Hasn’t this Spring been appreciated. Even though we realize it is still winter, it is hard to believe when we have days in the upper 70s. I have missed snowy days and red birds scrounging for food in a yard full of snow.
But let’s just be thankful for each day we are given, no matter the weather.
I haven’t had company this week. Nikki and Ashley dropped by, but were in and out and no time for talking.
I have talked by phone with Kevin and Karen daily and with Burr one day this week. Kevin and Burr are out in the trucks and busy! Busy! Busy! And Karen works and had DIY projects going in between.
Karen and Nicole did take me to the doctor in Springfield one day and we ate out and had a good time together.
Our club has had several members missing lately due to illness, appointments, and various duties and we have missed them. We wish better health for Wanda and Bill Huffman and Darrell Evans, who had teeth pulled. And prayers also. Glad to have Ruth Evans back. She is doing a lot better and has been quilting.
The ladies got one quilt out and another beautiful whole cloth quilt almost finished.
We are expecting Jo and Colleen back next week.
When there’s not much news, I resort to tales of old as requested by many of you of my generation and a little younger who still appreciate the good ole’ days as we call them, because to us they were good even though hard. The kids of this mechanized world could never comprehend anything good about outhouses, no running water, or growing your own food, but some of them like to hear of the lives we led back then. And back then to us seems like yesterday.
Some of us still grow our food at least some of it. As for me I am limited to what will grow in tubs. But my daughters both grow gardens and Greg, my son-in-law, is much involved in the greenhouse and garden preparation and care.
Very little canning is done, but freezers suffice, I guess.
I remember the gardens which provided for two families and how we were all involved in planting it and harvesting. Mom and Ma made huge long beds for onion sets and radishes and lettuce. And then green beans, corn and a large section was reserved for potatoes. Oh how I hated picking up buckets of potatoes come harvest time. The worst part was the dirt that got under my finger nails. And Daddy always grew enough to last all winter and that together with dried beans was our food for the winter plus shelf after shelf of beautiful jars of vegetables and fruit.
Ma’s cellar was a magical place where all we youngsters spent a good part of our Sundays where it was cool and we were out of the sight of our parents and where we could cut each others hair and do other naughty things.
Those Sundays were the Lord’s day and no work was done, other than taking care of the animals. And all my grandparents families were there for dinner, homemade ice cream, or watermelon and enjoying one another in harmony and love until church time. Now folks those Sundays were the good ole days!