By Rick cooper
To me, it was the ideal place. A place where we were always welcome. A place if we had no where to sleep that was always a welcoming home.
Grannys wwasn’t a mansion, just a house with big shade trees and some greengrass. Inside was simle, without glamour or anything for show. Just a potbelly oal stove for heat and a woodcook stove for cooking.
On cold winter days, there was always a hot fire and breeze coming through the open windows on warm days. The walls were covered with family photos that told a story of the memories that were never forgotten.
There wern’t any books of shakespear or collections of encylopedias but people with old fashioned common sense that could feel a bucket.
A place where on a rainy day, you could find grandpa in the barn resting on his laurels.
Sometimes, I find myself attempting to remember how simple life was and why grandma’s house was such a special place.I suppose it was the keeper of the house ahat provided to sweet aroma andloving atmosphear that every child craves.
I sometimes wonder how she found the strengthand time toget so much workd done. From cooking, cleaning to chopping wood and gardening. I think it was the years of experience and desire from hard work that allowed her an edge over the in-experienced . Granny’s house was a humble home but it was convienent and equipped with the knowledge tomake her work efficent.
She would rather spend her money for necessity rather than comfort. Her house was always a place where if you were tired or discouraged, you could find rest and inspiration.
I hope to spend the rest of my days attempting to immulate grandma’s work ethic and big heartedness and have such a life and home.