The heart of the home is this table right here!

As a young girl back in Nickerson, I recall doing my homework at the dining room table with a coal oil lamp to light my books.  Now you should know that the "dining room table" was the only table that we had and the room we had it in was between the kitchen and the "front room."  The front room was the first room in the house.  Next was the dining room and then the kitchen/wash room/library/what ever else we needed it to be.  On Saturday nights that is where we all took turns taking a bath in a tin tub.  

There were 2 other rooms in the house and they were both bedrooms.  Now back then bedrooms were exactly that!  Mother had the smallest room which held one bed and she slept there with the 2 youngest girls.  The front bedroom had 2 beds, one of which was my fathers.  The rest of us girls slept in the other bed.  Jake was relegated to the floor.  But this is not about where we slept, this is about the dining room table.

We had electricity, but we rarely ever used it, because we were afraid we would wear it out.  The table was a round oak table much like the one I have in my dining room today.  I am sure the chairs were wooden because we could not afford one of those fancy chrome sets that everyone coveted.  There was a green wooden table in the kitchen, but that was for holding pots and pans and such. 

We ate at the dining room table.  We did our homework at the dining room table.  If someone dropped by they were seated at the dining room table.  Usually we sipped on a glass of water from the well.  The icebox was in the dining room by the door to mother's bedroom.  Once a week the iceman came.  We had a sign that was in our front window.  It was similar to the one in the lower right corner.  The iceman would pick up the size block we wanted with his ice tongs and carry it inside and place it in the icebox.  The money was always left on top of the icebox.  A new block of ice was always a treat because it was so clear and square.  We used to follow the ice wagon on hot days as cool our feet in the water that came off his melting load.  I digress!

  

I tend to get off subject.  The point is that the dining room table was the heart of the home and life has not changed that much.  Kenny and I had not been married very long when we decided we needed a new table.  We went down on Union and found an antique round oak table that suited us perfectly.  Since he was working in Denver we went to the oak furniture store and purchased 6 straight backed chairs and we were in business.

Shortly after that, my mother came for her first visit.  She lived in Hutchinson, Kansas and as I recall she rode the train to LaJunta where I picked her up and brought her home.  She was very happy to see the round oak table and the 6 oak chairs.  She set down and started to reminisce.

"This is the heart of the home.  It is here that everyone gets together to eat and it is where all important decisions are made.  It is here that the family comes together.  It is here that company visits.  This table is where happiness and sadness are always discussed."  And she was right.

When someone comes to my house, even today, we set at the table.  The couch and recliners are only used to watch television.  The heart of the home I grew up in was always the table and it still is today.  Whether it is dinner for 20 people or a cup of tea with a friend, it all happens at the table.  I have a breakfast bar with stools that are never used.  I have an office, but I pay my bills and do my correspondence at the table.  Mail is put on the table.  It is the center of my existence.

My mother has been gone many, many years, but the table will always be where I see her most.  She used to set at that table and work her crossword puzzles.  I can not work a crossword any where but there.  I miss my mother every day of my life.  It never gets better.  Someone asked me once, "How long do you mourn when someone dies?'

My answer to that is "forever."  How could you ever forget the woman who gave you life?  Things come and go, but mothers and dining room tables are forever.  I have pictures of my mother and Kenneth's mother beside my front door.  They are the last thing I see when I leave and the first thing I see when I close the door when I return.

I realize that someday, I will no longer be here.  No doubt there will be an auction and the dining room table will go to a new home, but that is alright, because I will be at the big table across the great divide with my Mother and all my grandma's and there will be a giant table that has room for all of us.

Kinda looking forward to that!

The demise of the last Apricot Tree.

Many years ago, probably back in about 1994, Kenny and I had a trucking business.  At that time he was working for Clarence Garcia in a small town named Paonia.  To get to Paonia one needs to drive through the Black Canyon, which is near Gunnison.  It was not any place I would want to drive through in the winter, that is for sure.  The job was hauling gravel up to the BLM just out of Paonia.  We owned a park model camper which Kenny stayed in during the week while he worked.  I went a couple days every week because he got lonely.

The town of Paonia is a hippie heaven and there were quilt shops and lots of things for me to entertain myself with while he worked.  He did tell me that cattle roamed free on the BLM and that there were lots of fruit trees that were loaded and fruit was free for the taking.  Choke Cherry.  Peaches. Apricot.  I had no idea what a Choke Cherry was at the time and I did not like Apricots, so that was not a big draw for me.  However, he did like Apricots and proceeded to bring me home a big bag of them and requested that I make Apricot jam.  So when I came home that weekend, I gathered jars, sugar and all the fixings and make him Apricot jam.  The pits I tossed in the dirt over the septic tank.

Imagine my surprise when two weeks later, a million Apricot pits turned into tiny little trees.  Since winter was coming, I heeled them in and covered them with straw.  They survived the cold winter in fine shape and the next Spring I gave everyone I knew all the Apricots they could plant.  I planted 6 for myself which was exactly 6 more than I needed.  Over the years 5 of them died and the one behind the house survived and flourished.  It stood over the house as a memorial to our days in Paonia.   I had to keep the branches cut because it would damage the roof.   And then it got bores. It was time.

I called several tree service places, but no one returned my call.  Then my friend, Kay told me about her tree man.  Aaron Leal.  She would have him call me.  And he did.  And 3 days later this was the scene in my back yard.  2 guys.  One chain saw and no ladder.  Craig and Tony made short work of that big Apricot tree

And then they were done.  

And it was all thanks to this little card!

It was kind of sad to see the tree go and memories of how I got the seeds in the first place, kind of put a damper on my day, but that is what life is all about, isn't it?  I kept a tiny seed that made a big tree that shaded the back of my house from the hot evening sun.  Kenny is gone.  The tree is gone.  I am still here.  I guess there is something to be said for the circle of life.  It does go on, you know.  Whether I like it or not, the sun will come up tomorrow.  The tree will still be gone.  The birds will find somewhere else to nest, and I still do not like Apricots.