Aunt Tillie's Tea Kettle

I often arrange my flowers in this old copper tea kettle.  It has been through rough times.  Dented and marred with scars, it shows a long and useful life.  I have no idea how old it is.  All I know is that it came over the Atlantic in 1870 from Sweden with my great-aunt, Matilda Burke Myers, and her family.  They settled in Henry County, Illinois, joining a large community of Swedes who had first come to that area in the 1840's.  

Why is it, when you are a child growing up, no one thinks it's important to tell you who people are and something about their life?  I grew up not knowing Aunt Tillie.  I had no idea who she was or anything about her life.  As I have been doing my family history I have come across a few bare facts.

Tillie was born in Sweden in 1863.  I know her mother's name, Louisa.  And her brothers' names, Edward, Emil, and Albert.  She married my great uncle, David Allison Myers in 1910 when she was 48.  

But what else happened to her?  I vaguely remember visiting her in the nursing home before she passed away.  She lived into her 90's which was very unusual for that time.  I recall that she was very white-headed and thin...sitting in her wheelchair.  And that is all.  I have pictures of her that were found after my mom died.  She has a very Swedish look to her.  I know because, actually, I was raised by Swedes, but that is a story for another day.

Back to Aunt Tillie and her tea kettle.  My mom was always the person to rescue family pieces before they were put in the blazing bonfire.  Anyway,after Aunt Tillie died, my mom saved the tea kettle and brought it home to keep.  I assume no one wanted it.  She had no children and I imagine the other relatives were not too keen on taking on an orphan copper tea kettle that had seen better days.

There it sat on the bureau in our dining room.  When we moved, the tea kettle came too.  Many moves later it came to my house.  I love it.  The story goes that it was the tea kettle that was taken out to the fields during planting and harvest time.  It is sooty on the bottom so I can imagine it being suspended over a fire filled with water, ready to be boiled to make tea for the farmhands.  Tea?  That is what I was told.  Do Swedes drink tea?  I always thought they drank coffee.  Anyway, that is the short story of Aunt Tillie's tea kettle.

But there is more to it than that.  When I look at its dented side and bent handle, I see people bundling up all their belongings and packing them in trunks. I see them taking one last look backward  before climbing on a ship. Then turning and  looking west across that vast sea, hoping, wondering how they would fit in.  A new land.  Full of promise.  Full of dreams. 

I fill the kettle with my beautiful flowers.  I hope that Aunt Tillie knows that a part of her lives on here in the hills of Ozark County, miles and miles away from her beloved homeland, across the sea. Tillie's tea kettle has a home... right here with me.

 

Sharing

As I was driving down the street in Gainesville today I passed our former home.  I had noticed before that the surprise lilies, AKA naked ladies, were blooming to beat the band.  They are such a treat to see in the latter days of summer.  Boom.  There they are.  Bare stems topped with impossibly gorgeous blooms.  They come from bulbs.  When the leaves emerge in the spring they are nothing to look at.  Just your common ordinary plant leaf.  They die back and leave nothing to mark their place.  But in the driest and hottest month of the year...here they come...bursting through the hard and dusty soil.   

Alice Lord gifted us with two bulbs when we moved to our house in 1983.  She told us that we needed to take care of them.  Sometimes they would refuse to thrive.  Sometimes they were just contrary.  Just like a lady.  So we put them there by the fence.  We watched carefully those first few years.  They bloomed...just a few flowers.  We nurtured the ground where they were planted.  Tried hard not to plant anything that would compete with them in that place.  And year after year..more blooms.  Until, when we spent our last summer in that house, they were spread all along the fence line.  Alice was very serious when she shared those two bulbs with us. We are glad she did.  They make me smile when I see them.  And remember the one who gave them to us.  Sharing beauty. An amazing treat to see in this most unexpected time of year. 

 

Homecoming

Ten years.  Has it really been ten years?  I remember driving up the county road, climbing higher and higher.  The trees beside me were lit with the magical light that comes near sunset.  Their tops were touched with amber and gold, the trunks shrouded in deep gray and purple.

