Surprise: Woke up this morning to find several inches of snow on the ground and on top of my car, and still snowing quite heavily. Weather people did say a front was coming through and snow could be mixed in. Looks to me like it wasn’t mixed in, but on top of… Supposed to be up around 40 this afternoon, and then maybe more rain, so the snow wouldn’t last long. Really!
About mid-morning, I looked out and the snow had almost stopped, so I thought it was winding down. A few minutes later, it had wound up again, with lots of big, heavy snow flakes. Old Mother Goose was really shaking out her feather beds. After a couple of hours, the snow lightened some, but it has continued to fall all day, and is still going strong.
We’ve had a lot of storms this winter, and most of the time we were on the light end of the accumulation where I live. This morning, they said the forecast had changed and this area was to get more than other places. I guess it was our turn.
One granddaughter, who was raised in Missouri, went to Florida to live, when her family moved there while she was in college. She always missed the change in seasons, and longed to see snow again. Her own children had never been exposed to snow and winter weather. Late last summer they moved back to Missouri, and I’d say they are now well acquainted with snow and ‘snow days.’ Maybe a little more than they would have liked.
I, too, like the change of seasons, but it has been a very long time since I thought snow was a great thing to have. Driving to and from work in snow and ice; the slush, the mess, the concern for people on the roads has long since lowered its appeal for me. I was fortunate never to have had a weather related accident, but one day on my way home from work, I slid on ice six ways from Sunday. [How long since you’ve heard that expression, if ever?] And never touched a thing. Talk about guardian angels!
My children, like many others, thought it wasn’t Christmas without snow. As far as I’m concerned, some of the best Christmas weather we had was when our kids played badminton in the yard with their Dad on Christmas Day. And later, another good Christmas weather day occurred, when the grandchildren were able to eat Christmas dinner at a small table out on the porch. That kind of weather is very much to my liking.
It is still snowing here, but it is now somewhat lighter. At any rate, all you drivers have a safe trip home this evening, and as someone on a television show used to say [I think it was Hill Street Blues], “Be careful out there!”
Monday, March 14, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Grandpa Bowen: A Childhood Memory
William Cornelius Maguire Bowen, "Grandpa" Bowen, as most elderly people did at that time, lived with one of their children. He alternately lived with my family, or his daughter, Aunt Edith Cooper. He is one of my best childhood memories.
When I was born, he was 71 years old. His hair had been black, but by that time his hair was gray, and, he had a long, white beard. His eyes were a beautiful blue. I can still see those twinkling blue eyes in my mind. My brother, Tom, had those same twinkling blue eyes, with mischief added to the twinkle, as a boy.
Of Grandpa's four brothers, three were tall. Two were lean and lanky; the other also tall, but had a bit more muscular build. One other brother died when he was about 30 years old, and I never knew him, or had a description of him. Grandpa William M . C. Bowen was slim, but he was not tall like his brothers. I suspect he minded, as siblings will, that he, the eldest son, had to look up (in height) to his younger brothers.
He was injured by a falling tree while cutting timber when he was in his 50s and his leg was broken. Apparently it was not set properly, and he walked on crutches for the remainder of his life. This curtailed much of the physical work he had previously done, but he made himself useful around the place doing what he could do.
My grandmother, Sarah Jane Deskin Bowen, died two days before I was born. Grandpa and Dad were away at her funeral, and when they arrived home, they found a new baby girl. I suppose this new child helped fill a small hole in the empty space left in my grandfather's life, by my grandmother's passing. He was a very special part of my life as a child. He died much too soon for me, when I was only seven years old, and I missed him sorely. He was my special childhood friend.
My mother told me that when I was a baby, she would pile pillows in a rocking chiar, lay me on the pillows and Grandpa would watch me while she did her housework. If I woke and got fussy, Grandpa would put his foot on the rocker and gently rock the chair until I quieted, or Mother could come to do what was needed, if I was insistent.
Mother said she thought "Pa" Bowen was cranky. And one of my brother's, a little older than I, expressed the same opinion. I don't remember him being particularly crabby with me, except that once he told me to go get him a 'couple of sticks of wood." Being a literal minded child, that is exactly what I did. If that was what Grandpa wanted, that was what he got. I brought in two sticks of wood.
