Sweet Remembrances of Home

We're all born into a family. By the time I entered the picture I had a dad, mom, sister, and a brother. We would add two more sisters and one more brother to make our family complete. When I look back on all the memories of home and my childhood, I contribute all the sweet remembrances to two people.... Mom and Dad.

My parents brought their children into the world with a purpose. To love, guide, teach, nurture, and provide experiences that would allow for growth, exploration and creativity. They came together and brought unique characteristics from their families. They brought some traditions and created some of their own that have been and continue to be a part of my life, my children's lives, and now my grandchildren's lives. 

Memories of home and my childhood have etched deep in my heart and soul and have shaped me into the person I am today. My parents are gone now, but I hope they are looking down from the heavens with pride and like the person I am becoming... much because of them.

My dad was full of adventure. He was a biologist and big game manager for Utah State Fish and Game. He was one of those rare dad's. He actually took his family to work when he could. We spent our summer months in the mountains camping, riding horses, and playing games like kick the can. Dad took us canoeing, fishing, hunting, and counting deer. And he planned big excursions of river rafting when we got older. Us kids didn't think it was work at all! 

It was not unusual for dad to bring home animals that needed rescued until they could be taken to a place of rehabilitation. He also had a soft, tender side and taught his children to love and respect all God's creatures and the world we live in.

Dad taught his family how to be part of a team. We worked together and played together. That was what families did! We planted a garden, raised animals to care for and eat, sang silly songs as we traveled, and slept under the stars listening to the call of coyotes. So many adventures and the list could go on and on and on...  

Mom also loved the outdoors, but her heart was in her home, surrounded by her children. She was an excellent manager of home. Our house seemed to shine with cleanliness and truth! She taught her girls how to make beds, dust, clean the bathroom, wash dishes, vacuum, hang clothes on the line, bottle fruits and vegetables, and sew clothes. 

Mom was a beautiful woman. I never saw her without her lipstick on. She loved flowers and pretty things. Mom made us barbie couches and chairs and clothes. And then played with us! She made every birthday and occasion a holiday. She created magic in the simple things... like losing a tooth. Christmas, Easter, and every holiday throughout the year was so magical and memorable. Us kids may not have recognized it at the time, but great care and thought was put into every single holiday... from home decorations and displays to matching clothes and perfectly arranged gifts. I completely adore my mother. 

Both my father and mother worked together to give their children opportunities to learn skills and talents. They bought apartment buildings and rented them out. We picked seed together as a family to earn money for extracurricular activities. And the list goes on...

With dedication and hard work as a family and the foresight and wisdom of great parents, us kids were able to participate in dance, baton twirling, piano lessons, playing in school band, sports, 4-H, and other worthy endeavors.

My parents told us "you can be anything you want to be!" And... I always believed that!

Most importantly, my parents taught their children truth. The truth about God, about making right choices, about service, and love for each other and all people. 

From my dad, I take away sweet remembrances of adventure, hard work, tenderness, love and respect for nature, service, and what it means to lead a family.

From my mom, I take away sweet remembrances of home, love of family, magic in the simple things, beauty, compassion, and service. 

Is it any wonder that I enjoy and teach my family the same things. 

          Inspired by Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop

House to Home

Have you ever felt like it was just yesterday that something happened... and yet it seems like forever that it did... all at the same time? Our HOUSE is one of those things.

I pulled up my photos from 2009, the year we started building our house. It is a custom home so it took forever to get it, or so it seemed. We already had the property. It was a 5 1/2 acre lot, overlooking Willard Bay, that we had purchased 12 years earlier. We worked the ground and toiled for many years. We planted a fruit orchard, a few rows each year. Our orchard quickly turned a hobby into a seasonal job, which required a lot of work! We knew we were going to build a house one day in our orchard, and when the time finally came it proved to be no piece of cake!

From planning and designing to building and finishing, it took about 18 months. Our contractor was great to work with and built everything according to our wishes. It was fun, yet intimidating, watching the house go up and take shape. We had always lived in a small house and this was BIG! Five months before the house was finished, the Col. was called away overseas on active duty. I had the lone responsibility of choosing paint colors, hardware, and making sure all the finish work was done to our specs. Talk about stress! 