When we reached the top of the hill we got out and looked around.  Breathtaking.  That was the only word I could think of to describe what I saw.  For a full 180 degrees I could see hills, and houses, and fields full of cows.  One lone tree stood in the west.  A massive oak with bent branches and fluttering leaves that seemed to be guarding the place.  We walked around the field a little as the sun was going down behind the hills of Caney Mountain.  I don't think we said a word for a long, long time.

I turned to Andy and nodded my head.  Yes.  Yes.  This is where I wanted to be.  He understood what I said.  The feeling was mutual.

And as we celebrate our tenth year up here on the hill we are thankful for the chance that has been given  us.  A good life.  Good neighbors.  Wonderful places to explore and use.  All this beautiful  vista that unfolds before us.  It changes by the hour, the day, the season.  Soon it will be fall.  Then winter,  Then spring again.  Fulfilled.  That is how I feel.  I wouldn't want to be any other place in the world...but up here on top of the hill.

       

  

 

A Memory That Lasts

And so it is not to be.  No Hootin an Hollarin this year.  No funnel cakes.  No costume parade.  No Big Parade.  No music in the Gazebo.  No booths.  No tacos.  No....square dancing.

The last item hurts.  Even though we have not danced since last year, it hurts.  It makes our eyes fill with tears.  It's just almost too much to bear.

The picture you see is from a long, long time ago.  We were all younger.  We could dance all night...trying to wear out the band and the fiddler.  Midnight and beyond...the bleachers would be empty..most people had left ...yawning and stretching...saying that they would be back tomorrow night.  And still, there we would be...Just another tune please, we would plead with the musicians.  Just another one until we too had to leave.  

Mist rolling in from the hills.  It would filter down around the street lights as we stomped and yelled and made our way through Grandpa's Baby and Whirl like Thunder.  On and on and on.

This is what I am doing now.  Right now.  And I am determined to do it every day...until this thing is over.  I take my wishes.  I imagine a bright colored balloon.  It can be red or orange or yellow..and maybe even green.  I close my eyes....I envision the thing I am missing ... and carefully, carefully tuck it into that wondrous space called The Future...and let it go.  

It helps me  know that somewhere..sometime...those lovely things will float down and be here again.  But until then, I dream and hope and plan.  A future full of memories.  Memories that last.

Cheerleaders

The days are hot and humid.  I have to get out and walk when it is barely daylight.  I try to wait until I can see a the road clearly....too many snakes crawl out and stake a claim to the green centerline with out giving you any warning.  But I am careful and don't go anywhere without testing the shrubs and grass.  

The flowers that bloomed along the way have all gone.  It was a pleasure to see the Queen Anne's Lace and other early blooms for a long time.  But they now bow their heads and give in to the changing season.

Yes, it is getting on toward late summer.  Or mid-summer.  I really miss the color and variety of flowers that I saw earlier.  But there are some we have planted.  Zinnias bloom in a patch down in the garden and also up in the field where the cane is growing, lush and green.  I love zinnias.  Nina had them as her flowers for her wedding 7 years ago in September.  And we have continued to plant them every year.

Birds have taken the place of flowers for my walk.  Today I saw a goldfinch, winging its way, dipping and diving...sitting in the tree I passed.  Singing and singing.  Hopping down for a quick bite of seed..or a bug.  And then flying over and up, coming to rest in a high branch of the oak tree.  He was so brilliant...the yellow of his body and the stark black of his feathers stood out above the brown and dull green of the field.  I know there are other birds that accompany me on my walk.  I am not good at identifying them...and they are hidden in the green leaves of the trees along the road.  But today they were cheering me on.  It was almost like a crowd that gathers at the side of the road when you are in a race.  "Come on," they chirped, "just a little more and you will be on your way home."  

I don't know about you,but I can use all the cheering I can get during these days.  

Thank you little birds.  I appreciate your enthusiasm.  And I will keep on keeping on.  

Porch Sitting

This is one of my favorite occupations.  It was a warm and steamy day when I went for my walk this morning.  I thought I had missed the early warm-up to the day.  But I was wrong.  I wanted to check out some flowers and views that had changed over the past week.  The intermittent storms and drizzle have kept me close to home in the last few days.

Armed with my hiking sticks, heavy boots, and camera I set out at a moderate pace..or so I thought.  The sun heated things up quickly but I soldiered on.  When I get a task in mind I usually push through until the end unless something bends or breaks...usually my bad knee, or some other body part.

