As a child, while visiting Great Uncles on a Farm in Indiana, we would hear the Roosters in the morning and the Owls at night. The days were determined by the light and the darkness. We’d be up early and going when the sun rose and came in for our baths as the mosquitoes and darkness of the evenings encouraged us to come inside.
Who is watching you? It may not be an owl, but instead a child down the street. It might be someone from your church of the company you work for. Let’s all watch out for one another; let’s set good examples.
The kids would line up on the floor on comforters and be out in a matter of minutes. Everyone was worn out from lots of activity. The adults got the beds and cots; they were the workers helping out on the farm trying to make life easier on those hosting all of us. It was always a good time and one we looked forward to. We’d visit often.
The simple things brought us joy. Watching the goldfish swim in the concrete pool were great fun. The fish were probably 7 to 10 inches long and went in and out of the rock formations. The cows would stand along the fence line near the woods for shade. We’d stand there talking to them as if they understood us.
We play tag around the big house and investigate the area around the barns. We’d be intrigued by sticks, and things blown about. We’d play for hours in the sand, haul water from the troughs. It was fun to pump the water for the animals. Life was fun and easy.
When cars were broken and worn out they were parked on the farm. My uncles would take their afternoon naps in them. Old, but still useful.
I recall bees in the ground. My dad walked over them by accident and they went up his pants legs. He had to drive the 100+ miles home in pain.
Cats roamed the farm in search of little mice and animals. We’d see them around, but they kept their distance. When kittens appeared, we tried to catch and play with them.
One summer, we all painted the chicken coop. The smallest of us got coffee cans with paint for the lower portions of the building while the adults worked in the sunshine painting the large structure. Afterwards we’d play in the large sand hill. It was our mountain and we could see the top of the chicken coop. The farm was large with 40 acres of woods and some muck fields that were rented out for potato crops. They had areas for corn and root plantings like red beets and onions that would be kept in the cellar. My Great Aunt Anne would do canning in the basement where they had tables and stoves for the farm hands. This room had carpeting and was decorated for the daily meals. Upstairs was beautiful with a large kitchen where we’d all eat breakfast and dinner. The arched room had a long trestle table and a large square one in the center of the cooking kitchen for more people. I can smell the aroma of pancakes and hardy cooking. I was turned off from the heavy cream and never liked milk.
There was a formal dining room that I only ate in on one occasion. I was an adult then and all the original family had died. In the formal parlor there was a player piano and Victorian seating area. We didn’t go in there unless my cousin Jackie took us there. She knew how to play the piano rolls on a player piano.
The house was built after the war but the bathroom was gorgeous and very up to date with the best plumbing available. Extra red brick was created for a future addition or garage, but I never did see that. The farm was sold years ago when that portion of the family died. My parents had also died, but the memories of all the fun times lives on in my mind.
What memories carry you forward? How do you share them?
Memories are mini miracles trickling down over and over again.