My Old Homeplace

I went back to visit my old homeplace today and oh what a wonderful sight. All of my memories came rushing back to me, much to my heart's delight.

There the old house still stood, although it looked as if it would fall. Memories still lingered everywhere I looked of a place so easy to recall.

In the yard there stands the old maple, it was always our favorite spot to be. We use to hide up in its branches and whisper "I bet they'll never find me".

The little branch of water is still running, oh how I remember it so well.We caught spring lizards in that little branch, in hopes we could take them somewhere to sell.

I couldn't believe my eyes, there the old barn stood, my daddy built it many years ago. The old cows made themselves at home there, how many in my mind I do not know.

There's the little apple tree still standing, oh my how good those apples used to be. I picked one from its branches, it tasted as good as they always did to me.

I went around to the back of the house and to my surprise there was the little spring. The many buckets of water we carried from it, I thought long ago it would have been a dried up spring.

I looked up and oh my what I did see, the old smokehouse where we hung our meat. In that old building we took many a bath and the wash tub was our seat.

I started to leave and found myself at the front door step, when an echo from the past surely did hit. I heard my mama's voice as she was saying ,"it's getting dark kids come on in you're gonna get snake bit".

And then as I walked back out the road I turned and looked back one more time. I heard the old house calling to me, to never ever leave it behind.

                                             Susie Swanson   Published, 2010

Today the old house is in a sad state of decay. I can't even walk around it let alone walk through the door. My dad and mom sold it many years ago. The roof has fallen in and shrubery has grown up around it so bad I can't even see it. But since it's in walking distance of my house I can still visit anytime.And like the song says......:They say you can't go home again", .....But I do all the time, in my mind is a picture and I'll never leave it behind..

Old Time Plowing Machine

                                                    He plowed in early spring
                                                    when fields were new and green
                                                    the smell of fresh turned sod
                                                    that old time plowing machine

                                                    In the middle of the summer
                                                    with the sweat dripping down
                                                    between each close knit row
                                                    big hoofprints hit the ground

                                                    Harvest time was busy
                                                    with pride he did feel
                                                    the bounty of his labors
                                                    that came from each big field

                                                    When the cold north wind blew
                                                     came a much deserved rest
                                                     that old mule sure worked hard
                                                     a plowing machine at its best

                                                    Susie Swanson

           

Grandpa And The Gristmill

                                             There was once a way of life
                                              many long years ago
                                              most people could never imagine
                                              or even believe it was so

                                              Things were hard to come by
                                               my daddy always said
                                               like the food on their table
                                               and a place to lay their head

                                               Everybody had their own struggles
                                               they all needed a friend
                                               and that's where my grandpa
                                               and the old gristmill came in

                                               Electricity was never heard of
                                               its power source, a big water wheel
                                               the water running straight from the creek
                                               it ground the corn and turned it into cornmeal
   
                                               Some came by horse drawn wagons
                                               with their corn on the back
                                               some walked every step of the way
                                               with the corn tied up in a big, toe sack

                                             
                                               They came from far and near
                                                as it was used for one thing
                                                to provide bread for their family
                                                from the corn they would bring

                                               With determination on his side
                                                my grandpa worked hard everyday
                                                even on the sabbath
                                                if someone came his way

                                                Today I can't help but wonder
                                                why people don't walk the same road
                                                and do what grandpa did
                                                and help carry some of the load

                                                Grandpa and that old gristmill
                                                surely did play a big part
                                                in helping to calm the struggles
                                                of a generation's hungry heart

                                     

                                             © Susie Swanson  

I never had the privilege or honor to meet my grandpa, on my dad's side of the family.
He died in 1937 at a young age. But in his short life, he left a legacy that is still talked about today. My dad filled his shoes for years, alongside his brother. They kept the old gristmill running because so many people depended on it for their bread and to feed their families. They changed it around somewhat, they switched the power source from water to gasoline which worked the same.
In the very place and exact spot where I live today is where that old gristmill was located. Sometimes, I can imagine hearing the roaring of the millstone and the grinding of the corn and I can see the people lined up waiting for their turn and I then can hear them saying Thanks alot Seb, we'll see you next week.
Hope you enjoy...Blessings, Susie
                                              

                                           

A Popular Little House

                                                          I see a little house
                                                          in the distance afar
                                                          a very, useful little place
                                                          with a welcome door ajar

                                                          Many wandering souls
                                                          have passed by its way
                                                          parked themselves there
                                                          many a night and day

                                                          It supplied entertainment
                                                          for the young and old
                                                          it even had a catalog
                                                          but no heat in the cold

                                                          A place to sneak away
                                                          lay your worries aside
                                                          smoke a puff or two
                                                          many secrets it could hide

                                                          To close in the summer
                                                           in the winter to far away
                                                           if one was so inclined
                                                           it was a good place to pray

                                                           The purpose of its existence
                                                            could raise quite a smell
                                                            the little outhouse sure was popular
                                                            oh the stories it could tell

                                                            Susie Swanson

Well.......I've wrote about everything else, I figured I might as well give this one a try.. (no offense folks). I hope you catch my stinky drift...just joking of course..lol..
                                                   
                                               

Mama's Kraut Recipe

This is an old time recipe that's so dear to me. It came from my mama's kitchen and it's called the Krauting Recipe.

