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The Comforts of the Front Porch

1/27/2013

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Ofttimes now before twilight falls, when the sun's last rays shift slowly down the rolling hills, if I step outside on my front porch and let my thoughts stray back, I can hear a thousand echos from the years.  Like a field sprinkled with lightening bugs, they come out one by one.  Others come tarnished, nearly swallowed up by blackness, flickering too hastily, overzealous little lights...then gone.  Beverly Lewis

Even though we are in the midst of Snow Storm Luna, and the ice is layered thick upon our windows, I cannot help but think of spring and sitting on my front porch.  Of all the places in this old farmhouse I find my front or back porch to be the place I tend to plant myself the most.  There is just something about sitting on the porch no matter what the weather.  It seems as though the front porch used to be the way folks just sat a spell and got to know each other.  Lemonade, a porch swing, a bunch of pesky flies, and perhaps a slight breeze always accompanied the small talk of the day between neighbors or family members.  Who remembers watching The Walton's?   Every time one of the Walton's needed to gather their thoughts, shuck some peas, work on some knitting, or blow off some steam they would venture to the front porch of the big old farm house.  How many scenes did we find one of the Walton's perched upon that white porch swing mulling over a situation?

Well here at the Flanagan Farmstead front porch we get a few folks now and again especially in the summer and fall.  I always make sure to have coffee ready to brew or lemonade or ice tea in the icebox to greet our visitors.  Extra folding chairs are brought out if a few more folks stop by and before long the afternoon is filled with a few hearty laughs and good conversation.

The front porch for me though also holds a bit of soul searching and peace.  More than once I find myself sitting on the front porch or the back porch taking in a vast landscape.  I find myself saying evening prayers or rehearsing good and bad memories through my mind as I sit there.  Though I am a sensible grown woman I still  daydream.  A vast landscape of memories in my mind seems to go on without end as I peer across the shadows of thoughts of another time.  There I see mirrored images that I treasure.  Images of my children when they were younger.  Images of my grandparents.  The playful antics of my two small grandsons.  Thoughts of my folks and activities we took part in as a small family in the 70's.  Vaguely my pets will play across my memories teasing me into a smile.  Many an image will dance across my mind causing me to  chuckle.  

Like an old 8 millimeter movie, I also play  thoughts of the dark and foreboding actions of the past that if I could I would change.  As refined sand is burned and heated, melting into a mirror of shiny glass I rehearse over and over again what I could have done to do better, or to fix what I had done wrong.  I reformat the memory placing the negative image out of my mind and construct a better, fixed end result.  A lifetime ago, to be sure, but still haunting me years later.  Deep in thought I seemingly forget I am surrounded by blessings of all kinds.  I no longer see the orange and purple sunset, nor do I hear the multitude of birds singing around me.  The deer just off to the right of the woods in the barren corn field melt into the horizon as I focus only on my thoughts of sadness  deep in my  thoughts.  These things I know I must surrender as I will never change what has been since sown.  

I am pretty sure my ancestors must have had times to sit upon their porches or in their yards to behold what they had planted, or to survey their handiwork, livestock, or barnyards.  Can it be that like myself my ancestors took time to reflect and daydream?  More importantly did they have the time?

It is good to take the time to reflect and watercolor those memories on a front porch in the cool of the day.  But I must remember not to dwell upon just that... causing myself a deep pit of self-pity.  To remain within that spectrum of thought would taint an otherwise perfect day full of blessings and joy.  I count it not as loss that I have these times of memories, for each one, whether good or bad, is but a stepping stone to the final creation of who I am.  

Isaiah 43:18 "Remember not the former things nor consider the things of old."  

