Under the Willow Trees

Family Reunion Under the Willow Trees 1962

 Under the trees was the popular gathering place during the summers when I was growing up.  When my Grandfather bought the farm, he planted a row of golden willow trees as a wind break to the west of his home.   Willow trees grow quickly, and within a few years this row of trees provided not only a wind break, but a nice area of shade from the hot summer sun.   Most of my Grandfather and Grandmother's siblings and their families lived down the mountain in the city, so each summer there would be family reunions up on our farm.   For as long as I can remember there have been rows of picnic tables under those willow trees.  One Saturday in July and one Saturday in August were set aside for these reunions.   Great Aunts and Great Uncles, my own aunts and uncles and myriads of cousins would descend on the farm for a day of picnic lunch under the trees, tractor drawn hayrides through the meadows, horseback riding, volleyball, horseshoes, watermelon and ice cream.  Of course everyone was interested to wander out to the barn when milking time came around to watch the cows being milked.

Those same trees are still there.   My nephew now lives in my Grandfather's old house with his wife and children, and my brother build his house on the other side of the row of willow trees.   We still gather under the trees several times most summers to celebrate holidays or other family events with a picnic lunch and games and visiting.   The huge extended family reunions under the trees are mostly a thing of the past, though we did gather together with my cousins for an afternoon picnic and visit at a different location this past summer.   It is good to get together with family, whether it is under the trees or some other location.

Does your family have a favorite traditional place for reunions?

 Family Reunion 1964 

Family Reunion 2015

Under the trees 2016

Tire Swings

 

This is a photo of the tire swings that my Daddy made for his kids many long years ago.   I have spent hours in these swings dreaming lazy summer dreams as I gently swung under the blue sky, or feeling the thrill of racing back and forth as high as my Daddy or Mums or older siblings could push me.  This is no ordinary swing set, and it has lasted well over 60 years.  The tire swings themselves may have changed once or twice over the years, but the huge log standard has stood it's ground for over half a century and held up under hundreds of children, including myself, my siblings, and countless cousins, friends, nieces and nephews and grandchildren.   I'll admit that my Daddy is one amazing, talented, and thoughtful man.   Don't you agree?

School Days

I was four years and ten months old when I first began attending kindergarten.  Back in the day, the cut-off date for starting school was October 31st, and I met the deadline by mere days.  I believe that I was always the youngest in my school class throughout my entire 13 years of elementary school and high school. I have often wondered if this contributed somewhat to my shy and reticent nature. There was one small school district in our mountain valley with two schools. There were seven small towns and many farms in between that belonged in the school district.  The elementary school served grades K-6 and the High School served grades 7-12, with the 7th and 8th graders only attending classes with others of their grade and not being allowed to dances and participation on sports teams or clubs and activities.  

Most of the students in our school district were bused to school because of the 15 or more miles from the north to the south ends of the valley. Because our family farm was less than one mile from either of the two schools, our family was not technically eligible to ride the bus to and from school, but the bus passed directly in front of our house each day, so we were allowed to ride.   The bus arrived in front of our house at almost exactly 8:00 AM every weekday morning during the school year.   The bus ride lasted about 45 minutes and wound through a large portion of farmland and one small neighboring town where we picked up the other riders, then stopped first at the elementary school  and then at the high school.   The morning bell rang at 9:00 AM at both schools, usually allowing us a few minutes on the playground before school started.

Kindergarten was only half day for us.  There was only one kindergarten classroom and teacher, but two kindergarten classes.  Students who lived on the south side of the valley were in one class and students who lived on the north side of the valley were placed in the other class.  I believe that we switched time slots half way through the year so that both classes had the experience of both morning kindergarten and afternoon kindergarten.  During our three hour block of class we learned our ABC's, and how to  write our numbers and our names, and other important things like colors, art, and getting along nicely with others. We had playtimes outside on the playground, and inside playtime with the trucks, blocks, play kitchen, dolls, puzzles, clay and other playthings.   We had story time and snack time and nap time together. 

In First grade we made the transition to a full school day that lasted from 9:00 am to 3:30 PM, with lunch time and both morning and afternoon recess time.  At first I was excited to take my brand new lunch box to school with a sandwich and thermos of milk for my lunch, but the Thermos soon leaked and I tired of having only sandwiches for my lunch.  For most of my school years Mums would hand us our lunch money every Monday morning and we would buy a lunch ticket that would last us all week.   Hot school lunch received many a verbal complaint, but for the most part I remember very good home-cooked type balanced meals with homemade bread and rolls and desserts . . . a far cry from the pre-fabricated chicken nuggets, french fries and pizza lunches I see presented in the schools today.