February 2010 - you can see how quickly the weather changes from within a month's time frame.

Right before Thanksgiving in 2010, and the weekend before a huge snow storm, I moved in to our new house. It felt so good! 

Our HOME today. Pictures taken April 2012.

Now that we are going on 5 years in our home, it feels just like yesterday that we moved in. 

I love my house... and it's feeling more and more like home everyday!

Writing prompt #1: Throwback Thursday. Choose a photo from a previous February and                                                              write a poem or a blog post.

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Home... at last!

"The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned." -- Maya Angelou - Now Write

childhood home

When I look back on my life and think of home, I feel gratitude in my heart... because... home was a place of peace, of refuge, of love, and acceptance. 

My father was thrifty and resourceful. He never liked debt. So, it seemed as if we were always living in a state of improving and remodeling. But somehow that didn't bother me. It was a "normal" way to live because that is what I knew. The constant remodel didn't take away the spirit that emulated in and around home. I knew my parents loved me.

Mom and dad taught us kids what it meant to be a family. We worked together, played together, worshiped together, ate together, and everything else together.  

There is no one right way to raise a family successfully, but my parents took their parenting seriously and tackled each problem that came up with thought, prayer, and good old-fashioned guidance and disciplining. Somehow that worked for the most part. 

I was the middle child and was pretty much a peacemaker. I have been my entire life. But, that didn't mean I didn't throw some curve balls at my parents. As a teenager I didn't always make the right decisions and I know it caused a lot of grief and heartache for them. But mom and dad did everything possible to encourage me to make good choices. They loved me. They accepted me for who I was. I felt safe with them. 

I married my high school boy friend against my parents wishes. They could see things I couldn't. And... it would only take ten years after being married, with five children of my own, to understand their wisdom. And, I came to know what true love really means. My home... my parents... where they were, became a life-long place of refuge from many fierce storms that beat upon me.

My parents home in my adult years

Divorce was hard... really, really hard. I cried many tears. My heart was broken. Completely broken. But I had home! I had my parents. They loved me. They loved me and my five beautiful children. They allowed me to come home. They listened to me. They cried with me. They encouraged me... to carry on, to make good decisions for the future. They became guidance counselors once again. They picked up the pieces of my emotional wreck of a life. 

I had many talks with my father. I will never forget what he told me one day.... "Carol, you can do anything and become anything you want in life!" He was positive. He was supportive. Both mom and dad became my biggest cheerleaders. I moved 3 hours away from home to go to school. It was hard with five children and being all alone in a new place. But... I had mom and dad! They were only a phone call away when I needed them. Most weekends, I would load the car with kids and luggage and head for home. Home to my parents. Home to my sisters... who were and still are, anchor's in the storms of life. 

My first marriage was blissful... until it crashed. My second marriage a challenge. Blended families take so much work, and I wonder if there is such a thing as a successful blend... Really. 

Home... my parents, still continued to be a place of refuge during difficult and trying periods of my second marriage. I don't know how they did it... watching me over the course of a couple decades struggle with things that didn't need to be so hard... had I made better decisions the first time around! The only way I can explain it... is love. Pure unconditional love.

Yes... I've made my life harder than what it needed to be. But, I've grown. I've grown a lot. I have more confidence, more faith, more experience, more appreciation, more wisdom, more understanding. I've made good and worthy goals and have accomplished them. I have a beautiful family and lots of energetic and talented grandchildren that fill my life with joy and happiness. My life is full of so many blessings! 

My parents passed away before I lost my daughter from an act of domestic violence in 2013. My mother only a year previously. It was very hard not to have them to go home to. But I'd like to think... just maybe all the hard knocks of life, unconditional love and Christ-centered teaching from my parents, support from family and friends, and faith... saw me through and continues to do so. Eventhough my parents were no longer here on earth...

