Is It Time yet??

Is it time yet mama, can I go barefoot? That was the number one question come spring. We’d see the dogwoods in bloom or the redbud trees and always commence to pull our shoes off. The older people always said wait till the first of May or you’ll catch ye death of cold. I know for a fact my daddy never pulled his long johns off till the first of May. He still wore his long sleeve shirts till mama made him change to short sleeves. He always said he was afraid he’d take cold. It didn’t matter if it got ninety degrees in the shade and in his older years he had such bad circulation that we might see him put his overcoat on in the middle of the summer.

As for going barefoot, when the shoes came off they stayed off all summer long till school started. When we hit the door in the evening, off came the shoes. We’d toughened our feet so and stumped our toes off so bad it was hard to put on a pair of shoes and wear em all day. We walked the paved road so much going to the store or getting milk from the neighbors that we stumped our toes till there was nothing left but a stub.

It wasn’t that we didn’t appreciate a new pair of shoes when school started we just couldn’t stand wearing em and it hurt our stumped toes and calloused feet. We knew we had to make them shoes last as long as possible cause there was no money to run back and forth to the store buying a new pair. The boys were more rough on their shoes than me and my one and only sister which happened to be a lot younger than me was the biggest tomboy to ever come along. She wore out as many pairs as the boys and had her head stuck in something all the time.

We ran through the thickets and brairs till our feet were tough as a pine knot. Those mud holes just about did us in. We’d bust every one of those suckers dry and that toe itch was a killer. Mama would say, “don’t complain to me, ye know what did it.” That never stopped us none cause those mud holes were hard to resist.

I never see or hear of a young’un anymore going barefoot and it’s a shame. I even admit in my older years my feet are so tender I can’t stand to walk on the ground to save my life. I walk around barefoot in the house all day long but I gotta have an old pair of flip flops on when I go outside.

I sure do miss those days of going barefoot even if we wore our feet out and the joys of running through those big, grassy fields will last a life time. And every spring I still hear those words, is it time yet mama, can I pull my shoes off ?

                                            © Susie Swanson, 2018

                                             Happy First Day of May everyone!!

Goodbye Old Friend

You were there to encouragement me to do what I thought was the impossible. You never let up till the impossible was done. You gave me inspiration every time I talked with you and told me if we only but trust God our lives would be so much better. I listened with my heart and kept on writing my stories that you loved so to read and I did the same with you. Your memories were my memories as well.

When you gave me a copy of your book “A Bunch Of Wiregrass” I couldn't wait to read it. It gave me so much enjoyment to read in your own words your childhood memories that you wrote so profound and so real and I still read it today and always find something that I missed. Although you were raised in a different part of the country than me in South Georgia called Wiregrass Country you always said our childhood was the same only the mountains separated us.

You helped to instill in me the Faith I needed to continue to full fill my dreams of writing. You often told me that my words would be fodder for others to read and not to hold back. I remember you saying many times, “Susie you need to continue writing the way you talk and from your heart.” I couldn't for the life of me understand why anyone would ever want to read the words of an old country girl . But I remember you saying many times, “write it down and don't leave anything out.” I'm happy to say I'm still writing it down and wish you could have stuck around a little longer to finish writing your stories as well.

We cherished our time with you and Cathy when you helped me put my book together and published it for me. You'll never know how much enjoyment it brought to my husband and I when we made those visits to you and Cathy's home. The time spent was never enough and only made us both yearn for more. But we made the most of it while we all could. Cathy was always full of laughter and fun and we absolutely loved those fruit pies she stuck in a sack for us to take home.

As our health deteriorated so did yours and circumstances beyond our control prevented us all from having even more time together. But we sure did enjoy those phone calls and just hearing your voice made our day. Your Faith always amazed me and you always said, “we're not gonna live in these old sickly, fleshly bodies forever.” And those famous words when we started to hang up the phone, I'll never forget, 'If we don't see each other again Susie we'll see each other in Heaven.”

Well, you've finally made it my old friend and I know you're pain free and having the best time of your life while waiting for us to come. I also know you're still writing your life stories down just like before and everyone there is cheering you on. You're up there in that beautiful Wiregrass of your childhood memories that you longed to run through so long.

We're all gonna miss you and your sweet, inspiring words will sustain us till we see you again old friend and we're waiting patiently to join you. Till then enjoy your loved ones and friends that you haven't seen in so long and when I get there I want to read more of your stories and I'll have plenty for you as well.

