Roots

/This little church and the accompanying graveyard are outside of Baker's Summit, Pennsylvania.  My grandfather was born here in 1860.  His name was Franklin Holsinger Myers.  He and his family moved to Illinois and then Kansas when he was a young boy.  His father died there and his mother remarried and moved back to Baker's Summit.  Somehow...my grandfather Frank moved back to Kansas and then back to Illinois when he was a young man.  A few years ago I was trying to find out what became of my grandfather's family.  I searched the records...and came up with some answers, but not all of them.  

What I did find out is that part of the Myers family is buried here...right across the road.  I had no idea what I was looking for when I stopped by early one morning when we were traveling back home to Missouri.  I had some information, but not a lot. I searched the rows looking for my great-grandmother's name...not knowing that she had remarried two years after my great-grandfather died in Kansas.  Such confusion.

Lucky stroke the following year....I chanced upon some information that told me about her new name, her children with her new husband, and the names of several relatives that lived in an adjoining town.

Early one morning...a year later....I returned to the cemetery across the road...and walked carefully down the rows, looking for her name.  And there she was.  And next to her was her second husband, my grandfather's stepfather.  

My dad's parents both passed away years before I was born.  But I know a lot of stories about them.  Their gentle ways, hard work ethic, and how they managed to raise a family during a difficult time with little work available and not much money coming in.  My aunts both told me that they never heard my grandparents fight or disagree.  They were loving people who always thought the best of others.. How I wish I had known them.

Which brings me back to the picture above.  As I stood there in the silence of that early summer morning, near the resting place of a woman who did not have an easy life, but who raised children that anyone would say were good people.  I looked across the road....her church, my family's church.  And that is how I know what foundation made these people who they were.  What a wonderful gift for me.  It was then and it still is.  

 

Rain, Glorious Rain

Promises, promises.....you know what I mean.  The last few days we have been told, by various sources who will remain nameless to protect their reputations, that we could expect liquid dropping from the sky...in other words...RAIN.  Ha, I said to myself.  So many times they have said this..."rain expected between 6 AM and 6 PM, amounts anywhere from 1/8 of an inch to 3 inches ."  In other words, the lesser amount, which only serves to settle the dust on my dusty road.

Went to town this morning.  It felt like rain.  There were a few drops on my windshield.  Came back home and unpacked the groceries.  Looked out toward Caney Mountain to the west and what did I see...rain coming my way.  But I knew better.  We have a sign..invisible except to rain clouds...which reads  ANY WHERE FROM THIS BOUNDARY TO THAT BOUNDARY...THERE WILL BE NO RAIN. FINAL WORD!  VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED! How do I know this?  Everyone else gets rain...but not us, up here on the hill. It has gotten to the point where we don't even bother to replace our rain gauge, which bit the dust many months ago.  What's the use?  I was tired of emptying the dirt and bugs out of it every month or so.

I have learned my lesson today.  I doubted that we would get any rain but....here it is.  I had planned on taking my daily walk down the road after lunch.  Joyfully, I get to sit here at the window and watch the water dripping from the eaves.  The birds are loving it too.  They come and perch on the porch railing for a minute or two, shake out their wings, and take off to find shelter in our oak tree's

 welcoming branches.  Don't you know the grass loves this too.  I can almost hear the ground sighing with pleasure.

And we all say together....RAIN, GLORIOUS RAIN.  

 

At Last

Perfect joy!  That is what I felt when Andy brought me this, my first bouquet of spring, a few weeks ago.  Yes, I have a confession.  I am not a gardener.  Any plant I touch, even for a few seconds, turns black and withers in my hand.  Always has been, always will be this way.  Thankfully, I have a husband who is a plant savant.  He just has that special touch.

But, enough of that.  What gives me true happiness at this time of year is to see the returning of green and every other color that gives my whole outlook on life a boost.  I tire of grey and brown and dull, dreary skies as the days of February and March drag on.  I search for signs of spring on my daily walks.  First the small, tentative sprigs of early flowers....fighting to survive late frosts and beating winds  Daffodils struggling to raise their green shoots amid last autumn's leaves.  I bend down over them and, like a mother with a tottering toddler taking his first small steps, I whisper, "Come on sweetheart.  You can do this."  And the ground warms under my hands and I feel the response...."Yes, yes we can."

Spring makes me feel as if I can do almost anything..  I have to be careful not to overdo....too many climbs up my hill or along the road lead to backsets.  Aching legs and sore knees...well, I don't need to dwell on that.  As I rest after my daily walk, I sit on my porch with a wonderful view of Caney Mountain and all that heavenly land that lies, spread out before me, and breathe fresh, springtime air, saying to myself...At last, at long last, spring has arrived.