Sorghum molasses

These were our companions for the past weekend.  Kit and Kate.  A pair of sister mules. They were hitched up to the sorghum mill as we made sorghum molasses down in the hills of Arkansas.  

What a treat.  Lots of  friends and lots of help.  The cane crop was not as plentiful this year.  We cut and trimmed and loaded it onto the trailer and pulled it down to the farm.  Setting up the mill was not a hard task.  And the rest went like clockwork.  Until we awoke on Saturday morning and discovered that Kit and Kate had taken an early morning stroll...somewhere.  Luckily they had found a neighboring field where the grass was thick and green.  There they were, happily grazing, waiting to be found.

Soon everyone was busy with the chore of making sorghum molasses.  The green juice poured out of the mill into a bucket.  When we had about 15 gallons of juice it was poured into the cooking pan and set on the fire.  Skimming the juice and tending the fire so the sorghum cooks evenly is an art.  And we had the people to do it.  Taking turns and visiting while the green juice turned to gold and then to a golden brown was one of the many pleasures of the day.  

While some people worked others sat in the shade and visited.  Some brought their fiddles and guitars and banjos.  Under the cool shadow of the oak tree we enjoyed hearing our favorite music,

Food was plentiful.  Everyone brought something to eat. Sharing lunch out on the porch or sitting in the yard, we visited and caught up with the news of what had happened in the last year.

The children loved to help.  They hauled the cane from the trailer to the mill, fed the stalks into the mill, and hauled the remains out to feed the cows across the road.  They worked as hard as any adult.  What a joy to see them working so steadily.  And seeing their smiling faces when the sorghum was finally ready to be poured out into jars. 

Finally, when the last jar was filled and the mules unhitched for the day, we all hugged and promised to do it again next year.  What a joy to do something together.  To forget for a time the pressures that await us back home.  To take time to talk and laugh and share stories.  

This is what life should be like.  All of us, sitting in the gathering twilight, knowing that we have helped each other enjoy an age-old tradition from a simpler time.  Makes us smile and vow to do it again next year. And we have jars of sorghum in our cupboards to remind us.

Tapping my toe, clapping my hands.

Hootin an Hollarin in is the air.  Andy and I have had the privilege again this year to teach the Queen candidates a figure or two for a square dance to open the festivities.  Bitter sweet.  That is the feeling I get as I see these young women moving gracefully through the movements of the time-honored and timeless dance of our Ozarks.

I will be sitting on the sidelines this year.  A bad knee has kept me from exercising and I just don't want to risk more injury to that vital joint.  It is improving.  Just not "danceable" as yet.

But I love to see the dancers take the floor each night.  And Hootin and Hollarin is a great time to go through the old familiar dances or to learn a few new moves.

Sally Goodin, Cross the Hall, Whirl Like Thunder.  The list goes on and on.  The night air, whether steamy or cool, always adds to the magic for me.  When I am dancing I lose track of time and place.  I see people sitting in the stands, but the blurred light from the streetlights puts a hazy glow over the crowd.  And I am in my own little world.  Following the voice of the caller as they call the next move.  Reaching out and taking that familiar, or new, hand and moving, always moving to the steady beat of the fiddle and guitar.

The music.  Nothing can compare with a fine fiddle tune set to a rapid beat for a great time dancing.  Sometimes the tempo lends itself to one dance or another.  It is really up to the caller to decide.  Two Little Hobos, a great dance to begin with, needs a smoother tune.  But Black Mountain Rag always brings up the square dancing blood and makes your feet almost fly over the floor.

So this next weekend I will be sitting on the sidelines.  Come by and visit a minute.  I would love to catch up with the latest news.  But please excuse me if my toes begin to tap a little.  And every once in a while I might clap my hands to the beat...and smile and look forward to getting out there, where I belong.

Sharing Joy

"Scuze me!  Scuze me!  Can you see the rainbow?", asked the little boy as he ran up to the stranger getting out of his pickup truck.  Pointing to the sky above the man's head he declared, as only a 5 year old can, "It's Right There."  The man  grinned and looking up, agreed.  Yes indeed, that was a mighty pretty sight.