© Susie Swanson, 2018

In Memory of my good friend and publisher Wayne Newton. April 23, 1937—April 18 2018

My Mother's Wheelbarrow

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, 2018

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.

Long Line Of Memories

I remember an old dial up telephone hanging on the wall, a most useful asset back when we were small.

The first time we got one oh what a joy and delight, the first time it rung what an awful sight.

So many hands reaching for it at the same time, I thought to my soul we were gonna break the corded line.

That went on for quite a while, like a bunch of kids in a toy store, we'd look at each other and smile.

Something had to give and mama knew it quite well. She had to break up a fight everytime she heard the ringing of the bell.

She told us you gotta take turns and stop sitting around the phone, get outside and play it's not like it's each your own.

Then occasionally mama would answer it a time or two, but the first time daddy answered we all came unglued.

He picked up the receiver and said "YEAH" instead of hello. We all fell over laughing, after that "YEAH "was his motto.

Then one day mama said, what if the president calls here someday, and daddy said , he's not apt to I voted the other way.

We didn't have Caller ID back then, everybody knew each other and everybody was a neighbor or friend.

But after a few years things progressed quite a bit. We got what was called "The Party Line" and we had to sit and sit.

And wait until other people on line got their business over and done. Now that's when it really started, I'm talking about the fun.

Since more than one household was on the same line, we had to jump fast or waste alot of time.

Quietly we'd ease the receiver up close to our ear, if we heard the dial tone we'd jump into high gear.

But more often than not so and so was already on, talking about their aches and pains and then they'd start to moan and groan.

About how many nosey people there were now days and how they like to listen in on other people's business, believe me there was no praise.

Then sometimes we'd pick it up and hear "MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS AND WAIT YOUR TURN". Now you talk about biting your tongue and getting a face sunburn.

The few times we finally did get through somehow, we didn't talk long before someone spoke up and said, "I NEED THE PHONE NOW"

I guarantee it was the same two people all the time, on that we could always bet our last bottom dime.

These same people when we met up with somewhere, they'd act like the best people in the world and so unaware.

By now you get the point of what I'm trying to tell. In other words I can honestly say "The Party Line" wasn't so swell.

Until one day daddy came through the door, wanting us to call his old buddy that he talked to galore.

Daddy never knew how to dial the numbers right, we always did it for him but on this day it was one more sight.

I was in a hurry and quickly dialed the phone and never took the time to listen for a dial tone.

He put it up to his ear and said "YEAH" then after a few seconds passed  he said ," MERCY ME , YOU CAN'T EVEN USE THIS PHONE IN AN EMERGENCY".

Needless to say when I picked up again, I heard a dial tone and daddy talked for quite a while to his old friend.

After that we learned a new trick to having fun, we'd get daddy to pick up the receiver and all business was done.

To think we had to go through all of that back in the day. Telephones sure have come a long ways I can honestly say.

As for that old dial up telephone with the corded line, it sure did leave a long line of good and Patient memories behind.

                                                    © Susie Swanson, 2018

The Country Side

                                   The Roses of time

                                   bloom around me today
                                  The honeysuckle is prime
                                   in its sweet,fragrant way

                                  The wild rhododendron
                                   is putting on a show
                                   Soon the ivy will come
                                   the rhododendron will go
                         
                                   He loves me, he loves me not
                                   the daisies are here
                                   Black-eyed Susie's hit the spot
                                   and make my heart cheer

                                   Blackberries are on track
                                   plenty of blooms in sight
                                   The whipper wills are back
                                   I here them every night

                                   The turtle doves are soothing
                                   to my heart there's no end
                                   The red cardinals are singing
                                   and being selfish again

                                   I've been watching the creek
                                   for wild ducks to swim
                                   Today I took a peek
                                   I saw a woodpecker on a limb

                                   My garden is green
                                   a summer's bounty will be
                                   Tall sunflowers in between
                                   the birds are waiting patiently

                                   Each day I look around
                                   there's so much to see
                                   I'm waiting for lightning bugs to abound
                                   it's a treasure to me

                                   Oh the beautiful country side
                                    so much living I've sown
                                    To live else where I've tried
                                    but there's no place like home

                                        © Susie Swanson, 2018

This post is kinda deceiving since spring is having to fight it out with old man winter. Of course, I don't have to tell a lot of you all since you're still in winter. These are some of my grandma's roses she planted along the roadsides many years ago. She's been gone 58 years back in February. I'm waiting patiently to see them again this year. Hope everyone had a Blessed Easter. ~Susie~

Mama's Chickens

My mama loved raising chickens better than anything besides growing her flowers and always managed to have some when we were growing up. I can’t remember a time when chickens weren’t running around scratching all day or hearing the ole hens cackling when they’d laid their eggs. And there’s nothing like being chased by an ole sittin hen when she gets the mindset to be ornery when she thinks her chicks might be harmed.

