This is an old photo. I must have been about 3 years old. That’s quite a few decades ago, I’m afraid. Both of my grandmothers, Nannie and Hattie, are gone now ……………. but not gone. I learned something from each of them. Today I want to tell you about Grandma Hattie.

She was an educated woman when it was not fashionable to be one. She graduated from high school – something neither of my parents could do. She married my grandfather shortly after graduation and they settled in Corydon, Indiana to raise their family.

I came into the family when my father, her fourth-born son, was 35. She was 63 and had to be getting tired. Life wasn’t easy for either Grandpa Carey or her throughout the depression years. They moved away from their hometown of Corydon to look for work. Having 5 sons to feed was a responsibility and Grandpa made sure they went to school as long as possible and had plenty to eat. If not plenty, at least enough.

As I am now old enough to be someone’s grandmother, I’ve been reflecting on my enjoyment of life, and what I do that makes me happy. I found that I watched Grandma Hattie do everything that brings me joy. My mother, as well as Grandma Hattie, taught me how I wanted my life to be at this age, today, right now. And my life is exactly as I planned.

I remember going to the little town in Illinois called Foosland several times a month, provided the weather was good. It was about 40 minutes or so from my hometown of Champaign. My mother’s family lived a little bit further north. I wish Grandpa and Grandma’s home was still standing in “Foos” but it burnt down over 50 years ago.

The house was a huge two-story with gray clapboard siding. It had a deep front porch with a white railing and it had a porch swing. That swing was magical and I have wanted one ever since! I don’t have it yet, but I’m working on it.

Grandma had an old cookstove that used coal, I think. I know I remember seeing a coal shuttle in the kitchen. She also had a red hand pump and a wash basin on the counter. A huge kettle, large enough to fill a bathtub always sat on the back of the stove.

I remember how happy she would show off her new “oilcloth” on the table. The old one, worn and tired and somewhat cracked, would be kept for some other uses. We would all sit at the table and Grandma would bring us pie or cookies and coffee. My sister and I would get a glass of milk with a tiny bit of coffee in it. If it was late summer, the pie would be sour cherry and I have never lost my taste for that pie! Both my Grandpa Carey and my father would peel back the top crust and take turns putting sugar on top of the cherries. I remember the dirty looks Grandma would give them but they did it anyway.

I would stay with them from time to time. Usually no more than a couple of days, but long enough to learn what Grandma did. Grandpa took care of a huge vegetable garden. I remember green beans, corn, peas, carrots, lovely tomatoes the like of which I haven’t tasted since. Grandma had flowers in the front quarter of the garden. I remember her Four o’clock flowers blooming in what seemed like a wealth of color. I remember swinging in the swing listening to the pigeons’ song from the woods catty-cornered from the house. I remember the sad gravestone that marked one of the neighbor’s young children. I remember my grandfather, obviously not the easiest of men, always sounding frustrated and touchy.

All these years later, I find my greatest pleasure in things I learned from Mom and Grandma. I enjoy watching my vegetables and herbs grow, I enjoy sewing anything from curtains to clothes to quilts. I love cooking, probably more than either of my ancestors ever did. I don’t seem to remember the joy of cooking being a big theme. I’d rather cook then almost anything else.

I needed to cut some cilantro today. The huge contained was getting overloaded. I took some kale, radishes, lettuce, oregano and parsley too.

You can see my jar of preserved lemons in the back. That’s a wonderful thing to do and they are useful and delicious! It takes a little over 3 weeks and then you can add pickled lemon flavor to any dish. I used them with salmon a couple of nights ago. They added a complex layer of flavor.

I was writing to my cousin Pamela today. I am on Facebook only to stay in touch with Pam and her brother, Rodney. They are the only cousins I have that claim me. LOL. I know I have more but not as close as those two. We didn’t see each other a lot growing up. They moved to New Mexico when Pam and I were 15 or so. We lost touch and then Rodney decided he was going to find everybody. And he did! It’s so nice to reminisce with people who remember the people you remember!

When I am not tempting my husband off his diet routine, I fill in the time reading. I’m pretty sure I haven’t skipped a day of reading since I learned how to. I get up early here on the farm as soon as the sun rises. I make coffee, feed the kitty, and let her out to roam. Then I read until my husband wakes up. I always pray that he sleeps a little later every day so I can get further along in my book. I’m reading my way through The Journals of Henry David Thoreau. So far I have read Vol. 4 and am almost finished with Vol. 2. I have a set that came without Vol. 1, but I have since found it. That will be next on the list.

If you haven’t dipped into Thoreau’s writing yet, search him out. I am amazed that there lived a man 173 years ago who was my kindred spirit. I wouldn’t have walked the field, the forest, and the mountains as he did, but I might have tagged along for some of it. I only know that I would have been so honored to meet him and I am so grateful that he wrote down the story of his life and his thoughts. He’s right up there with Bill Bryson as one of the world’s best authors.

If I knew for a certainty that a man was coming to my house with the conscious design of doing me good, I should run for my life.

Henry David Thoreau