First snow, Nov. 14, 1995

Grampa and Aunt Gertrude are sound asleep.  I feel like a mother who has just put her children to bed for a nap and now I must be quiet so as not to wake them.

Today we are having our first snowstorm - not a very big one.  I think there is enough to "track a cat" which means there will be 13 more snowfalls this winter.  I always get a certain feeling when that first storm arrives, it is the beginning of a new season.  I had a dear friend, and the first snowstorm found us heading for the hills of Lake Garda with a toboggan, a sled, or skis, or just to walk in the snow - two carefree spirits.  As we got older and had other commitments (kids), one of us would call the other when the first snow fell.  Eventually, she died of lung cancer, but I still think of her when the first snow flies.

Lake Garda [in Burlington, CT] was on land owned by my grandfather Jones when I was a baby.  Our family used to have picnics down by the brook.  Later, the guy who bought it made a lake there and as I got older, we swam there and roamed the hills that once belonged to my Grandpa.

It was a good feeling to wake up and look out at the trees, all covered with snow and to know that we were snug in our bed - still on the porch.  But that gallon jug of HOT water stays warm all night and therefore I just move it from cold spot to cold spot.

The first snow!  Still a delight to behold - how the fresh coating makes the world seem quiet and sparkling new again.  Grammie always talked of an old wives' tale, that the date of the first snow fall where there was enough to "track a cat" would signal the number of snowstorms that season.  So, as it fell on the 14th in this letter, there would be a total of 14 snowfalls, with enough snow on the ground to track a cat.  My sister and I love this tale, and we still mark the dates to see how close they come to being true.  There is some wiggle room, of course, since I've never actually tried to track a cat, and so don't know just how much snow is required....


Do you mark the first snow as a special time?  What a wonderful legacy Gram and her friend created together - taking time to remember each other and their childhood adventures on that one day of the year.  Gram's friend's name has been lost to me, but both their spirits live on.  When the first snow flies, I think of them as girls together - arm in arm, giggling and tromping through the snow, their sled pulled behind them, excited to feel the rush of the cold wind as they slide down a hill - carefree.

Fall, Nov. 6, 1995

The beginnings of each season are the best - and each season has its own smell.  One of my favorite times was when my Dad put up the stove and we had our first fire - oh the smell of the wood burning and the warmth gave the house a whole different feeling.  Or leaves burning (can't do that anymore!) - but it always brought so many things to mind.  Nowadays burning leaves smells like marijuana.  How times have changed.

Our trip down from Vermont was beautiful especially around the green in Burpville [Belchertown, MA].  There are so many birds around chattering away and pushing each other away from the food - like a bunch of little kids.  It was 22 degrees when we woke up this morn on our porch.  Needless to say - I had on long johns under my flannel PJs - winter undershirt, and socks.  Last night the stars were so brilliant, and the sky was so pretty, but it was too cold to linger long looking - warmer under the blankets.

The smell of a wood fire always brings Grammie to mind for me - mainly because of our campfires at Rowen farm, but also because it signals the start of fall and cool weather.  Gram and Grampa would sleep on their enclosed porch from spring through until fall.  I was always amazed how long they stayed out there.  But they had ingenious ways of keeping warm: long johns under pajamas, hats and mittens, lots of blankets, and hot water bottles!  I know of only a few hardy souls nowadays who would be willing to sleep like that, but to them it was a bit of an adventure and a point of pride - and another way to stay one step closer to nature.

Kentucky, Oct. 9, 1995, part 3

Our next stop was Mammoth Caves State Park.  We got off the beaten track and went into Tennessee where it was pouring, but we soon found our way back to Kentucky and the sun.  This is a good place if you are cave people.  Well, you know we are not.  They didn't even show us a good orientation film.  So we took a boat ride on the Green River.  It really was green and murky.  Lots of small caves along the way, a blue heron and lots of turtles getting the sun on the many fallen tree trunks...

Grampa has talked of having a mint julep - a southern drink you read about in old Civil War times especially.  Well, some of the people didn't know what he meant.  So at supper that night when Grampa mentioned it, the waiter brought him a drink of water with a lime and a mint leaf saying that was the closest he could come to a mint julep.

So on to Cumberland Falls State Park - so many barns, all shapes and sizes in all states of disrepair or brand new.  This State Park has a naturalist, and Uncle Arthur got to talk to him.  This is not a very big Falls but it is the only place that has a moonbow.  It has to be a very clear night (full moon) and then there is a moonbow over the Falls - very similar to a rainbow - 'cept it is at night.  But, alas - it was a bit rainy and cloudy - I would love to see it.

