A Wood Pile, Memories, Ma and Me

Recently, I’ve been helping my husband with our wood pile. We are getting ready for our first winter in Main in our new home. He has done the chainsaw work and the splitting. I get to stack the wood. Yes, you read that correctly. I get to do it. Willingly even!

While I was stacking the other day, I noticed the smell of the wood. I noticed the difference in the types of wood. I noticed the bees buzzing around the freshly split wood. I noticed the sound the leaves made in the breeze. I noticed the way the sunlight made the leaf shadows dance. And in that moment, I was thankful that I was out there getting to be a part of these things.

There was something about all of those elements that reminded me of my Great Grandmother. Then I wondered, did she notice those things? Did she think she got to do or had to do the wood for their stove? What was her perspective? Memories came flooding back.

My Ma was a tiny but mighty woman! I remember as a kid I was almost as tall as she was and that’s saying something! Some of my earliest memories involve Ma. She was my Gran’s Mom. We visited often when we lived in Oklahoma.

I remember their little house on what our family calls “the old home place”. I remember their trees, the flowers (I have some of her Iris bulbs). I remember their wood stove. Not only was it a source of heat, but it was used to cook, as well as burn our letters to Santa. I remember writing mine on my Big Chief tablet, throwing it in the stove and then running outside to watch the smoke rise up to the North Pole. I remember their outhouse! That thing scared me to death. I was always afraid something would pop up and bite my booty! I’ll never forget the reaction my BFF, Pammy Jo had the first time she came with us for a visit and she needed to go…one look in the outhouse and she decided she could hold it!

I remember my Pa and Ma always so happy to see us! I remember their warm hugs and sweet smiles. My Ma always had a treat to offer us. I remember her always wearing an apron (I have a couple of them now). I remember Ma’s deep wrinkles. I never wondered why she had them…they were just a part of who she was. But now, as I am pushing 60, I know why she had them. A lifetime of hard work and worry about her kids, grandkids and even us greats.

As I stacked that wood, I tried to imagine Ma and Pa working on their wood pile. We have it so much easier than they did. I’m not even sure if they ever had a chainsaw to get the trees down. They definitely didn’t have a log splitter. I remember Pa and his ax. I wondered if Ma took her apron off to help with the wood or if she kept it on to protect her dress. I know when their boys were young, they helped with the wood, but they grew up and went to war. So, Pa and Ma had to do what they had to do. I can imagine my Gran out stacking wood. She was small but mighty as well.

It’s so funny how something like stacking wood can take you back in time and make you wonder and think about those that came before you. I’ll admit I smiled a little smile as I threw a piece of hardwood up on top…wondering if Ma could’ve reached it! Knowing her and her determination, I’m sure she would.

The last couple of days, I’ve been thinking a lot about Ma. I held a few of her things in my hands, too. I am overcome with gratitude for who she was. Who she helped my Gran, my Mom and me to become. I’d like to think that she is smiling down on me! Thank you, Ma! I can’t wait to hug you again someday!

Peace to you and yours!

lp