My Hero

                                              When I go home across the hills at evening

                                               My little flock of memories gather in

                                               A gentle peace and quietness will settle

                                               I look back and remember my hero once again

                                               The man I always knew and called daddy

                                               That worked so hard to keep us fed

                                               With a wrinkled brow and callused hands

                                               He provided a roof and a place to lay our head

                                               I see him in the garden come early spring

                                               With his overalls on and his favorite hoe

                                               He stayed with it from beginning to end

                                               Nary a weed was allowed to grow

                                               I see him in the winter in the fallen snow

                                               Splitting pine for kindling to start a fire

                                               Gathering in the night's water and wood

                                               In his plaid coat and gloves, his favorite attire

                                               Each day I hear and see him with his dog Toby

                                               I'm going out to the old place, he'd say

                                               As they happily walked through my yard

                                               Oh what a keepsake memory today

                                               I see those big apple trees he planted

                                               Tall just like daddy, oh how they grew

                                               So many treasures I've come to enjoy

                                               When it comes to my daddy, I'm like glue

                                               He'd tell straight out, he never had much school

                                               Couldn't read or write, certainly no degree

                                               The gift of knowledge flowed through his veins

                                               For ninety four years he taught constantly

                                               To all that listened and wanted to know

                                               Wisdom from the most wise is a gift to behold

                                               As my daddy eased on down through life

                                               So much joy came in pouring out his soul

                                               He walked each road, climbed every hill

                                               He knew everybody for miles around

                                               If they didn't know him, they came to know

                                               He owned and had many a stomping ground

                                               So many examples he set before me

                                               So many memories, such good times

                                               From when I was little and even grown

                                               He taught me life's lessons, only he could design

                                               My daddy is now walking and talking in heaven

                                               Up there where fathers are a chosen kind

                                               I'm now left with my precious flock of memories

                                               And my hero's love he gladly left behind

                                               © Susie Swanson, 2015

This is a Repost from last year but I just had to put it up again. Father's Day is upon us and like so many I'm thinking of my dad and missing him more each day...I could write several books about him and the things he saw and lived through, the kind of life I can only see in my mind. I wish so much I'd  listened more but the things I did hear and learn will last me a lifetime. Happy Father's Day in Heaven daddy and to all the Father's out there. I wish you the best Father's Day ever and may it be as special as you all are.. ~Susie

Plenty More Left To Tell

Seek a cool, green hilltop close to the sky

Where the refreshing winds of heaven blow

And the birds spread their wings as they pass by

Seeking some destination that they only know

Then close your eyes and listen…… You will hear

Calling, calling out your name 

Old voices that you once knew so dear

Calling you back to where they laid claim

Upon the mighty land they loved so well

Across this beautiful Blue Ridge they called home

There’s so many stories they are waiting to tell

Left behind for all of us, to share and carry on

Winds of time sweep many golden memories

Paths of ancestors become streets of gold

Like the tall, tall mountains born from the trees

These are the things to cherish and lay hold

They tell their stories of hard work and sacrifice

With plenty of satisfaction, joy and pride

Knowing those big fields of corn was suffice

Putting bread on the table, knowing how to provide

Riding a wagon on an old gutted out road

If we look closely the roads are still there

Those mules worked hard and pulled many a load

Can’t ye hear the Gee’s and Haw’s still in the air

And when the noon time sun was mighty hot

They snaked out wood for the winter’s cold

Always thinking ahead and on many a trot

A way of life that should never become old

The gardens were a plenty and always bountiful

Leaving a harvest of knowledge behind

Going by the signs is a priceless jewel, so beautiful

For planting and canning from a mastermind

When the fog lays stretched across the horizon 

Remember a father’s feet hit the ground at dawn

His work never done, even at setting of sun

Leaving his footsteps and pathways to travel upon

 A mother’s calloused hands scrubbing the way she knew

Washing clothes on an old rub board many a day

 Toil and labor for her family only grew and grew

  Love and dedication became her reward in every way

And they set an example of people coming together

On hog butchering  days everybody was akin

Neighbors helping neighbors through all kinds of weather

When sickness hit, help was just around the bend

 There’s nothing as spiritual than an old timey meeting

Many a spirit-fed soul is now walking through eternity

 Can’t you still hear those old church bells ringing

Music to our ears, food for our soul through all adversity

 And when we drift far away and travel many miles

Let’s not forget where we came from, our ancestral plan

Our great heritage will surely bring tears and smiles

If we but only go back to where it all began

Seek a cool, green hilltop close to God’s creation

Climb on up and let’s sit a long spell

Mountain hospitality needs no invitation

Believe me, there’s plenty more stories left to tell

© Susie Swanson, 2015

Barbed Wire And Roses

                                                 

