Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Baking with Grandma

Springtime is always a treat out here in our country. There are brandings and dockings every weekend  and even some weekdays but usually those ones are held in the evening so that more people can make it out to help. Recently I got to spend the day at my Grandparent's helping my grandma get all of their food ready for the next day when they would brand.
Baking with grandma is something I've grown very fond of over the years. She usually hustles around the kitchen, running from the pantry back to the baking area grabbing ingredients as I toss things together. While we bake Grandma tells me about the concerns on her mind, "I'm not so sure Grandpa will make it through all of the work tomorrow without getting too tired and needing to come in to get his oxygen tank. I sure hope that horse of his acts well. Then again he might just ride the four wheeler. You know those bogs sure are a concern..." and on she goes. At some point she's sure to ask me about things in my life and I get to tell her how proud I am of my husband and all of the work he's been getting with his new business. I try to hide how much fun I'm having because, of course, we're supposed to be working. Even when I'm assembling the jello salad grandma pipes up to tell me how she likes it done and, even though I've made that salad with and for grandma as long as I can remember, I nod my head just like she's telling me for the first time. Grandma always spots something that strikes up a story from the past like my jeep sitting out in the driveway. "You know I used to drive my dad's jeep to school. That's when I was teaching, well it was just a one room schoolhouse. My youngest brother was in the eighth grade so he would ride with me."
It used to frustrate me when I'd go to help grandma. She would have a list of things she'd want to get done and as soon as that was completed she'd add some more chores. Of course this day could be no different. When all of the pies were in the oven, the beans were on the stove, the buns baked and the salads were in the fridge chilling, grandma naturally suggested that we probably should go clean the garage. Now I wasn't only tied into a lacy apron my mother had sewn for my grandma years before, I was wearing some big chore boots too that had gaudy wild flowers all over them in bright colors. Grandma said she got the boots on the sale rack, and well that's where I shop too so I guess I couldn't be too harsh with my judgement.
When the garage was cleaned we went into the kitchen again and each had a cup of coffee. I had to chuckle as we leaned back in our chairs because we both sighed, in unison, in the same tone. I suppose no matter the generations that separate us, Grandma and I are more similar than I ever openly admit. The more I think about it though, I'm glad I'm like Grandma. Sure my idiosyncrasies like adding to the chore list, shopping from the sale section and always offering input, can be a little silly. But those stories Grandma shares remind me of the heritage I have that so few others are able to treasure. The long legacy of hard working people who are tied to their convictions, bull headed enough to never quit and kind hearted so that their hand is ever extended to help someone in need. I'll take those idiosyncrasies everyday.  That day will go down in my memory book, a day of stories, bonding, worry sharing and fun.
Oh, and the food got baked too! 

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