Dreams of Dress- Up

There’s the sound of children’s voices, and a creaking of the door,  

there’s excitement in the air, as they patter ‘cross the floor.

 

There’s a search among the various crates stacked against the wall, 

there’s a flurry of delight as they bring them in the hall.            

 

There’s a dusting off of covers, and a sneeze or two,

there’s a group of eager children round the box of blue.

 

There’s a peeling off of lids and expectant eyes,

there’s a million ooohhhs and aaahhhs as they’ve fin’lly found their prize.

 

Here's a pretty pink dress with a silvery sheen,

here’s an odd purple shoe and a hat of green.

 

Here’ s pair of broken glasses, and a walking cane,

here’s the black and white dress with the tomato sauce stain.

 

Here’s a sergeant’s cap and his vest as well,

here’s set of high heels, littles think so swell,

 

Here’s a dozen varied wigs of brown, white, and red,

here’s a golden circlet crown for a prince’s head.

 

Here’s a pair of overalls, and the other purple shoe,

and a box of paints and powders in countless pretty hues.

 

Look! It’s the lovely dress Grandma used to wear,

Shiny pins and clips; the bow from Sister’s hair.

 

Look it’s Brother’s costume that he wore for that play,

and the silky white dress that Mama made one day.

 

Look it’s Dad’s name tag he used to wear to work,

and the clown’s wig and nose that he used at church.

 

Look, it’s the woven shawls we bought at that sale,

and the dress with shoulder pads no one likes so well.

 

Look it’s the jewelry we got from a friend

and the dress with the tear that we didn’t mend.

 

Soon they’ve emptied all the tubs of their different prizes,   

soon they’ve dressed themselves in clothes that are all the wrong sizes.

Soon they’ve put on strings of pearls and big gaudy rings,

soon they’ve cluttered up the hall with all their various things.

 

Soon they’ve tried on every hat and gauzy scarf and wig,

soon they’ve clumped around in shoes, six sizes too big.

Soon they’ve drowned themselves in wraps and fluffy furs and skins,

and they’ve roused up by this time an unexpected din.

 

Now they’re princesses and princes at a royal ball,

now they’re explorers on a mission to find Taj Mahal.

Now they’re sailors, now they’re Indians, now they’re pioneers,

now they’re soldiers in an army, now they’re buccaneers.

 

Now they’re each about his business in their make-believe town,

now they’re acrobats and dancers or a circus clown.

 Now they’re gypsies, now they’re genies, now they’re cops and crooks, 

now they’re characters come to life from their favorite story books.  

 

There’s the calling of a voice and a stopping of the play,

there’s a looking at the clock above in acrimonious dismay.

 

There’s a murmur of regret and a sigh or two,

there’re all the things returning to the simple box of blue.

 

There’s a sound of stacking crates, and a shutting of the door,

there are feet retracing somber steps across the dirty floor.

 

There’s a settling of silence as the voices fade away,

there are dreams of playing dress-up another rainy day.

~Halayah

Lost the Battle but Won the War!

We often like to catch, keep, and study wild animals and insects, we also like the challenge of battling wasps and hornets! It’s not always a victory, and we are sometimes bitten or stung in the process. Some bites and stings are barely noticeable, while others can be extremely painful. When I was only ten, I was stung very near the eye by a paper wasp!

My brothers and I had once decided to take out a nest of about 5 or 10 paper wasps who had made nest in our basketball hoop! Each wasp was about 3/4-inches long and could fly at a speed of 7 to 8 mph! When we arrived at where the battle was to take place, we ran into a problem. How would we make the wasps come out? Our question was answered when one of us spotted all the basketballs lying around!

Armed with tennis rackets, whiffle ball bats, and sticks, we each sent a volley of basketballs directly at the nest! Most of the balls had hit the target, and after they had bounced off and we had waited a few seconds, we heard a familiar buzzing sound! Suddenly, out from the nest came a swarm of 15 to 20 furiously mad paper wasps! We all stood in silence for about three seconds, surprised at the unexpected number of the enemy. Then, after getting over our surprise, we attacked, and the battle started. A few lessons we all learned a long time ago, was that there was no surrender, turning your back was a good way to get stung, never stop swinging your weapon, and pay close attention to everything around you. We swung our weapons wildly, ducking and dodging as the wasps flew about our heads. Down went one insect, then a second! The war was in our favor! Our rivals were losing! We could smell victory in the air! We slowly advanced as we forced our foe backwards. The war was so close to ending then and there, but that all changed in just a few milliseconds.