   

                                                      The beauty is twined along the fence

                                                      Where roses grow amidst the wire

                                                       Across the green meadow

                                                       In greenbrier

                                                      They appear in spring so luminous

                                                      Kissed by the morning dew

                                                      In sweet insistent wind

                                                      Refreshing and new

                                                      One single red rose among the thorns

                                                      Placed with love and certainty

                                                      A rose of crimson red

                                                      Bright and lovely

                                                      A young girl's heart is mesmerized

                                                      For a thing of beauty so strong

                                                      She stands breathless

                                                      Such beauty strewn

                                                      Across the years and distant shore

                                                      My grandma smiles upon me

                                                      The red roses she placed

                                                      Lives in my heart

                                                      Through eternity

                                                      What shall we leave behind when gone

                                                      For those who follow behind

                                                      Twined in barbed wire

                                                      Roses so divine

                                                      © Susie Swanson, 2015

These  are a few of my grandma's roses from last year.. Some call them Seven Sisters. She planted them all over the community. Every year when they bloom I think of her and her love of these beautiful roses and all flowers. She sure did leave a beautiful legacy behind for all to enjoy.. Blessings to all... ~Susie

The Wonders Of Nature

                                               A little deer standing by the roadside
                                               looking back and forth, to and fro
                                               wondering if it should run and hide
                                               and which way it should go

                                               A long neck crane standing in the creek
                                               an awesome sight to see
                                               attempting to grab food, it takes a peek
                                               then flys away with it's large, majestic wings

                                             A large hawk sitting in a tree
                                             looking around for its prey
                                             whatever that may become or be
                                             it'll never have a chance to get away

                                           A strange flock of birds fly in
                                           from some place faraway and unknown
                                           on nature's food they do depend
                                           they're here for a time and then they're gone

                                           A little rabbit sits in the clover
                                           everyday it sits in the same spot
                                           late in the evening when the day is over
                                           I can tell by the clover it never eats alot

                                           A large raccoon visits from time to time
                                           searching for something to eat
                                           up the creek bank he does climb
                                           grabs what he can and runs back to his retreat

                                          A hoot owl makes his presence known
                                          in my yard each and every night
                                          he'll hoot until the break of dawn
                                          and then return again the very next night

                                          The squirrels are never a stranger and always there
                                           running this way and that
                                           hoping the birds will kindly share
                                           each day they grow more big and fat

                                          These wondrous sights my eyes do behold
                                           takes my breath away and fills my heart with pride
                                           to know that nature can be so bold
                                           in a place where I live and abide

                                           © Susie Swanson, 2015

Heroes Among Us

There are signs of freedom

Clear across this land

The battlefield scars are many

A fighting soldier’s brand

They wear the armor proud

So honored and glad

To serve this great country

They are patriots with bravery clad

The stones a constant reminder

Of brothers who are gone

When the bloodshed was over

They were left to carry on

Some have marched into battle

So earnestly and young

Many wars there have been

Much fighting they have done

They soon became a man 

A fighting soldier’s creed

To defend this great land

They all took the lead

Freedom sails on wings

They paid the ultimate price

We should never forget

Their courage and sacrifice

Let the bells of freedom ring

For the red, white and blue

There are heroes among us

Let’s wave old glory too

© Susie Swanson, 2015

Happy Memorial Day and God bless You All. 

