In Those Times

When I’d walk through the fields and there would be deep cracks in the soil, it was Kansas summers. The smell of sweat and hard work, it was Kansas summers. Getting sprayed with “Off”, examining mica rocks my grandmother had gathered, cigarette smoke drifting past me and the adults drinking Coors beer on folding chairs, telling stories and laughing: it was Kansas summers. Exploring the old outbuildings that smelled like motor oil, engine grease and dust, it was Kansas summers. Having drops of rain hit my face through the cracked open windows, when I was down for a nap during a storm, it was Kansas summers. Helping my grandma with chores and riding in the John Deer tractor cab with my grandpa, it was Kansas summers. Listening to the farm report while my grandparents had their morning coffee, it was Kansas summers. Playing with feral kittens and hunting dogs, it was Kansas summers. Listening to cicadas and playing outside in the oppressive heat, it was all Kansas summers.

The magic of my childhood, the experiences I pull up that bring warmth to my heart, it was all in Kansas and it was always on both of my grandparent’s acres of land.

My grandpa looks like a deer caught in the headlights! These are my mom’s folks. My grandpa died in his late 50’s. My granny lived until she was 89. That’s a long time to be alone. My grandfather had two PhD’s and was in the Navy in WWII. He is why I have a love of science and know many plant’s Latin names. My granny gardened until her late 80s. She had four live children and lost four. She also outlived one of my uncles. Both sets of grandparents lived through the Depression. They had absolutely nothing. I couldn’t imagine taking their places. They were so strong!

My dad’s parents. I miss them so much. These are my farming grandparents. They lost their farm in the late 1980s like many, many people did. My grandmother was always kind and I knew (without a doubt) that she loved me. Of everyone I’ve lost in my life, I miss her the most. She was an amazing woman.

The local farmers would work the soil until it looked perfect. There was always an unsaid competition for the prettiest field. The women cooked giant dinners for the seasonal field hands in the fall. I would sit down and fill out my dream garden in my grandmother’s seed catalogs. It’s where the gardening bug started for me. I was safe, loved, and life was perfect: in the summers I spent in central Kansas.

What I wouldn’t give to go back there, to those times, and relive them. Hug my grandparents. Tell them how important they were (and still are) in my daily life. Thank them for a wonderful childhood. Tell them how much I love and miss them.

I miss those Kansas summers and the people who filled those days.

Meet you in the garden where we’ll reminisce about the good old days, Crazy Green Thumbs