Easters, many and varied

 With Easter coming up this weekend and the weatherman forecasting snow for our region I realize that I have had lots of snowy Easters, but it didn't take away from it being Easter.  It doesn't take away from the Holy Week.  In the long run, my Palm Sunday, the Holy Week, and all, it is up to me.  It is all up to me to Easter now, without my family, in whatever way works.

 There was always some family fun and there was always some church. In my younger days it meant something new in clothing usually a dress but maybe a spring coat and it might have a hat to go with it, maybe a pair of sandals. The dying of boiled eggs  and the hunting of them, generally throughout the house with it being too wet for an outdoors hunt.  It also meant Easter candy, but not the variety now offered.  This was more jelly beans, gum drops,  those sugary egg shapes that were about the size of a medium egg in lots of colors and at least one chocolate item, which might be gooey on the inside, or peanut butter or marshmallow.  Or it might be in the shape of a rabbit, the posed rabbit that was hollow, but had solid chocolate ears.  

    Easter was also a Sunrise Service at the Methodist Church, and Dad even came with the rest of us on that day.  No Daylight Saving Time, and I always felt it must be so very early, the sun just coming up over the hills to the east.  Now I realize it really wasn't that early.  But it felt special, even if we were trudging through the snow to get to the church.  The hushed feel, the reverence of that day  carried over, the rays of sunlight  lighting up the colored glass window scene on the eastern side of the chapel.  It was different from the weekly church-goings. Easter!

I knew there would be hot-cross buns at home after the meeting.  That was a part of my maternal grandmother's background being passed down.  I wanted my own children to experience hot-cross buns, the making of them, the story, the currants, the smell of them baking.  Not important really, just my feelings of heritage.

I loved the wearing of a hat, and still do, even though my hats are all stored away.  It really isn't a Easter thing, but that is when I was first introduced to knowing  that for me, a nice hat meant a 'step up.' A behaving as a lady. 

I loved Easter as the mother of my own family, trying to instill the importance of remembering Jesus Christ, yet still making the weekend one of welcoming the hoped for spring.  For years I endeavored to have hot-cross buns for my children,  until I had so many things to do--making Easter dresses for 5 girls and surely something for our son, dinner, eggs, etc, that something had to give.  And it was the buns that went after about twenty years.  Having changed locations I endeavored to incorporate the culture of my new surroundings, and my husband's families Easter activities.  

Easter is still a favorite time, a holiday of sorts. I still love to dye eggs, it has been a long time since I thought of a new Easter outfit for myself.  My priorities have changed and hopefully matured, along with my circumstance. The Inspiration of the week, the day,  has become more and more, of my own making, along with the interactions with others feeling the same.  Now I have lots of reading, learning more each year of the Real Reason.  We celebrate Christmas, the birth of Jesus, because of Easter, the Atonement and Resurrection.  As it should be.

Wash Days, now and then

 Lately as I load my washer or my dryer I reflect on the ease with which I can perform this task.  After sorting I throw a batch into the washer, add some detergent and any additional stuff that the load might warrant. Shut it, twist and poke a few dials or lights---and go about my business, wherever that might take me.  In an hour, give or take, the machine gives a few beeps to alert me that it has completed all the cycles and awaits my leisure to remove the contents, with the drying as the next step. It may be hours before I respond and move on. 

What a wonder this is!!   I don't have to go very far back in my ancestry to see huge changes.  Actually, I don't even need to go back at all, because I started my married life in a farm house that had a twin tub washer, wringers attached.  But even those were a far cry from the days of my grandmothers' days for laundry.   Wash tubs, bluing, heating water for the tubs, scrub boards, making their own soap (another long process in itself),  wringing clothes by hand,  hanging it all on the clothes lines with clothes pins, and likely I have skipped a few things that were needed because I have no literal experience. 

The choices of detergent, softener, additives are endless now.  Each product promising wonderful results. A person doesn't even have to estimate the amount of detergent, or whatever,  needed, it can all come in a  nice little cake that does more than one thing to give lovely laundry.

A few things have remained the same.  The laundry does not sort itself, still a manual job.  The rules still apply that if one tries to combine white clothes with colored clothes, they will not remain white.  And linty things don't mix well with others.  There still has to be some effort put forth in the drying.  It can be put in the dryer and that only requires a few more dials to choose to receive the desired dryness for the specific type of load.  One can still hang clothes on a line outdoors and there is a fresh scent to those cleaned items that is not duplicated in the dryer. 

Then there is the "putting away" that stays a manual job.  Folding clothes, placing in drawers, putting clothes on hangers and then in closets.  Ironing was a huge item on the task lists for the homemaker of the past. Just imagining the need to iron those floor length, detailed dresses with bounces and flounces on the 1800's, 1900's-- no, don't imagine, and they did it without the aid of electricity!  No wonder there was a need for the profession of "laundress" to have wonderful appearing garments.   

