30 August 2011

Over the River and Through the Woods



The memories which peaceful country scenes call up, are not of this world, nor of its thoughts and hopes. Their gentle influence may teach us how to weave fresh garlands for the graves of those we loved: may purify our thoughts, and bear down before it old enmity and hatred; but beneath all this, there lingers, in the least reflective mind, a vague and half-formed consciousness of having held such feelings long before, in some remote and distant time, which calls up solemn thoughts of distant times to come, and bends down pride and worldliness beneath it. ~Charles Dickens



Is it any wonder this place is called Spring Garden?  That is the name of my childhood...of grandma's house. 


the yard
apple orchard
site of the old grape vines and a cherry tree
This tree reminds me of my favorite book, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. Scout's reflective thoughts near the end of the story always tugs at me a bit... "We came to the street light on the corner, and I wondered how many times Dill had stood there hugging the fat pole, watching, waiting, hoping. I wondered how many times Jem and I had made this journey, but I entered the Radley front gate for the second time in my life. Boo and I walked up the steps to the porch. His fingers found the front doorknob. He gently released my hand, opened the door, went inside, and shut the door behind him. I never saw him again. Neighbors bring food with death and flowers with sickness and little things in between. Boo was our neighbor. He gave us two soap dolls, a broken watch and chain, a pair of good-luck pennies, and our lives. But neighbors give in return. We never put back into the tree what we took out of it: we had given him nothing, and it made me sad."
We should all have one person who knows how to bless us despite the evidence, Grandmother was that person to me. ~Phyllis Theroux 
 
the old Spring Garden Baptist Church, abandoned for a newer structure, still stands on grandma's property

This little one-room schoolhouse, still in use as a community building, is just a skip down the gravel road from grandma's house.  I can see it from her porch.  I took this photo on the Fourth of July and love it.  My mother attended first grade here.  As a first grade teacher myself, this place is rather sweet.

xo, S.

No comments:

Post a Comment