Yesterday my son-in-law Jim, came up with two helpers and they went to work changing the landscape. They pruned, cut trees, shoveled dirt,tilled,and planted all over this place. Cutting back on the Lantana revealed that the jonquil blades were already up by two inches. What a surprise on the 28th of January. Usually we are into late February or March before that happens. The tilling allowed me to plant some bulbs which did not get planted last fall. I put in Allium, Buttercups and Medeterrean Bells, all new to me.
A huge truck load of pine mulch got spread around in different places, both inside of the raised beds and in front of the house, around back and in the blueberry bed. Even the blackberry plants that I started from cuttings got planted out back on the hillside. They are much like the Arapaho which I planted near my raised beds. These had red branches and huge berries. They will make fine blackberry jelly next July.
The spot which delights me most is what I see from my kitchen window. The rock wall has been there since 1991 when my friend Bob Huffman began to work here for me. What I see above it is what keeps changing. At one time there was a double trunked tree there. I think it was a tulip poplar as they often have twin trunks. This tree was turned into a very fine feeding place for our two cats. My husband had built a platform around the trunks and the cats could run up inside of it and onto the platform where we kept their bowl. The dogs could not reach them there and could only watch in frustration. I have a picture of my (now 25 years old grandson, Jeffrey) when he was just a toddler watching the cats eat while I held him up to see it happen.
Only a few years ago I could watch a Rosemary plant living happily in a sandy spot at the top of the wall. It had grown into a sturdy shrub and had a stately appearance with branches reaching straight up. I had to remove it to make way for other perennials like the white moon liriope and small crocus. These dragon moon liriope look so white at night when there is only the light from the security bulb on the telephone pole. I look forward to this small hillside spot with the distinctive flat rock being surrounded by orange double day lilies and narcissus, along with the iris and windmill bulbs when they come into bloom. They will like being close to the purple ice plant which cascades over the rock where the Rosemary used to be.
This week-end however my hillside may take on a completely different look as snow is predicted, maybe even as much as an inch. I will still be able to see one newly planted alpine spruce however. It was placed close to the huge rock and is a nice contrast to the rock with moss growing on it. Also the bark from the crape myrtle behind it makes a nice back drop for this new plant. It is the third one I have planted outside, as it is the third one my daughter and her husband have sent to me before Christmas. It was my living Christmas tree with lights and two pretty "fake" birds in it's branches. I hope one day to see a real bird find it's way to this small perky plant.
Looking beyond the rock and crape myrtle, when the leaves are gone from the trees on the hillside, I can see the gravel road making its way up an incline past the grape vines and onto the paved road in front of the vineyard. The grass has turned brown for now and when it has greened up so will the trees be all leafed out and my view will again change. At one time a graceful tulip poplar was reaching high above all the other trees and spreading it's distinctive branches turning downward. It had to give way when it became a threat to the safety of our home. So now in it's place is a red bud tree which has a completely different shape and is no threat except to capture my time as I pause to admire it when it is in full bloom.
All of nature has a plan of its own and a place of its own, as even do I. At this time of life I find so much to please me and interest me and much of it is on the ready each time I raise the blinds and look out of this small kitchen window. My wish for you is that you too have a spot of beauty from your window to give you pleasure.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Clogs and Blogs
Yesterday around 10:00 in the morning I was puttering around in my house getting ready to go upstairs to sew when my portable phone rang. It was the organist from our church. "Are you coming to play bridge?" she said. I was taken off guard as she had said she would call if she found a fourth and I had not heard from her since. So, I went into first gear and by 10:30 I was parking in front of her house which is about 3 miles east of here.
After I returned home I was again puttering around in my kitchen in a pair of mules while I waited for my neighbor to come over to pick up a stamp she needed for a letter. I was doing some routine cleaning in my kitchen and noticed that the plastic can I keep fruit and veggie scraps in needed to be emptied into my compost pile outside. We have had a lot of rain and to get to the compost bin I had to go over a slightly muddy spot. Not wanting to muddy my house mules, I went to the "tater" box where I keep my outside work shoes and I got my favorite bright pink clogs. They are perfect for wearing outdoors when I want to scoot out and back in a hurry.
