Visiting my grandchildren so using my archives tonight…

Sat in the swing this morning watching the birds enjoying the feeders and the bird baths. The sky was a slab of marble, streaked with gray and blue. The wind chimes were softly pinging out a soft lullaby. A touch of fall was in the air that quickly turned to summer when the sun broke through the overcast sky. Sat on the porch, very contented, and pondered till lunch.

At dusk I sat on the porch swing again and watched the chimney swifts in their evening dances. A lone train whistle called out twelve lonesome wails that echoed down the metal tracks. The sun set in a blaze of bright yellow light painting the sunset in pink and orange hues, stretching across the horizon and blending together. Made me think of rainbow sherbet.

I love watching the cardinals at twilight. All the feeders are full of males and females. Such beautiful birds. The raccoon hasn’t been back in two days so maybe he got the message he wasn’t welcomed. I’m excited that the migrating birds will soon be stopping in on their travels south.

Been searching through quotes today looking for inspiration for my writing tonight. My dearest friend and I were talking about our grandmothers on the phone tonight and about spending the night at their homes. I never spent the night at my Grandmother McMurray’s home but spent so many, many wondrous holiday celebrations there with my cousins.

This quote made wonderful memories flood my mind this afternoon. “There is a garden in every childhood, an enhanced place where colors are brighter, the air softer, and the morning more fragrant that ever again,” — Elizabeth Lawrence.

One of the gardens in my childhood was definitely at my grandmother McMurray’s house. We called her Mama Doris. Holiday dinners there with my 16 first cousins were right out of a fairy tale world. She had a large red formica counter in her kitchen that overflowed with food — turkey, ham, leg of lamb, shrimp, sometimes duck with all the trimmings and a bounty of casseroles and vegetables. The dining room buffet would be covered in desserts. In the summers we’d have washtubs of fresh lemonade and cold watermelons sitting on ice.

My grandmother and her sister, Willie Lee, would walk around the dinner tables handing out hot rolls, fresh from the oven. The little rolls were folded up over a pat of butter. So delicious, melted in your mouth. I just realized that I never saw my grandmother and aunt sit down and eat. Guess after cooking for several days they weren’t hungry or they just enjoyed waiting on us and took pleasure in seeing all their family gathered around the dinner tables.

I shared the piano bench at the dining room table all my growing up years with my cousin Joe. We all called him Joe Boy. He grew up to pilot the Space Shuttle Endeavor but that’s another story for another day. Joe Boy and I always laughed and said we guess we’d never make it to the adult table. We’d be forever destined to sit together on the piano bench. I didn’t mind and he didn’t either. I did eventually make it to the adult table with Chief for one holiday dinner before the dinners were no more.

Mama Doris had a huge back yard, an old barn to explore, and a horse named Dan. She had a light brown mutt dog, think his name was Sandy, and we’d take off our shoes, slide our feet around on the carpet and touch Sandy on his back to see the static electricity pop on his fur. We’d laugh hysterically every time one of us got a spark. Sandy didn’t seem to mind. He knew it was a family holiday tradition.

Grandmothers’ houses should be remember as magical places. My grandmother Lane, we called her Big Ma, lived downstairs in our house in a beautifully decorated apartment with air conditioning and colored TV. Her home was a garden in my childhood, too. My brothers and I fought over spending the night down there with her in the summertime. We didn’t and still don’t have air condition. Big Ma kept it so cold she had blankets on the beds and she had color TV years before we did.

Her apartment didn’t have the delicious cooking smells of Mama Doris’ house but Big Ma had chicken salad and club crackers left over from her club meetings, chocolate ice box cake, and ginger ale with scoops of lime sherbet in tall green glass handled goblets. Mama Doris always had glass bottle cokes in her refrigerator and a homemade sweet on the red formica counter. So different, but I had a fierce love for both of them. Still missing them!

I hope my home is magical for my grandchildren to come and visit. I hope they always remember the big country breakfasts we shared with their granddaddy during their visits. Chief always asked Alexander to bring him a second cup of coffee. Took a few years before Alexander was old enough to carry the cup of hot coffee. He was always so happy to help his granddaddy.

Hope my grandchildren always remember sitting in the swing with Patty (their name for me), singing when they were babies, playing Let the Cat Die, and later, when they were older, all the “airplane swing flights” to distant cities we took together. I hope they will remember all the times they came to visit and found a Whoopi cushion on their beds.

I hope they remember and cherish all their memories of their grandaddy. I hope they never forget all the holiday dinners and traditions here in my home with their cousins gathered around them. And, I hope my home can be a “garden in their childhood” planted with beautiful memories.

I pray my grandchildren will always feel welcomed and find love and contentment here in my 105 year old home full of ancestral memories and traditions.

“ A home is more than a house. It’s a history, a legacy, and a sanctuary of the heart,” — James. Patterson.