I made it home and cooled off.  Fixed lunch and checked my email.  Not wanting to brave the sultry afternoon I brought my chair out on the porch.  This is just the best part of my day.  I love to look out over the hills...checking out the traffic on AA and CR 314.  Not much happening right now, but it is interesting to wonder just where that pick-up is going...and is that really a trailer he has on behind?  What kind of car is that?  New or old?  Up and down the hill...emerging finally at the horse barn and then disappearing again.  Sometimes I can glimpse them as they near the far hill....and then they are gone.  On their way.

But I am here.  On my porch.  Just spending some time ruminating on life...in general.  Nothing very deep.  I'm not into deep right now.  Just a casual visit now and then with reality does the trick.  

We have phoebes nesting in the gable end of our roof.  They have tried the nesting above the door..but we have discouraged that.  So we enjoy the young ones when they begin to fly...sitting on the porch rail...moving their tails up and down...ready to take another turn at the quick trip out and back.  We have tree swallows nesting in the bluebird box.  They are so pretty...and graceful.  I think their brood is out and in the big oak tree to the west.  It always amazes me how the parents just know exactly where their young are...and when they need encouragement.  Perhaps we could take a lesson from them.  

The afternoon passes on.  Soon it will be time to go in and get supper started.  Evenings are magical around here.  The sun moving around to the west.  The bright light beaming down on the field.  And then that wonderful light of day's end coloring the hills and valleys with gold and red and shadowy purple.  Definitely time to go out again and sit and enjoy.

Thankful.  That is what I am.  Just plain thankful that I have a porch and a view and a life that just couldn't be better...at least right now.

Flowers and Me

Those of you who have been following my posts on Facebook know that I am in the throes of flower-mania.  Yes.  I am enjoying taking every picture I can of these emerging beauties that grace my hillside and valley.

But I must be truthful with you.  I know dandelions when I see them.  And I do recognize violets.  But anything else sends me to my handy-helper Ozark Wildflowers by Don Kurz.  This was not my first flower guide.  We had an older version put out by the Conservation Department.  It was great..lots of good pictures and great descriptions.  But we were begged out of it by a friend who really, really wanted it...and besides we had this new and improved one.  Sometimes, I wish I had the old one...but that is a story for another day.

No.  I am not a natural flower or plant person.  If you come to my house you will notice the complete lack of any flowers planted around my house.  Number one reason:  It is very windy up here and most plants get whipped to pieces.  Number two:  I kill plants just by looking at them.  Most people have a green thumb.  I have a brown...or even black one.  The one plant I had in my classroom lived for several years. I would bring it home in the summer to keep it alive.  Ignored, it hung from the ceiling in my living room where it got just a minimal amount of light.  I would water it...very occasionally.  And just when you could hear it say, "Ahhh...at last I am going to my reward in plant heaven.."  I would resuscitate it with a few drops of water.  Poor thing finally decided it had had enough and went to its reward, smiling I am sure.

However, my husband is a marvel with plants.  He picks flowers and brings them to me.  I love them.  I cherish them.  I let him work  them into an artful arrangement...and I take all the credit for the lovely bouquet.  I have learned something in our nearly 53 years together.  He has an eye for color and space.  I do not.  I am prone to grab whatever pot or bottle is convenient and ram the stems down in the water.  If they fall into a semi-attractive pose...I let them be.

Andy comes from a gardening family.  His mom earned a Masters Degree in Botany from Columbia and was truly a master at growing anything.  He was raised to be a plant person.  I was not.  My dad loved flowers and gardening, but I took after my mom who had no interest in growing things at all.

Lately, I have been helping Andy plant the garden and several hundred trees on our property.  I enjoy getting out and putting those tiny seeds in the ground.  I can hoe.  I can plant.  I just am not too skilled with what goes where and how you go about it.  But Andy is a patient teacher.  He knows my limits. 

I have come to the point in my life where I have accepted my status as a lover of flowers..and plants...but definitely not a nurturing soul.  The flowers and garden plants don't mind it.  As long as I keep my hands to myself and admire them from afar...they are content. A truce of sorts.  Just my kind of arrangement.