That Old Screen Door

We all need to go back to an old screen door

So we can hear the sound of it slamming some more

And those famous words, “stop letting the flies in”

Not giving it a second thought and doing it over again

Catching fireflies after dark and putting them in a jar

And lying out on a blanket and wishing upon a star

Listening to the whop-per-wills calling every night

The serenading of crickets, a special, kind of quiet

Running through the meadows in the sun kissed dew

Climbing high up in a tree with a better angle view

Can’t you just see those June bugs tied with a string

Or swinging really high on that old, tire swing

Going fishing in the creek with that little fishing pole

Enjoying a hot, summer day at that ole swimming hole  

Or riding that old, rusted bicycle with nary a brake

Running through the thickets, never thinking of a snake

Oh the joy of blackberry picking and eating a juicy pie

Worth every chigger but wishing they’d go bye, bye 

Playing a good game of softball on a Sunday afternoon

Our mothers waiting supper, hoping we’ll be home soon

Running through the broom sage in the cool, fall breeze

Sliding down snowy hills till our hands and feet would freeze

Nary a trail or sapling did we miss, if we had to crawl

 And scraping off that beggar lice was no fun at all

We all need to go back to that special, old place

Where all of our footsteps we can happily retrace

And listen to the sound of that old screen door

Slamming, slamming just like before

© Susie Swanson, 2015

Remembering Is Easy

She remembers a little kitchen long, long ago. Her heart yearns to go back to that place where she did grow.
A little six year old girl runnin around her mama’s legs wantin to learn how to cook.
Her mama’s recipes consisted of a pinch of this and a pinch of that. Oh how hard it was to learn all of those pinches.
 She struggled with those pinches till she got them down in her mind. The hardest part was learnin how many pinches to put in fresh cornmeal straight from the mill. But she finally got the hang of it and they ate it, without complaining.

 After she grew a little older she remembers her mama finally allowin her to build a fire in that ole woodstove and cookin a whole meal all by herself for a family of eight and all the joy and pride it brought to her heart.
She also remembers that same little girl climbin up in a chair at that ole sink and her mama tying an oversized apron around her small waist and washin dishes. She’ll admit she loved playin in the dishwater more so and starin out that little window and dreamin of being just like her mama, waitin for her prince charmin to come along. She could see  herself cookin in that little kitchen with all the little ones runnin around her legs and the joy she felt in her heart. Her mama was her hero and she’d always dreamed of doing everything just like her.

She also remembers helpin her mama can lots of jars of fresh food straight from the garden  on that woodstove on hot summer days and the sweat dripping off of her mama’s nose.
She remembers standin up in that chair at the sink and washin so many cannin jars, she thought her arms would fall off. But just being able to help and learn was such a treasure and still holdin all of that cannin knowledge close today is worth more than any money can buy.

She remembers the oil lamp that sit on the table givin light to early morning breakfast. Cookin before daylight was the usual routine, every morning. Helpin make those cathead biscuits and big bowls of gravy were such a delight. It took a lot of time to get the biscuits down pat but she managed it quite well. The gravy was a different story.

That oil lamp burned bright on short, winter evenings also. She remembers when everyone gathered around that big table bowin heads and Thanking God for every bite on the table and every blessin given abundantly. She still remembers every delicious meal and nary a bite left behind in either bowl.

After the evening meal she remembers sittin at that table till bedtime with her four brothers and sister playin by that oil lamp on an old board game that her mama made from a piece of cardboard while using marbles called, “Fox and the Geese”. Her mama taught everyone how to play it, as she remembered from her childhood.

She still remembers those cold, winter evenings helping her mama cut quilt scraps out at that table, learning how to be so precise and finally being allowed to cut with those big sewing scissors.
That was her first introduction to quiltin and what joy it still brings today. Every tiny stitch she makes still reminds her of her mama’s golden threads. She’ll forever hold it close to her heart and cherish that special place where it all came about.


That little kitchen sure did cook up plenty of memories and shared enough love to last a lifetime. Remembering is easy and it’s so amazin at what a mother and her kitchen can do.

                                                     © Susie Swanson, 2015

Happy Mother's Day to my mother in heaven and all mothers. May God Bless you all.
Update on my health issues. I had the gallbladder surgery last Thursday (30th) and all went well there but it threw me back some on my Thyroid issues. My Endo said it was the anesthesia that most likely did it but he raised my Thyroid meds. a week before surgery and I have to stay on it another month and do some more labwork to see what it's doing. It's just a waitin game there. Many thanks for all of your prayers and I'm praying for ya'll as well. ~Susie