Sunday presented us with two things this week, Summer Solstice and Father’s Day.  With summer in Ohio comes hazy humid days, sprinklers, the sounds of children laughing, fresh green beans, the buzz of lawn mowers and bees.  The smell of steak drifts through the air.  The garden is slowly filling up- I wonder at times if I would appreciate walking out my back door to get a delicious red tomato off the vine and slicing it up for a sandwich, if I could do it year round.  

The other day I found myself sitting with a bowl of green beans-snapping the ends off of each –while watching my grandson play in the sprinkler.  My mind drifted back to the days of summer when my brother and I would run through the sprinkler on hot days like these, oh the memories.

 Last winter was particularly long and very cold –such a drastic difference from the hot steamy spring we have had.  With all the heat and rain everything is green and lush. The flowers are full with blooms.  Today is one of those rare- almost perfect-summer days, breezy, hot, barely a cloud in the sky, and very little humidity.  As I drive down Main St.  The flags are all blowing gently.   I am working today, so I am not enjoying it as much as I could be, but I will take this beautiful weather.

So here’s to all the wonderful warm, long days ahead of us.

A few weeks ago I headed out for some much needed R & R down in a “Holler” in southeast Ohio.  It was beautiful property and a lot of fun.  The weather was perfect.  No cell phones, no electric just fresh air and lots of images.

We rode through the woods for awhile till we arrived at the old farmhouse.  I could see the remains of a roof over the brush.  As I got off the 4 wheeler and started walking forward- through the dense Spring brush- I could see more of what remained of someone’s long forgotten life.  I hardly noticed the briars that snagged at my jeans and hair as I started snapping pictures.  My heart started beating faster as we approached the door, framed with chips of green paint, welcoming us in.  I really didn’t notice anyone else around me for a few minutes while I took it all in-the smell of new growth and decay all in the same breath.  This was someone’s home, their life.

With the help of friends I climbed up the stairs to the next level-this was a bit challenging because after the fifth step they collapsed.  After some pulling and pushing eventually I got up to the second level.  What remained was a bedroom and part of a small closet, what remained of the bedframe hung from the second floor.  The second floor and the first floor were slowly deconstructing into a pile of weathered boards. Someone slept in that bed for years-they would get up in the morning, put their clothes and shoes on and start their day.  There was a mattress and linens on that bed at one time.  Probably a made quilt made with the hands of a woman who worked very hard every day.  I imagined all of this as I looked at the moss and vines growing in and out of the structure-embracing it and pulling it back to where it had once come from.  As I went back down stairs-again no small task.  I imagined a kitchen and coffee on a wood burning stove.  The stove serving the dual purpose of course of warming the home in the cold winter months and the chilly spring and fall mornings.  I imagined a quiet man and woman who may have lived in this home and were too busy with the chores of the farm to have silly conversations.  On the wall were layers of wallpaper peeling one off of the other, a floral print-which gave me the idea that a woman lived and probably died here at one time.  

As we exited the house and came around the corner there was a pile of debris-broken old mason jars, medicine bottles, dishes and pans.  These items were just discarded there, as if tossed out with the dirty dishwater.  There were also stone blocks-a small structure that was probably a fruit cellar or a summer kitchen. 

As I started making my way back through the briars and brush I was thinking of all the time that had passed since this was someone’s home.  It was time to get back to reality and out of the past and history of these hills, hopefully I will get to dig through it again another day.