Let me explain the clogs. They came from my daughter (several years ago ) who likes to keep me current on important things like the new and useful. Also I will explain the "tater" box. It is actually a small stand with a lid which lifts up and etched in the wood are the words, "taters". My good friend of forty years ago brought it to me when she visited me at some point in the 1970's. I keep it by my back door and it is a handy place to keep things for outdoor use, mostly shoes.
These things set my mind to thinking of the many changes taking place in our way of living. While at the bridge table yesterday we heard a musical sound and one of the ladies (another 80 year old transplant from Connecticut) picked up her purse and withdrew a flat electronic item and said "someone is texting me".
I can remember when kids played "telephone" with two cans connected with string. Why we ever thought we could hear with those things from a distance of 40 feet is a mystery to me. It brings up a point as now we pick up a small electronic wireless devise and talk to people from distances unimaginable at the time of our cans and strings.
And how we would have marveled at heelless plastic shoes with holes in them which can be hosed off if they become muddy. Even sophisticated adults are surprised to see me in my bright pink clogs. My neighbor from California came by one day and he looked at my bright pinks and then at his dark green clogs and said "Hmmm". I just laughed as I knew what he was thinking.
So, from clogs to blogs to texting and wireless cell phones, we are living in a different world and Buck Rogers would feel right at home.
After I returned home I was again puttering around in my kitchen in a pair of mules while I waited for my neighbor to come over to pick up a stamp she needed for a letter. I was doing some routine cleaning in my kitchen and noticed that the plastic can I keep fruit and veggie scraps in needed to be emptied into my compost pile outside. We have had a lot of rain and to get to the compost bin I had to go over a slightly muddy spot. Not wanting to muddy my house mules, I went to the "tater" box where I keep my outside work shoes and I got my favorite bright pink clogs. They are perfect for wearing outdoors when I want to scoot out and back in a hurry.
Let me explain the clogs. They came from my daughter (several years ago ) who likes to keep me current on important things like the new and useful. Also I will explain the "tater" box. It is actually a small stand with a lid which lifts up and etched in the wood are the words, "taters". My good friend of forty years ago brought it to me when she visited me at some point in the 1970's. I keep it by my back door and it is a handy place to keep things for outdoor use, mostly shoes.
These things set my mind to thinking of the many changes taking place in our way of living. While at the bridge table yesterday we heard a musical sound and one of the ladies (another 80 year old transplant from Connecticut) picked up her purse and withdrew a flat electronic item and said "someone is texting me".
I can remember when kids played "telephone" with two cans connected with string. Why we ever thought we could hear with those things from a distance of 40 feet is a mystery to me. It brings up a point as now we pick up a small electronic wireless devise and talk to people from distances unimaginable at the time of our cans and strings.
And how we would have marveled at heelless plastic shoes with holes in them which can be hosed off if they become muddy. Even sophisticated adults are surprised to see me in my bright pink clogs. My neighbor from California came by one day and he looked at my bright pinks and then at his dark green clogs and said "Hmmm". I just laughed as I knew what he was thinking.
So, from clogs to blogs to texting and wireless cell phones, we are living in a different world and Buck Rogers would feel right at home.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Old Navy Proverb
My second husband had been a Navy pilot in World War II. A bit of wisdom that he brought with him from his Navy days was an expression that no doubt was impressed upon the young flyer's during that time. It was, "plan your work and work your plan". My daughter and I applied that adage to a project we collaborated on this past week-end.
I wanted to commemorate my second grandson's graduation from high school and his entry into college by presenting him with a quilt. My daughter has a talent for color and design and has made many beautiful quilts. When I approached her with the idea she just took it and her mind went to work. We conferred via email on various ideas and also consulted him as to favorite colors, etc. As we had some thoughts from him as well as ideas from her, it all began to take form. She presented me with her idea of how to use blue and stripes as he said those two were appealing to him.
Then she had to get some time off from her work so she talked to the three lawyers she works for and they all agreed on two successive days, a Thursday and Friday. Those two days were last week. Adding on Saturday and Sunday we had four whole days to devote to this project. Setting all other things aside we committed to this time and on the appointed day she appeared at my house loaded with boxes of cut pieces , sewing machine, additional cloth and other necessities of life.