He fussed at me because I didn't bring more wood. And being this literal minded child, I didn't understand why he was displeased, when I did exactly what he told me to do. In my defense, I might add that I was a 'small' child, and unless the sticks were also pretty small, I probably couldn't have carried much more than that anyway.
I do remember that I pestered Grandpa, probably too frequently, to "Please let me look in Grandma's trunk." For some reason, I was fascinated by what was in this trunk and I delighted in going through it. However, I can only remember one item specifically, that it contained. That was the little clay pipes that it was said Grandma smoked, as did older women of some cultures. Grandpa promised me the pipes would be mine when he was gone; but he was not living with us when he died, and noone would have paid any attention to a child my age anyway. Later, I asked my cousins if they remembered anything about the trunk, and what had happened to the pipes, but neither had any memory of them. I suspect that all, or most of what was in the trunk was discarded as having no value.
As often as I asked Grandpa to see what was in the trunk, he had plent of opportunities to be cranky with me if he wanted to, but if he was, I have never recalled it. Cranky or not, I wouldn't have traded him for anything. When he left us, there was an empty space in my life too, and there was noone else to fill it for a very long time.
When I was born, he was 71 years old. His hair had been black, but by that time his hair was gray, and, he had a long, white beard. His eyes were a beautiful blue. I can still see those twinkling blue eyes in my mind. My brother, Tom, had those same twinkling blue eyes, with mischief added to the twinkle, as a boy.
Of Grandpa's four brothers, three were tall. Two were lean and lanky; the other also tall, but had a bit more muscular build. One other brother died when he was about 30 years old, and I never knew him, or had a description of him. Grandpa William M . C. Bowen was slim, but he was not tall like his brothers. I suspect he minded, as siblings will, that he, the eldest son, had to look up (in height) to his younger brothers.
He was injured by a falling tree while cutting timber when he was in his 50s and his leg was broken. Apparently it was not set properly, and he walked on crutches for the remainder of his life. This curtailed much of the physical work he had previously done, but he made himself useful around the place doing what he could do.
My grandmother, Sarah Jane Deskin Bowen, died two days before I was born. Grandpa and Dad were away at her funeral, and when they arrived home, they found a new baby girl. I suppose this new child helped fill a small hole in the empty space left in my grandfather's life, by my grandmother's passing. He was a very special part of my life as a child. He died much too soon for me, when I was only seven years old, and I missed him sorely. He was my special childhood friend.
My mother told me that when I was a baby, she would pile pillows in a rocking chiar, lay me on the pillows and Grandpa would watch me while she did her housework. If I woke and got fussy, Grandpa would put his foot on the rocker and gently rock the chair until I quieted, or Mother could come to do what was needed, if I was insistent.
Mother said she thought "Pa" Bowen was cranky. And one of my brother's, a little older than I, expressed the same opinion. I don't remember him being particularly crabby with me, except that once he told me to go get him a 'couple of sticks of wood." Being a literal minded child, that is exactly what I did. If that was what Grandpa wanted, that was what he got. I brought in two sticks of wood.
He fussed at me because I didn't bring more wood. And being this literal minded child, I didn't understand why he was displeased, when I did exactly what he told me to do. In my defense, I might add that I was a 'small' child, and unless the sticks were also pretty small, I probably couldn't have carried much more than that anyway.
I do remember that I pestered Grandpa, probably too frequently, to "Please let me look in Grandma's trunk." For some reason, I was fascinated by what was in this trunk and I delighted in going through it. However, I can only remember one item specifically, that it contained. That was the little clay pipes that it was said Grandma smoked, as did older women of some cultures. Grandpa promised me the pipes would be mine when he was gone; but he was not living with us when he died, and noone would have paid any attention to a child my age anyway. Later, I asked my cousins if they remembered anything about the trunk, and what had happened to the pipes, but neither had any memory of them. I suspect that all, or most of what was in the trunk was discarded as having no value.
As often as I asked Grandpa to see what was in the trunk, he had plent of opportunities to be cranky with me if he wanted to, but if he was, I have never recalled it. Cranky or not, I wouldn't have traded him for anything. When he left us, there was an empty space in my life too, and there was noone else to fill it for a very long time.
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