THIS I DO KNOW... They were there to get Shaniel at the time of her passing. They were there to take my sweet daughter home. Their granddaughter. Home to heaven. Home to live with them. Home to take her in as their own. Home to comfort and guide her. Home to listen to her. Home to love and bless her. Home to help heal her broken heart. Home... where she is surrounded by family, peace, beauty, and unconditional love. She is HOME! She is safe at last! How much more comfort can I receive than this!

I love my parents! Not only did they provide a loving and safe HOME for me... but they did for my children... as they now do for Shaniel. For this I am eternally grateful.

To see how we celebrated Shaniel's Angelversary, February 10th, click on Shaniel's Story or the tab above.

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Mama Kat's Pretty Much Famous Writer's Workshop.

SILENCE

It's 6:30 a.m. and I hear SILENCE.

Like the sound of the first fallen snow.

The early morning quiet is music to my ears. It is my time to think, read, and ponder. My mind is as clear as a bell. I jot down appointments and activities in my awesome Mothers who Know planner. I write in my journal. The silence and quiet of the early morning is the most productive time for me to write, think, and read.

Then... comes the chime of the grandfather clock on the 3/4 past hour. The familiar tune reminds me of home. It is security. It is constant.

I turn on the computer and hear the quiet and constant hum of it while lightly tapping away on the keyboard. I listen for more sounds to start the day. Like running water and morning greetings from the wood pecker. 

I love the sound of early morning hours!

Writing prompt #4: Listen... Write about what you hear, right now.

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Edna

Great Grandmother Edna Richardson lived just down the lane from our house and I saw her nearly every day. Us kids would hover around the heater in her small, quaint kitchen while waiting for the school bus. And then, after school and before my walk back up the lane, I often stopped in to visit her. She had plenty of stories to tell, and I enjoyed them immensely. On her dinning room table sat her Book of Remembrance, or journal. I looked forward, with anticipation, to see what entries she had made for the day. The old pictures and vivid stories helped connect generations of families together. And, I was part of that! 

Photos courtesy of Western Railroad and Mining Museum, Helper, Utah

Grandmother was born September 2,1879 and lived to a ripe old age of 94. Although she was not born in Carbon County, she lived there off and on for most of her life. In 1898 grandmother went to Helper to visit her mother. In her journal she describes the surroundings of the place.

"This is my second visit to Helper. I have always liked Helper, situated as it is where Price Canyon opens out into a small valley almost entirely surrounded by rather barren-looking hills. To the east and north, the hills are a gray-blue color, surmounted by majestic pink cliffs--part of the famous Book Cliffs. On the west are low, flat-top hills covered with pinion pine and scrub cedars. The Price River meanders lazily down through the cotton woods on the west side of the valley, a small stream except in the spring when it can become a raging torrent. 

Helper is a terminal on the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad and is the central point in the coal mining district. It is the shipping point from which all the coal is shipped by rail. Helper received its name because when a train pulls out of Helper going north extra engines have to be added to help the train to the top of Soldier Summit. Hence, the name Helper. It was a new and very small place when I first went there. It is still a small place but much larger than it was then. 

At the time there were the usual things that make up such a place--round house, shop, water tanks, coal chutes, tracks, etc. In close proximity to the tracks was a depot, just a little north of the site of the present railroad station, the eating house, and a few residences."

Grandmother met the man she would marry on that visit to Helper. She describes him as the "onry brakeman".  But after a lot persistence and charm, he eventually won her over and they married. Working for the railroad required many moves, mostly within the state of Utah. After years of moving, they finally came back to Carbon County to stay! Grandpa built a home in Spring Glen, a couple of miles south of Helper, and they moved in on April 15, 1929. 

I have many happy memories at grandmother's place. Playing with blocks. Raking the leaves in the fall, from the large cotton wood and maple trees, and jumping in them. Playing hide and seek in the lilac bushes that lined the south side of the property. Acting out the "Christmas Story" on Christmas Eve. Watching her hand stitch together squares that would eventually be made into a beautiful quilt. I especially loved listening to the stories of her youth. Grandmother often wore fancy white, ivory and black lace gloves. They were so dainty and I thought they were so beautiful! Years later, when I was grown and married, my grandmother, Ida--grandmother Richardson's daughter, gave me those lacy gloves. It was a complete surprise. I so do treasure them!