We had planned on going for a swim that afternoon but rain intervened.  It was storming at the lake and we watched as puddles formed and the wind blew.  And after the wind died down and the sky cleared we looked up and saw a magnificent rainbow in the east, arching over the water.....colors of all kinds,dazzling to the eye.  My grandson Gus had never seen a rainbow.  He lives in Yonkers, just north of New York City, and for some reason he had never seen a rainbow in the flesh, as one might say.  He knew all about them..he recited the colors from red to purple for our information...even including indigo.  Yes, Gus is a master of rainbows...they are his favorite things.

We made a quick trip to the store to pick up some snacks and rest before we went for our delayed swim in the lake.  This is where the above conversation took place.

After the man and Gus admired the rainbow Gus stuck out his hand and said,"Hi. My name is Gus.  What's your name?"   The answer came with a smile....."Bill," the stranger answered..."Glad to meet you, Gus."

Running into the store Gus went up to the clerk.  "Have you seen the rainbow?", he asked.  "Not yet but I know it is beautiful" she replied.  And so it went.  Gus coming up to each customer....getting their attention and saying....Have you seen the rainbow?  And without a single miss each person greeted his question with either a Yes or No, not yet...and a smile.  So many smiles on that rainy afternoon.  So much happiness in seeing a small boy announcing a miracle.  

I like to think that those people who met my Gus felt a little better for that encounter.  

Sharing joy.  That is what it is all about, isn't it?

Milestones

Tomorrow I turn 74.  One year away from three-quarters of a century.  It is also my 52nd anniversary.  Yes, I was married on my birthday.  I thought it would make it easier for Andy to have only one date to remember...rather than two.  And he has never disappointed me!

1945 was a good year.  My family greeted me with much joy.  Two boys...and then a little girl.  I don't think my dad ever quit smiling when my mom had me.  He so wanted a little girl.  And I was it.  Spoiled?  Maybe just a little.  Those were happy years....and great memories growing up in a little town in Illinois.

And then I went away to college in Wisconsin.  One day I was standing near the stairs in the library.  I saw a pair of work boots descending....and who in the world wore work boots in college in 1964?  My friend introduced me to a lanky young man who was in her geology class.  And the rest is history.  I was smitten.  From the first date at Fraternity Informals until he asked me to marry him...long distance.  I was in Arizona.  He was in Wisconsin getting ready to head out to Maine.

Talk about a whirl-wind wedding...but thankfully it all came together.

The places we have been.  Prospecting for asbestos for Johns Manville in Maine(my honeymoon.)  Back to Wisconsin to work in a foundry(him) and wait tables(me).  Then the Army called.  Our first separation while he took basic.  Then to Augusta, Georgia and Fort Gordon where he took a year to become an Army Medic.  Then Viet Nam for a year.  Including a trip to Cambodia when I didn't hear from him for two long weeks.  I sat in front of the TV one night while our President announced that our troops had gone into that region...and I knew with heart wrenching certainty that Andy was there too.  Long nights.  Long days.  But he made it home.  Then back to college.  A few years being an assistant at WIU in Macomb.  Bought our farm in Oregon County.  Had a baby girl.  Moved to the farm.  Left there after two years.  And here we are in Gainesville..or the outskirts of Luna...going on 43 years!  Amazing.

What have I learned in 74 years?  Always trust your heart.  Say your prayers and go to bed with a clear mind and conscience.  And never forget to say I love you.... 

Perfect Sunday

Coming out of church at noon on Sunday I noticed that warm, humid feel of  a pending thunderstorm.  The sky was blue with white fluffy clouds as I made my way into town to run a few errands before heading home to Luna.  As I headed back north I saw gray blankets of storm clouds coming in from the west.  Just in time I parked the car in the garage, unpacked the groceries and ran through raindrops into the house as thunder began to growl above me.  I thought of friends who were camped on the lake and river for this holiday weekend and hoped that the storm would be over in a few minutes rather than last all afternoon.

As soon as I finished lunch I could see the sun breaking through and the clouds clearing.  A short-lived rain that miraculously brought a cooling wind to my hill.  I left the dinner dishes on the table, grabbed my book and went out on the porch.  

