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Sunday, December 18, 2011

the way i remember life on the farm...

       ...once upon a time there was a little girl who lived on a farm ...she played amongst the apple trees. one tree had branches that were broken in such a way as to hang down around her as if to be the rooms of a little house. she would play in there for hours. if she listened closely, as a breeze would pass through,she could hear Gods promise of her children playing, as she swept the floor with a bundle of branches,made coffee for her husband,soon to be home,in a  porcelain covered  coffee pot, with the rusty bottom,on her wooden palate stove. soon she would hear her mother calling and she would tuck the children in and leave a cup of coffee on the kitchen table...
      ...skipping off to be the child again. summer would bring lots of visitors,from near and far,family and friends were welcome anytime and strangers with stalled cars too. there was always a cup of coffee to be shared. summer meant haying bees, when family friends and relatives would bring their families out to the farm for a day of harvesting a lot of hay.the men in the fields,the women in the kitchen, the kids all playing. the milk house sinks were filled with ice water for 1 holding water melons,the other bottles of white rock sodas' with flavors of cream soda,black cherry,root beer,grape,orange,lemon-lime and cola. all bottled right in waukesha and sold in wooden crates. the women would be cooking up a storm of everything from hot dogs,sloppy joes, fresh fried chickens,potato salad, fresh cucumber w/onion and vinegar salad,devils food cake w/white frosting,cherry jello w/fresh raw home made whipped cream and hand cracked walnuts all whipped together,strawberry jello w/bananas, fresh picked apple pies,fresh picked rhubarb pies and of course home canned pickles,crab apples and more...  ...baseball  in the front yard-sometimes including the dogs, water fights in the back. sitting on the front porch to tie my keds and looking up just in time to see cousin kyle walk right off the top of a wagon full of hay and landing in a puff of dust like a cartoon character. then running fast as i could to his side to see if he was o'k. then of course laughing at him the rest of the day once finding out,thankfully, he just had the wind knocked out of him.
                           ...so much hay,so much food,so much work,so much fun,so much love...
    
    ...soon it was fall, time for high school football games, time for canning vegetables from the garden, time for the crisp fall air to seep in through the open evening windows as though it had traveled miles just to mingle with the aromas and sounds of moms' canning...   ...and bringing with it the smell of autum, the sound of the tractor and corn picker running in the darkness,only to slide the headlights across the walls each time it turned the corner by the road,and if the wind was just right you could either hear the sounds of the milking machines or an owl atop the barn or some nights, after the machines were quiet, you could hear the howlings of the family of red foxes' in the back hills. evenings also meant 'school nights' and home work and falling asleep either to the comforting sounds of mark singing songs for classes or plays or the soothing sound of wayne practicing his saxophone. they were each extremely talented. as they grew older mark went from an outstanding boy soprano to a rich baritone and once we all started voice lessons,we found wayne had an amazingly beautiful tenor voice,martha had a beautifully gentle alto,while i grew into a girl soprano with the rare quality of a BOY soprano(or so i was once told by maragret hawkins).
                 
              ...to hopefully be continued another day,please remember i am not a writer but a thinker...who is also a dyslexic stroke victim with basically half a brain from #MOYAMOYADISEASE ... so no need to tell me i cannot write or spell... i already know! however i do hope my thoughts and memories have touched you in some manner... also: thank you for stopping by! :)

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