We call my paternal grandparents' farmhouse our home. The original portions of the house were built by my Grandpa for my Grandma before they brought my Dad home from the hospital in 1943. It stood on the family's homestead in the middle of a farm and together they worked hard. In the winter of 1963-1964, they decided to move their home to town and added on, making it the home we now enjoy. They lived and worked here together until 1999, when Grandma's Alzheimer's Disease made it necessary to move into a nursing home. Grandpa stayed on until a series of strokes in 2001, when he moved in with my folks. The house stayed empty until I moved back home and then my husband joined me in 2006. We are so fortunate that our family decided to purchase it and it remains in the family.
Some of my favorite memories were made in this house and both of my grandparents were inventive. Grandpa could help you build anything and Grandma was known for her biscuits and homemade noodles. She taught me calligraphy at the kitchen table my son eats his supper at and canned award winning pickles in the kitchen I prepare our meals. I know that she smiles whenever I drag my sewing machine out for a new project and the other night I caught myself rocking in her kitchen rocker thinking, "How would Grandma fix this?"
Their way of life was to decide what to do, learn to do it, and do it themselves - long before DIYing was popular and resources were available. As an adult, I've learned what a necessity this is. I live in a place where I can't always run to the store, shipping is often expensive and the supplies I find to work with are rarely what the tutorial asks for.
So, c'mon in. If you pass by the Mulberry Tree in the front yard, grab a handful of berries and we can share the triumphs and the tragedies that make up our life. I hope you'll stick around to see how it goes. Don't worry. 'Round here, once you're in, you're just a part of the family.
See you 'round the Mulberry Tree.