Press forward.  Keep those thoughts close to heart and use them as a learning tool to do things differently or better than you have in the past.  Move on and create memories to cherish upon that front porch of yours for years to come!
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Warmth of All Kinds

1/21/2013

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Image attributed to "The Back Roads Girl"
Well our January thaw for the Drift-less region is officially over.  Sun and warmth (if you can call 42* warmth) has fled to the South leaving us in its wake a mere 4* for this mornings chores.  Before the next 24 hours comes to a close we shall see temperatures in the below -0 catagory. 
More wood for the wood stove, more hay for the horses, an extra heat lamp for the chickens, a warm flannel shirt for Mr. Flanagan to wear over long underwear, and a bit more bird seed in the bird feeders for our wild feathered friends will be good preparation to keep all warm. 

We are so fortunate to have warmth of all kinds.  Miles and miles of years separate us from the days in which all we had was wood or coal for heat, and keeping warm meant one had to invest a vast amount of physical labor to survive.  There really was not the romaticized charm we seem to place upon an old pioneer log home.  We capture images of a toasty fire burning; this same fire warms the hearth along with the day's stew thereby heating the entire room.  Unfortunately this painted, or postcard image is most likely far from the truth. 

If you were to travel back 125 years and enter that log home you could probably expect a drafty cold house with snow on the bed, no glass in the windows, and maybe two rooms.  One room for the bedroom and the other for every other life function from cooking, eating, spinning, mending, and weaving to mending harnesses, and sharpening and oiling tools.  Images of more than one in a bed come to mind as folks tended to sleep together for warmth; half the heads would be on the pillows at the head of the bed and half the heads would be on the pillows at the foot of the bed.

I guess one could say there are many ways to find warmth of every kind.  It goes without saying that warmth can easily be found in 2013 by an effortless turn of the thermostat dial or adding another log to the outdoor wood stove.  Thrift stores and rummage sales, department stores and clothes closets all hold warmth of all kinds from fleece jackets to down-filled coats.  Scarves, hats, mittens, and gloves are mass produced and modified to stand up to all kinds of cold temperatures.  We no longer have to labor for our warmth as we did once upon a time.

But what of warmth of another kind; one we do not think of when we first ponder the word "warmth"?  I am speaking of the warmth of kindness. 

Ephesians 4:32  "Be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you."

It seems to me that not only have we lost the old ways of keeping warmth, we have also as a people seemingly lost the art of kindness.  Now I cannot lump each one of us into that statement, but there is something to be said for today's society and lost kindnesses.  The kind act that one does even if no one sees.  The kindness that does not expect a kindess in return.  How about the kindness of a simple hello or a smile?
 
Not long ago we found out some elderly friends the next town over were both suffering from terrible colds.  It was not a chore to pull out a bit more chicken from the freezer and opt to create a HUGE pot of homemade chicken noodle soup to share with our friends.  Slowly the soup simmered in my great big stew pot on the stove until just the right amount of seasoning infiltrated the contents.  Then about 4 in the afternoon we took a drive over to their home hot soup in hand, hoping to provide them with a warmth of the healing kind.  Well you would have thought we brought them the moon!  Over and over again they talked of how nice it was of us to bring them some homemade chicken noodle soup.  They almost seemed surprised...as if it was a kindness one just does not see or do anymore.

What a pity that our society has become so socially based; many of us now only see "friends" upon a computer screen.  How sad that we have lost touch with such a simple act of a visit and some homemade soup.  What can you do to rekindle warmth of all kinds?  Well in the words of Winn Collier I quote, "...look for fresh opportunities to love, for new ways to extend undeserved kindess."   We just might have to move outside of our computer screen and learn how to b
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Wood for Heat and Fast Food...

