The Old House Its just a fragment of my mind I can barley remember the old weather beaten house that stood on a noel all by itself with a meat house building in the back with a well beaten path to its door. The old barn set to itself with old wooden shingles on it as well as the old house. When the March winds blew the window panes would rattle like someone was pecking on them to let them enter. The ole chimney would puff smoke into the house occasionally as we all sit around to keep warm before spring came with the March flowers jumping out of the ground on the East side of the house, where the sun rose every morning to greet the day. I can remember my bedroom was upstairs and I slept on an ole iron bed with a feather tic and feather pillows my granny would pluck the feathers from her ducks and make the mattress we slept on. Under the feather tic was a corn shuck mattress with the over lay of the feather tic and over that was home made quilts with all kinds of designs made from ole worn out clothes. I have woke up a many mornings and could see my breath look like smoke. But beneath the covers you were warm and cozy for sure. Breakfast cooking on the ole wood stove usually got you out of bed in a hurry. The smell of country ham cooking and fresh perked coffee and those cat head biscuits and cream gravy and ole home made grits with fresh cow butter. A couple of those biscuits with butter and home made jelly. Never knew what jelly until you sat down at the table and bowed your head and gave grace before breaking bread. We all had chores and if someone got sick you took their job as well as yours for the day or until they got better. In the summer time the ole house would get hot. It would pop and crack and you would look around to see if someone was behind you. It was if there were a ghost living within the walls. Every once in a while you would see a shadow but only for an instance. My grand mother lost her son at the age of four. He jumped off a wagon and stuck a rusty nail in his foot and by midnight it had set up blood poison. The sent for old Doc but back then they didn’t have the medicine as we have today to fight infection. Some days when in the field you could hear granny screaming and run to the house and find her upstairs over his ole trunk with his little Sunday clothes within crying and praying. I would lay my arms around her and she would stand up wipe her eyes and say son let me and you go sit on the porch in the swing. Its hard as a child to see someone so broken hearted and nothing you can do but, just be with them so they don’t have to go it alone. The ole house at one time was a barn itself and re-modeled and made into the house it finally became. If you had of lived there in the ole house it would have reminded you of the Walton’s. We all were different but we all got alone. We made ole home made wooden wagons with wooden wheels and a rope to stir the front wheels. The ole wheels were made out of black gum tree and the axils were made of hickory. Then the wheels were greased with fat back or lard or wagon grease if you were rich enough to own some. High up on the ridge in the ole pasture we would take cricket our wagon and take turns down the steep hill and bust the branch wide open. We were always up to something from playing cowboys and Indians to setting the broom straw field on fire with big wooden Diamond matches we snuck out of the kitchen off the wall. I remember that day well for I had on a wool green checked coat and a hat with let down ear muffs on the side with strings you tied under your chin. My older brother took a match and lit it and threw it into the broom straw then took his foot and tried to stomp it out. Well the sparks scattered and then there was three fires and then the world looked like it was on fire. He grabbed my hat off and went to beating it and then stuck it back on my head and hollered go get granny. Off I go and when I got to the door everyone came out of the house. All you could see was white smoke like the mountain was on fire. Granny jerked the cap off my head and went to stomping on it for it was on fire. They fought fire all evening and by midnight it was all consumed. Well I’m here to tell you two boys got a good tail whooping one long to be remembered. All in all the pasture came back green as ever and there was plenty of fresh grass for the cows and mules to eat. Days turned into nights and months into years and time itself will rob you of the things you love and create only memories. But time waits on no one it will be here when all else is destroyed or gone. Just be happy you were a part of it for I think we all live in an Old House one way or another if it’s only in a dream. wd
Posted on: Wed, 14 Aug 2013 04:20:01 +0000
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