We got right to work, sewing and cutting additional pieces needed for the pattern. As each long piece was sewn together we placed it on the bed and went on to the next one, then some adjustments had to be made as to how they would be placed pleasingly along side each other. It would not look good to have two of the same patterns too close together. Once that was established I did the ironing and made sure all of the seams were pressed in the same direction. Next came the borders for each long piece, after they were sewn on, the outside border was added. In the final analysis we had a fine, extra long quilt, which looked masculine and pleasing to the eye.
Not one to stop with the ordinary, my daughter, always thinking outside of the box came up with the idea of putting some of the design on the backing of the quilt. After trying out several backing materials we could not feel satisfied with any one piece of cloth. So, off we went to the fabric store. Wandering through all of the fabrics I came upon a bolt of backing material 120 inches wide and a beautiful red cotton. I called to her to come and look at this find. She held her fabric samples up to this and out came her favorite descriptive word for something that "works". She said "that makes it POP doesn't it?". And indeed it did. We had been thinking of something in blue and did a complete turn around with the red.
Getting back home and to work, at her direction I helped sew some different sized blocks to go on the red backing. They were just a suggestion of what was on the front but when she had finished the back could be the front it was so beautiful. Feeling very satisfied with our creative endeavor we carefully folded the front and then the back of this reversible quilt. The final sandwiching of the quilt will take place when our machine quilter has it in her hands. She has agreed to do this and when we can make another plan to take it to her we can say we have made our reversible quilt.
So, we planned our work and then we worked our plan. Actually, we worked it better than we had originally planned. My daughter who always thinks outside of the box took the plans to a higher level with the reversible back. I think her nephew, my grandson, will be pleased to own a reversible quilt made by two women who love him and have watched him grow into a responsible, creative young man in his own right.
I wanted to commemorate my second grandson's graduation from high school and his entry into college by presenting him with a quilt. My daughter has a talent for color and design and has made many beautiful quilts. When I approached her with the idea she just took it and her mind went to work. We conferred via email on various ideas and also consulted him as to favorite colors, etc. As we had some thoughts from him as well as ideas from her, it all began to take form. She presented me with her idea of how to use blue and stripes as he said those two were appealing to him.
Then she had to get some time off from her work so she talked to the three lawyers she works for and they all agreed on two successive days, a Thursday and Friday. Those two days were last week. Adding on Saturday and Sunday we had four whole days to devote to this project. Setting all other things aside we committed to this time and on the appointed day she appeared at my house loaded with boxes of cut pieces , sewing machine, additional cloth and other necessities of life.
We got right to work, sewing and cutting additional pieces needed for the pattern. As each long piece was sewn together we placed it on the bed and went on to the next one, then some adjustments had to be made as to how they would be placed pleasingly along side each other. It would not look good to have two of the same patterns too close together. Once that was established I did the ironing and made sure all of the seams were pressed in the same direction. Next came the borders for each long piece, after they were sewn on, the outside border was added. In the final analysis we had a fine, extra long quilt, which looked masculine and pleasing to the eye.
Not one to stop with the ordinary, my daughter, always thinking outside of the box came up with the idea of putting some of the design on the backing of the quilt. After trying out several backing materials we could not feel satisfied with any one piece of cloth. So, off we went to the fabric store. Wandering through all of the fabrics I came upon a bolt of backing material 120 inches wide and a beautiful red cotton. I called to her to come and look at this find. She held her fabric samples up to this and out came her favorite descriptive word for something that "works". She said "that makes it POP doesn't it?". And indeed it did. We had been thinking of something in blue and did a complete turn around with the red.
Getting back home and to work, at her direction I helped sew some different sized blocks to go on the red backing. They were just a suggestion of what was on the front but when she had finished the back could be the front it was so beautiful. Feeling very satisfied with our creative endeavor we carefully folded the front and then the back of this reversible quilt. The final sandwiching of the quilt will take place when our machine quilter has it in her hands. She has agreed to do this and when we can make another plan to take it to her we can say we have made our reversible quilt.