There I was, in the front lines fighting my way toward the nest. I was getting close; only a few more feet until I would have the nest destroyed! That’s when I made my first mistake. I was busy swinging my tennis racket, when I decided to take out the nest. I made a run for it, and as I arrived, I turned and called out my accomplishment, but as I did, I broke rule number 3! I stopped swinging my weapon! When I turned back around to deal with the nest, I was met face to face with a wasp! I swung my racket, but the wasp was faster! It managed to slip past my weapon, land on the bottom eyelid of the left eye, where it ejected its painful stinger and released its poison! The poison was not fatal, but it felt like I was just hit in the eye by a metal baseball bat! My hand went to my eye in a flash, and I started swinging my racket even faster! That wasp that had stung me was still buzzing around my face, because unlike honeybees, a wasp can sting as many times as it desires! I was part mad, stunned, surprised, and a little afraid that the wasp might sting me again! That’s why when I hit the wasp, the force from the tennis racket completely obliterated it!

Once I was satisfied with my revenge, I started to really feel the pain from the sting. I ran off the battlefield calling to retreat! We all regrouped at the porch where I explained what had happened. By then, my eye had started to swell a good bit, and it was decided that we would hold any further attacks until the following day.

I walked inside the house and told Mom what had happened. She said to chew up some plantain leaf and put it on the wound. I strayed about looking for the plant, and when I found it, I followed the directions given to me. I was starting to get a bit worried; my eye was getting big! I went back inside the house, and with the chewed-up plantain leaf on my eye, I laid on our couch. It was getting late, and was sure my eye would heal overnight, so I went to bed.

The following day when I awoke and tried to open my eyes, my right one opened, but the left would not move! My thoughts were instantly turned toward what had happened the day before! I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs to look in the hallway mirror. When I did however, I saw that my eye had swollen to the size of a golf ball and was completely shut! I was terrified! I didn’t know what to do, how could I walk around looking like this? Luckily it was the beginning of the week, and by the time Sunday rolled around, my eye was almost as good as new.

 

Once I was able to see with both eyes, we tried retaking the basketball hoop, but the wasps were alert and active and getting close enough to fight was next to impossible. We didn’t give up however, we just broke out our secret weapon, wasp spray! We did lose the battle, but we won the war!

~Samuel

Harvesting Memories

It sounds dangerous. Ears of corn falling all around you while you sit in a wagon, pulled by a tractor, that is pulling a corn picker. While there may have been an element of danger in the process, wonderful childhood memories abound with such an event.

A corn picker is an amazing machine produced by the New Idea farming company in the early 1900s. It had the ability to pull an ear of corn off the stalk, husk it, and drop it in a wagon that was pulled behind it. It made it possible for a single worker to harvest fifteen acres of corn per day. Prior to this, corn had to be pulled off the stalk and shucked by hand.

 

Memories of my papaw, Carl McDaniel, cutting corn with a corn knife and husking the ears with hand shuckers are vivid in my mind. He even won first place in a local shucking contest, as not one person in Lynchburg, Ohio could come close to his swiftness. He used this celebrated ability prior to the widespread use of the corn picker.

As a child, my dad owned and operated just such a corn picker on our family farm. When harvest time came, the equipment headed to the field with children in tow. As the tractor pulled the picker through the rows of corn, it would catch the ears and pull them off. From there, it took the corn to a husking bed, where rollers turned and grabbed the husks, pulling them off. The husked corn then dropped into a chute, where it was taken by elevator and dropped into the trailing wagon. As children, that was where the action was. As the wagon filled, we would adjust ourselves accordingly, until there was no space left to sit. From there, it was off to the corn crib, where the corn was shoveled by hand into the crib for safe keeping.