At supper that night, we watched a family of very cute racoons and two skiunks come eat stale rolls the staff threw out for them.  The windows go to the ground in all the dining rooms so there is always a good view.  One skunk had a very broad white stripe down his back - very little black.

Next day it was on to Jenny Wiley State Park - very beautiful and the very best cabins.  Jenny was captured by the Indians and after a few months and many hardships, she escaped and found her way back to her husband.  Here we saw lots of birds just standing on the cabin deck.  We took a walk and saw lots more.  Uncle Arthur was very pleased...

Next morning, we took leave of o so friendly Kentucky and headed home.  More color in the trees as we headed north - and so back to Lebanon.

What a wonderful trip this sounds like!  Touring all these state parks and enjoying the nature and history they have to offer - even the skunks.  But Grammie was always happiest to be back home in Lebanon, Connecticut!

Kentucky, Oct. 9, 1995, part 2

On to J.J. Audubon State Park.  This is very wooded and a most elegant building where there is a very good museum.  There was a wedding at 2 that afternoon and after our walk to try to find the pileated woodpecker, we watched the bride have pictures taken.  She had 9 attendants...

I walked to the top of the tower in the building 'cause I didn't want to miss anything, but alas, there was nothing to see but an empty room.  So much for about 100 stairs.  The trails were very well laid out in this park - wide and very tall trees.  After supper, Jo and I went to a tent sale and I bought 3 pairs of shorts for $5.00.

The next morning, we went for another walk, but didn't see the pileated woodpecker - darn!  Then we headed for Pennyrile State Park, named for the penny royal plant (mint) that once grew around there.  On the way we saw fields of what looked like low-growing yellow flowers - learned later it is soy beans - beautiful...  

This cabin was down a very steep hill, had to use your walking brakes carrying our luggage down to the cabin.  Then further down the hill, was the lake and we had our own private dock.  Grampa and I sat there for about 3 hours watching a spider weave its web - the fish jumping out of the water - the turtles' heads coming up to catch flies - the winds riling the lake - then the calmness of the lake and the reflections of the sky and clouds and mountains in the quiet lake.  So many changes and we sat there and watched and enjoyed.  And that's where the pileated woodpecker flew overhead.

Gram and Grampa loved watching birds.  They had several birdhouses and birdfeeders in their backyard.  Grampa even constructed a wooden "Flight Control Tower" at the birdfeeder on their back porch.  They loved to sit at their dining room table and watch the birds' antics.

On this trip, they were hoping to see the pileated woodpecker.  Apparently these woodpeckers are quite large, almost the size of crows.  The last paragraph Gram writes here is wonderful.  I can just picture the two of them sitting in lawn chairs down by the lake, gazing at the beauty that surrounded them.  Here, they took a break and stopped searching, and the thing they'd been searching for found them.

A good reminder for all of us to take a breath once in a while and look around.  Maybe the things we are searching for will turn out to be close at hand, as well.

Kentucky, Oct. 9, 1995, part 1

In October 1995, I received a long card from Grammie.  She detailed the events of her trip to Kentucky with Grampa and her brother and sister-in-law, Arthur and Jo King.  This is the first part of that letter.

We started our trip early in the morning (5:30) - rainy, foggy morning on Sept. 26.  Jo and I slept in the back while Grampa Bob drove with Uncle Artie keeping him company.  We went 300 miles before we stopped at a diner for breakfast, in Scranton.  This is a place Grampa and I often stop at on our way South.  By then, of course, everyone was starving.  Then on to West Virginia where we spent our first night in Cacapon State Park.  Lots of deer and all very friendly - looking for handouts from the admiring public.  Signs all over saying "Please don't feed the deer." But it is surprising how many people can't read.

 

Then onto Kentucky - our first impression - not so good.  We went into Ashland where there were so many huge commercial plants - things looked dirty, but when we got out of Ashland, it was a different story.  The valleys between the mountains were lovely.  We stayed at Greenbo State Park - rooms and lodge on a cliff - beautiful view - more deer.  Nice gift shop - bought an owl chime.

The next day, it was Natural Bridge State Park where there is a natural bridge, but you have to walk about a mile to see it, and as Jo and Grampa couldn't make it - we hardy Kings didn't go either.  I was a bit disappointed...  We stayed in a rustic cabin on a cliff.  There were rough stones going up to the cabin and you can imagine Grampa going up those steps.  We were higher than the trees, and there were trees further up the mountain.  Today we went for a walk and saw a red-headed woodpecker, a red-bellied woodpecker, a nuthatch, and several blue birds and some warblers.  All these State Parks are really beautiful and very well kept.  The next morning I wore a pink & grey sweatshirt with pink pants and I made a hit with all the old ladies.  One lady asked Grampa if he was with the party with the "lady in pink" and he said, "The one with the white hair is my wife."  He didn't realize I had on pink [he was colorblind].