Grandmother Richardson and I in her front yard, Spring Glen -- 1962

When I was seventeen years old, grandmother passed away in her home surrounded by loving family. My father bought the house and property. A few years later (1979), after I had married and started my own family, dad gave us the property next to grandmother's house. 

We built us a beautiful rambler, but the real reward is that we were lucky enough to live in grandmother's house while we did. And.... it was still much the same as I remembered! I was once again surrounded by the love and memories of the "not so long days gone by." 

Edna Cummings Richardson - 1879-1974

We lived in grandmother's house from 1979 to 1981.

Writing prompt #2: Find a photo of your grandmother's hometown and share it.

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Waking up to...

I never set my alarm clock. An empty nester has its benefits! I am also a farmer, or rather, a farmer's wife.  I wake up with the sun. Even though I don't get up to do the work in the orchard (I leave that to the expert.. farmer D), I enjoy lying in bed listening to the sounds of early morning life on the farm. I get up when I feel like it!

I love this time of year. The weather is perfect. Late Spring, before the heat of Summer, allows us to open up the windows in the house. The sounds, sights, feel, and smells of quiet country mornings conger up several emotions... peace, freedom, joy, contentment, security, gratitude. They also trigger pleasant and happy memories of days gone by. Days of my youth.

There's nothing better or exhilarating than to feel the cool gentle breeze of the morning air, smell the fresh turned dirt in the orchard and garden, hear the first sounds of country life, and see the sun rise from behind the Wasatch Mountains and watch as it slowly filters in through the East windows of my sitting room. 

The first thing I heard this morning... the start of the the diesel engine and hum of the tractor. Farmer D got up early to cultivate in between the rows of trees. He loves a well groomed, weed free orchard. I love the sound of the tractor at work. There's just something comforting in the sound.. maybe it's like the humming, vibrating sound of a vacuum cleaner to the baby sleeping in her crib.

This morning as the sun made its way over the peak of the large and looming Wasatch Mountains, birds began their early morning chatter. Every now and again, I got a glimpse of one flying by the open window, with an image in my mind, of a worm in its beak. Babies in the nest anxiously awaiting a morning meal. 

Fresh dirt... soil, is one of the best smells I have ever smelled. As the tings of the tractor tilled up the earth, the smell filtered though the air. It easily reached the second story window in my bedroom... bringing a fresh, slightly musty scent from watering. Its odd to describe a clean dirt smell, but it awakened my sense of smell it the most delightful way. Weird, I know! But those who love the feel and smell of soil and enjoy combing their fingers through it with bare hands, while planting flowers or vegetables, will totally understand my love of dirt! 

My master bedroom is an oasis... anyway, to me. The sitting room is an extension of the bedroom. An early 1900's sofa, recovered and that I absolutely love, sits at the far end of the room. The sitting room is the very first thing I see in the morning after I look at the time. I love the long room, the space, the cozy beautiful feel. It makes me happy to see that spot first thing in the morning. The soft purple colors on the walls and in the pillows, the textured white sofa, the vintage paining on the wall, and plants on either side, make the space look and feel elegant, yet earthy. It's an inviting and enjoyable part of my master suite. The sofa sits in between two East facing windows. The sun takes awhile making its way over the peak of the mountain, but when it does, it makes a spectacular entrance in through the windows. This morning the sun's rays shone through the blinds and on the bright green leaves of the plant sitting on the end table, making them appear more vibrant than ever. With my senses aroused and my spirit renewed, I was ready to greet the morning with sunshine in my soul! 

Mornings.. Time to listen, see, smell

Sitting room

sun shine through the East window

Farmer D cultivating the orchard

Writing prompt #5: Write down the first sight, sound, smell, and sensation you experienced on waking up today. Pick the one you're most drawn to.

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