First grade also brought reading and books!  We had our readers to take home each night and practice our reading with our parents.   We learned more about numbers and math, and history and science too. And of course we also had art and music and PE and recess.  Third grade brought the introduction to cursive writing.  In fourth grade we started switching classes during one or two periods each day. One of the fourth grade teachers specialized in Reading and English while the other specialized in Math and Science.   That way we benefited from even more teachers and came to know even more of our classmates.  One of the highlights of fifth grade was the science fair.  One of my friends and I did our project on Volcanoes with a handwritten report, display board and the requisite model volcano that really erupted, with help from vinegar and baking soda of course.  

Recess was looked forward to every single day, even when it was cold and snowy.   On good days we would swing and slide and play on the monkey bars.  There was hopscotch and four square and kick soccer.  Sometimes we brought jacks to play, and sometimes there was kissing tag, "going steady"  breakups, and  even  the occasional "weddings".  There were field trips and class parties and the end of the year clean up day where everyone helped clean up the school grounds and then participated in relays and other contests and were rewarded with a walk to the drug store or the drive in for an ice cream cone.  

The students in the two classes in my grade were shuffled around each year, so we were able to get to know other children from the valley very well.  Of course people moved in and out each year, but for the most part we ended up getting to know each other very well.We formed friendships that would last throughout not only elementary school, but also junior high and high school and throughout our lifetimes.   Many of my classmates still live in the valley towns where we grew up, and now many if not most of us keep in contact through Facebook and other social media.  Even after all these years, a big part of who I am definitely comes from those long ago school days.

Reading

I was ALWAYS reading when I was growing up.  Well, maybe not constantly 24/7 reading.  I do seem to have memories of other things like chores and school and animals, and family and TV and movies etc.   But reading was my very favorite thing to do.

I remember the summer after kindergarten when we children made the daily race to the mailbox after seeing the mail truck pass on down the road, and finding my very first Weekly Reader  magazine that Mums would subscribe to for each of us children in the summer time.   Our parents and grandparents were wonderful about giving us books as gifts, and we had a huge collection of the classic Little Golden Books. Much of my monthly allowance was spent on the Scholastic Book Orders through school.  Our house was filled with books and magazines, including shelves and shelves of The National Geographic magazine and The Book of Knowledge Encyclopedias and Scripture Story Books.  The Bobbsey Twins, Little House on the Prairie, Trixie Beldon, Black Beauty, Heidi, Robinson Crusoe, Treasure Island, Harriet the Spy, and others were among my favorites.

My favorite place to read was my bedroom, lying sprawled out on the bed.   The next best place to read was curled up in one of the big easy chairs in the living room.  Sometimes I would sneak upstairs to the quiet bedrooms of my siblings and read on their beds.  But no matter where I ended up, I could stay there all day reading, oblivious to any of  the noise and activity going on around me, oblivious (mostly)  to the reruns of the TV shows blaring next to me, and especially oblivious to the eventual entreaties of my dear mother to put the book down and do my chores or my piano practicing, or eat my dinner, or turn out the light and go to sleep.

Where was your favorite place to read?   What were your favorite books to read?

Quilting

My dear Mums spent a lot of her time sewing and quilting.  I imagine she learned these skills from her own mother and from several maiden aunts that lived with her family from time to time.  I know that I have slept under the quilts that these ladies have made many times, and these quilts still reside at my Daddy's house.

When I was a teenager my mother began quilting quite often.  She made several patchwork quilts for gifts for my cousins weddings, and my sisters and I were allowed to help sew the squares of scrap fabric to male the patchwork tops.  We would then stretch the quilt top onto the quilting frames that Daddy made out in his workshop with fluffy cotton batting in between the layers, and hand stitch the quilt along all of the seam lines.  Mums made several quilts for each of us as we married.  Some were patchwork and hand quilted, and others were tied quilts of gingham or other patterned fabric.  All of these lovely quilts have been used and appreciated over the years by my family.