Fabrics have changed and contributed greatly to the ease in all three steps--washing, drying and the finishing up.  Rarely is there a need for ironing now.  It would be a whole new topic for this blog.  I recall melting a few items in my teenage years, best not recalled.

Facing the Unknown Reflections

 I learned recently that I have 15 ancestors buried in the Bridge Street Cemetery in Massachusetts. All my life I have known that my ancestral roots went back to the Puritans of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, but was surprised by this many.  My 7th Great Grandfather, my 8th Great Grandmother,  Great, (how many?)  grand aunts and great grand uncles. The earliest birth date for any of these 15 is 1638. Other cemeteries were listed on the site that I have not yet pursued.  One listed was Bloody Brook Mass Grave---just the name tells a story with few detail, and the results.

There are some in the Windsor, Connecticut Colony and Hartford.  I haven't looked at this cemetery site very closely. It has just came up on Family Search,  Maps indicates early relatives all across the nation, some even in the south.  

I can't help but reflect on how these individuals made the decision to sail into what was totally the unknown, and that one thing they would know was that life would be hard, that there were many dangers in that land across the ocean. Their ships were such small sailing vessels. It was like placing a tea cup at the place of embarking and expecting the cup to arrive in a harbor far to the west, with not even a chip on its surface. I have seen the one of those ships on display at Plymouth in Massachusetts.  What courage they had to have, what dedication to their cause!  I am sure there are more ancestors during this same time period who died on the voyage across the Atlantic and their graves were the watery deep.  

Since I have two family lines that go back into the 1600's, I realize that those graves that are located in the southern part of our nation might well be my Quakers rather than the Puritans.  The Quakers early years were in the Carolinas and Virginia, often islands off shore.  

There is a date in July that is celebrated as Pioneer day, referring to those who crossed the country coming to the west.  I have always felt a tad disconnected on that day, but thinking of these ancestors of the 1600's, one can't get more sense of pioneering than the legacy they left for many of us descendants still living in the land they sought and somehow survived.  

Elastic Winter

 Our winter seems to be stretching way out of bounds.  But maybe seasons don't have set boundaries? Is it just our imagination and terms that we have been given to title the cycles that roll through our lives approximately every 12 months.   Is it only winter than can seem long?  I can't think of any complaints about a long fall, or a long spring.  The heat of summer does bring yearnings for some cooler days, but that only means fall, not winter.  Personally, I have always liked living with four seasons, even in this winter of my own life. I am not wanting to move to warmer climates when the cold days arrive. 

This span of cold, snow, wind and wet has been a rare one.  I am old enough to recall the famous "winter of '49" and experienced it as a kid in Wyoming, so my perspective of the rigors of those months have a totally different slant than these of when I am aged and dealing with those added challenges.  The winter of '83 was spent in Idaho, with a little different circumstances--young parenthood, six children, farm wife.  Challenging, intense, but manageable with the right equipment, and an occasional thaw. 

Now this one, winter of 2022-23, so far about 6 months in length,  much snow, heavy wet snow, not quite daily, but several days each week.  And the need for the moisture brought  being acknowledged and appreciated. There have been some drought years. We have had help from family and neighbors in dealing with some of those things like continual shoveling of walks, driveways, of getting our garbage cans to the pickup spot and retrieving them, etc.  When it is such an unending struggle to manage the snow, wondering where else to put it as the scraped piles get higher and higher, the drifts deeper and deeper it becomes hard to maintain the positive attitude.  

It is beautiful, the sparkling waves of white.  Crystal ice hangings, but not the slippery and sliding surface underfoot, threatening falls and possible broken bones and bruises. The nights of the full moon on snowy slopes, glowing in that blue light, often with a coyote choir accompanying the mood.  The feeling of joy when one wakens to discover the snowfall, untouched yet by a footprint or tire mark.  There is that wonderful feeling of peace in the silence after a storm has moved on, up and over the nearby mountaintops, leaving them gleaming when the eventual sun breaks through.  I am ever amazed at all of the beauty that has been provided for us as residents of Mother Earth, no matter the season, or even the time of day.

Now it is mid April,  and some days are warming, and the earth is being nourished with the melting water.  Still, we are expecting more snow.  Stretching, stretching.  Just a glimpse of green blade of grass or even weeds boosts the hope of a growing season to come, part of those seasonal cycles. Winter is not forever. 

