Monday, November 5, 2007

A Little Less Homemade


Growing up, every spring and summer and sometimes in between
My family would escape to our farm in West Virginia.
Our farm is a large white house with a giant front porch,
there is a stream with lots and lots of rocks to climb on,
there is an old barn that used to have hay stacked to the ceiling
and there is 126 acres that are basically untouched by the rushing world around it.
In this place where many of my childhood memories were made lived a lady and her husband who were old fashion through and through.
There names were Mason and Georgia Strawder.
They lived on the farm down the old dirt road from ours.
They always had cows,
chickens,
sometimes a pig,
a dog,
and a cat.
Mrs. Strawder used to let Amy and I watch her milk her cows,
then Mr. Strawder would let us watch him separate the cream from the milk,
then we would carry the milk back to the house.
Their garden was plentiful,
their house was small.
She made delicious cake,
She churned her own butter,
She hand sewed quilts.
But, sadly she passed away just the other day,
and all of a sudden,
the world seems a little less homemade.
Goodnite Ms. Georgia.

4 comments:

Laura said...

sad sad sad...

Miss Georgia will live on in your heart!

Rick said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Rick said...

Hmmm. Many good memories at their house. I don't think I'll ever forget the Strawders...

Andrew Kilcup said...

How sad, thank you for writing this one, Carly. So many times I feel like I grew up there, not Glen Burnie. I don't know that I would have the gall to move to Thailand if I hadn't learned what I learned at the Bennett's Farm!