When I was in Jr High and High School I sewed many of my own clothes.  I didn't sew nearly as much as my mother and older sisters did, but I sewed a lot more than I do now.  It was a good way to make productive use of my time, I suppose.  And I did get clothes out of it!  What more could a teenage girl who didn’t have close neighbors want?  Anyway, I can’t remember exactly the timing, but eventually I decided to make myself a patchwork quilt from scraps from my many sewing projects.  This is something my Mother and Grandmother had done before me.  However I didn’t want just squares,  so came up with my own design or pattern.  This is a photo of the quilt.  

This is the first quilt, and so far the only patchwork quilt that I have completed.  My mother and sisters and aunts helped me to hand quilt it.  It has traveled with my family to our various homes in various states and is still often used on one of our beds in the winter time.

Do you have good memories of quilts? 

The Piano

The above piano lived in my parents house for many years until last July when Dear Son 1 arranged to have it moved to my house.   The piano was an important part of our lives growing up.  It was first purchased by my dear parents when my older sister was about  8 or 10 years old, and she began taking piano lessons.  She became quite the accomplished pianist and currently teaches piano lessons on her own piano in her own home.

We gathered around the piano every week on Monday evenings during our Family Home Evenings, and sang a hymn or two.  During the Christmas Season we would play Christmas Carols, and there were always music books of folk songs, popular music, and classical music in the piano bench waiting for us to play.

Music was always important to Mums (as mentioned in my "M" post) and she spent hours and hours driving us back and forth to piano lessons every week.   Our piano teacher, Mae, would devote almost an entire afternoon to our family for piano lessons each week, right after school during the school year and first thing in the morning during summer vacations.  I began taking piano lessons when I turned eight years old, and had a weekly half hour lesson almost every single week for the next ten years.   The goal was for each child to practice the piano for a half hour every single day.   Unfortunately, there were very few days when I actually practiced for my entire half hour.  Most days I would quickly play through all of my assigned pieces one time (we usually had one assigned piece from each of four to six different piano lesson books, and as we progressed far enough, an assigned hymn also) and then I would run off to play outside or read or watch TV.

Mae was also the organist at our church, and she taught piano lessons to many of our friends, always watching for young people who were talented and dedicated enough to eventually help out with the music at church.  I was asked to play the piano for the young Primary aged children at the Tuesday afternoon primary meetings for a few months when I was in High School, but was not the best piano accompanist due to the slothfulness of my practicing habits.  But I did learn to play well enough to play most of the Hymns in a pinch, and enough to sit down and play a bit for my own enjoyment now and then.

I am truly blessed to have this piano in my home and the many lovely memories that it brings to me.

Open Spaces and Open Gates

One of the things that I love most about growing up on our family farm was the wide open spaces.  During the summer months especially I loved just wandering around the farm with my siblings and cousins or even just all by myself.   I love being out in the open fields with hardly any one else around: just me my favorite people and the animals . . . the cows and the horses and the cats and the dogs, and the birds too.   We children were mostly free to wander wherever we wanted on the property as long as our work was done.  With acres of pastureland, hayfields and sheds,  willow trees,  a big canal and multiple irrigation ditches, trees, natural springs, there was always a new place to play and new worlds to imagine.

We were taught to avoid the hay fields when the hay was growing, as our wanderings might tramp down the hay and ruin it.   Once or twice though, we had been known to create "tunnels"  or mazes in the tall hay in the small field behind Grandma and Grandpa's house.   Have you ever been to a corn maze before?   A maze in the hay field is much, much more fun, especially if the hay is taller than you are!

Another thing we were taught at a very young age was to never leave the gate open.  Fences and gates are extremely important barriers when dealing with cows and horses.   Most of the time they keep the animals in the pastures or corrals where they belong, and out of the road, the garden, they yard, or the neighbors fields.  One of our daily jobs during the summer was to herd the cows (really just follow along after them as they all knew the way very well) up the road and across the canal bridge to their summer pasture each morning, and then to return in the afternoon and herd them back home in time for the evening milking.  Since the cows knew the way, our main job was to open and close the gates that kept them safely in the pasture.  Many of the gates to the pastures on our farm are made of three or four strands of barbed wire stretched from the last fence post in the fence to another lose fence post.   To close the gate, you must stretch the barbed wire taut and place the loose post right next to the last post in the next fence.   A loop of strong gauge wire is then slipped around both the post in the ground and the loose post to hold it in place. This is not always an easy feat for a small child, but a skill that is learned early on the farm.  No one wants to be the one that let the cows out of the pasture!