So, we planned our work and then we worked our plan. Actually, we worked it better than we had originally planned. My daughter who always thinks outside of the box took the plans to a higher level with the reversible back. I think her nephew, my grandson, will be pleased to own a reversible quilt made by two women who love him and have watched him grow into a responsible, creative young man in his own right.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Debts
The year was around 1956. The setting; my sister and I both had married and were living in separate parts of the country and both had one daughter. The daughters were a few months apart in age, my sister and I were a few years apart in age. The occasion; my husband had to be in Lansing, Michigan for one week. The event; my sister lived in Toledo, Ohio my husband took my daughter and me with him on this trip. He left us with my sister as he went on to complete his business in Lansing.
It had been a long drive as we lived on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. My memories of that trip are vague. Looking back I believe I was in a depressed state of mind as I slept most of the time. My sister gave me the front upstairs bedroom with windows looking out onto the street below. She took my daughter under her wing and me also. I had lost weight and before I went back to Maryland I had gained five pounds from her pampering. She lovingly fed us, cared for us and infused life and hope back into me.
I think my husband had taken us on this trip as he knew I needed to be with family. The family in which I grew up had always been supportive and loving. Living so far from those who love and care for you, no doubt was the basis for my depression. I do recall that before that year was out and I was back in Maryland, I did go through a period of not being able to eat, of actually gagging when I tried to swallow food. I spent a lot of time crying. I remember sitting on the side of the bed, my husband sitting beside me with his arms around me as I sobbed. Inside I was crying out "help me", but the words would not come out.
No doubt my husband had consulted our neighbor who had a doctor and I found myself in his office trying to answer his question "what is wrong". My reply was "nothing is wrong" and I sincerely did not know of anything that was wrong. He said he could not help me if I did not tell him what was wrong. We were at a stalemate as I had no answer. So, he prescribed "a pill" to be taken each day.
After about three days I was standing at the sink washing dishes and something went off in my head like a light bulb. And it suddenly dawned on me what was wrong !!
We were living a long way from my home where most of my siblings and my parents still lived. I had never known separation from them until this time. Phone calls were a rare thing then and visits even more rare. Opening up to friends to discuss decisions was foreign to me and counseling was not as common as it is now in 2010. I was struggling to cope without close companionship, except for my husband. Something deep inside of me caused me to think I should be able to rely on my own resources without any outside help and come up with perfect answers. I had relied upon my family for emotional support and now it was not there.
A week with my sister was certainly a step in the right direction. I owe her a big debt for supplying that need at that time. Also the neighbor who was there to give some guidance is due a heartfelt thank you. The doctor who prescribed "the pill" and set me on a path of recovery was another critical player in this story. Having a supportive husband who was willing to walk over hot coals with me was ultimately key to getting me back on track. To them all I am in debt and can only repay it by passing it on, without judgement or criticism to whomever is in need and falls within my sphere of influence. It is a big order, I give it my best try.
It had been a long drive as we lived on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. My memories of that trip are vague. Looking back I believe I was in a depressed state of mind as I slept most of the time. My sister gave me the front upstairs bedroom with windows looking out onto the street below. She took my daughter under her wing and me also. I had lost weight and before I went back to Maryland I had gained five pounds from her pampering. She lovingly fed us, cared for us and infused life and hope back into me.
I think my husband had taken us on this trip as he knew I needed to be with family. The family in which I grew up had always been supportive and loving. Living so far from those who love and care for you, no doubt was the basis for my depression. I do recall that before that year was out and I was back in Maryland, I did go through a period of not being able to eat, of actually gagging when I tried to swallow food. I spent a lot of time crying. I remember sitting on the side of the bed, my husband sitting beside me with his arms around me as I sobbed. Inside I was crying out "help me", but the words would not come out.
No doubt my husband had consulted our neighbor who had a doctor and I found myself in his office trying to answer his question "what is wrong". My reply was "nothing is wrong" and I sincerely did not know of anything that was wrong. He said he could not help me if I did not tell him what was wrong. We were at a stalemate as I had no answer. So, he prescribed "a pill" to be taken each day.
