days gone by

I awoke this morning to a chill in the air.  This brought back a flood of memories from my childhood.  Some good some not so good, but memories all the same.

My mother grew up in the Midwest during the Great Depression.  To say she was frugal is an understatement.  She did not believe in air conditioning no matter how hot or central heat no matter how cold.

Growing up in Southeast Texas summer seems to last for whats seems forever.  It is an oppressive heat my mother only seemed to control with window fans and dark curtains.  Now when you are very young child and you live for the adventure of the great outdoors summer is really nothing to you.  You always find a way to cool off.  By the time I had made it to high school I was over all of it.  Nothing worse than trying to put on makeup with sweat rolling down your face.  I have found that the older I get the harder summer gets.  I was a great lover of the sun  and have the sun spots as proof.

Now that we reside in Pennsylvania and have experienced our first summer here.  I can say without a doubt that this was easy.  Yes there were some truly hot days but the humidity is almost null and void.  Although I am sure that folks around this area would gladly argue that point with me.

But…..this morning really took me back to chilly mornings in a home with only wood heat.  My memories are of gathering firewood everyday when I got home from school.  When I reached Jr High it was my responsibility to cut wood everyday as soon as I came home from school.  There was no log splitter only an axe, wedge and sledge.  I was a beast by the time my senior year rolled around.

Winters in Southeast Texas may be short but are extremely unpredictable.  It might be 70 degrees one day and the a blue northern blows in the next and drops the temperatures 50 degrees and freezes your water lines.  Never much snow but there always seemed to be ice.  Waking on those cold mornings, knowing just how cold that floor would be and knowing that a nice warm cozy room awaited you just beyond the kitchen door.  The smell of homemade biscuits baking in the cook stove oven.

This morning when I woke, I was transported to a time when the home of my youth was cold but heaven lay beyond the kitchen door

Till the next post

carolyn