A short time ago, I had a dream about my grandma and grandpa Minnich's house and when I woke the next morning I told Galen I just have to draw it, or paint it, just get it down on paper. The funny thing is, I remember vividly everything about their house; I think the dream was just a reminder.
I remember the "summer house"; the coal stove, the rocker in the corner, the big wooden kitchen table covered with oil cloth, the ice box, the mirror on the wall, the old wringer washer in the wash room, and the wood shop. I remember the old screen door and the sound of it.
In the "winter house" I remember the water bucket on the counter with the enamelware dipper, the cups and plates, the table, the coal stove and the pipe up to the bedrooms, the plastic curtains, the corner shelf where she had nic nacks, the lanoleum in the living room, the picture above the sofa, her sewing machine. The garret where we played, the cellar where she kept canned watermelon rind and peaches.
Outside I remember the porch with the rockers, the water pump, the tulip tree we climbed, the sweetpeas and daylilies, the lilac tree, the pear tree, the apple trees, the barns, the garden, the outhouse, the tobacco fields ~ I could go on and on.
I'm not sure why I felt I needed to put it on paper; maybe because the house is no longer there, but when I look at it now, all those wonderful childhood memories come flooding back, and I'm glad I did.
