The trouble with taking a sentimental journey is
Shall I go back to childhood and sit with
Grandma a while
on the porch?
Shall I skip along with Grandpa and watch the
cows come in,
wondering just how he calls them and how they
stall is theirs?
Maybe just watch him working at the forge, with
bellows at the side keeping the fire hot - the
iron, the hammer and the anvil?
It wasnít funny the day the outhouse turned over
door with Grandpa inside, but my! How I have
over that scene through the years! I even got to
heroine, alerting everyone of the voice inside.
Maybe run with my cousins around the barn hoping
find the new kittens in the loft?
Or remember the kitchen with the pump inside! A
of water always left on the counter to "prime"
for the next one who wanted to bring up a drink.
A kerosene cook stove and the best cook in the
to operate it. Modern day stoves still canít
the hot rolls, angel food cake, fried chicken
and hot cakes
that came from that stove at Grandmaís touch.
In the dining room was the table and just a bit
to the south
was the big pot bellied stove. It did itís job
if you did yours
turning like a rotisserie beside it. Of course
that room was
the only one it was responsible for. The kitchen
by the cook stove and all the other rooms were
shut away in
the winter time.
How about the time Grandpa let me drive the team
along to fix the fence. It didnít seem strange
then, but now
when I am almost the age he was then, I wonder!
sentimental journey! What a lot of patience he
must have had.
Kate and Mollie never gave the four year old
driver a bit
In the evening, around the table, with the lamp
in the middle,
we kids watched the card games or sang together.
on a slice of home made bread with a glass of
milk right from
the source was a special treat - even sometimes
the home made
sand plum jelly.
Great grandmother came, with hair all white and
one of those visits she and I ran through the
parlor to the icy
feather bed. I was freezing, but she told me to
cuddle and did
I! In a few minutes all snuggled up together, I
heard her dear
old voice telling me the story of Joseph and his
coat of many
colors. I fell asleep safe and happy with a
memory that lasted