Tuesday, April 30, 2013

When A Woman Prays

                                                 I planted a rose and I talked with God
                                                 I looked straight into the clear sky so blue
                                                 And I said, Dear God you do the rest
                                                 I have done all that I can do

                                                 The sun was warm on the moist ground
                                                 The wind from the south cooled my lifted face
                                                 And I think God came from the far blue sky
                                                 To watch in my small garden space

                                                 For this morning I found it, a lovely thing
                                                 A red rose proud on its red thorned stem
                                                 And there like little candles lit
                                                 Were the red tipped buds, a score of them

                                                 I believe God comes for a little while
                                                 When any new flower takes root and grows
                                                 And I am quite sure that he comes and stays
                                                 When a woman prays when she plants a rose

                                                   @ Susie Swanson, 2013

Friday, April 26, 2013

Fears Hidden Away

                                                           It happens so often
                                                           A small, whimpering voice
                                                           Heard in the dark
                                                           Without reason or choice

                                                           With an empty stomach
                                                           A body that's bruised
                                                           No where to turn
                                                           And everything to lose

                                                           Such an innocent place
                                                           Where childhood lives
                                                           Is slowly taken away
                                                           By the hand that gives

                                                          A small spirit is broken
                                                          The pieces are gone
                                                          Never to be replaced
                                                          But innocence goes on

                                                          Running and jumping
                                                          So happy at play
                                                          With a smile on its face
                                                          And fears hidden away

                                                          @ Susie Swanson, 2013

April is National Child Abuse Prevention Month.. Sadly, to many children are abused everyday. It breaks my heart to know that so many suffer in silence and come to expect it and never know different or have anywhere to go or anybody to turn to. Blessings, Susie

Sunday, April 21, 2013

My Mother's Wheelbarrow

                                             If you pass by my simple ho
If you pass by my simple home
Look close and you will find
A familiar wheelbarrow on loan
In a different style and design
Each year it waits to greet spring
When the pretty flowers grow
I hear my mother in heaven sing
When she looks down upon it so
My mother and her wheelbarrow
Everywhere could be seen
Oh what a beautiful garden show
Of flowers come every spring
So many times she used it
Around every nook and bend
It's so proud and honored to sit
Holding pretty flowers in
Many pretty, waving petunias
Each day raise their hand
Hanging over all the edges
Waving to everyone they can
Along side other flowers so gay
Color enough to dye the yard red
A blinding brilliance, a special bouquet
For my mother's wheelbarrow bed
Even the little birds are happy
As they sing upon their throne
The wheelbarrow is still merrily
Helping my mother to carry on
A rusted kinship, a piece of art
It sits in my flower garden hue
Honored to share, with a happy heart
My mother's legacy to you
@ Susie Swanson, 2019
Sadly, the little wheelbarrow has been rolled away and parked in an old shed.. It spent many years in my yard after my mother passed away.. Last year was the first year in many years I didn't get to use it.. To much wear and tear and we decided to store it away before it fell on apart.. It's amazing how sometimes the simple things can mean the most..So many people have asked what happened to it and I tell them sadly, it retired just like mama
                                             Look close and you will find
                                             A familiar wheelbarrow on loan
                                             In a different style and design

                                             Each year it waits to greet spring
                                             When the pretty flowers grow
                                             I hear my mother in heaven sing
                                             When she looks down upon it so

                                             My mother and her wheelbarrow
                                             Everywhere could be seen
                                             Oh what a beautiful garden show
                                             Of flowers come every spring

                                             So many times she used it
                                             Around every nook and bend
                                             It's so proud and honored to sit
                                             Holding pretty flowers in

                                             Many pretty, waving petunias
                                             Each day raise their hand
                                             Hanging over all the edges
                                             Waving to everyone they can

                                             Along side other flowers so gay
                                             Color enough to dye the yard red
                                             A blinding brilliance, a special bouquet
                                             For my mother's wheelbarrow bed

                                             Even the little birds are happy
                                             As they sing upon their throne
                                             The wheelbarrow is still merrily
                                             Helping my mother to carry on

                                             A rusted kinship, a piece of art
                                             It sits in my flower garden hue
                                             Honored to share, with a happy heart
                                             My mother's legacy to you

                                            @ Susie Swanson, 2013

Sadly, the little wheelbarrow has been rolled away and parked in an old shed.. It spent many years in my yard after my mother passed away.. Last year was the first year in many years I didn't get to use it.. To much wear and tear and we decided to store it away before it fell on apart.. It's amazing how sometimes the simple things can mean the most..So many people have asked what happened to it and I tell them sadly, it retired..
Hope you have a nice week. Blessings, Susie