Back in the days when I was young, the ingredients came together so easily and there was so much enjoyment and fun.

And for anybody that doesn't know what I'm talking about, they were never around when I helped mama and daddy make kraut.

Sour Kraut was the proper name and it had to be done just right. Mama made sure of that even if it took the whole day and all night.

She had her way and everybody had their own, but you can ask anybody around and they'll tell you it was the best they've ever known.

Mama went by the signs and the signs had to be good, or no krauting did she do if the cabbage all ruined and sometimes they would.

And the cabbage had to be chopped with a cream can, not just any can would do. It had to be a cream can and a new one too.

Daddy took on the job of removing the top of each can. Using a file to sharpen them, they were so sharp they'd cut the pan.

Now daddy may have been slow but those cans were sharp when he got through. They'd chop your fingers off before you even knew.

That's the way mama wanted them, as sharp as could be. The more fine the cabbage the better the kraut would be.

Early in the morning we'd cut the cabbage and get them ready from the patch. So we could get started early before it got so hot with a big batch.

We'd wash and clean the cabbage and cut all the bad leaves away. Then in a big dishpan, we'd cut the leaves small enough to chop and lay.

We each had a pan, three pans in all. And three cream cans started chopping with hands large and small.

And like I said before, daddy was alot more slow and mama would say "chop that cabbage Tom before it decides to stand up and grow".

But daddy always seem to get his pan done before we did but there were plenty of big cabbage leaves left in the bottom of the pan hid.

It was the funniest sight I ever did see to watch mama and daddy argue underneath that old shade tree.

Some people might say mama was just mean but she wasn't mean, she just wanted her kraut done the way she seen.

But finally daddy took all he could take. He threw down the cream can and said "do it yourself old woman and the whole batch you can make".

He took off back inside the house and although I was busting to laugh, I knew better and stayed quiet as a little mouse.

Then mama said "that man's slow as Christmas but he sure does like kraut". I hit the ground laughing, I'd held it as long as I could without a doubt.

When we both got through laughing we packed what we had in each jar and kept on chopping but we didn't get far.

Before daddy came back and started chopping again. He acted like nothing ever happened and picked up where he began.

Needless to say we got the kraut done before supper time and carried it to the smokehouse to work off in case it blew up if it was so inclined.

That kraut was always  white as the snow on the ground. But it was suppose to be, after all it was mama's recipe the best kraut around.

I remember sitting at the supper table eating kraut one cold, winter's night, when daddy got a big piece of cabbage in his mouth when he took a bite.

Mama saw him when he took that bite and said "that's from the pan you chopped" and daddy kept chewing and chewing in spite.

Now my mama's recipe for making kraut may not be to some people's taste but one thing's for certain no ingredients will I waste.

And each year when I make my kraut, I keep these ingredients close beside me and the laughter too. That's what memories are about but oh how I miss mama's kraut.

                                         Susie Swanson

The Old Barn

                                                 There's an old barn
                                                 sitting all silent and still
                                                 what a story it could tell
                                                 out there in that big, open field

                                                 Back when times were different
                                                 there were alot of things going on
                                                 to look at the old barn today
                                                 no one would never have known

                                                 It was very fond of the cows
                                                 that used to all gather in
                                                 when it came milking time
                                                 and the milk they were willing to lend

                                                 Oh those pesky chickens
                                                 they were always running around
                                                 looking to build their nests
                                                 for then they were homeward bound

                                                 It could never forget the horses
                                                 that each evening had to be fed
                                                 especially during the winter
                                                 before they were put to bed

                                                 Oh how it loved the children
                                                 when they used to come and play
                                                 up in that big, old hayloft
                                                 each and everyday

                                                 There the old rope is still hanging
                                                  they used to swing on that old thing
                                                  with all their child-like noise
                                                  what joy it did bring

                                                  The old barn surely did feel needed
                                                   in that other place and time
                                                   it seems so sad today
                                                   just to walk away and leave it behind
        
                                                   In my mind I'll hold on to the picture
                                                   when I walk through that big, old door
                                                   then it'll stay with me forever
                                                   and never be forgotten anymore

