This is a picture of my paternal grandparents, Fred and Annie McCoy.
It must have been taken on a wedding anniversary. Today would have
been my grandma's birthday.
I loved to visit my grandma's house. My dad's youngest sister, Vera,
was only five years older than me. My grandma had her rooms papered
with news paper. Vera and I would lay in bed and read the print or play
"I Spy."
Grandpa had an apple orchard and my grandma fried the best apples. I
tried for years to duplicate her success but was never very successful!
Today's poem was written several years ago of my memories of
grandma's house.
GRANDMA'S HOUSE
Visits to grandma's house
Are a pleasure to recall,
Many happy hours I spent there,
When I was very small.
I used to trod the dusty lane,
Her house would come into view,
She would be sitting on the porch,
With always something there to do.
Her nimble fingers hard at work,
Showing years of toil.
Eleven children, she had raised,
She had no time to waste or spoil.
Standing by the old wood stove,
I can see her as days gone by.
Dipping apples, golden brown
Or blackberry cobbler pie.
Gathered round the table,
laden with good food,
She stood and served us all,
In a loving cheerful mood.
Those days have long been gone
And grandma has been laid to rest.
But those memories will remain
As some of the days I loved best!
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