Aunt Norie’s Sewing Room
I was sitting there on the glider, enjoying the quiet. Not a breath of air stirring, no leaves on the huge oak trees moving, not even the slightest, when all of a sudden, it happened.
Such a commotion, the chattering the squealing. That complete quiet and stillness was gone. Tiny, baby squirrels, about the size of baby kittens, had crawled out of the nest. Even though they were so small, they were as active as any big squirrel.
They seemed to be tumbling and tossing one another around. I just sat, totally spellbound. They were romping and playing on this huge big tree limb I had always thought should have a rope swing hanging from it. One little fellow actually got shoved off the limb, was in a free fall to the earth when he (or she) grabbed the hanging tail of one of his siblings.
They all seemed to be involved. It looked like they were helping him. It all happened do fast I couldn't tell what did happen.
Don't we all have our favorite spot — that quiet corner where we go to just sit, relax, and thank God for all of his blessings? To shed our worries, to mull over all that has happened that day and to quietly plan?
My favorite spot is that back porch my youngest son, Arthur — better known as Luckey — had made when he was a senior in high school. It went clear across the back side of the house.
The county (I guess) had cleared up an old railroad bed, lifted the old wooden ties and asked people to use them to haul them off. He was building muscles anyway, so he finished his project off by adding a flower bed the length of the porch for mom. He actually sawed the ties up, standing them up on end. It was so neat. He must have cut up a dozen of those ties. Thanks again, son.
I loved to sit there on the glider with all of my ripping, hand sewing, shelling peas, whatever. The shade of the three big oak trees connecting to make it all so cool. I even watched a nest of wrens leave their nest, landing first in my roses climbing up and over the end of the porch. The parents pushing the timid ones off, making them fly.
God Bless all of you.
Aunt Norie, PO Box 265, Tonganoxie, KS 66086; firstname.lastname@example.org