After about three days I was standing at the sink washing dishes and something went off in my head like a light bulb. And it suddenly dawned on me what was wrong !!
We were living a long way from my home where most of my siblings and my parents still lived. I had never known separation from them until this time. Phone calls were a rare thing then and visits even more rare. Opening up to friends to discuss decisions was foreign to me and counseling was not as common as it is now in 2010. I was struggling to cope without close companionship, except for my husband. Something deep inside of me caused me to think I should be able to rely on my own resources without any outside help and come up with perfect answers. I had relied upon my family for emotional support and now it was not there.
A week with my sister was certainly a step in the right direction. I owe her a big debt for supplying that need at that time. Also the neighbor who was there to give some guidance is due a heartfelt thank you. The doctor who prescribed "the pill" and set me on a path of recovery was another critical player in this story. Having a supportive husband who was willing to walk over hot coals with me was ultimately key to getting me back on track. To them all I am in debt and can only repay it by passing it on, without judgement or criticism to whomever is in need and falls within my sphere of influence. It is a big order, I give it my best try.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
January 2010
My email buddy up in the northern clime, who is also the other living grandmother in my family, has a keen sense of humor and a zest for life. She sent me an email today which says it all. It was labeled as a short poem. It is.
Crap, it's cold.
the end
We have not had this much cold weather for 25 years, or so the weather prognosticators tells us.
I believe them, for about 25 years ago my husband had a doberman pincher which he kept up at the lake as he was planning for our home to be built there. That winter he came up to check on the dog and things in general. He came home in a very somber mood. He discovered that the doberman had given birth to a litter of puppies. The mother was fine but her puppies had all frozen. She had a dog house, but the extreme weather was just too much for her babies. I do not know how it could have been avoided but surely there was a way.
I believe that was the same winter that I spent a week at home because of the ice that kept me and my students from attending school. I spent part of the time making games, etc. for my classroom. Most of the time was spent close by up at the North Decatur Presbyterian church because they had electricity and we did not. I became better acquainted with some of the members there, as we passed the time playing bridge. I recall that everyone who was out of electricity took food from their refrigerators up to the church. We combined our food and cooked our suppers there. One of those good friends I still see occasionally. She and her husband came by to visit with me the day after this past Christmas.
My son-in-law, who is no wimp, told me he went shopping and bought long johns, a special cap with ear flaps and warmer gloves. This for when he took his two dogs out walking (and also his neighbors dog as the man had broken his ankle).
His idea inspired me to go shopping for additional warm under clothing. Since they always shrink after some washings I purchased the male version so they would be nice and loose after shrinking. One year I had a pair of bright pink under pants which I wore on Sundays, not that they were exposed for public viewing but they were cut off above the knees and would be hidden under a skirt. They served me well for several winters.
Most all of the folks in this area had some kind of problem related to the freezing temperatures, if not in their homes, then in their cars. I was spared car trouble as I had the 15,000 mile check up just the other day but the propane tank here ran out of gas. I was not the only one who was calling the provider for help. They were deluged with phone calls. In my defense the provider was supposed to automatically fill this tank, but did not. However it gave me an excuse to be a bit of a pioneer and do some things I had not done before, like turn on the valve at the tank after it was filled again. Also to fire up the pilot light on the gas logs, not a difficult task once I moved all of the logs out of the way in order to see the thermocouple.
My hair dresser had no hot water when I got to her shop today. She had to go next door to the gas station and borrow jugs of warm water. While I was there they discovered the problem. Water pipes were frozen outside so a heater had to be pulled under the building.
We all may feel a bit like pioneers from our collective experiences, but really thankful to have survived thus far. Some families have experienced tragedies from this most unusual cold weather pattern. So, when I snuggle up under my electric blanket, in my new long johns, I will sleep protected and happy with the knowledge that spring must follow all of this.
Crap, it's cold.
the end
We have not had this much cold weather for 25 years, or so the weather prognosticators tells us.
