Happy Love Thursday! My first love today is that I was able to make it through my dental appointment with little whining and no cavities. I have an extreme phobia about the dentist, so this was a huge step.
What I have really been wanting to write about this Love Thursday is a place where I spent a lot of time growing up. I've had this post running around in my head for a while now, but haven't written it out. I'm sort of afraid that I won't get my point across, or it will sound incredibly sappy. So, with that in mind I feel like I might as well just write it and move on.
I love that when I was growing up I got to spend a lot of time at my Grandparent's farm. This post is a love letter to that time in my life.
Some of my favorite memories happened on a farmstead in a very rural area of North Dakota. It's the farmstead where my mother grew up and where my grandparents spent much of their married life. As I became a teen I fought about having to spend time there, I dreaded weekend trips and as our lives got busier we went less often. Now, looking back, I wish that I could still go there.
The farm itself wasn't fancy in any manner. The house, started in 1899 I believe, was added on to for the next half century or so. It was small and the basement scared the begeeberz out of me. But it was always spotless. Grandma was an immaculate housekeeper and as a child it never occurred to me to be worried about mice, or bugs, or anything else. (Except for the crickets, we couldn't keep them out of the place, and I'm still terrified of them!) The furnishing weren't fancy and weren't new. The kitchen still had an old yellow table that now would be quite collectible. The floor I remember most was the black and white tile blocks. There are pictures of me talking on an old rotary style phone sitting on that floor when I was a baby. The living room had an old black vinyl couch and a fun red circular style chair. The dining room had an old blond wood table and matching hutch; that furniture also matched the bedroom furniture in my grandparents room. There was an ancient stone screened in porch on one side of the house that we sometimes got to play in. Up a steep, steep set of stairs were the three bedrooms that family stayed in when we visited and where Papa made me take naps. They weren't furnished with much more than a bed, but there was room to play with toys when it rained and we couldn't be outside. In fact there was room for all of the grandkids to pair up and pick on each other between rooms. (Hello cousins who read here! Please comment on your favorite parts of the farm!) I remember playing playing upstairs and listening to the rain hit the roof. I remember waking up to thunderstorms with Grandma coming upstairs to bring me down to their bed, so I didn't have to be upstairs while it was thundering in the middle of the night.
We spent a lot of our time at the farm outside. Papa and Grandma used to plant a big garden where we could sample fresh peas and carrots whenever we wanted. Grandma used to make huge meals for all of us. She was a fantastic cook. The yard was encircled about half way with lilac bushes. When I was a girl I used to dream of getting married there in the spring while the lilacs were blooming. My cousin, J, who now lives in Vermont (Hello!!), was the closest in age to me, and we used to get to stay at the farm together, sometimes for nearly a week. We had such fun making "stews" in the playhouse with all the junk we would gather from the yard. I used to get in trouble from Grandma for making J laugh too hard. I'm not sure I know why, but I did. Grandma would hang the wash on the line and when it was dry we would help her haul it to the kitchen table to fold it. The smell of that laundry was the best. We would play anti-I-over the playhouse, and Papa and Grandma would play along. As we got older the game moved to being played over the quonsets. We had a 3 wheel bicycle to drive each other around in, and old, old baseball bats and balls to play softball with in the middle of the yard. Sometimes even our Dad's would get involved in the game, and when Papa played we knew it would be a fun night.
There was a large screenhouse that was set up in the summer months. Our parents would sit there in the evenings with the Grandparents while all of their children ran around like maniacs opening and shutting the screendoor and letting the mosquitoes in. There was no A/C in the house, so it was hot! The screenhouse was a respite from the heat, often there was a dog or two there as well. Grandma would make popcorn (on the stove, with real butter!) for us to snack, plus there were nearly always home made cookies of some kind. It's a wonder I wasn't a fat kid.
My writing can't come close to conveying the love I feel for the farm. It was a place where I was spoiled, where family was together, and where my fondest memories of childhood were made. My Grandfather (Papa) and my aunt (and Godmother) are both gone now, and the memories I have of them from the farm are still strong. When I think of either of them, I think of the farm. I can't come close to explaining the wonders it holds for me, or the incredible memories. The pictures in my mind are still as vivid as the days I spent there. I can't remember most of my children's childhood, but my memories of the farm are still bright and incredibly beautiful. Sentimental, yes, but I wish I could go back for just one day and show my children the wonder that I felt for this place.
Sign in an elevator of at Kohls
5 years ago