Several years ago, I purchased an aged corn picker for myself, thinking that I might continue the tradition with my children. In my mind, I have envisioned the same process on my farm. Time, lack of necessity, and essential repairs on the picker changed my course. The apparatus is now set for sale, awaiting a new owner for possible future use.

Nevertheless, I can see my dad, Don McDaniel, driving his Ford 8N tractor into the field for harvest pulling the old wagon that we would ride in, as the ears of corn came raining down like magic from above. He knew that his children would be safe as they rode along in his wagon. We never worried about whether we would be harmed, as he always kept a watchful eye on his children. Corn picking and harvest time always triggered smiles on our faces and brought joy to the hearts of his offspring.

Although I may not have used my own contraption, our corn picker has spawned a lot of conversation and has brought back many good harvesting recollections from days gone by. Memories like these are sentimental reminders of a simple life of a loving family growing up on an Ohio farm. For these, I am thankful.

~Mark

Remember When?

Memories With Siblings on the Farm

Remember when we would roll down the hill in the big 55-gallon barrel and get dizzy? Remember when all of us “mountain goats” would run away from the “mountain lion” at the old Mountain Lion Place? Remember when we would determinedly say we were going to sleep outside all night, but come inside shortly after hearing the first coyotes or any haunting sound? Remember when we would throw rocks at the biggest wasp nest we could find while we stood in readiness, waiting with badminton racket and whiffle ball bats in hand for what may come. Remember walking a distance behind the manure spreader with the metal garbage can lid as a shield and a fiberglass fence post as a sword?

Remember tying our bicycle handlebars to the back of the hay wagon with the longest piece of spare twine we could find, and being pulled along as the haybales got loaded? Remember when we had to be tied together to a sibling, hands or feet, with a handkerchief when we did not cooperate over a matter? Remember when we forgot to close up the chickens and had to do it in the dark? Remember going to the outhouse and finding there to be a racoon, squirrel, or ‘possum taking refuge inside? Remember when we dressed up and made homemade movies?

Remember when we would spend hours playing by putting a ball of mud from the ravine on the end of a stick and launching the mud ball clear to the barn roof? Remember when we would put old cans or sticks by the spokes of our bicycle tires to make the “engines” louder than the loudest? Remember when Sukie, the pot-bellied pig, chewed the tires of the old tricycles that could race around the playground with more than one child piled on top of it? 

Remember when Mr. Goose would scare and keep all of us kids away from Dad while we were trying to work outside? Remember when we would play ice-hockey on the frozen Frog Pond, Rams against Butterflies? Remember when we would splash water down the boardwalk on those 0°F days and ice skate on it when it froze over? Remember the hours we spent swinging round and round on the tire go round? Remember when we would get our rubber boots stuck in the mud “on accident?” Remember when we would build “houses” by the creek out of anything we could, visiting them every day, always remodeling and improving them? 

Remember when siblings would drag us around on the blankets all over the wood floor in our house? Remember the speeds we would get up to while sled riding down the ice packed driveway, so slick you could hardly make the curve unless you hit it just right? Remember when we would jump all over the big round bales as Dad brought them in one by one from the field and our length of track grew with every new bale? 

Remember hiding out in the truck while a swarm of bees showed us their fury at that their home being shaken by the hay baling? Remember catching crawdads in the creek and building little homes for them only to find that they escaped by the time we brought back the next whopper to keep the other one company? Remember when we would make a harness and hook up an untrained goat or a miniature donkey to a sled and hang on tight for a wild ride through the snow? 

Remember when we would roll down the hill inside of the old tractor tire? Remember when we would all slip and slide around the freshly waxed wood floor in our slippers that Mama made? Remember throwing small rocks up in the night sky and watching the bats come seemingly out of nowhere and swoop after the rocks? Remember when?

~Jayla

Lessons From the Little Creatures

As I was hiking through the woods one day looking for mushrooms, I saw a big mound of dirt. I slowly moved to the pile not knowing what it was. As I got nearer, I saw to my astonishment, ants going in and out of the mound! That mass of dirt was their dwelling place.