 When spring time came in mama kept an eye on those ole hens when they took off to build their nest. Mama knew where every nest was and if she didn’t she’d watch them till she knew just about the exact location.  Daddy tickled all of us to death. He’d stand on the porch and say, “lookie yonder at your mamie, she’ll follow them ole hens till one of these days she’ll get a snake around her neck.”

There were a lot of varmints to contend with like hawks, foxes, etc. but that didn’t detour mama from doing what she loved to do. Sometimes an ole hawk would dive down and grab a baby chick.

One ole hawk really was bold one day and dived down in the middle of the yard. Mama run down those steps faster than a cat could lick and grabbed the first rock she could get her hands on and threw it straight up at that hawk. The rock didn’t come close to him but it scared him enough to drop the little chick. The poor little thing died on impact if it wasn’t already dead.  It broke mama’s heart and she said, “I’ll kill that thing if it’s the last thing I do.” Daddy wanted to put his two cents in but knew better and turned around and walked back in the house. Those varmints were brave to show themselves around mama.

When an ole varmint grabbed a hen on her nest mama would take the eggs and put them under another ole hen. We never could keep up with how many ole hens and chickens mama really had but she knew each one of the hens and had most of them named and knew where each one built their nest.

When it came time for all the baby chicks to hatch out there’d be several ole hens and their baby chicks running around to feed and those hens were mean as a striped snake. We knew better to get their feathers riled. 

 Those ole roosters were awfully cocky as well.  Mama never could stand to hear an ole rooster crow in the middle of the day. She said it meant bad luck. She’d throw rocks at one to get him to stop. It was usually the young roosters that had just learned how to crow and thought they were something. Daddy told her that one day she was wasting her time and she said, “well it’s about time they learned when to crow and I’ll teach em.”

She’d put as many of the ole hens up in chicken pens as she could and the little ones would go in and out through the chicken wire till roost time. When the chicks got a little older she’d let them out of the pen to make room for more. Every now and then a fox would reach through or under the wire and get one of the hens and leave the babies to fend for themselves. Mama would catch the babies and put them in a cardboard box and feed them. She’d take them in the house at night and cover them with an old rag. They’d peep for a little bit and then get quite as a mouse till morning. When morning came she’d carry the box back out on the front porch and let them out for the day.

She did this many times and they thought of her as their mama cause every evening at about the same time they’d come up the front door steps looking for mama. Someone would holler here comes your babies mama. If she was in the house she’d come a trotting. If she was already sitting on the porch she’d stick her legs out and they’d climb up both legs and onto her lap. Sometimes they’d climb up on her shoulders. She’d say, “awe, come on and I’ll put you to bed, I know you’re ready fer it.” She’d carry each one and place them back in their box till morning.  This became a daily routine for mama till they grew big enough to fend for themselves. They’d grow so big they already had their little tail feathers and they kept on prancing up those steps for mama to put to bed.  It’d finally get to the point she had to run them back down the steps and I can just hear her now, “ uns go on now and find ye a place to roost, you’re plenty big enough to fend fer yourself.” 

My uncle was visiting late one summer evening and was sitting on the porch talking with mama and daddy when a batch of those chicks came up those steps and walked towards mama. She straightened her legs out and they climbed up her legs as pretty as you please and onto her lap.  He asked her about it and she told him they did that every evening wanting to be put to bed. He said he’d never seen anything like it before in his life. He told mama she had those chicks spoiled and she said, “spoiled or not, someone has to take care of the little fellers.”

Mama also loved to raise those pesky guineas and we all hated those things with a passion, daddy included. An ole guinea ain’t got any sense and can do the craziest things. When they sit on a nest of eggs till they hatch out they practically abandon their little ones. We’ve watched ole guinea hens stand out in the pouring down rain and look straight up and never try to hunker down so the little ones could get under them and stay dry. They’d walk around with their head in the air and let the little ones drown. The only thing they were good for was letting us know when a snake crawled through the grass. They’d all gather around it and you never heard the beat and of course the chickens had to join in as well. It’s a wonder the snake didn’t die of a heart attack on the spot.

