
This family farm painting was done by my great aunt Elizabeth, and it now hangs in my mother's living room. When I gaze at it my childhood springs to life. We used to dress up in our Sunday best for a visit to the farm because it was a grand occasion. I kept asking, "Why do I have to dress up when I'm going to play outside?" It was careful play, playing tag around the trees in back or playing softball without sliding into home base.
During the breaks, I'd spend an hour reading through the two long rows of National Geographic magazines, getting my eyes fulls sometimes and blushing.
When asked what I wanted to eat, I always requested bread and butter and water and my aunt Elizabeth laughed and teased me, but she baked the best homemade bread!!! I can feel the butter melting in my mouth now and inhale the yeast aroma of bread fresh from the oven.
After supper, the grown ups would play cards until the stars came out, while I read through yet another National Geographic and wondered how my family could play the German card game, Spitzer, so long. I half listened to the great stories that circulated around the table and sometimes laughed with them over a good joke.
As I watched the clock my eyelids grew heavy. One hour. Two hours. Three hours...
YAWN!
Then a relative would stand and say, "It's time!" The shiny fiddle appeared and the adults and children gathered onto the porch and waited for the fiddler to enliven the night. When he placed his bow on his fiddle strings and played lively music, we hopped onto the ground and partnered up for square dancing under the bright starlight and amongst the fireflies. Now the dress made sense. :D Square dancing wouldn't be as much fun without swishing skirts.
What memories I have of the family farm. And how wonderful I had the opportunity to share them with you. The farm no longer is in the family, but I still dream of back when.
Hugs, JJ