Over the last number of years (I like the vagueness of just saying “number” as opposed to quantifying it), I’ve lived in probably a dozen different apartments between Boston, Texas and Dublin. Molly’s been to most of these and has even been a roommate in a few so it was funny this past Autumn when she was here in Dublin and she asked me what was up with this little plastercast piece that I think I’ve hung above the kitchen sink in every home I’ve lived in since I was 21.
This little piece used to honor the same spot in my Grandmother’s kitchen. When I was younger, I always thought that this was actually my grandmother’s house — it’s not, but it does still remind me of her house (which I remember to be yellow but who knows if it actually was).
This photo to the right is the spot in Leavenworth, Kansas where I spent so many fun times in the summers as a kid growing up. The house is now blue and it’s hidden in the back there just behind the barn. This was a GREAT place to visit — my grandparents had cattle and corn crops. That red barn was dusty and full of cobwebs and stray cats and smelled of cattle feed. There was a well with a genuine hand-press water pump just outside the barn. I felt really lucky that I got to go and visit my grandparents’ farm while other friends’ grandparents just lived in a house on a street like anyone else. My grandmother used to make lovely homemade bread and yummy strawberry shortcake. We often had watermelon and corn-on-the-cob sitting outside under a big shady tree in front of her house. She used to pop the top off of Dandelions and we’d dip the stems in a mix of Dreft and water and blow bubbles as if they were straws. Seriously, on reflection, very idyllic.
She passed away when I was about 11, but this post is a salute to the quintessential grandmother — Ruth Parsons. And it’s because of her that the little plastercast yellow house will always grace wherever I call home.