I believe them, for about 25 years ago my husband had a doberman pincher which he kept up at the lake as he was planning for our home to be built there. That winter he came up to check on the dog and things in general. He came home in a very somber mood. He discovered that the doberman had given birth to a litter of puppies. The mother was fine but her puppies had all frozen. She had a dog house, but the extreme weather was just too much for her babies. I do not know how it could have been avoided but surely there was a way.
I believe that was the same winter that I spent a week at home because of the ice that kept me and my students from attending school. I spent part of the time making games, etc. for my classroom. Most of the time was spent close by up at the North Decatur Presbyterian church because they had electricity and we did not. I became better acquainted with some of the members there, as we passed the time playing bridge. I recall that everyone who was out of electricity took food from their refrigerators up to the church. We combined our food and cooked our suppers there. One of those good friends I still see occasionally. She and her husband came by to visit with me the day after this past Christmas.
My son-in-law, who is no wimp, told me he went shopping and bought long johns, a special cap with ear flaps and warmer gloves. This for when he took his two dogs out walking (and also his neighbors dog as the man had broken his ankle).
His idea inspired me to go shopping for additional warm under clothing. Since they always shrink after some washings I purchased the male version so they would be nice and loose after shrinking. One year I had a pair of bright pink under pants which I wore on Sundays, not that they were exposed for public viewing but they were cut off above the knees and would be hidden under a skirt. They served me well for several winters.
Most all of the folks in this area had some kind of problem related to the freezing temperatures, if not in their homes, then in their cars. I was spared car trouble as I had the 15,000 mile check up just the other day but the propane tank here ran out of gas. I was not the only one who was calling the provider for help. They were deluged with phone calls. In my defense the provider was supposed to automatically fill this tank, but did not. However it gave me an excuse to be a bit of a pioneer and do some things I had not done before, like turn on the valve at the tank after it was filled again. Also to fire up the pilot light on the gas logs, not a difficult task once I moved all of the logs out of the way in order to see the thermocouple.
My hair dresser had no hot water when I got to her shop today. She had to go next door to the gas station and borrow jugs of warm water. While I was there they discovered the problem. Water pipes were frozen outside so a heater had to be pulled under the building.
We all may feel a bit like pioneers from our collective experiences, but really thankful to have survived thus far. Some families have experienced tragedies from this most unusual cold weather pattern. So, when I snuggle up under my electric blanket, in my new long johns, I will sleep protected and happy with the knowledge that spring must follow all of this.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Rules, Part 1
Applying rules to living can save a lot of time, trouble and heartache. The rules I apply to my living are rooted in the Judo-Christian faith. They come easy to me as I learned them from the knee of my mother and the patience of my father. When there are six children before you and one after you, you are planted in place number seven. You have the older ones to lead you and the younger to grow up along side of you.
When you fall asleep in worship with your head on your mother's lap and drift off with the sweet scent of ivory flakes in the air it gives you a sense of cleanliness and sweetness. When you are praised for going to the pump outside and drawing water for your sick brother, it gives you a sense of being worthy of your place as number seven.
I cannot imagine what it would be like to grow up in a family where contention rules the day, and the night. So, I was blessed to be in this family and in this time in history. I was too young to remember the great depression of the twenties and early thirties. I only learned that I had lived through it much later. I do remember parents who worked hard and loved much.
My father worked six days a week in an office in the southeastern mountains of Kentucky. He was a frail, tall thin man with dignified carriage and presence. Never to enjoy robust health, I never heard him complain about his limitations regarding health issues. I did hear him rail against corruption and small mindedness. What he lacked in strength of body my mother made up for in steady good health. She was never confined to a hospital until six months before her death when she experienced a heart attack. Recovering from that she died six months later during the night in her sleep after an evening with her family. She had fairly danced across the floor in a new red dress that one of her daughters had made for her. She was eighty two years old and slowed down a bit due to inoperable cataracts.
Getting back to rules, we had them of course. Otherwise how could a family of ten mesh smoothly and cooperatively. There were plenty of bumps along the way. One rule I learned the hard way. When you return home from worship you remove your Sunday shoes when you first get home. New shoes for a five year old were a big temptation. Dancing along the pathway in shiny new shoes is just a natural thing to do, or so I thought. When I felt the sting of a switch on my legs I learned a valuable lesson. Obey your mother. To this day I remove my shoes when I return from worship. New shoes were not easily come by in the year 1931 and were meant to be tended carefully.