Pioneer Day, 2022

  This day, July 24th,  is a special, commemorated day for members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to which I belong.  It has been celebrated since 1847, the year, date that those first pioneers entered the Salt Lake Valley after hard months of travel across the western part of the United States.  Persecution drove those families out of their homes in Nauvoo, IL after the martyrdom of their prophet, Joseph Smith, Jr. 

I don't have ancestral connections with those early settlers of Utah.  In fact, it was more than 100 years later that I even became aware of anything connected with them.  I do honor and respect, admire what they did and continue to be amazed at their strength and faith that carried them through the trials they experienced.  Diseases, malaria, cholera, lack of funds to move one more part of the distance, the early snows of Wyoming, crossing rivers,  giving birth, death, etc.  And once to the valley they were seeking, it was a wilderness : sagebrush, mesquite, and the shores of the Great Salt Lake.  It all took courage, grit, and faith.  

But I do feel a closeness to my own  ancestors, pioneers in their own right.  From the Puritan and Quaker families of the 1600's, to their descendants who made their way westward through passing decades, settling along the way, living lives that were not easy, but pushing on, forging ahead.  I have pictures of some of them.  Others arrived in the US around the turn of the 20th century from Sweden and England, looking to improve their lives.  More courage and grit. 

I am grateful for these ancestors, and that they felt the pull of coming to this new land, and later to this country.  Leaving behind homes, family, comfort for the unknown.  Some came alone, or struck out on their own once established within a community to find  their way again, among strangers, in lonely places.   It is the way of life, of progress, development, individually and with others. 

Life dominoes

 One thing after another lately.  Life with its computer connections  contributed its share of frustrations.  Technology in this day and age certainly qualifies  for that descriptive phrase, "Can't live with it, can't live without it!"

 Not complaining about the actual computer, but the internet  gave up the ghost for several days running.  Finally solved the problem, and it was individualized, my neighbor's were fine, my tower was fine, etc.  But of course I didn't have the necessary numbers to call the provider, because those numbers were on an internet site.  At least that is something I can fix for future needs.  No doubt but that there will be a need down the road. 

My refrigerator/freezer greeted me one morning with warm milk and thawing frozen foods.  On the day of my deadlines for my newspaper job, always the way things time somehow!  But with the help of a friend, things got unloaded.   There was room in  another freezer for a temporary transfer. A repairman showed up and was able to locate the problem.  It was fixable, I wasn't going to have to shell out dollars for a new fridge.   I was a little late, but the newspaper stuff made it in on the needed day.

A few days later the internet was back at it.  It was on, no, it was off.  Then it was on, etc. Refresh, gone refresh,  but---no.  Finally a message from the provider managed to come through in an 'on ' moment to say they were having problems.  But they were glad I was a 'loyal customer', can't say that helped any.  This  disruption in the normal routine of  my life took several days before it solidified  sufficiently to give any confidence that  there really was life 'out there'  wherever things go in computerland, and moving forward was not going to compromised. 

So, instead of feeling totally negative about  things I searched for the good lessons.  One, remembering life without technology was quite enjoyable.  Two, waiting, patience, is really a quality that all of us need to learn. 3. appreciate the skills of others, seen and unseen, who can come to our aid.    Life is good, with or without our modern challenges, it has been, and is, and will be.  Gratitude helps to heal frustrations. 

Smiles and Sharing

 This past week turned upside down for me on Monday.  Plans went to the winds while I readjusted to the unplanned that came into my life.

On a quick trip to the grocery store, only picking up a few items,  I had my mind on what needed to be done during the rest of the hours that day.  You know, the daily stuff--fold laundry, and put it away,  figure out food for the evening meal and fix it, etc.   Any more phone calls I still hadn't made?  Any personal visits I ought to make if time and energy allowed?    I got my milk--it was our weekly discount milk day--a loaf of bread, a plant to give my sister-in-law for her birthday, and a couple of bags of noodles.  The shelves had been empty of noodles the week before when I had them on my list.  

I was exiting the store, pushing my cart out into the parking lot, grateful for the cart to lean upon.   An elderly gentlemen was walking toward me on his way into the store.  I didn't know him, but I smiled as our paths intersected and simply said, "Hello."    Still keeping pace he replied with, "Thank you for your smile."

Those few words altered my day.  As I put the few items in my car, pushed my cart into the rack, I kept thinking how important a smile is.  It spreads good things, feelings of interest, caring.  I don't think he was evaluating if I had perfect orthodontic teeth, or that he saw the wrinkles on my face.  Smiles are so simple, and also so needed.  There are many things in the world around us, all of us,  in our everyday lives that cause us to feel down, overwhelmed, negative about life in general.  A smile lifts, one that is connected to the eyes a well as the lips, and not a word has to be spoken.  

My life is full of smiling moments and this one encounter made me conscious of the need to share them in as many opportunities as come my way.