GROSSMAMA

My Grossmama (for those of you who don't know, this is what we call my maternal grandmother) was an amazing woman. Many of you agree. I've enjoyed remembering her more earnestly since the blog of her writings has been created. This one, in particular, takes me back to my childhood memories of her. She loved nature, loved children, loved beauty, and loved simple things.

March Ohio Morning


I love a March Ohio morning, when the sun comes up bright and the sky is cloudless blue, with only a sliver of moon going down in the west. The crows are crowing, announcing my interruption of nothing, the geese are honking their claim to their portion of sky, the Jay is demanding and commanding as usual. I love the Jay. He reminds me of Grandmother Heiks, who knew how it was, and how it is, and how it ought to be.

And then in the gentle contrast are the round sounding tones of the dove, that seem always in the distance. The sun has risen too high for the hoot of an owl, who also sounds distant but is actually close by. Inconsistent with his character, the introverted Cardinal is joyously calling “goody goody goody” to a beautiful new day.

On the side of the road the woods is throwing long graceful striped shadows across my walk. The grasses and fields on the other side of the road, heavy with frost and sparkling like sequins, are nature’s protection of what will soon be the bright green of spring and the delicate and brilliant flowering of earth with rhubarb colors and purples and yellows and blues.

I come into the warmth of home, exuberant and exhilarated. Some of last night’s coals are still glowing in the stove.. A new fire will blaze easily with small sticks that Crosby and I have gathered.

I love a March Ohio morning.