Heavenly!  The wind was cool and fresh.  The humidity had dropped to nothing.  Just a jewel of an afternoon lay before me.  I read a little.  I snoozed some.  But most of all I noticed the little things that came to my attention.  It is so utterly quiet up on my hill...especially on a Sunday afternoon.  Very little going on in Luna.  Which suits me to a tee.

Birds. Did I mention the birds?  We have a number of meadowlarks  nesting in the tall grass to the north of the house.  We noticed the adults swooping down and feeding their young in the nest buried somewhere in the tall green grass.  And now the young ones are learning how to fly.  A little awkward.  One ran into the eave of the porch just above my head.  He managed to land on the grass...upright and peeping, his beak open to summon help.  Peep.  Peep.  As if to say 'Hey, Mom, here I am.  Don't worry.'  And off he flew..a little unsteady but still he made it to a safe spot in the grass where he could recover.

A cardinal sang from his favorite branch in the oak tree.  Tree swallows have taken over the bluebird house.  A case of first come, first served I guess.  They are raising a brood.  I love to watch them perch on the edge of the entrance hole...and then slip down out of sight.  Looking forward to seeing the little ones pop out one by one.

All in all I was content to just sit and rest.  After all,it was Sunday.  Just a perfect day to spend doing nothing. Watching the clouds drift by, lulled to rest and peaceful thoughts by bird song and light winds.  Who could ask for a better day?  No one!  

Guitar Man

Saying good-bye to friends is always hard.  Especially when they have made your life so much more enjoyable.  Truman Lewis, who passed away this week, was surely a ray of sunshine that lightened every day.  

I first met Truman at the Tuesday night music jam that was held at the Senior Center in Gainesville.  This picture is from 2013.  Here he is surrounded by his music playin' buddies, Harold and Eldon.  You can see JR Strickland there too...in the right hand corner.  Music..and jokes...and fun.  That was what it was all about.

But this is about Truman and what he meant to all of us...and me too.  Even though his voice had gotten scratchy and his hands were not as sure on the strings...when it came his turn to play...he played with all his heart.  At this particular jam I remember him dedicating his song to his old school teacher..Valeta Crawford who was in the audience.  How she loved music!  And Truman knew just the songs she liked to hear.  Stories..he had quite a few.  He wasn't quite as loquacious as some of his buddies but he could tell a good tale.  

One night during break I sat down next to him.  He was really proud of the guitar he had that night.  Told me all about it.  Since I was a complete novice in all things with strings, I asked him some questions.  And he was so good about being patient with me and my lack of expertise.  

I guess that would just about sum up Truman in a few words.  Loved music, kind and understanding, and always ready with a smile and a good word.

We will miss him.  But I know if there is a bluegrass group up in Heaven, he is playing with them right now....and his voice is strong and clear and his fingers are nimble on the strings.  Play on Truman, play on.

Promises

In a few short days we will be going to a wedding.  I have enjoyed seeing the husband and wife-to-be smiling and holding hands, hugging and smiling some more.  Love seems to radiate from their faces.  There is no mistaking it.  They are full of promise.  And we wish them well as they begin their life together.

Another friend has a new baby.  When she looks at her I see what we all feel when we are new moms.  Such adoration.  Such amazement that this little life is here at hand.  How wonderful.  A little one...with a life full of promise ahead of her.  And we give her our pledge that we will do all we can to make it so.

And here is graduation ahead of us.  Little ones in Kindergarten ready to move up to first grade.  Taking that first step toward independence and the future.  High school seniors marching in to be honored for their hard work and effort.  Many have plans already.  They will join others looking toward the future with promise.  We who are left behind wish them well...knowing that the world that we grew up in is changing so fast we can scarcely keep up.

On Easter Sunday I joined my church family taking Communion and then making a circle, hands clasped and heads bowed for the benediction.  Promises.  Eternal in scope.  Love coming down to us and radiating from us.  As I lifted my eyes and saw my family through happy tears, I knew that this was the greatest promise of all.  Day by day, spring into summer and then fall and winter, we are here together.  Promises.  Sweet promises of life.