Well now, aren’t I just the little chatterbox as of late. Empty house, high heat, high humidity, work somewhat done and a clear head so why not?
Went out to get on my itty-bitty mower this evening and go play once the sun started to hide behind the trees. Headed over to my neighbor’s yard to mow. She’s got about an acre of back yard and it’s too hot for her to mow safely at her age so I go play. Do a good deed, enjoy the sunset and let my brain cell wander for awhile. Saw that the next apple tree (of hers) to come in was getting close and so I swung by to scoop up an apple off of the ground. Not bad, still green but not bad. I accidentally got off line mowing and accidentally ended up over there for another apple a couple of times. The lines look a bit odd but I like apples and I mow for free so….
Riding and eating had me thinking about my grandparents and that lifestyle. Mowing meant shut the gate at the drive and opening the one to the field. When you saw that back then it just meant folks had the cows “taking care of the grass”. After a day or so you could kind’a’sorta call the yard cut. Grandad wouldn’t know what to say if he saw me mowing on my toy. Times change I suppose.
The apples had me thinking of Grandma. She spent a lot of time in that big kitchen sitting by the cookstove or the table working on food for today, tomorrow, next month and next winter. It was a big, old house, oldest in the county. A fascinating bit of architecture as it was never updated. Two hundred years old and still the way it was built. No closets, no water, no nothing! But, it was a history lesson. The only one left standing in the nation according to experts. Time never really moved on there, some things you could count on.
One reliable thing was Grandma’s advice. Being a Grandma is very serious work you see. You really have to keep an eye on those grandkids and make sure they’re on the straight and narrow, especially the oldest. See, as the oldest you have to assume that they’re learning with you. Everything comes with a warning. My youngest cousin could play with a running chainsaw when he was three for no other reasons than they had gotten tired of worrying about us. Being the oldest meant that I got all the warnings that she could think of shouted out those open windows at me.
“Don’t run with an open knife.”
“Don’t forget to bring in water.”
“Don’t tie up girls for fun.”
“Careful with the axe.”
“Mind the bull.”
The warning on my mind tonight was about apples. Loved them then too. I’d go up to the barn, do whatever and walk back by the trees on the way back to the house. Out came my shirt tail and into it went apples. Sort of shocking that she never lost her voice hollarin warnings that those green apples would make me ill. Never did though. I’d walk along with 20 cows following me on the other side of the fence. Eat an apple, throw the core over the fence, eat another. Usually about 10 of them made a nice snack.
She was right about some things and they are missed. Thinking back tonight had me wondering what they would say to one another watching me zip about (“Slow down”) on my toy (“Too fancy”) eating green apples (“You’ll be sick later”) and glancing at the sunset (“Never go too fast to see God’s beauty”) as I helped a lady in need like they taught me.