I must admit to this fact, Dear Readers. During the time of year when our outdoor thermometer hits below 70 degrees, my mind starts reminiscing.
Indeed, this phenomenon has occurred annually since my college coed days.
When breathtaking beauty and aromas associated with harvest encapsulate my entire being, it’s as if I become as one with the memory of my past. Maybe this happens to you, too.
I truly loved my university undergraduate days! Great roommate! Great friends! Great learning! Weekends were usually spent in the city of higher education miles from my hometown area.
But in September and October, the yearning to travel home for two days after Friday’s classes could rarely be overlooked by Yours Truly. Sometimes I boarded an airplane for the short jaunt. Other times, I caught a ride with a friend. However, as I neared our farm and viewed a glimpse of miles of trees that surrounded our barnyard and intersected our farm fields, my first thought was always of my parents.
Years prior to my birth, each and every seedling tree on our farm purchased from the ND Soil Conservation Service had been planted, weeded, and watered by the efforts of my parent’s work-lined hands in order to protect soil and citizenry in our windy state. When journeying home and seeing those trees showing their fashionably blazing colors, they became the annual hug of home—the welcome mat of love and rejuvenation of peace within my soul.
It was that way after Dad and Mom were no longer living—September to be exact—when my family said the last ‘Good-bye’ and began the task of removing memorable physical objects from our childhood farm home.
As in most rural homes, we were back-door people. But this time–for the final time–I sat alone on those rarely used front steps and reflected on the abundantly wonderful childhood provided by my parents to my sister and me. Earth’s encompassing beauty placed arms around me and dried lingering tears of joy and sadness. Those streams of moisture running down my cheeks became a gentle washing of the past with a gracious invitation to keep moving toward the future.
Indeed, I was never to forget the years of my youth—to always savor virtues taught by Jack and Eudora, my dad and mom. Values of truth and integrity, strength of character, and dedicated joy of work to make the goal become not only reachable but to have a grand time pursuing it were personified daily within our home.
Examples of forgiveness as Christ forgave each of His children and the pursuance of happiness and laughter etched footprints into my disposition.
Fortitudes as taught by my parent’s lifestyle served as a pattern of instruction into a productive, worthy life for Sweet Sister and me.
Succeeding generations of our offspring could reap the benefits, too. However, in the meantime, it would be up to my sister and me to pursue those standards of excellence as intercessors between generations. What an honor to try to fill “those shoes”!
And so, Dear Readers, I’ve taken liberties with you today when writing this week’s Baking Chat. My penned words had nothing to do with baking or even with food. But it truly gave me the opportunity to open the personal doors of autumn memories.