Daily Prompt; Free Association/ Daily Post

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Write down the first words that comes to mind when we say . . .

. . . home.

. . . soil.

. . . rain.

Use those words in the title of your post.

The memories of the home farm with the rich soil that soaked up the rains.

Home; For some reason I never think of my home I live in. I think back to the home of my parents. I don’t really have good memories of their latest home they lived in. They had built that home about five years before mom died.

If I go back to the home that stood there prior to my parents purchasing the piece of ground, that is where the good memories come to front and make me smile. Plenty of fun playing with cousins. Eating good food at Grandma’s house. This land held my grandma’s house first and then my parents.

The outhouse that we used to tell ghost stories about when all of us kids were outside playing at dusk. Riding bikes, walking back to the woods with granddad to pick hickory nuts. Working in the garden with the family. Yes, lots of wonderful memories.

Soil; watching granddad work the land. He farmed eighty acres. His tractor was not modern like the ones you see today. It was a gray tractor, I can remember this. He raised lots of corn.

Rain; The best thing I can remember about rain on the farm is we didn’t have to work in the garden. Instead there were plenty of produce waiting in the summer kitchen to be put up for the winter.

I helped to take corn off the cob so it could be frozen. It is still my favorite type of corn to eat today. I always pick frozen over canned. I helped to make tomato juice. I remember mom teaching me how to use the sieve to squish the juice out of the ripe tomatoes. There was always green beans to snap, potatoes to dig, and green peas to pop out of the pods.

My entire family froze and canned everything they could grow in the garden. So although we didn’t have to work in the garden during rainy days, we worked maybe harder putting stock up for the winters.

I miss those days. I don’t have the energy to do a big garden today. I don’t even have the space to put a garden. I would be interested in doing some patio gardens in clay pots. Maybe some cherry tomatoes and one plant of beef steak tomatoes for sandwiches. Another pot could hold some green bell peppers. The biggest challenge would be the deer that wander through the neighborhood. Would they eat the plants before they produced the gold or would they stop by for a snack of the ripe veggies. I don’t know how to deal with that. I do know that I hate paying high prices for organic. Organic to me is what we grew back in the day, but now we have to pay a higher price. To be able to go out my door and pick a pepper would be wonderful.

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Fat, Thin, Or Healthy

Vegetables (Photo credit: Professor Bop)

The words today are weight

Everywhere you look

Lose ten pounds is the key

And found in every book.

I used to think I looked alright

Until I heard the news

That I am unhealthy and oh so fat

And now I have the blues.

Our forefathers ate from the ground

And we eat from a box or can

The chemicals we do put within

Should automatically all be banned.

I want to be happy with who I am

I will never be very thin

So turn my mind to home cooked meals

And empty out the cookie tin.

It if grew in the ground it is alright

If it came from production, get it out of sight

Replace the sweets with natural sugars

And never, ever eat through the night.

I don’t have to be a walking stick

To feel like I fit in

I just want my inner parts

To be happy inside my skin.

Terry Shepherd

What I Want And Who I Am

What I Want And Who I Am.

What I Want And Who I Am

Lavender (Photo credit: Pete Reed)

Each morning she awoke to the same routine. She put a pretty, flowery leisure dress on, her silk stockings, and black shoes, and the added touch was her straw hat to keep the sun out of her eyes.

She would fix herself a slice of toast, and take her pills with her cup of coffee, then she would go outside to the love of her life, her garden.

In this garden were many colorful flowers. You could see that much effort was placed in the seeding, as the tall ones were in the back with each row coming forth, growing shorter in height. Also, the colors were matching, blues and reds among each other, lavender and pinks in another part of the beds.

She would go to her shed and unlock it and take out her work gloves and the hoe. For however long it took, she would pick out each tiny weed, that had appeared between yesterday and today. She then hoed gently the dirt between each life and loosen it up so it had the best opportunity to breathe and grow. When she had this all done, she would step out of the beds and look at her work and smile. Lastly, she would turn the water on to the hose, and spread droplets to each flower, and they would thank her by giving her lots of bright, beautiful colors.

This woman is an example of being committed to something she loves. She never neglected her garden, even when she didn’t feel too well, or she had plans for the day.  Even when the summer was over, she would tend to the land, embedding fertilizer, and turning the ground for its rest during the cold days of winter.

Once winter got here and she could no longer work in her garden, she worked and planned for the new spring. She gazed over flower books, she sketched on paper, designs of how her next years bed would look, and once the new year arrived, she started placing her orders for new bulbs and seeds. Her walk with her garden never ended, and her love for it was with her each day.

This is how I want to be, but I am far from it. My walk with God. It is a personal issue with each of us, and yet it should be so noticed, the same as the woman in her garden.

