When spring arrived that first year and gardening time approached my parents went looking to find an acreage they could buy.
They found one several miles away off of a narrow dirt road, 15 acres with an old tumble down house and grown up in weeds.
Being young and full of dreams they didn't really see the hopelessness of the property but only their visions of how they would build a home here and raise their children.
They wanted to do the work on their own rather than hire someone to do it. Every morning after chores and breakfast were over Daddy would hitch up our faithful horse, Jim, to our spring wagon, and fix blanket "nests" for John and me on the back, and off we would go through the fresh morning air.
The first thing they worked on was getting all the overgrown weeds and brush cleared away so they could start a garden. What fun it was helping Mom drop the seeds into the long rows. We would carefully step in her tracks in the fresh dirt and happily plant peas and onions. The rest of the vegetables would be planted later once the days grew warmer.
In the meantime Daddy was starting to tear down the old house. He was tearing the shingles off the roof, and the ladder was just too tempting to a little girl. When Mom wasn't looking I climbed up to help Daddy. Once I was up on the roof though I was petrified, it was dreadfully far from the ground! I was sitting there at the edge of the roof when Mom spied me, she called for Daddy and then hurried up the ladder after me. Daddy came over and scooped me up in his strong arms and carried me down, Mom was almost crying which made me feel really bad, I hadn't meant to scare everyone. I just wanted to help.
After that day they would drop us off at Grandpa Masts where we would be well taken care of, and out of harm's way. Aunt Vernie would read stories to us, push us on the swing, and help us play whatever we wanted too. Aunt Emma would let us lick her cooking spoons and watch her weave rugs, Grandma would let us dry the dishes for her and occasionally we would run out to the harness shop and watch Grandpa work. By evening when Daddy and Mom came to pick us up we were tired out and usually went to sleep tucked into our blanket nest in the back of our slow moving, bouncing spring wagon, listening to our parents soft voices and the clip clop of Jim's hoofs.
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I love your writings. I feel as though I am right there. 😊
ReplyDeleteAww ... thank you!
DeleteI'm sure enjoying re-reading these stories. Thank you for sharing them again.
ReplyDeleteBlessings,
Betsy
You're welcome!
DeleteI was slightly hesitant sharing them all again, afraid I might bore those who were here from the beginning.
You bring me right there with your beautiful prose!!!
ReplyDeleteThat makes me so happy!
DeleteLove your story. Licking the wooden spoon after the cake's in the oven is the best part. Thank you for your lovely comment on my site
ReplyDeleteI used to love licking wooden spoons. Haven't done that in years, having my own little spoon lickers now. :)
DeleteI'm so sorry you lost all your original posts about growing up Amish, but I am really
ReplyDeleteenjoying these new stories and can't wait to read more!
I'm so glad you're enjoying these memories.
DeleteI'm really enjoying re-reading all of these stories, as I'd forgotten so many details. The Squire and I also bought an old house - we didn't tear it down and start over, but there were days when I wondered if it wouldn't have been wiser!
ReplyDeleteOld houses can present an interesting challenge!
DeleteSuch lovely memories.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
Delete