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Little Creek

Here it is Monday morning again and so soon. Time is flying way too fast to suit me and I realize I must cherish each day my Lord permits me to spend here in my beloved Ozarks. And yet I hear younger folks complain about it being a “yucky” day. I don’t believe I’ve every had one of those.

Charlie came yesterday bringing beautiful tomatoes. He was going home to plant more beans and maybe turnips. And Kasey, Terry and Steven came yesterday also with zucchini bread that Brian McChesney had made. Terry also came last week with Monica and baby Rylee. She is growing “like a weed” as my mom would say.

Others dropping by were Karen and Kevin and granddaughter, Jessica, and Burr and Ruth spent one night with me.

Jessi took me to vote. I had about decided not to which would have been the only time missed voting since I was old enough.

I was so happy to run into my dear friend, Vonda Stine, in town Tuesday. She hasn’t aged a day since she used to come clean my house. I’m thankful for all the people I have known over the years and Vonda is one of the dearest friends the Lord has sent my way. Vonda not only cleaned she involved me in other fun and productive projects. We canned pickled beets, made zucchini bread for the freezer, cleaned and explored the utility room and even made a quilt I believe. It was never dull with Vonda around and I miss her and am always happy to occasionally run into her in town.

I’m thankful for all the people God has steered my way and there are some I cherish and the memories we made together and I must say there have been very few I didn’t like.

Haven’t we had a good spring and summer? Everything is still green which is unusual for August. Fall is rapidly approaching and I enjoy the autumn season most of all. But then can winter be far behind? Winter is good except I’m prone to being cold. I always liked the time of year when the harvest was winding down and the garden work and canning was done. We always had shelves full of jars of food to last the winter and bins of potatoes in the cellar and bunches of onions and peppers hanging on the porch. And best of all we were looking forward to butchering day when big old hogs were scraped and cut up for the smoke house. That was one of the best of “the good ole days” memories. Several neighbors came to help, taking home with them a generous “mess” of meat. Now these were not two or three hundred pound pigs, but rather five to six hundred pound hogs, and not just one. Neighbors sometimes brought their animals to butcher making it four or five and a good days work, with the work just beginning. The sausage meat had to be trimmed off and ground, the fat had to be cut into small cubes and rendered into lard and some of the meat canned. Daddy rendered the lard when I was a youngster and I remember vividly him tending the melting kettle for the lard had to be done just right so as to turn out pretty and white.

The women were very much involved in the butchering process, but not so busy that they couldn’t cook the best dinner ever, with tenderloin and ribs and maybe liver fried to perfection and big old biscuits because those were the days before convenience foods and we had never heard of canned biscuits. I remember potatoes and gravy and Mom never made a butchering day dinner without her canned chunky applesauce. To this day when there is tenderloin on the menu there is applesauce. Of course today’s is not nearly as good as Mom’s canned applesauce.

By the time it was cold enough to butcher we were well into winter. And always with enough food ‘laid by’ to keep us eating “high on the hog” ’til garden time again and we did it all over.

That’s written for those of you who request that I write more about “the good old days.” And they were good as I remember and mostly because of those old timers that occupied my world back then. I like that song the Isaac’s, I believe sing, called, “Grandpa, Tell Me About The Good Old Days.” And I could write all day about those times way back when. When living was hard, but good with not so many worries and you didn’t hear of the terrible things people do to people nowadays.

I guess I have rambled long enough and not written much news, mainly because I don’t know any. But they say no news is good news and on that thought I will close until next time.

If you have a memory you’d like me to write about, send it to 369 Co. Rd. 838 Wasola, MO 65773.

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