We should read the bible daily, to fertilize our minds as she did her land. We should tend to our attitudes and make sure that what we show others is pleasing to God, just as her flowers showed the world who mattered most in her world.

We also need the right tools, a hoe to dig deeper into the word, and our hands to dig out the bad weeds that pop up in our lives each new day.

I want people to stand back and take notice of me, as the lady stood back and took notice of her flowers. I want all to notice and not to wonder where I stand in my life. They will wish for what I want, and I will sit with them and spread my seeds into their unfertilized minds. I will be the witness God wants me to be, and I too, will have a beautiful prize for the work I have done, a place waiting in heaven for me.

Home

Ice skating in Montreal, Canada. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Two white washed, wooden rockers sat on the porch. A small plastic table sat between them. A potted plant, resting on the table. As you  walked across the wrap a round porch, the loose boards would creak from the many steps that had been taken through the years. When you walked to the other side you could see a muddy pair of mens  boots, that used to be black in color, and a pair of worn gloves with the index finger missing. Beside these were a smaller pair of rubber boots, gray from mud, and water streaked from where they had been rinsed off with a  hose. A pair of green printed gloves lay atop of the boots, and there was a garden hoe, standing to the side.  As you looked out over the porch, you could see the trees reaching up to heaven. If you looked a little further, they blended as one. Rows of corn could be seen for what seemed to be miles. The corn was up about six inches. Off in the distance, there were deer running about. Families were together, running to and fro through the woods. When you shifted yourself to the side, the old family barn with chipped paint stood standing. Representing generations of the family name. Chirping birds could be seen and heard fluttering in and out of the guttering, where they had built their tiny nests. Many good times could be brought to the fore front of the mind, with no hesitation of days gone by, swinging on the rope swings and falling into  hay mounds. Stepping away from the house, making your way down the gravel path, you could see where  families  had come together to work the ground, sow the seed, and harvest the finished product. To the side of the barn the black kettle leaned against the barn, waiting to be used once again for home-made vegetable soup to be made over the open fire, in the fall. A picnic table sat close by, waiting to be adorned with lots of laughter and food. A pile of wood lay next to the barn. Many a hot dog and marshmallow  were cooked over the open fires.  About twenty feet from this rested a copper kettle, that after most of a day, the best tasting apple butter could be eaten. Looking straight out from this spot you could see the lone acorn tree, standing tall and erect, with memories of Susie and Missy, the family dogs, now  resting in comfort, keeping the tree company. When you continued to walk a little further down the gravel path, the smell of lilac bushes  would enter your nose. There was a large garden of all types of colorful flowers  blooming. On one side of the garden was a pear tree. Memories came flooding back from the many times pears had been  picked, and washed off by  the arm, and with the heat of the sun, were warm  and delicious.. At one time, years ago, this garden replaced a large dip in the earth. This dip held many rains in the spring and the fall. With the fall rains, brought cold temperatures, and magically produced a wonderful ice skating rink. Much laughter was heard, as beginners and experienced skaters would slip on their Christmas skates and go skating on the pond. Twirling and speeding and sometimes falling and tears could be seen. As you walked on through the gravel path, coming back around to where you started you could view many lilies, planted with love by the woman of the house. Each flower represented a child that had been born in this family along with the parents and grandparents. They were a breath-taking sight. Delicate, and yet strong enough to hold each white petal. Everything looked the same, and yet all had changed. The familiar cars that always took over the garage, were no longer there. Now replaced with newer  models of a younger age group. The garden area was now covered with weeds, and there were no beautiful vegetable plants pushing up to God. The black kettle and the copper kettle were no longer seen. The name on the mailbox was foreign. A part of the land had been turned from corn, and was replaced with a bare earthen path, that made a circle, which now held four wheelers and bikes. When you glanced at the house, it looked the same, but peeking through the windows, the old, familiar window coverings had been changed to more modern, colorful, country plaids. Standing there alone, in a familiar setting, taking in the flooding of memories, brought mixed emotions of smiles and tears. Shielding the sun with my hand, looking in all directions, were wonderful memories, that would always be cherished. This is where I was raised. This was where I was taught about God, and learned about how God’s earth feeds the body. I kissed my first date out on the porch. My first car was parked in the drive. I brought my first child here to be held and loved. I mourned the loss of loved ones here. This is where I came when life was out of control, being able to talk to parents, who would help set me on the right path again. This was my home. My home that now belongs to a brand new family. I got in my car, and started the engine, refusing to move, taking in every view and smell, boring them farther into my memories. Time does not stand still. We are forced to accept change. I drive out of the drive way, not looking back, never wanting to touch this ground again. I would leave with my thoughts, savoring each precious memory, realizing this was no longer my home.