AuthorsDen.com   Join Free! | Login    
   Popular! Books, Stories, Articles, Poetry
Where Authors and Readers come together!

SIGNED BOOKS    AUTHORS    eBOOKS new!     BOOKS    STORIES    ARTICLES    POETRY    BLOGS    NEWS    EVENTS    VIDEOS    GOLD    SUCCESS    TESTIMONIALS

Featured Authors:  Kalikiano Kalei, iKatharine Giovanni, iJohn DeDakis, iNancy Shattuck, iKim Glassman, iLloydene Hill, iB. B. Riefner, i

  Home > Family > Articles Popular: Books, Stories, Articles, Poetry     

Debra Shiveley Welch

· + Follow Me
· Contact Me
· Books
· Articles
· Poetry
· News
· Stories
· 36 Titles
· 47 Reviews
· Save to My Library
· Share with Friends!
·
Member Since: Aug, 2007

Debra Shiveley Welch, click here to update your pages on AuthorsDen.




Featured Book
Hallowed Ground
by Cindy Ziperman

Gripping suspense, fiery romance and delightful humor, combined with fascinating Civil War history, and a dangerous fight to save a Civil War battlefield. Hallowed Groun..  
BookAds by Silver
Gold and Platinum Members



Straw - A Childhood Memory
by Debra Shiveley Welch   
Rated "G" by the Author.
Last edited: Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Posted: Tuesday, August 14, 2007

  Print   Save    Follow    Share 

Recent articles by
Debra Shiveley Welch

Should I Tell My Child He's Adopted?
Sometimes Life is a Metaphor
Today You Are Sixteen
Memories of an old Farmhouse
Help Make A Dream Come True
National Adoption Month
These Feelings Within My Heart
           >> View all

Straw....I remember the front porch with rocking chairs creaking and Pawpaw singing.



Our neighbor spread straw on his lawn, so that the ducks and geese will not eat his newly sown grass seed. A rain-filled breeze swept my way, and with it came sweet-scented memories.

The Farm: where a child could be a child. My grandparents: Mawmaw and Pawpaw, sturdy legs planted on the land, strong arms, shielding a child from hunger, from danger.

Straw....I remember the front porch with rocking chairs creaking and Pawpaw singing.

“Amazing Grace”

I remember a canopy of stars above, and below, lightening bugs sparkling on the hill: iced tea, pie. I lean against my grandfather’s legs. A calloused finger stretches forth, pointing to the ancient Hopewell Indian earthworks on the hill directly across from ours. “That there is Serpent Mound,” he says. “You’ve got kin buried there.” He lights his pipe.

I crawl into his lap and snuggle. His chest is bony. He works too hard to put on fat. He pulls out his harmonica and plays.

“Amazing Grace”

Straw...I remember the barn.

Fragrant hay and chubby kittens; soft, roly poly balls of purring fur, sweet babies. The hayloft: my domain, where Nancy Drew is devoured as hungrily as my grandmother’s biscuits.

Warm teats in the palms of my hands, the metallic sheeeeeesh sheeeeeesh of warm, rich milk, as it hits the side of the bucket, my cheek against warm, contented cow. Here you go! A cat catches a well-aimed stream and looks satisfied.

Bucket fed calves, their noses knocking against the metal pail, soft noses, nuzzling for more, their sandpaper tongues searching for every drop. Squawking chickens gently lifted from straw-filled nests; eggs are gathered for breakfast.

Straw…I remember Mawmaw’s kitchen.

Here is food: yeast rolls and fried chicken, gravy, mashed potatoes, peas, summer salad, corn on the cob, noodles and fresh green beans. Here is security and love.

Straw...I remember running wild – at last I can be a child – running through pastures and woods.

There are grapevines to swing on and hills to climb. I walk with the cows. I carry a stick. It’s handy to scratch a bovine’s hard-to-reach itch.

Sun drenched rocks on which to dream, “Wolf Run,” a clear running stream, gorgeous with its blue, clay walls. I stop and eat my lunch of thick ham sandwiches with home made bread, Mawmaw’s cured ham, preserved pickles, and secret recipe spread. I drink from the stream. It’s cold and delicious. Crawdads dart by. I laugh and raise my face to the sun.

Straw...I remember the “Joke Tree.”

My cousins come “a visitin’of the weekends.” We dart from the house, and run to the pigpen over which an aged tree reigns. Up her trunk we scramble, and clamber over thick, leaf-filled limbs. “What did the mayonnaise say to the refrigerator? Shut the door, I’m dressing!” Exaggerated laughs; we swing from the limbs and dare each other to jump and miss the slop trough.

Straw...I remember the smell of straw and cows and manure.

I remember the smell of pipe smoke and haylofts, rich milk and good food. I remember the smell of sunshine and laughter. I remember the smell of love.

"Amazing Grace."...

Web Site: Debra Shiveley Welch Official Site



Want to review or comment on this article?
Click here to login!


Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Click here for your Membership!


Popular Family Articles
  1. A Last Letter from Dear Old Dad
  2. Christmas Cards Helping Haiti
  3. Words Fail Me: The Harrowing Life of Careg
  4. Choosing a secure password is key to avoid
  5. Liberation or bondage
  6. Back to the Bradshaws
  7. The Solution to Family Violence and Cruelt
  8. EUNUCHS
  9. Integral Meaning
  10. JERSEY DEVIL ED ... UPDATE !

FREE DOWNLOAD The Suffering of Being Kafka by Sam Vaknin

A second volume of short stories and poetry by Sam Vaknin. ..  
BookAds by Silver, Gold and Platinum Members

Harkening: A Collection of Stories Remembered by Carolyn HowardJohnson

The Midwest Review called this experimental cross between fiction and nonfiction "...captivating..."..  
BookAds by Silver, Gold and Platinum Members

Authors alphabetically: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Featured Authors | New to AuthorsDen? | Add AuthorsDen to your Site
Share AD with your friends | Need Help? | About us


Problem with this page?   Report it to AuthorsDen
© AuthorsDen, Inc. All rights reserved.