Then we went to Frankfort, to see the Vietnam War Memorial - a huge sundial your Dad had said to see.  It was very impressive and in a beautiful setting, the Capital building in the background.  The sundial was done by computers.  The gnomon casts a shadow on the date of the deaths of all the veterans' names on the base.

 

Next we went to Rough River Dam State Park - did not see a rough river, though, it seemed very peaceful.  We went for a walk and got a good view of a red-headed woodpecker - we don't have them here in Connecticut.  The next morning we watched the sun come up - it looked like a huge ball of fire - more like a sunset than a sunrise.

The food has been great - too much - all the people are very pleasant and friendly.  We were given a dish of ice cream for free because I have 67 people on my Christmas list.

Gram and Grampa, at this time, had been to almost every state in the US, except Alaska.  They loved to travel by car and see the countryside, stopping at local diners in small towns off the beaten track.  Both of them enjoyed meeting people, chatting easily together.

Grammie really did have at least 67 people on her Christmas list.  She had 8 children, 29 grandchildren, and at least 35 great-grandchildren by 1995.  When she married Bob Braman, whom I call Grampa, he brought his own 8 children and many grandchildren into the family.   Gram did her best to remember everyone at the holidays, whether with a gift or a card.  She did her shopping on these trips throughout the year - usually at little gift shops and drugstores, where she would find small treasures for those she loved.

A shortcut home, Sept. 10, 1995

Last weekend, Grampa and I were at the farm.  We took a walk thru "Francie's mowing."  The goldenrod and brown-eyed Susans waved to us in the breeze.  There are lots of taller trees now and the road to the pheasants is filling in.  There are no more pheasants.  We went over to see if the man had cleaned it up.  

Grampa said, "Let's take a shortcut home.  There is a path."  Well, into the woods we went, over stone walls, over fallen logs, around barbed wire fences - but nary a path.  But there was a nice big rock, Grampa carried it on his shoulder.  With a rock on his shoulder and a walking stick in his other hand - resting every once in a while - we finally made it home. 

We weighed the rock.  It was 39 lbs and is now sitting on our patio.

Rowen Farm in Cavendish, Vermont, was a very special place for Gram and our family.  It belonged to her sister and brother-in-law, Gertrude and Allan Hoey.  Gram visited the farm many times every year, often bringing some of her kids and grandkids with her.  The farm was tucked away around the bend in a dirt road.  A drive led up to a big, old farmhouse and a few outbuildings (including an outhouse that was put to good use during the warmer months!).  There was a flower garden out back, and several fields spilling over hills and down to dark woods.

The fields were called "mowings" by our family, and one in particular was named for Gram: "Francie's Mowing."  Gram's mother christened it with the name.  It was slightly further from the house, down the road a bit, framed by birch trees and hills in the background.  Blackberry bushes were nestled along one path.  In later years, part of it was leased to a man who raised pheasants there.

Gram & Grampa loved to be outdoors.  This little story always makes me smile, especially now that I have children.  When I take my children for walks in the woods, they love trying to make their own paths and collecting little stones, leaves, acorns, and such.  That same sense of wonder and contentment in being outside was never lost for my grandparents.

Thankfully, though, I don't think my kids could take home a 39 pound rock!

Letters in the Fall

Ah, Fall.  The coolness of the air, the crunch of the leaves, the softness of the light, the blustering of the wind...

Fall is the time of year that reminds me most of my grandmother.  Today, October 20, is her birthday; she would have been 97 this year.  She loved this season, as the clouds blow in to form shadows over the bright foliage, and the cooler temperatures require extra bundling up.  "Good snuggling weather," she would say.

Fall is also the time her cards would start coming.  She wrote letters to many friends and relatives throughout her life.  For me, she began writing me nearly every week when I went away to college in 1995.  Her letters were a welcome sight in my post office box - a message from home.

She wrote of everyday things.  There is nothing too profound or eventful in her letters – no deep wisdom for the ages.  Instead, she wrote about the simple beauty of nature that she saw from her porch window, the small amusements she found from my Grampa’s and others’ actions, the memories of years gone by.  Her voice comes through in her writing – it is occasionally poetic and often conversational.

Reading her letters now, I feel a sense of peace - not just as a granddaughter remembering her grandmother.  Peace also comes from the hidden world her letters reveal: a world full of little everyday occurrences that, if we are able to take notice of them, can take some stress out of our busy lives and make us sit up and smile.

And so, here follow some of my letters from Gram.  Take a peek; take a breath; take a look - and smile.

Frances Miriam Agnes King Holmes Sawyer Braman

October 20, 1917 - September 13, 2012