Thursday, November 19, 2015

Life on the Prairie






For the next two months the format for Life on the Prairie has changed as construction on a new site has begun. The target date for completion is January 2016. Please continue to visit our site as we go forward with our little girls and their lives on the prairie.

Recollections



Recollections
                                         by Collette

Memories from Thanksgiving center on my five senses. Smell is the primary remembrance for me. Waking up to the roasting turkey fragrantly filling the house with its scent followed by the pungent smell of spices in the pumpkin pie or the cinnamon apple rings my mother used to make. If she had had time there was the heavy, yeasty smell of rising rolls on the cabinets as well. It was the best way to be awakened that I can remember.

Of course, taste was my favorite sense. Mother had the rule that food had to look pretty and taste good, and I learned to judge food with her rule. Off hand, I can think of no food I had at Thanksgiving I disliked-maybe a vegetable or two. When my mother’s side came for the meal, they brought food, too. The buffet was huge, tasty, colorful, and I always overate. Dessert was all of us kids’ favorite part.

The best sound was the electric knife my dad used to slice the turkey. It was my cue to go watch him in the hopes of getting a bite of crispy skin or a piece of meat that was too small to be missed. My dad, sister and I really began our meal with a bite here and there until we were banished from the room so we wouldn’t spoil our dinner. (Not much chance of that ever happening.) Usually we went to the dining room and found something to snack on until the rest of the family arrived.

Greeting family and helping them into the house was a great sight. The cousins made plans early about what we would do after the dinner. There was not room for walking in the kitchen now as my aunts and uncles entered with arms full of goodies. I understand how my mother got nervous when so many people crowded in wanting to help. I have a problem with that today.

My sense of touch grew stronger as the day continued. Of course I appreciated all of the food and getting family together, but I also remember the small things that touched me. My grandpa who refused to wear a hearing aid, sat on the couch and missed a good part of the conversations. My dad and uncles discussed the world’s situation and politics with such passion that it made me conscious of history and later would move me to become a teacher. I was touched by the caring of my aunts for my grandparents, each other and their own children. The memories of loud voices, funny stories and laughter still touch me today.

I remember with my senses, and time has faded any negatives (if there ever were any) about Thanksgiving. I have tried to create the same atmosphere for my family. I am thankful for my sensory memory because it allows me to recount the many blessings we shared, and the people made it made it so special.

 

 

 

 

Thanksgiving at Grandma's House




Thanksgiving at Grandma’s House
                                               by Judy

The young girls, Callie Mae and Alexis, in our stories loved their grandmothers. I loved my grandmothers, too, and have wonderful memories of them. They were especially important to me on Thanksgiving because they were both very good cooks.

My grandmothers were farm women, and their meals usually were prepared without the benefit of store-bought food. An old hen from the chicken house took the place of a turkey for Grandma’s Thanksgiving dinner. It was baked and served with mashed potatoes and gravy. Somehow, Grandma managed to serve homemade chicken and noodles, too. Perhaps there were two chickens involved. I don’t know. I do know two servings of mashed potatoes were required—one with gravy and one with noodles.

Side dishes included stewed tomatoes, homemade applesauce, homegrown green beans and freshly baked rolls served with churned butter, apple butter, or wild plum jelly. Dessert was pumpkin pie made from a pumpkin from Grandpa’s patch and apple pie made from apples out of Grandpa’s orchard.

Thanksgiving morning was filled with smells of Grandma’s cooking and the wood burning stove which heated my grandparents’ home. I could hardly wait until Grandma removed her apron for that meant it was time to take our places at the table. After Grandpa prayed, we ate. My brothers, younger cousins, and I listened to the adults discuss their week’s activities, community events, and even state and world happenings. There was no mention of football.

It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized how little “material things” my grandparents had. Yet they were thankful for food canned to last through the winter and enough wood cut to keep them warm. They felt blessed to have each other and their two daughters. I’m grateful for the memories I have of Thanksgivings with them when I felt loved and thankful.

I hope someday my grandchildren will look back and remember Thanksgiving dinners with me. They may remember the turkey and dressing, green bean casserole, and pies. Probably they will remember football games on television and talk of bargains for the next day’s shopping. I hope, too, they will remember feelings of love and thankfulness.