The little house at Willow Creek. It floods my heart with warmth. The house in this picture looks a little small, and frankly a little rough. But it is full of the richest memories! The walls inside were paneled with real wood. I remember as a child, admiring their beauty, especially the knot holes. I loved the knot holes. They gave such rustic character.
I can see my sister, Pat, and I sitting in the living room waiting for Mom to get through with the latest McCall’s magazine. Inside that magazine was a treat better than any treat you could get now-a-days in a McDonald’s kid’s lunch. Betsy McCall was inside the center fold of every magazine. She was a paper doll, complete with a new wardrobe for that month. We would cut her and her outfits out and play with her. We tried on every outfit. When the excitement wore off, we would put her in our shoebox with our other Betsies. When days were boring, she would come out again to entertain us.
I can also remember sitting and looking through Sears, and Penney’s catalogues for what seemed like hours, looking for clothes we wanted for school or Christmas, and of course toys.
That front step was a favorite place to perch on a hot afternoon and drink a glass of Coolaid. Our favorite childhood dog, Duke, would sit there with us.
In the yard in the back of that house was what I remember as a coal shed. It had a low roof on it. Pat and I would make mud pies in the summer. We would place them on the roof to dry. We also usually had the sidewalk lined with them. What fun we had. It was a bakery for any kid to envy!
Summer evenings would find us playing Annie,Annie, over with the neighbor kids ’til dark. We would have teams on each side of the house. We would yell Annie, Annie, over, and throw a ball over the roof. They would catch it and do the same thing back. Our dog Duke would play with us. He would be with us when we threw the ball, and then run to the other side of the house to cheer them on! He was more fun to watch than actually playing the game.
Down aways from the left side of that house, was Willow Creek. I am assuming it was called Willow Creek, because it was lined with willows. We would gather dead willows and make tepees out of them. We had an entire village along the creek. We thought they looked very cool, and they kept us out of Mom’s hair for hours at a time!
Yes, so many good memories associated with that house. But the most precious is the memory of love that was shared with the people who lived inside of it. My mom, my dad, my sister….you are the best memories!