" and call it "nawth", putting that "r" at the end of "potater". They laughed at me when I told them that Ant Donna from the South was planning to visit me soon.
"Ya mean yer Awnt Donner is coming t'visit you. She don't have six legs!"
Now, you must know that Ant DonnaI mean Awnt Donneris a city girl, not caring for a hike in the woods. She dusts off a rock before taking a rest and screams at dragonflies and moths. I love her to death, but it's so much fun to laugh behind her back when squeals and shivers and shudders at the things we see everyday.
We showed the pond, where the salamanders live, and the coop where the chickens lay their eggs. We showed her the cows, of course taking the path that led to the back pasture lot. Ant DonnaI mean Awnt Donnerwas hot and needed to pause to take in the view of the farm. She inspected the log before sitting down and waved her hat back and forth.
As a small trail of black dots climbed to attack the monster that trampled their nest, my neighbor poked my side and whispered, "I can tell yer Awnt Donner is a flatlander, t'sit on an anthill like that. Oooooh, those bites are shor goin' t' smawt. A'nt yer goin' t'tell yer Awnt Donner that a warsh of cold watah would feel wicked good, to ease the sting of them ants?"
I thought I had learned this strange type of talking, but I looked at my neighbor with a silly blank look on my face. The sounds bounced around in my head for a minute. I know he expected an answer from me. But I couldn't make heads or tails of the words he had spoken. Which was the "Ant" or the "Awnt" ?