Reflective Wednesday

We have been doing two days of school in one, so we can have Friday off.  Yep, I'm determined to have that three-day weekend.  Build myself up for whatever the holiday week may bring. 


Can you believe in the midst of all this cold, I'm thinking about laundry?


Do you remember wash day?  We all spent so much time at Grandma & Grandpa's, and they had a wash-house with an old wringer washer, wash tubs, and a bathtub.  We'd sit on the edge of the bathtub and watch Grandma hold the clothes just right as she fed them thru the wringer.  I'd wonder if it hurt when her fingers would get in the way of the rollers.  And wondered if I could have a turn to feed the laundry through.  She'd always have to adjust it whenever it was time to run the boys' jeans or Grandpa's overalls through.  And she'd talk to us, tell us stories as we sat and watched.  Then it would be off across the yard to the clothesline, where she had a cart that someone had made to hold her basket while she hung the wash.  We would play on the swingset where she could keep an eye on us, then, when she was done, we'd go in the house til it was time to check the next load.


Thank you, Grandma, for making us a part of your life. 
~sjb~

A Memorable Christmas

Once upon a time,
on a hill in the Ozarks,
all was covered in snow.   


The roads were impassable,

no need for a rig. 

But Christmas was upon us,
and the gifts were not here. 


So parents, grandparents, uncles and cousins,
contrived to help Santa that year. 
A sled, piled high, was attached to the tractor,
and away Uncle Randy, to bring Christmas cheer.

Through the fields and up the hills,
gifts were delivered to the very front door. 

"But wait, there's more." 

And back down the hills, again through the fields,
to fetch Grandma and Grandpa,
to share Christmas this year.


The blankets were tucked
around Grandma with care,
"Hang on real tight, Ma. 
He'll soon have us there!"

"Don't worry 'bout me,

I don't mind it at all!"
So the sleigh and the "deer"
To the front door arrived,
her smile aglow, all warm from inside.


Mom had the day off, and dinner prepared,
We ate and we laughed, unwrapped and said thanks.
Christmas that year was a joyful time,
And Yes My Dear One,
Santa drives a John Deere!

What I Miss the Most

I miss being at my grandparents' home during deer season. The feel of home, scent of wood smoke mingled with fresh brewed coffee. My dad and two of his brothers would go out to the deer woods, and "us girls" would stay in the house with Grandma. We would wait for the hunters to get cold enough to come in, help themselves to coffee from the pot that was always full, stand with their back to the blazing woodstove, then, with barely contained excitement, listen to their tale.

I hear Grandma, "Well, did ya see anything?"

"Nah," says my uncle, "Just some squirrels and a rabbit." Sipping coffee. "Oh, I did see..."

This was often spoken, or some variation. But it never stopped there. Followed were fascinating details. But remembering, those are not the details I recall. It's the tone of voice I hear, the light of adventure in the eyes, fingers re-adjusting their hold on that coffee cup, the better to settle in to the story.

Then if another came in from the hunt before the first one finished, well, things did liven up in a hurry! God, I loved that. I can even still see Grandpa carrying in an armload of firewood , stoking the stove his pretense for coming inside and seeing how the hunt was. Sharing in his sons' experiences with stories of his own.

God, I miss that. The stories. I miss the men coming and going, the hunter orange, the rifles, even the bite of chill as the door yielded entrance or exit.

And that is a piece of my life from this Ozark hilltop.