Aunt Norie’s Sewing Room
Before the age of 9, I had shade trees in the yard and swings in the trees. It was a great place to play.
Even at the age of 9 I would take my troubles out to the swing and pray, or just cry and swing, all by myself. Or, with no troubles at all, I liked the swing and the wind.
That’s when the Depression hit — when I was 9. So we had to move to the farm up north a few miles (so west of Holton) with no trees at all — just a few willows down the draw, past the barnyard, on your way to the pasture.
In my young mind I blamed the Depression for there being no trees at our new home. Dad soon taught us those willow trees were the best things for long limber fishing poles. It took time and patience but they also made super whistles.
My brother could make a really loud whistle, he could always find the just right cut for one.
We learned how to plant a tiny tree and watch it grow, of course, but looking back all of these years that life and place seems, and was, like the “Little House on the Prairie.” Just the long prairie grass waving in the wind, prairie as far as one could see, coyotes howling and yapping at night, their voices exciting others — quite a concert, one might say.
My window open at night going off to sleep listening to them soon became routine.
As you sit in the shade of your favorite tree, remember that someone planted it one day.
Bye now and God bless you all.
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