I had a lovely, slow start to my morning yesterday. I had a full day planned out in “the office”, reading and editing the rough draft. Went out and turned the furnace on ahead of time to warm it up since it was a frigid 17 degrees. I fixed my coffee, gathered my book bag, kissed Mr. FixIt goodbye, and headed out to TOW-Wanda.
I wasn’t out there 20 minutes when it seemed to be getting colder instead of warmer. I got up and checked the air blowing out of the heater vents…barely warm. I lit the burner on the stove and even on high, there was barely a flame. I was very close to running out of propane. So, I shut it all down, packed everything back up, and headed back in the house.
As I’ve shared before, we are in the midst of renovating the master bath, which usually has Mr. FixIt hopping. However, with it being 17 degrees, he wasn’t very motivated to go out to the building and cut drywall. I knew I would be tempted to blow off what I intended to do and just hang out with my buddy all day. Instead, I announced there was a change of plans.
Since my book bag was already packed, I decided to come to the farm for a few days of intense editing time. After a snooze in the recliner, Mr. FixIt found the motivation to work on the bathroom…since his playmate wasn’t going to be there. It sounds like a win-win, I do believe. I arrived, fixed some lunch, and carried my coffee to the front window where Grandma always watched the world go by. My portable desk on my lap, my iPad open and at the ready, I found my gaze continually pulled to the view before me.
There is the clock I bought Mr. Virgo for his last Christmas. There is the little birdhouse my dear friend Charlotte gave me. You can see the newel post my Uncle Bud made for Grandma when I was a very little girl. He had a penchant for all things cedar. Out front, the bird feeders were attracting the usual flock of chickadees, finches, and tufted titmice. The doves gathered around on the ground below, scavenging what had been knocked aside by the others as they looked for their favorite tidbits among the seeds.
I kept hearing a banging sound I couldn’t identify. It sounded like the popping sound the old gas stove made before we switched out for the new one. I sat in the bathroom for twenty minutes waiting for it to kick off and back on but it never did. I sat in the bedroom and finally heard the sound again. It came from the front of the house. I walked around out front and couldn’t find anything and just as I was coming back inside, a gust of wind knocked something on the front porch and duplicated the sound. A little repositioning and the problem was solved.
The deep gong of the only wind chime I can tolerate let me know the breeze is picking up. It’s cold and white outside, but in here, it’s warm and toasty. We have free gas at the farm. My Pop-Pop always said, the free gas was worth more than the farm itself. I believe he is correct, from a strictly monetary and convenience standpoint. But I would beg to differ in the real value of these 74 acres. This is…and will always be…the home of my heart. It’s old. It’s drafty. The roof leaks in a couple places, but not bad. The linoleum flooring is cracked and has holes here and there…it’s pattern worn and faded.
The original double hung windows are single paned in desperate need of a good washing. The nail heads show through on the old plaster and lathe walls. The boards creak in just the right areas to play the same tune I’ve heard all my life as I wander through the rooms. The pump kicks on out in the cellar house, reminding me our water doesn’t come through some treatment plant but is filtered through the sand and limestone far below my feet. It’s been briny ever since they capped off the wells on this property over 60 years ago.
As I write this, propped up in Grandma and Pop-Pop’s bed, the window is cracked open just enough so I can hear the soft gurgle of the creek beneath the bedroom window. You don’t really have to have the window open to feel the wind blowing outside. All you need to do is stand near the front or back door and hold out your hand. The wind blows around the edges quite easily.
A thought has been nagging me for a week till I finally figured it out. My grandma died 20 years ago March 2nd. It is so hard to believe she has been gone so long and I miss her every day. I think that’s one reason I love this farm so much. I know SHE loved it, and I loved her. This is where I feel closest to her.
Ok, so…I didn’t get as much done yesterday as I would have liked. That’s ok…my heart is full and my spirit is warmed by the rich memories these walls hold for me. I’ll take getting recharged here over stressing about edits…any day of the week. Today will be another day and I can start refreshed…coffee in hand…warmth in my heart. ❤️
““But watch out! Be careful never to forget what you yourself have seen. Do not let these memories escape from your mind as long as you live! And be sure to pass them on to your children and grandchildren.”