They also loved going to the main, paved road and just stand in the middle of it.  When one or two would meet their waterloo we’d shout in secret for our own sake. She lost quite a few in that road but always managed to triple even more so come spring.

The only thing an ole guinea is fit for is keeping bugs off of stuff. They sure did keep the bugs off of mama’s flowers. They’d even eat ole stink bugs, shewww.  I do believe that’s one of the reasons mama liked to raise them. She sure prided herself on those flowers.

Mama did some funny things when it came to raising chickens and guineas. When an ole guinea was sitting on a nest of eggs mama would watch her till she left the nest for a while and then slip and take those eggs out of the nest and put them under an ole sittin hen while she was off of her nest. She’d remove all of the hen eggs except ONE and replace them with the guinea eggs. It was the funniest sight you’ve ever seen to see that ole hen walking around with a bunch of baby guineas and one little chick in the bunch. 

We always said, there was never a chicken or guinea that built a nest that mama couldn’t find, even if it meant going into the snakiest places there were. Mama prided herself on her chickens and guineas. My mama was an inspiration to us all and even though we didn’t always understand her motives or love for certain things she sure did know her stuff and taught us a lot of life lessons along the way. 

I love going back to our childhood home in the spring. I can still hear those ole hens cackling when they lay their eggs and see them running around with those little chicks behind them and yes, I can still hear those ole guineas as well. I can also see mama standing in the yard watching an ole hen take off towards her nest.  It’s like turning back time and I’ll always cherish those sweet memories of mama and her chickens and the ole guineas too. 

                                          © Susie Swanson, 2018

Happy Spring everyone !! Sorry my Text is black but I've only got office now because my Microsoft Word went down. I've tried to work with the text but so far no luck. I'm still working with it because I do not like this text color at all . As for spring, where has it gone? The second day of spring and we've had snow showers all day with brutal, cold wind. I'm trying not to complain with so many of you having it far worse and I'm praying for you all. blessings, ~Susie~

Window Of Time

As I look through the window of time

there's a deep peace of content and hope that cheers

for the things I see so clearly my spirits does climb

as I step into the light of my childhood years

A family all together on many evenings long ago

gathered around the table what joy it does bring

the supper hour, a magnet drawing love to glow

I listen to the voices that makes my heart sing

My mama's cooking is the best to be found

the aroma of the smells are oh so inviting

her reward is her family gathered all around

a table full of love prepared from summer's canning

I see my hard working daddy with his wrinkled brow

washing his face and hands like always before

after the end of days work and milking the cow

they all bow their heads and give Thanks even more

The old oil lamp in the middle of the table, is still there

with darkness settling in waiting for daylight

it shines so bright on mama and daddy's silver hair

and the love will forever linger in plain sight

Then comes the morning of another yesterday

with many little feet running all through the house

anxious to eat and waiting patiently for school or play

before the break of dawn it was quiet as a mouse

Walking to catch the bus and crossing the little creek

some are anxious to get to school and some in a fuss

till the sight of a long neck crane with a minnow in it's beak

so engrossed till we all just about miss the school bus

So many memories still tucked away around that old road

a place to ride an old worn out bike or play and roam

walking home from the bus in the evening in a tired mode

till I see more welcome sights that await me at home 

Awe, I see mama's pretty quilts blowing in the wind

every little stitch was sown with love in her heart

the first signs of spring has slipped around the bend

quilts and flowers in my heart will never part

All of the gardens are planted and pretty as can be

so many little hands knowing how to plant and hoe

taught when to work and when to play so patiently

the bounty is worth it, nary a weed is allowed to grow

The rewards of summertime is splashing in the creek

or running through those trails the whole day long

catching lightning bugs in a jar and playing hide and seek

in that place called childhood my heart will always belong

When the bounty is ready to harvest I see the skies so blue

soon the cool, crisp nights of Fall will give way to the cold

as the snowflakes fall so gently, the playing is way over due

down those snowy hills we own and sliding makes us bold

So many things to see through that window glass

brings joy to my heart and a hunger like I've never known

for the precious memories I hold nothing can ever surpass

in a place where childhood memories were so easily sown

Oh how I love that wonderful, old window of time

those sweet, familiar faces I see just like always before

that ageless old mantle clock will forever chime

through that window even if time has shut the door

© Susie Swanson, 2018