Pondering: first impressions

Ponderings on the day of March 17, 2011 by a granddaughter/great granddaughter.

Granny R.

When I first was aware of her, she lived on 8^th Street in a small town in Tennessee with her daughter and son-in-law.

She was my paternal great grandmother.

 She carried an already slightly bent over, thin body frame. She had a scary place on the left side of her face, the temple area. It was as if it was her skull you were looking at, I believe it was, I believe it was a cancer.

She walked with a cane. She kept her, then white, hair wound into a small bun at the nap of her neck. She usually was dressed in a house dress of sorts, but with a long thin flannel robe over sometimes.

 As you entered the front door of the house, there was to your right a closed off bedroom.  Granny sat in her arm chair with a footstool in front of it, beside the window on the driveway side of the house, on the right side of the living room. Her bedroom was in the next room as you would go thru the house, you would walk thru her bedroom and on into the dining area, then you could either turn left into the kitchen, or continue on straight into her daughter & son in law's bedroom and the bathroom was off their bedroom to the right.

soothing even today...

riding in a pickup, no air conditioning, crammed inside with 3 plus mom...
darkness hiding her face

my hair tickling at my neck and ears, holding as tightly as i could to the youngest of 3 and me...

swaying to and fro' as we rounded each curve, sleep tapping at the corner of
my young eyes...

still hear the whine and creak of the open windowed door as it swung open
for her exit...

back with a jug of "sweet milk", condensed water verifying the
coldness of the contents...

silence on the trek back, each pothole of the dirt hardened road preventing
comfort of any kind...



i breathed in, i breathed in again, never will i forget the warm wonderful scent of
...mom

Olden Memory

This pot is a symbol for a Olden day memory.

Arriving home early afternoon. The school bus stopped, door opened, clambering down the long reaching steps of the golden carrier of students.
Skipping down the gravel drive, nearing the stone  and mortar entrance to a yard guarded by giant trees....

In sight was a huge large black cast iron pot suspended above an ashen flame. Strictly warned of the danger of drawing too near the steamy mystery inside. Turning and entering the doorway of the farmhouse, sliding to the side of the doorway, edging past a long boarded sort of  "assembly line". The gathering was assembling the savings of a pork animal. Spying various steps of the makings of sausage, ham, bacon and southern gems "chittlins" and  "pork rinds/skins". The older generation paid no mind to a small person fascinated and in awe of what was happening in the life breathing abode. At that instance in time, the importance of the moment escaped the small mind.
But this snapshot of the small life is forever recorded.
The days of that life matures, and various events recalled by wonderful reminiscent conversation. Opens the necessary events of that day, and all falls into place, and finally becomes an "olden memory".




Family Peonies

Peonies are a favorite of many people. They have been a captivating blossom for my husband. We have been far and wide within his families' yards in search and capture mode of bulbs.



The possession of a number of bulbs are carried with great care to our yard. We consult as to the most valued spot in our landscape to put them to rest.



 We trowel out the soil, inspect as we go, removing any unsightly debris that may prevent an successful growth.

The treasures are placed, fertilized, watered, then at last covered over with the visibly sanitized soil available to  return to the vacuum in the land we made.

One of the enjoyments is planting and not really knowing, but awaiting the first peak as to what the color outcome will be of the bulb you found in your treasure hunt!