1/15/2013

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Is it just me or have we lost perspective on what "hard work" is?  
Since Mr. Flanagan and I have taken residence on the 'ole farmstead, life has introduced us to a new set of work rules.  Don't get me wrong we had known the sense of work before this time.  Mr. Flanagan worked very hard as a teacher of over 20 years instructing many generations of 8th graders (the formative years you know) on multiple facts of our American history...over and over and over again for almost 29 years.  No wonder he is such a whiz at remembering historical facts!  I myself had invested into the workforce as museum administration sided with a number of years working with individuals with special needs.  Certainly we are not adverse to working hard and completing a days work.  
Often with our work day ended at around 4 pm, we would head home to the comforts of our warm home or apartment never thinking twice about whether or not the place was heated, and how.  One of us would pull whatever would be for dinner that evening out of the constantly cool refrigerator or the icy freezer.  I guess we never thought about the fact that we could grab a pan out of the cupboard and instantly we had heat to cook it on the stove top or in the oven.  Perhaps it was a pizza we had for dinner that night.  I guess I never thought about how 'fast' fast food was when I was living in the big old city of Milwaukee.  


My how things have changed!  Now before we go to work we head outside first to do chores.  If we want to turn up the heat in the farmhouse...we need to make sure the outdoor wood stove has more than a few coals in it...and if we want it to be warm for the winter we sure as shootin' have to make sure there is enough wood in the barn!  


And fast food...?  Well fast food for me these days is what I processed myself.  Now instead of the Orv's or Jack's pizza, I have my own pizza dough in the freezer...my own pizza sauce in glass jars on the shelves grown from my own garden (spices and all).  The cheese and meat is processed and purchased from a local farmer who keeps his livestock grass-fed and healthy without all those pesky steroids, hormones, and GMO feeds.  And almost all of our fast food here comes from the gardens we grew, and the local farmers' markets.  Hours I spent in the farmhouse kitchen watching over the pressure cooker and the boiling water canner processing fruits, berries gleaned from the land, vegetables, soups, and meat.  


In addition to our employment outside of the home, Mr. Flanagan and I have entered a different "work day".  One that gets us up before the sun rises..and often we don't get back into the house until the sun has set.  Gathering and cutting wood (and making sure we had more than enough to last the winter) was quite the job.  Usually at the end of a wood cutting, loading, hauling, and stacking day we would lament, and rub our sore shoulders and arms.  At the same time we would appreciate the work we invested for the day knowing the growing piles of stacked logs would provide us with warmth, and save us money on hefty heating bills.  My mind has a hard time wrapping around how our ancestors took the time to procure wood for shelter and heat.  I cannot imagine how long it took a man or woman from the past to slowly and methodically "saw" up some logs for a home, or for heating and cooking.  How thankful I am for the chainsaw, fuel, oil, and truck we were able to use to gather enough wood for the winter.  In one month we gathered what would have  taken our ancestors most likely an entire six months to gather!


There is always something to do on this here farmstead...feeding the horses, mucking the stalls, gathering the eggs, cleaning the hen house, hauling firewood, stacking the hay bales...the list goes on and on.  BUT, those hay bales were grown by Roger, a local farmer, using tractors and balers certainly not sown or reaped by hand.  Mucking the stalls is done by tractor certainly not by the sweat of the brow, and shoveling out the pine bedding of the hen house, while relying on a shovel and wheelbarrow, is certainly not a job that would break one's back.  


Many of us have it easy here in 2013 when it comes to the work day.  As our pastor stated, "We have all this modern technology from cell phones, tablets,  and computers to make our days easier and give us more time, but yet we all complain we just don't have enough time in the day!"  


Why is that?  Why do we not have enough time in the day to fit in the things we need to do?  Our ancestors worked from sun up to sun down...folks in the summer time that was an 18 hour day!  And we complain when instead of an 8 hour shift we have to work a 12 hour shift (I am guilty!)  Quoting our pastor, "Heaven's to Betsy we do not get the 4 hours of television watching in we are accustomed to!"  


From wood for heat and fast food, once again history is teaching me how to put things into perspective and to remember to appreciate a day's hard work.  



Proverbs 6:6-8 "Go to the ant, you sluggard!  Consider her ways and be wise, which, having no captain, overseer, or ruler, provides her supplies in the summer, and gathers her food in the harvest."  
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    Dawn Marie also known as Rebecca
    Flanagan

    Life long  learning enthusiast...these are my letters of life.   

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