Monday, April 15, 2013


When I look at these beautiful mountains surrounding me and these old roads I've traveled down, I think of the many memories made everytime my feet hit the ground.
It may not mean much to some but it's worth more than money can buy. An old country girl having lived the good life and praising God until I die.
So many paths I've taken, my yearning heart has always brought me back, to this grand old place where the simple life is still intact.
Walking down a little trail to my grandparents house many a yesterday. Helping grandma with her canning, peeling peaches, apples and anything else I could get into made my day.
Slipping down below their house to the little plum tree. my goodness those plums were sweet as could be even when I had to shake the tree.
Even after I became a teenager I walked that little trail many a time. Just to sit, talk and listen awhile, brought so much joy to my heart and peace to my mind.
Sitting in that little porch swing listening to them talk about their yesterdays, really stuck with me and shaped me in so many ways.
Then after I went to work and had a little money to spend, I couldn't wait to take them a present every now and then.
One Christmas in particular I bought Pa a brand new pair of Hush Puppy Shoes. Christmas Eve was his birthday and it was even more special. He sure did love those shoes.
Of course I never did leave grandma out, she always thought of me. I sure did love those cathead biscuits she kept in the little cabinet, I ate one everytime I got the opportunity.
Me and my girlfriends flattened out many a trail, since we walked quite often to the store. We surely did enjoy it when we got a little money, we let the hammer down more.
A few pennies in our pockets, burning the most you ever seen. That RC and Moon pie sure did taste good when you save your money by working in between.
There wasn't many hills and trails we didn't manage to find, and plenty of trails that wasn't there until we made our own kind.
And the pleasure of walking down an old dirt road, picking wildflowers and the smell of honeysuckles and looking at my other Little Ma's roses that she planted and growed.
She planted those roses clear across the country side, a legacy that keeps on giving. Every spring when I see those roses I think of her and it feels like a part of her is still living.
And my other grandpa I never had the privilege to know. He died before I was born but there's a big part of him that I see everywhere I go.
I can hear his voice and see his face in that little gristmill he owned. Today I live on the very spot where all the gristmill commotion went on.
My grandpa's not gone, I've wrote about him before. He's still alive today in my heart and the echoes I hear everytime I walk out the door.
And his blood and grit will always run through my veins. His strength and determination became what I am today. I can still see him down every road, trail and lane.
There's so many places I've walked, especially to church with a whole gang tagging along. Made me feel quite big, brave and strong.
Oh how I loved those night time revivals, they made me happy as a lark. Even though I was scared to death of those haints that everyone told about lurking around after dark.
So many scary stories were told by so many older folks around. A headless woman, a crying baby, it's no wonder we thought the booger man was after us everytime our feet hit the ground.
One would think after coming straight from church after being renewed we wouldn't have been so scared of the booger man waiting to perch.
We were all scared of our shadow if the truth be told. But it didn't stop us one bit from being out after dark, we acted really grown up and bold.
Even on Halloween we'd walk a mile or two for one piece of candy. Now days kids doesn't think walking is much fun and to be honest it ain't to smart and dandy.
And playing outside was the only video games we knew. Sometimes our imagination got the best of us and we got into trouble a time or two.
Throwing rocks and accidently hitting one another in the head. Knowing fully well we could have killed someone, we paid the price when we hit the bed .
It's like the old saying, I threw a rock at my brother and I got there first and so did my mother.
And we rode an old bicycle without any brakes, flying through the air, briars, brambles and snakes.
It's a wonder we ain't all dead but it was not meant to be. Kids being kids, curious and free. But our daddy and mama didn't agree.
My mama bless her heart we just about drove her crazy sometimes. She once said, we wouldn't have made it if The Good Lord hadn't been watching over us all the time.
But now when I look back upon it all and remember when, I wish a thousand times I could do it all over again.
Well most of it anyway, some I'd rather forget. Like the time I almost died trying out my grandma's sweet snuff, I might as well have been dead.
And maybe all the times I hit my brothers over the head with a broom. Nay, They deserved it and so much more, that's certainly a presume.
But that was just our way of showing that we loved one another. It may sound odd to some but it was our way of looking out for one another. Of course we tried to convince our mother.
In all honesty, our daddy and mama taught us right from wrong. We may not have had many material things but in our house God and Love was mighty strong.
Our clothes may have looked ragged and worn but mama always said, rags are honorable as long as they're clean and she made sure of that every wash day morn.
I carried many buckets of water from that little spring, filling up those big wash tubs on wash day and taking baths to keep clean
Those big wash tubs had two handles, one on each side and we'd set them in the sun. It was a sure way of having warm water to take baths when the day was done.
We considered ourselves lucky since the spring was close by in the back yard. Some had to carry their water a lot farther and up hills, bound to been hard.
I'll never forget the little dipper that hung up above the spring on a limb. Nothing like a drink of cold, spring water on a hot, summer day from the little dipper, it sure was a gem.
Especially after hoeing in the garden since the break of dawn. Running for that dipper of water and going inside for dinner (lunch) eating them fresh veggies, fresh grown.
After a long day at school, a piece of cornbread and a little green onion tasted really good. All part of an old country girl's life and childhood.
Carrying milk home from the neighbors when we got without a cow. We could drink a gallon a day and buttermilk to, if mama would allow.
I remember churning that buttermilk all day in that churn jar. Thought to my soul my arms were gonna fall off. It took that butter a long time to come to the top of that jar.
Awe, there's so many things I could write about. I feel like a queen sitting on her throne, without a doubt.
And when the echoes start calling me back to my past, I listen and tell my stories , fresh as the morning dew on the green grass. It rekindles my heart to go back to that wonderful, old past.
And there's nothing that I'll ever forget or leave behind. An old country girl living in a country world where God hung the moon, stars, and sun out to shine. 

