| Author: | Rick Steber | ISBN: | 1230000012878 |
| Publisher: | Bonanza Publishing | Publication: | August 19, 2012 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Rick Steber |
| ISBN: | 1230000012878 |
| Publisher: | Bonanza Publishing |
| Publication: | August 19, 2012 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
Grandma grew up on a farm and, at a relatively young age, she fell in love and married Grandpa. They moved west, found the opportunities to their liking and together they raised a wonderful family.
Grandma was the glue that held the family together. She performed the necessary domestic tasks of making a home - caring for the children, cleaning, cooking, baking, washing, sewing and darning. She also tended the chickens, milked the cows and churned the cream to butter. And when necessity arose, like the time a horse rolled on Grandpa and he was laid up for nearly a year, Grandma demonstrated she could take on a man's work as well.
The Grandma I remember was old. Her domain was the kitchen, a room dominated by the cheery warmth of a wood stove and the sweet aroma of baking pies. While Grandma worked, frequently pausing to wipe her calloused hands on her freshly ironed white apron, she talked - telling stories of pioneering days, tales handed down from the Indians and interesting things that had happened to family members, friends and neighbors. Every once in awhile she lowered her voice and shared some small secret.
My children will know their great-grandmother because of the stories I will share with them and from the words Grandma carefully wrote in her journal. Every evening, no matter how trying her day had been, she would take a few moments to reflect and describe things from the day that were important to her - a laughing child chasing a butterfly across the pasture, the lovely fragrance of wildflowers in bloom, a field of wheat dancing in an afternoon breeze.... When Grandma finished the entries she would lay down her pen, close her journal, blow out the candle flame, and say to herself, 'And so ends another glorious day.'
Grandma grew up on a farm and, at a relatively young age, she fell in love and married Grandpa. They moved west, found the opportunities to their liking and together they raised a wonderful family.
Grandma was the glue that held the family together. She performed the necessary domestic tasks of making a home - caring for the children, cleaning, cooking, baking, washing, sewing and darning. She also tended the chickens, milked the cows and churned the cream to butter. And when necessity arose, like the time a horse rolled on Grandpa and he was laid up for nearly a year, Grandma demonstrated she could take on a man's work as well.
The Grandma I remember was old. Her domain was the kitchen, a room dominated by the cheery warmth of a wood stove and the sweet aroma of baking pies. While Grandma worked, frequently pausing to wipe her calloused hands on her freshly ironed white apron, she talked - telling stories of pioneering days, tales handed down from the Indians and interesting things that had happened to family members, friends and neighbors. Every once in awhile she lowered her voice and shared some small secret.
My children will know their great-grandmother because of the stories I will share with them and from the words Grandma carefully wrote in her journal. Every evening, no matter how trying her day had been, she would take a few moments to reflect and describe things from the day that were important to her - a laughing child chasing a butterfly across the pasture, the lovely fragrance of wildflowers in bloom, a field of wheat dancing in an afternoon breeze.... When Grandma finished the entries she would lay down her pen, close her journal, blow out the candle flame, and say to herself, 'And so ends another glorious day.'