There were plenty of opportunities for play in those years in spite of lean financial situations. In the dead of winter a new tricycle at Christmas can be ridden all about the house with one's younger brother. And if no indoor transportation were available, a row of chairs make a very satisfactory train for make believe travel. On other days when it is very, very cold it can be quite entertaining to write on the frosty windows from the inside-with your fingers ! Apparently there were no rules for that sort of thing. Rules mostly applied to behavior and interacting with others both your peers and adults.
There were many ways to help pass the time in my early childhood of learning rules. Helping out with chores in my family, even for a young child was mandatory. I well remember how itchy my hands became when it was my job to cut okra from the garden. And oh, the excitement of running from the barn to the house to find my mother and tell her that my father needed the bill book. Since he had a hobby of keeping milk cows and selling milk he had to write bills. Being his helper was a great honor.
Having cows around in the fields could be a problem, as I learned one day. My older siblings had a tennis court out near a pasture where the cows were kept. I had been out to watch the players and on my way back to the house I was ambling along unaware that Mickey, a cow with horns and a dislike for children came bearing down on me. My oldest brother however, had been keeping an eye out for me and he dashed out and used his tennis racket to render a hefty swing onto the rump of Mickey. had he not noticed, I am not sure what would have happened, but I do not think it would have been pleasant. Looking out for the younger ones was expected of the older children when when they were at play.
Sometimes sad and regrettable things can occur when you have animals around. One of my brothers was not at all happy with a rule for him which was to milk the cows on Sunday morning before departing to church. He had acquired a little puppy which was in a playful mood on that fateful day. The puppy was running and nipping at my brother's heels. My brother, not being in a playful mood lifted his boot to scoot the puppy away. At that point the puppy just dropped over dead. Acting in anger can have tragic results and can be a hard lesson to learn.
Living in the country with neighbors all along the road we were allowed to go rather freely to our neighbors to visit. My favorite thing was to visit a lady who had a wood burning stove and she had fresh sweet butter (possibly from my father's dairy). She would butter a slice of white bread and put it in the over to toast. Oh, what a wonderful treat. I named this treat "milky way" as it was so delicious.
Another neighbor who was a friend of all of us was an extremely tall, thin man who was nick named "high pockets". I suppose he did not mind for we were never told not to refer to him by this name.
Having free range in this rural mountainous area had many benefits. We could go about freely in the woods and play or explore. Playing could be pretending to be Tarzan and swinging on large wild grape vines. Natural wonders were to be seen in the woods too. Once I stumbled upon a rabbit's nest and saw the tiny hairless rabbits with their eyes still closed. I squatted down and watched in wonder as they slept and wiggled about in their nest of leaves. I instinctively knew not to disturb them so I left them as I saw them for their mother to return and care for them.
Many years later I was privileged to observe a similar scene. In summer here I keep my front south windows covered with honeycomb blinds. It keeps the house cooler on hot summer days. One day I raised them a bit and left them there not realizing a mother rabbit had her nest there under the branches of a cottoneaster shrub. Later when I returned I witnessed her standing over the nest while the babies nursed. That was as priceless as the time I saw younger babies when I was only five or six years old in the mountains of Kentucky.
At another time I hope to share some of my experiences with rules for living.
When you fall asleep in worship with your head on your mother's lap and drift off with the sweet scent of ivory flakes in the air it gives you a sense of cleanliness and sweetness. When you are praised for going to the pump outside and drawing water for your sick brother, it gives you a sense of being worthy of your place as number seven.
I cannot imagine what it would be like to grow up in a family where contention rules the day, and the night. So, I was blessed to be in this family and in this time in history. I was too young to remember the great depression of the twenties and early thirties. I only learned that I had lived through it much later. I do remember parents who worked hard and loved much.