                                                  Susie Swanson      Published, 2010

This is another oldie folks, one of my first poems. I've posted it in the past and several people that have my book has already read it but I have several new followers now and decided to post it again. Hope you enjoy, Blessings, Susie

The Little Footlog

                                                   A little path more traveled
                                                   I remember oh so well
                                                   the little footlog daddy built
                                                   on fond memories I still dwell

                                                   Walking was never a chore
                                                    it was the only way we knew
                                                    we had to cross the creek
                                                    it's purpose more and more grew

                                                   Walking to the school bus
                                                    we came to depend on it so
                                                    the footlog was our bridge
                                                    to wherever we needed to go

                                                    Each time the water rose
                                                    we'd find the footlog gone
                                                    daddy would build a new one
                                                    better than the one we'd known

                                                    On hot, summer days
                                                    when we were out of school
                                                    we'd jump from the footlog
                                                    and pretend the creek was our pool

                                                    But when the winter came
                                                    on the handpole we did hold
                                                    especially on a frosty morning
                                                    that creek was awfully cold

                                                    While many feet did trod
                                                     for many a night and day
                                                     the footlog was always there
                                                     to help us on our way

                                                    Today when I look at the creek
                                                     my memories are so real
                                                     I see mama walking the footlog
                                                     and saying "kids please be still"

                                                     Susie Swanson

This is so true folks. The little footlog is gone now, but when I look out my back window or door, I can still see it so plain, laying across that little creek. The creek used to be more full of water than it is now. Because of the dry weather there's not much water in it at the present time. What water there is,  is still spread out just like it used to be . The difference now is I'm living on the opposite side of the creek and don't have to worry about crossing it, except when we want to. When the creek gets up, that's a different story. We've only seen it under our house one time since we've lived here and that's been  near forty years.

We have a new footlog today that's built closer to our house. All we have to do is walk down our back door steps and walk across the creek. My husband built it several years ago and it is more higher than the old one.

Daddy had a time back then , trying to keep a footlog for us to cross, since we walked everywhere we went and the creek got up more and higher in those days. I guess it was because we had more and longer rains than today. I spent my whole childhood on the other side of the creek and what joy I had. The memories are overwhelming at times, but I cherish them all.. Thank you Daddy for the footlog and the hard work you put into having one and thank you and mama for all that you both done to raise us. What wonderful, loving parents, you shaped me into who I am today.....Susie



                                                  

That Special October Day

                                                         On a beautiful October day
                                                         forty one years ago
                                                         on the bed a white dress lay
                                                         anticipation continued to grow

                                                         Flowers were still in bloom
                                                         a special October, not plain
                                                         joy surely did loom
                                                         despite the drizzle of rain

                                                         Vows were earnestly made
                                                          on the wings of love and a prayer
                                                          at God's feet we gladly laid
                                                          our lives before him there

                                                          Me in my white dress
                                                          both in our wedding attire
                                                          the day was the very best
                                                          two people could ever share

                                                          Each year the memories grow
                                                          in my heart forever to stay
                                                          of that October long ago
                                                          and my wonderful wedding day

                                                          Susie Swanson

Simple yet so rich with blessings from above. There is a time for laughter, heartache and song because God  keeps an order for all things. A special time in which we each belong, but love remains until the end. God so ordained that it should be this way. It knows no season and the time for love is yesterday, tomorrow and today..      Kenneth and Susie... October,10 1970---October,10 2011

My Earnest Prayer

                                                        Today I pray for others Lord
                                                        who seem less blessed than I
                                                        may they have food upon their table
                                                        and a bed at night to lie

                                                        May the sorrow placed upon their hearts
                                                        take wings in earnest flight
                                                        and they choose to hold your hand Lord
                                                        even after the sun shines bright

                                                        For those in pain of body
                                                        Dear Lord please make them whole
                                                        those in doubt, in need of faith
                                                        fullfill their yearning soul

                                                        The shadow of hatred in this world
                                                         Oh Lord please set it free
                                                         to be replaced forever more
                                                         by your tender love and mercy

                                                         Dear Lord thank you for your blessings
                                                         and listening to my prayer
                                                         in you I find my refuge
                                                         because you truly care

                                                         Susie Swanson

Sorry folks, it's still a no go with the comments. I can only post on the blogs that I can click Publish Comment after I leave one. I can't even sign in on mine. I've tried everything, even went to Blogger Help Forum.
They say I need to Delete my files to remove a Cookie that apparently is causing the authenication to go through when I try to sign in, but to be prepared to lose my Homepage, etc. I'm afraid to do that for fear that I won't be able to recover it all. So until then, I say Thank  you to everyone for the wonderful comments and I cherish them all. I do read your posts and have tried to comment on several only to no avail. My patience is running pretty thin these days.  I will continue to read every post possible and comment on the ones that I can.. Blessings, Susie