                                                 @Susie Swanson, 2013

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

A Mother's Love

                                               A candlestick flickered in the window
                                               Like so many long nights before
                                               She sat alone in her rocking chair
                                               Waiting, watching the door

                                               So much time had passed, but yet
                                               Each day and night the same
                                               A lonely mother's heart yearned
                                               Warmly, like the candlestick flame

                                                For the son she loved so dearly
                                                Had been gone forty some years
                                                No letter, nary a word
                                                Not knowing, she shed many tears

                                               So many miles and oceans apart
                                               Some radiant spark gave her strength
                                               Her body may have become old
                                               A mother's love goes the length

                                               The peace she patiently longed for
                                               She feared she'd never find
                                               She lost it somewhere in Vietnam
                                               A place where a mother's love is entwined

                                               The rocking chair is now empty
                                               No candlestick can be found
                                               Just the whistling of the wind
                                               And leaves falling upon the ground

                                              @ Susie Swanson

Sunday, April 7, 2013


                                                  A clothesline was a news forecast
                                                  To neighbors passing by
                                                  There were no secrets you could keep
                                                  When clothes were hung to dry

                                                  It also was a friendly link
                                                  For neighbors always knew
                                                  If company had stopped on by
                                                  To spend a night or two

                                                  For then you'd see the "fancy sheets"
                                                  And towels upon the line
                                                  You'd see the "company tablecloths"
                                                  With intricate design

                                                  The line announced a baby's birth
                                                  From folks who lived inside
                                                  As brand new infant clothes were hung
                                                  So carefully with pride

                                                  The ages of the children could
                                                  So readily be known
                                                  By watching how the sizes changed
                                                  You'd know how much they'd grown

                                                  It also told when sickness struck
                                                  As extra sheets were hung
                                                  The nightclothes and a bathrobe too
                                                  Haphazardly were strung

                                                  It also said, "Gone on vacation"
                                                  When lines hung limp and bare
                                                  It told, "We're back" when full lines sagged
                                                  With not an inch to spare

                                                  New folks in town were scorned upon
                                                  If wash was dingy and gray
                                                  As neighbors carefully raised their brows
                                                  And looked the other way

                                                 But clotheslines now are of the past
                                                 For dryers make work much less
                                                 Now what goes on inside a home
                                                 Is anybody's guess

                                                 I really miss that way of life
                                                 It was a friendly sign
                                                 When neighbors knew each other best
                                                 By what hung on the line

                                                 Author Unknown

This is an earlier post from last spring.. Since spring has finally sprung at my house My clothesline is full each day.. So many quilts to wash and dry too.. Clotheslines may be a thing of the past for a few but for me they're still very much in style.There's nothing like the smell of fresh bed linens when I crawl in bed at night.. I did say crawl, been working on getting the yard in shape and doing alot of mulching..But I'm enjoying every minute of being outside even if my old muscles haven't been used in a while.. April is still borrowing from March with the windy days and I love it, especially when it's warm wind.. The clothes really dry fast. Hope spring has arrived at your house.. Susie


Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Sand White As Snow

                                                    I have never seen the ocean
                                                    It's as old as time
                                                    Stretching across the horizon
                                                    With wings to sail, I'd climb

                                                    Nor have I felt the sand
                                                    Warm upon my feet
                                                    It must be magic and grand
                                                    Beside the water so deep

                                                    To watch a beautiful sunset
                                                    Slowly brings a tear
                                                    From my ocean seat I sit
                                                    God's beauty is sincere

                                                    Where the blue meets the sky
                                                    With nothing in between
                                                    Just knowing I'm so nigh
                                                    More beauty than I've seen

                                                    Perhaps I will embrace
                                                    A pretty sea gull in flight
                                                    A warm breeze upon my face
                                                    Nothing but sheer delight

                                                    Leaving my footprints behind
                                                    Walking by the shore
                                                    The feel of warm sunshine
                                                    How I long even more

                                                    When my day is through
                                                    The shimmer of each star
                                                    Breathtaking silver on blue
                                                    Across the ocean so far

                                                   Then my eyes will have seen
                                                   More beauty than my heart can hold
                                                   I'll feel like an ocean queen
                                                   Sitting on sand white as snow

                                                   @Susie Swanson, 2013