WHEN I AM OLD

When I am Old

I shall wear Turquoise and soft gray sweatshirts... and a bandana over my
silver hair...and I shall spend my Social Security Checks on Sweet
Wine and My Dogs...and sit in my house on my well-worn chair, and listen
to my dog's breathing.


I will sneak out in the middle of a warm Summer night and take my dogs for
a run, if my old bones will allow... and when people come to call, I will
smile and nod as I show them my dogs...and talk of them and
about them...

The Ones so Beloved of the Past and the Ones so Beloved of Today....

I still will work hard cleaning after them and mopping and feeding them
and whispering their names in a soft, loving way.

I will wear the gleaming sweat on my throat, like a jewel,
and I will be an embarrassment to all...and my family... who have
not yet found the peace in being free to have dogs as your Best
Friends....

These friends who always wait, at any hour, for your footfall...and
eagerly jump to their feet out of a sound sleep, to greet you as if you are a God.

With warm eyes full of adoring love and hope that you will stay and hug
their big, strong necks...and kiss their dear sweet heads...and whisper to
them of your love and the beautiful pleasure of their very special
company....



I look in the Mirror...and see I am getting old.... this is the kind of
woman I am...and have always been. Loving dogs is easy, they are part of me, accept me for who I am, my dogs appreciate my presence in their lives.... when I am old this will be important to me... you will understand when you are old.... & if you have dogs to love too.

Author Unknown

TONGUE IN CHEEK

Dakota belongs to a catch and release program. I discovered this yesterday. My husband took him out and while he was sniffing around the yard, my husband went to the garden to pick some tomatoes. When he turned around, there sat Dakota, proudly holding a gopher in his mouth. My husband, not being a dog expert on anything, of course, yelled for me. In the meantime Dakota thought it would be nice to bring the creature to show mom.

I learned years ago when my darling Springer used to pride herself in catching rabbits, that she was not about to drop her catch of the day when asked to. Dakota was not about to part with his new found friend. I went for a treat, hoping that might entice him to respond to my continued commands. Nope, that didn't work. He was not happy that I was not happy. Somehow my husband managed to get it out of his mouth and took it to the side yard where he dropped it and planned on getting rid of it later. Much to his surprise, the gopher ran off into the sunset.

Nature obviously trains little creatures to play "dead" when caught by a larger animal. Goldens, unlike my Springer, have a soft mouth and Dakota being Dakota wouldn't hurt anything. Last summer we went through a family of shrews under our new tree. They were not so lucky.

I was sure Goldie Gopher would not return. WRONG! This morning's routine was the same as always. I let Dakota out when we came downstairs and set about making coffee and getting Dakota's bowl for his breakfast. I was surprised that he hadn't come back into the house. I usually leave the door open for him. That part of the routine will have to change. I went to the back door and saw the "Golden Hunter" proudly sitting out in the yard with the obviously stupid gopher in his mouth. I quickly closed the screen door behind me and went out on the deck as Dakota came loping up to me with his newly acquired friend. Luckily I had put a treat by the back door and grabbed it on my way out. However, no amount of praise, coaxing, or pressure would make him drop the gopher. I left him sitting on the deck and dashed into the house, making sure to close the screen behind me, and called for my husband. I have never had a problem with snakes, spiders, and cockroaches. I even got used to geckos in the Pacific but gophers are not on my list.

When I was growing up and we'd spend the summer at our cabin that was inundated with gophers, my father routinely would push a hose down one hole, with my cousin standing at the other end. Gophers have two holes to their homes with a pile of dirt at each hole. My cousin would hold a bat high over his head and when the drenched gopher would appear - well, you know the rest of the story.

By the time my husband got downstairs Dakota was wandering around the yard continuing his morning sniffing. He must have dropped the gopher as we could not find him. So, I have a Golden Retriever with a soft mouth that hunts small game creatures. It wouldn't have been my first choice. However, neither my husband or I are hunters, so we will accept small critters as the game of choice for Dakota. In thinking about it, gophers are better than bunny rabbits even though we have enough of them around the yard and garden this year to start farm. Dakota doesn't seem to mind them and lazily chases them off if he's so inclined.

As I sat with him on the deck before dinner I wondered if he was born in Dakota and if he ever went hunting for those Prairie Dogs. I guess he's just tired of fetching his toys and wants to diversify. What a boy.

THE APRON

I don't think our kids know what an apron is.

The principal use of Grandma's apron was to protect the dress underneath, but along with that, it served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven.

It was wonderful for drying children's tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears.

From the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven. When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids. And when the weather was cold, grandma wrapped it around her arms.

Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove. Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron. From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls. In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees.

When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds. When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner.

It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that "old-time apron" that served so many purposes.

REMEMBER: Grandma used to set her hot baked apple pies on the window sill to cool. Her granddaughters set theirs on the window sill to thaw.





I received the above in an email last week. It sent me down memory lane. I have vivid recollections about aprons. I first saw an apron like this at our summer cabin. My mother wore one, but only during the summer when we were at the cabin. The elderly woman down the dirt road from us also wore such an apron. They seemed to be the "dress of the day" at many of the cabins.

My mother used hers, not only for cooking, but for many events that included me. When I saw the apron put on Friday evenings, I knew it was time for my bath. Water was heated on the wood burning stove and poured into a huge galvanized tub. I must have been one of the last who had such experiences. There was an outhouse in my life up there too. And I remember them delivering ice for the ice box. One of the first duties when we arrived was to prime the pump. Oh that water tasted so good. The garbage was carried out in a pail to a hole behind the outhouse, dumped and covered with dirt. The nights were cool but the flannel sheets felt so good.

A number of neighbors shared apples and other fruits and mother would carry them home in the apron. My grandmother wore the same kind of apron. She crouched and would keep her ball of thread in the pocket and tuck her needle and work in beside it. When she would sit and chat, she pulled out the crochet hook and go to work on her project, never looking at it, while they talked. It always amazed me that she hardly ever glanced down at her work. And, it was always so pretty and perfect. Pockets were handy places also for dropping in things that needed to go into the wastebasket as she walked through the cabin. I remember that mother quite often carried a small pair of scissors in her pocket. I still have that ancient pair and treasure them.

I have worn the same type apron for a number of years now, switching more recently to the shorter cobbler version. I use the older one when I give the dog a bath. It's perfect and so much easier than the ones they show in the catalogs for dog bathing. When I have to comb a dog out in the winter, the apron holds all of the fur and can be picked up and taken the wastebasket. The large pockets are so useful for so many things that need to be moved from place to place, upstairs to downstairs and back. I carry my digital camera around in those wonderful pockets.

It all started when I was fed up with all of the grease spots on my shirts from cooking. Sure, we have sprays today that you can use before laundering. But half the time I forgot to spray the darn top and it went through the laundry only to come out with the spots still there.

More recently I've switched to the cobbler apron because it's easier to move around in and does look a wee bit better if I have to go outside to find my husband. Young neighbors looked at me like I had taken leave of my senses. Older women smiled as they walked by. Cobblers are wonderful all day long. But now that I'm a senior they are the best when it comes to eating. I can spill all I want and not feel bad. One of my catalogs offers "bibs for seniors". Not me! I refuse to wear a bib when I put dinner on the table. I'll save that for the nursing home.

So give me my "granny aprons"any day. There they proudly hang in my kitchen. One with dogs on it, one with kitchen gadgets on it, and a cobbler with pretty colors for the waiting. I grab the one to match the occasion and put it on with all of the memories and a closeness to my mother and grandmother.