I remember!
...The mud in Spring when schools closed for ten days. When country dirt roads became a huge chocolate pudding. When the accepted footwear for toddler to totterer became knee-high rubber boots.
...The heat of the kitchen on a summer on a summer day when a wood fire was built up to heat water for laundry. When fruit and vegetables were canned. When breads, cakes and pastries were baked for the family.
...The occasional tramp, who, with worldly goods in a blue bandana tied to a stick flung over his shoulder, stopped for food and drink. Who stayed to chop a pile of wood, or fetch water, his thanks for the hospitality. Who might ask for a night’s lodging in the hay loft. No one ever turned away hungry or tired.
...The Pack Peddler who came yearly with his huge box of dry goods and trinkets. Who carefully removed each article piece by piece (how eagerly we watched!). Who just as carefully replaced his goods. Who usually left us with a new hair ribbon or long black stockings.
...The Fishmonger who came weekly in summer with cart filled with ice and fish buried beneath. How welcome a change from eggs, poultry and salt meat, our usual summer menu.
...The Tinsmith who came once or twice offering pots and pans or his services to repair leaking vessels. Mother knew how and could use a soldering iron to make her own repairs.
...The rain barrel under the eaves. In summer the white worms seen wriggling about the water. Mosquito larva? Perhaps. Water, a precious commodity on a country farm where wells ran dry.
And I remember…
...Running through dewey grass of a summer evening to bathe the dust and grime from busy feet before crawling into bed.
...The galvanized washtub in front of the open oven door on Saturday nights for our weekly bath.
...The dash to the backyard privy on a cold, blustery day. It is true, there was a Sears and Roebuck catalogue out there.
...The Horse and Buggy Doctor who came at a call, with his little black bag of pills. Who sat beside my sister, ill with Typhoid. Who once let me watch as he with pestle and mortar, made pills to replace his dwindling supply.
...The Chestnut in the fall. After a hard frost, the burrs opened giving up their hidden goodies. We gathered the nuts by the sugar bags full, then brought them home to boil, roast, or eat au naturel.
But best of all I remember…
...Christmas Eve. The sleigh ride to the church. The huge tree so beautiful. The pieces spoken and the songs sung by the children. The arrival of Santa with his pack of goodies. The exchange of gifts, both young and old. Truly an enchanted evening.
...The mud in Spring when schools closed for ten days. When country dirt roads became a huge chocolate pudding. When the accepted footwear for toddler to totterer became knee-high rubber boots.
...The heat of the kitchen on a summer on a summer day when a wood fire was built up to heat water for laundry. When fruit and vegetables were canned. When breads, cakes and pastries were baked for the family.
...The occasional tramp, who, with worldly goods in a blue bandana tied to a stick flung over his shoulder, stopped for food and drink. Who stayed to chop a pile of wood, or fetch water, his thanks for the hospitality. Who might ask for a night’s lodging in the hay loft. No one ever turned away hungry or tired.
...The Pack Peddler who came yearly with his huge box of dry goods and trinkets. Who carefully removed each article piece by piece (how eagerly we watched!). Who just as carefully replaced his goods. Who usually left us with a new hair ribbon or long black stockings.
...The Fishmonger who came weekly in summer with cart filled with ice and fish buried beneath. How welcome a change from eggs, poultry and salt meat, our usual summer menu.
...The Tinsmith who came once or twice offering pots and pans or his services to repair leaking vessels. Mother knew how and could use a soldering iron to make her own repairs.
...The rain barrel under the eaves. In summer the white worms seen wriggling about the water. Mosquito larva? Perhaps. Water, a precious commodity on a country farm where wells ran dry.
And I remember…
...Running through dewey grass of a summer evening to bathe the dust and grime from busy feet before crawling into bed.
...The galvanized washtub in front of the open oven door on Saturday nights for our weekly bath.
...The dash to the backyard privy on a cold, blustery day. It is true, there was a Sears and Roebuck catalogue out there.
...The Horse and Buggy Doctor who came at a call, with his little black bag of pills. Who sat beside my sister, ill with Typhoid. Who once let me watch as he with pestle and mortar, made pills to replace his dwindling supply.
...The Chestnut in the fall. After a hard frost, the burrs opened giving up their hidden goodies. We gathered the nuts by the sugar bags full, then brought them home to boil, roast, or eat au naturel.
But best of all I remember…
...Christmas Eve. The sleigh ride to the church. The huge tree so beautiful. The pieces spoken and the songs sung by the children. The arrival of Santa with his pack of goodies. The exchange of gifts, both young and old. Truly an enchanted evening.