My father worked six days a week in an office in the southeastern mountains of Kentucky. He was a frail, tall thin man with dignified carriage and presence. Never to enjoy robust health, I never heard him complain about his limitations regarding health issues. I did hear him rail against corruption and small mindedness. What he lacked in strength of body my mother made up for in steady good health. She was never confined to a hospital until six months before her death when she experienced a heart attack. Recovering from that she died six months later during the night in her sleep after an evening with her family. She had fairly danced across the floor in a new red dress that one of her daughters had made for her. She was eighty two years old and slowed down a bit due to inoperable cataracts.
Getting back to rules, we had them of course. Otherwise how could a family of ten mesh smoothly and cooperatively. There were plenty of bumps along the way. One rule I learned the hard way. When you return home from worship you remove your Sunday shoes when you first get home. New shoes for a five year old were a big temptation. Dancing along the pathway in shiny new shoes is just a natural thing to do, or so I thought. When I felt the sting of a switch on my legs I learned a valuable lesson. Obey your mother. To this day I remove my shoes when I return from worship. New shoes were not easily come by in the year 1931 and were meant to be tended carefully.
There were plenty of opportunities for play in those years in spite of lean financial situations. In the dead of winter a new tricycle at Christmas can be ridden all about the house with one's younger brother. And if no indoor transportation were available, a row of chairs make a very satisfactory train for make believe travel. On other days when it is very, very cold it can be quite entertaining to write on the frosty windows from the inside-with your fingers ! Apparently there were no rules for that sort of thing. Rules mostly applied to behavior and interacting with others both your peers and adults.
There were many ways to help pass the time in my early childhood of learning rules. Helping out with chores in my family, even for a young child was mandatory. I well remember how itchy my hands became when it was my job to cut okra from the garden. And oh, the excitement of running from the barn to the house to find my mother and tell her that my father needed the bill book. Since he had a hobby of keeping milk cows and selling milk he had to write bills. Being his helper was a great honor.
Having cows around in the fields could be a problem, as I learned one day. My older siblings had a tennis court out near a pasture where the cows were kept. I had been out to watch the players and on my way back to the house I was ambling along unaware that Mickey, a cow with horns and a dislike for children came bearing down on me. My oldest brother however, had been keeping an eye out for me and he dashed out and used his tennis racket to render a hefty swing onto the rump of Mickey. had he not noticed, I am not sure what would have happened, but I do not think it would have been pleasant. Looking out for the younger ones was expected of the older children when when they were at play.
Sometimes sad and regrettable things can occur when you have animals around. One of my brothers was not at all happy with a rule for him which was to milk the cows on Sunday morning before departing to church. He had acquired a little puppy which was in a playful mood on that fateful day. The puppy was running and nipping at my brother's heels. My brother, not being in a playful mood lifted his boot to scoot the puppy away. At that point the puppy just dropped over dead. Acting in anger can have tragic results and can be a hard lesson to learn.
Living in the country with neighbors all along the road we were allowed to go rather freely to our neighbors to visit. My favorite thing was to visit a lady who had a wood burning stove and she had fresh sweet butter (possibly from my father's dairy). She would butter a slice of white bread and put it in the over to toast. Oh, what a wonderful treat. I named this treat "milky way" as it was so delicious.
Another neighbor who was a friend of all of us was an extremely tall, thin man who was nick named "high pockets". I suppose he did not mind for we were never told not to refer to him by this name.
Having free range in this rural mountainous area had many benefits. We could go about freely in the woods and play or explore. Playing could be pretending to be Tarzan and swinging on large wild grape vines. Natural wonders were to be seen in the woods too. Once I stumbled upon a rabbit's nest and saw the tiny hairless rabbits with their eyes still closed. I squatted down and watched in wonder as they slept and wiggled about in their nest of leaves. I instinctively knew not to disturb them so I left them as I saw them for their mother to return and care for them.
Many years later I was privileged to observe a similar scene. In summer here I keep my front south windows covered with honeycomb blinds. It keeps the house cooler on hot summer days. One day I raised them a bit and left them there not realizing a mother rabbit had her nest there under the branches of a cottoneaster shrub. Later when I returned I witnessed her standing over the nest while the babies nursed. That was as priceless as the time I saw younger babies when I was only five or six years old in the mountains of Kentucky.
At another time I hope to share some of my experiences with rules for living.
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