Deuteronomy 4:9 NLT
The farm sounds like the memories I hold of my Grandparents old place. Long gone to be lived in but still alive in memory. My Grandma has been gone 44 yrs now but not forgotten…❤️
❤️
Good morning my friend. I love this post today. It sounds so much like where I am at this moment. I live in my Mom and Dads old home place. I’m wrapped in blankets and comfortable in the same bedroom my parents slept in. It is cold outside and this old house is getting old and hard to heat. But it warms my heart to think at 70yrs old, I’m in the same place my Mom was at when she was 70. She passed away in 2001 and my Dad passed in 1978. I have beautiful memories of this old house, and good times here when I would bring my 2 boys out here to the country on weekends. I think of all the good food MoMA would cook and we all enjoyed it around her Red & White Retro dinette set in the kitchen. My yard is now beginning to look like Spring, MoMA planted lots of flowers that keep coming back every year. My Camelia bushes are loaded with pretty pink flowers. A forsythy Bush is blooming and a few other things beginning to have little buds that will burst open as soon as this cold spell breaks. I can hardly wait for a sunny blue sky with warmer temperatures. I love this old country house in the woods. Will probably live out the rest of my life here with my dear husband of 13 years. Oh how I wish he could have met my parents. They would have loved him and he them. Have a beautiful day! Stay warm. ??
I love this post. It’s is not 17 degrees but a chilly 22 here in Central Texas, but we finally have sun and not rain. I live on a beautiful 18 acres and I too have had a hard time concentrating on my studying and writing. It was very nice to wander down memory lane with you. Such wonderful memories it evokes from my childhood. Thanks for sharing and prayers for a blessed day.
❤️
I, too, enjoyed this post, Jenny. I come from South Carolina but moved to Missouri in the late 60’s when my stepdad was transferred here. I’ll be 72 on Friday, but I still call my granny’s home…home. My happiest days were spent at her house, standing on a chair making biscuits, hauling coal from the drive to her cellar to keep it dry for heating and cooking, sleeping under homemade quilts in winter, front porch sitting with teacakes and sweet tea, napping under a tin roof listening to the sounds of sweet, Spring rain and always watching the Billy Graham crusades on her black and white t.v. I truly miss her. Thanks for sharing your memories. It sent me back in time for lovely memories of my own.
Oh, that warmed my heart. Thank you for sharing. ❤️
I wish I could go back to my grandparent’s home in Hammond, Indiana. I loved being there and there are so many good memories from there. I’d feel so close to them if I could do it just one more time.
I remember the old Coca Cola bottle opener on the wall on the back porch. My grandfather burning the wormbags that hung on a tree in the back yard. The tobacco that hung in the basement to keep it dry. My father’s bedroom turned into his cigar making office. My grandma ironing in the kitchen with the iron cord attached to the light fixture hanging from the ceiling. My grandma washing clothes with the old wringer washer in the basement then carrying them outside to the line to dry and propping the line up with wood poles. When it stormed having rootbeer floats out on the front screened in porch and watching the street flood until someone went out and did something to the manhole cover. Those were the days I love to remember. I hear you, Ginny.
❤️
You brought many memories back for a lot of people including me. I pictured easily in my mind everything you were describing in detail and I felt as if I was walking through your farmhouse with you. I too grew up in a centennial farmhouse, traced back approximately 135 years in our family. My uncle lives on the 115 acres now, but unfortunately the old farmhouse could not be saved. The timbers on which it was built had rotted & deteriorated beyond repair. I can still picture the cast iron wood burning stove in our back kitchen that led down to our cellar that was lined with shelving that held all my Mom’s canning & preserves. The cellar had a dirt floor & I remember thinking it was scary coming down those rickety, wooden stairs while trying to find the long string for the hanging lightbulb, Many a young calf laid on grain sacks by the wood stove to keep it from freezing to death, if it was born late at night, my Dad brought it in from the barn, along with baby chicks & kittens at various times. My sweet mother never complained. I remember the hand pump on the well out the back door, the never ending vegetable garden in the summer, the apple orchard out by the barn, the smell of the grain mixture from the silo. The sweet smell of the lilacs and lily of the valley on the shaded side of the house. Oh those memories are simply priceless!
❤️