Tuesday, August 30, 2011

childhood doors


I went looking for pictures of doors
so as to create a treasury list
on my etsy website
but I couldn't figure out how to
make a list... axactly
and didn't really want to take the time
to figure it out...
{today anyway}
so that will be for another day.

 I saw doors that reminded me
of days long ago.

This looks like a shed Grandpa used to have
acrossed the street from his house
where he kept some of his farming equipment
and sometimes some of our
 little kittens and puppies.

The old legion hall
where as a child I 'suffered through'
with absolute boredom
Saturday night after Saturday night
 watching my mother play Bingo...
{I got over it. I'm ok now.}

This photograph reminds me of the old barn
on our property that we kept our horses in
and all those chores
that came with them.
My brother, sisters and I learned
many lessons in that barn.
{some lessons we probibally didn't want to learn} 

And the there was the old school house.
I looked forward to running through those doors every morning to see my friends,
to read and learn new things,
and to have a nice warm meal.
{except for those 'flying saucer' things...
mashed potatoes on fried bologna
with melted imitation Velveeta? eew.}

My favorite childhood door.

This photograph reminds me of
my very favorite door
to go through as a child.
This door was always open.
If not in the physical sense,
it was always open to children
and grandchildren in the way
of being welcomed.
The door had a thick coat of oil paint
applied every so often
to keep it fresh and presentable.
When this door opened in the spring
the smells of boiling chicken and rhubarb pies
met your senses with generous hospitality.
In the summer the sight was of a messy kitchen
{usually to the credit of the man of the house
and cleaned up by the woman of the house...}
with corn boiling, tomatoes being stuffed into jars for canning, and of course,
creating the very best pickles 
that I have ever had in my life!

Fall was harvest time.
Back to school.
Bonfire cookouts on the weekends.

And then the holidays:

Thanksgiving turkey and stuffing.
{one year I was helping to place the turkey onto a platter for carving by the 'man of the house' when he and I dropped the BIRD!  It went sliding acrossed the kitchen floor, gathering up all the dust bunnies along the way and landed with a greasy 'thud!' and was lodged under the table,
twisted into the legs of a chair,
was hot! slippery! and now dusty!
We poked that runaway with the tongs of new and improved bigger forks, wiped it off, and gracefully placed it upon the platter
just in time to present the feast with a calm smile to all the chatting relatives waiting in the other room.
And no, I didn't eat turkey that year.}
And Christmas Dinner.

Wonderful memories.

Anytime I walked through that door
I felt:
knew that I belonged.

That door remains
but only in a memory.
Oh, it is physically still there
but is no longer opened by the kind hands
of the warm, receptive hearts
of the people who once lived there.
The Chef has been promoted
on into eternity where he may be cooking up
his pot roast even now, as I write
and the once strong and tenacious
little farmer's wife
has taken residence in a good place 
where she doesn't have to clean up 
the kitchen anymore.
People are taking care of her now.

My very favorite childhood door...

Grandpa and Grandma's
 back porch door.
Only strangers and salesmen
used the front door.
They didn't know
any better.

What do your favorite childhood doors
 look like? 

{all images from etsy.com}

Xo deborah 


  1. I simply love your posts!

  2. Uncluttered heart home and life... I love that in your header.
    have a pretty day,'


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