the center of my galaxy.....God's Country

Home. My home. My favorite place to be. 295 s. Main, Glendale, Utah. We moved there when I was four, almost 5. It was the grandest adventure to explore all the rooms, all the left behind furniture from the previous owners, to slide down the stairs, paintworn and all, on the seat of my corduroy overalls. It was HUGE. There were numbers on the bedroom doors.....what's that all about? There was a Warm Morning Stove in the 'work room' downstairs and an Old Majestic coal and wood stove in the kitchen. And, the coolest, there was actually indoor plumbing!!!! We were uptown folks. ( No more parading down to the outhouse in the night, all four sisters in line.) We had a coal shed, a granary, a sort of garage that became home to daddy's leather, his saddles, his bridles, bits, saddle blankets, tarps, an old push lawnmower, the sheep shears we used to clip the lawn edges with, and a multitude of other necessities. We had a barn out back that housed the sweetest smelling hay, the not to aromatic manure from the cow and the horses, and we could actually make little 'homes' in the bales of hay at the top-unless of course daddy caught us. There was a pig pen out back but all I recall on that was the joy on momma's face when daddy was dozing it over the D7 Cat. I think I heard the sound of taps somewhere in the distance.
******I love to digress. I had the best of families, heritage, traditions that anyone should ever want. I came home from school to the smell of either bread hot out of the oven, or cookies or pies and my momma folding the laundry she had just brought in from the clothes line. They smelled like heaven. And freshly laundered sheets...oooh. Couldn't wait to crawl in between. Momma always had an apron on while she flitted around doing her chores and baking. She never went outside without a strawhat, long sleeved cotton shirt and garden gloves so as to keep her skin from getting old too fast. (I failed to acquire that trait and desire--sun and more sun for me.) We had big gardens which meant big harvests, big bottling and canning season. We had cattle which meant meat in the freezer and a cow to milk-always fresh milk and cream. We entertained ourselves with hiking, bicycle riding, playing in the creek, making huts, making paper dolls from old catalogs, going to gramma Adairs or Brinkerhoffs, going to the ranch up on the Paunsagaunt....nuff said. We were taught to work. We were taught responsibilities and consequenses, momma and daddy took us all to church and taught us and instilled in us this wonderful foundation and anchor to help us sail thru the inevitable trials we were sure to face one day. I cherish my growing up in the country with a cowboy daddy and a stay at home June Cleaver type momma. I love my three sisters and my baby brother more than I can ever express. I can never express enough gratitude for the heritage and legacy these and those before who came across with the pioneers to settle the desert and make it bloom. And, boy, we all have. Glendale. The Brinkerhoffs. The Adairs. The United Order. MY family. MY roots. Thank God for all this.

In the beginning.......

Who says you can't teach an ole' dog new tricks?? It may be true because I can't even teach a new dog new tricks. Any tricks. And I am not too sure that I can "blog" anything anyone in their right mind would bother looking up. No pearls of wisdom. No magical wit. No insider scoops on anyone or anything. But maybe I can embarass my daughters and all my grandchildren with tales of 'remember whens....' And they say if you write your own history (so to speak) it will be exactly the way YOU want it remembered. Cool. Shoulda done this long ago. Wonder if you can erase any history you want deleted and it would magically be gone-guess then there would be no color in a story at all.