I stood there looking over the hill. I watched the ants disappear inside of it and return carrying a little bit of dirt, stick or leaf. As I stood there watching the ants work, I thought about how that big heap of dirt was carried out of the ground crumble by crumble, one at a time by each ant.

While settled there watching the ants work, I thought about how the Bible talks about them in Proverbs 30: 24. It says, “the ant is not a strong people. But they prepare their food in the summer;” I watched an ant drag a leaf away from the entrance of the nest. The leaf was twice its size! The ant was having a little trouble carrying it, but that did not stop the little insect. It drove on till the job was completed.

Then looking down, I saw an ant dragging something. I bent over to get a closer look and saw that it was a seed. I watched it lug the seed to the nest and disappear into the hole. Then I saw another ant carrying a little spider into the nest, too. They were preparing their food in the summer. While watching the ants deliver their food, I thought how no one was making them gather rations. Neither were there any ants standing around doing nothing. That reminded me of what it says in Proverbs 6:6-8. “Go to the ant O sluggard, see her ways and be wise, which having no chief officer or ruler prepares her food in the summer and gathers her provision in the harvest.”

As I stood observing the ants, I thought about how amazing they were, and how I picked up a few lessons from those fantastic little creatures. I had an incredibly entertaining time watching them.

Getting a little hungry, I looked at my watch and it was five minutes till one. Seeing that it was dinner time, I parted with my new little friends, and set out toward the house. I already had a plan to come back and maybe learn a little more about these marvelous ants.

~Jonah

A Salute To Sparky

An excited bunch of youngsters jumped out of the car as we pulled into the gravel drive of Mr. Llama Man. Their contagious enthusiasm was displayed as we all eagerly headed toward the fence to see the camel cousins roaming in his field. One elusive white fella was the one that we would bring home with us this day. But this account is not about Ollie or his adventures, but about one of his trusty field mates.

In Mr. Llama Man’s field, the most adorable miniature donkeys, mules, and horses stood browsing. The small equine elicited such emotion! Observing such small-scale creatures firsthand, we were smitten. The sly salesman perceived the greenhorn in us, as well as the excitement of our children. Unable to refuse his offer, the deal was sealed.

We arrived home that day in September of 2005 with not only the llama, Ollie, that we had gone for, but Dolly, a miniature horse, Minnie, her mule foal, Rusty, a dun male donkey, Buddy, a jack, and Sparky, an unusually marked paint mule. The long ride home with horse trailer in tow was sparked with delight. Everyone was elated as we pulled into Providence Prairie.

Excellent guard animals, mules, donkeys, and llamas are very protective. Loveable and intelligent, our equine have been a perennial favorite with our children and grandchildren. Through the years, each of these various animals have been loved and adored for their individual characteristics and mannerisms. Dolly, an eternal favorite, was favored for her gentle demeanor and saddle habit, although she was a bit greedy when it came to food. Minnie, unruly and spunky, always managed to find trouble. Rusty, loveable and gentle natured, was always willing to share a cute, cuddly hug. Buddy was constantly large and in charge, despite his small stature. 

  

Sparky was so handsome to look at with his unique spotted coloration. While most donkeys and mules are gray and brown, his genetic mix gave him a distinct flashiness. Nevertheless, he led a somewhat quiet life until more children and grandchildren came along! The hardy little creature was in for a surprise!

Jeremiah and Jayla took an interest in him and spent hours trying to get him to let them ride. 

As Samuel grew, he was determined to show the equine some manners, and Sparky slowly became somewhat more cooperative. Isaac and Unique took up the job of keeping him in good shape. 

Eventually, grandchildren matured and enjoyed Sparky as much as he enjoyed them. Moriah bathed him with attention when she came to visit, and soon after, Sparky found Edwin and Gideon showering him with love as well.

 

Growing old, this past winter took its toll on the small, much-loved fella. One late winter day, after morning feeding, the children bolted up to the house to inform us that Sparky had died. It was such a tender moment as we all reflected on the pleasurable memories that he had given so many young lives in our family. Sparky was a beloved novelty, and he will be missed.

~Rhonda