Obadiah and Gracie Purple
In a previous post I spoke of how many generations in my memory have passed on their love of nature. My Grandmother Grace was the daughter of my great grands that owned the greenhouse. By the time I was born they were farmers. In our yearly trips to visit Indiana, where most of our relatives lived, we would stay on the farm with them. I was very young then and do not remember everything, but the memories of the love of nature and how to take care of the land and the animals was imprinted on me. My uncle and his kids lived across the street from my grandparents. Uncle was a hard worker and helped Grandpa with the farm work. He was quite a character. He had a nickname for everyone and joked around and laughed a lot. If you crossed him it was another thing, he could be profoundly serious, but I remember the joking fun side of him. Grandmas name was Grace Violet. I think all her siblings had a flower name for first or middle name as her parents had the green house and loved flowers. My uncles nickname for her was Gracie Purple.
I think the nickname game started with my Grandfather. He had a nickname for the first daughter of his three children. I have no idea how or why he chose our nicknames and they did not sound at all like our real names. Mine was Penelope. My older cousin was Deke and my younger cousin was Phoebe. I do not remember Grandpa calling me by my real name, but I did not care. I kind of liked my nickname and it made me feel special. For some reason I called him Obadiah. I was so young when I chose that name for him, that I have no idea why, but I called him that until he died and still do.
The Farmer’s Wife
Grandpa and Uncle planted and acre of the farm in a garden for Grandma to put up food for the winter. Most of my memories of her are in the kitchen cooking the next meal and cleaning whatever food from the garden that would be canned or frozen that day. Grandpa went to work at a factory during the day and did farm work when he got home, grandma always had a big meal prepared for him when he got home. While he was gone, she might be cleaning a bushel of corn on the cob and preparing it for the freezer. Sometimes it was green beans to be canned or cucumbers being turned into pickles. In the middle of all that she also baked pies and cobblers from scratch. Mince meat pie for Thanksgiving if we happened to visit that time of year was not my favorite but her berry cobblers were the best I have ever tasted. I asked one time if she would give me the recipe, but she said she did not have a recipe. She just made it. Grandma often shooed us all out of the kitchen while she cooked. I vaguely remember a table where I would sit and draw pictures and watch her so I could see how she did things. If I were quiet and did not get in her way, she would let me sit there.  She even gave me one of her knick-knacks to try and draw. Grandma saved all the scraps from the garden and dinner when she was done for the evening. Nothing ever went to waste. They raised hogs, so all that went out to slop the hogs as she called it. Her days were long and busy on the farm.
The Farmer’s Strength Yet Gentle Nature
Grandpa had an office where he went to work on stuff. I don’ know much about that but I think it was mostly paperwork for the farm and doing taxes. The one thing I do remember is how he had papered the walls. Every wall was papered with newspaper articles. I do not remember what the articles were about, but I do remember thinking it was fascinating I enjoyed looking at the articles. We were not allowed in there unless Grandpa invited us, so I did not see it often. I also remember him taking me with him to do the evening chores after dinner. He had a dog named Mickey and his dog went with him anytime he was outside. Grandpa showed me the moon and said there was a circle around the moon and that meant it was going to rain. He showed me lots of things, but I always remember the moon and I think of him anytime I am outside at night and look up at the sky checking what the moon might be saying that night. We went back to bring the cows back from grazing in the fields to the barn for the night. I did not know much about cows before spending time with Grandpa. All I knew was that cows made milk and hamburger. Grandpa would call his cows by name and Mickey would help steer them toward the barn. To me they seemed more like a pet than a food source. They would come to him when he called their name and he would pet them like a big old dog. It was so obvious that Grandpa loved his animals.
What I learned from this second generation of nature lover ancestors is that if you take care of the land and the animals, they take care of you. I have tried my best to take the lessons from the Great Grands and the Grands and apply them to my life wherever possible.