Articles

This is the page where you can find recent articles written by Ann Swanson.  Check back often as this page will be updated frequently with the latest articles. 

View from Hickory Heights: Losing Old Friends
by Ann R. Swanson

It is difficult to lose old friends. Friends anchor a spot in our lives and create a void when they are not there. This being said, I want to reminisce about the two friends that were part of my yard for years that are now gone.

Disease made the transition necessary. I do not regret the decision to remove two cottonwood (yellow poplar) trees, but I truly miss them.
My picture collage of Hickory Heights documents at least one of the trees as being in the yard in 1908 - the year of a garden wedding at Hickory Heights that helped us name the property. A neighbor’s mother kept a scrapbook of newspaper clippings. One of the clippings told about the bride, a school teacher, who wed her sweetheart in the rose garden.

Many years later the daughter of the bride and her family visited Hickory Heights. They brought me two photographs of the house at the time of the wedding. I eventually added two additional photographs to chronicle the history of the farmstead.

When we purchased the farm there were four cottonwood trees by the house. Each was planted a distance away with room to grow. In the late 1970s it became necessary to take down one of them. The tree leaned toward the house taking down eaves troughs during each and every storm. My husband and father-in-law felled that tree on their own keeping a section of the wood that was not diseased. That Christmas my sister-in-law and I each received large cutting boards with sides made from the lumber. My father-in-law constructed them just as he had made a board years back for his wife. I love my board because it is so nice to move around as I need it - especially as I prepare for the holidays.

The second tree fell on its own during a severe storm in the late 1980s. We could not have felled it any better. It fell to the east between a pin oak and my burning bush shrub hardly injuring either one. It was uprooted. I remember the huge roots sticking out of the soil with clumps of dirt hanging from them. A neighbor came over with his saw and helped my husband cut it up.

Hickory Heights is a rather tall house so I always felt safe with the two remaining cottonwoods towering above it. The tree that grew by the driveway was frequently struck by lightning. We’d see the lightning strike and follow it down the tree. On one occasion I remember the bark popping off and landing in the yard.

My husband tried his best to save the tree. He sealed off the spots that were bare, but the insects found their way inside in spite of his efforts. Since my husband has been gone, I have watched the tree deteriorate. A black squirrel and some gray squirrels called it home. In the winter I watched them run up and down. Hickory nuts from the shagbark hickory that grew next to it were stored in the trunk. Each year as I assessed the health of the tree, I was concerned. I knew its demise was just a short time off.

This spring the other cottonwood on the east side of the house sparsely leafed out. More than half of the tree was bare. I knew I could no longer put off the inevitable. My two giant trees had to go. They each posed a danger to the house as well as a physical danger depending upon when they chose to fall.

I called in several tree removal contractors for estimates. Removing the giants was not to be an inexpensive task, but I reasoned that cleaning up after them if they fell on their own might be even more expensive.

Two of my grandchildren were here to watch as the first tree - one that was estimated at about 90 feet high - was stripped of its branches. The children watched the man move up and down in the bucket each time lopping off a branch with his chainsaw. A second man worked the ropes at the bottom of the tree to land the branches in a manner that did not damage any property. It was something to watch. When the man in the bucket left the safety of the machine I was worried. He was climbing the limbs of a tree that had a rotten base.

“Look out, I’m going to land this in the yard,” I heard him say to his coworker. The branch landed perfectly - what an amazing feat it seemed to me. The grandchildren and I ate our lunch on the porch so we could continue to watch. A chipper made quick work of the branches. The little boy said, “Grandma, that is the job that I want to do.” He wanted to go up in the bucket.

Each tree took more than a day to get to the ground. I snapped a photo of the first one just before it fell. I had never seen a stump ground out before so that particular machine interested me. The blade went back and forth over the stump trimming and grinding until it was gone.

I took pictures before the removal process began so I could remember my beautiful trees. Although they looked beautiful on the outside, the men who removed them assured me I did the right thing. Both trees were diseased into the stump. In fact, the guy said he did not know why the one tree stood at all, it was so hollow.

Now, Hickory Heights stands without the soldiers that guarded it so faithfully for nearly one hundred years. I am getting used to the new look, but I realize that some of the animals that called these trees home are having a difficult time. The squirrels are running about as if they cannot believe their homes are gone. A wood pecker who was a frequent visitor does not understand where his piece of wood went. The birds fly from tree to tree but find no old nests. At least this year’s crop of baby birds is safe. No bird lost her babies because of the trees being removed.

View from Hickory Heights: The Farm Pond
by Ann R. Swanson One time rights

Having a farm pond is something new for us. My husband used to tell about his experiences on the home farm when they had a farm pond, but we never had one when the folks moved down the road.

My son and his wife put in a farm pond several years ago. They stocked it with fish that are now beginning to get a little size on them. The grandchildren have a great time catching the little things, then throwing them back. They have learned the names of all the types of fish through the process.

The first couple years after the pond construction we set up tents on stones. We resorted to buying cots to get our sleeping bags up off the ground. This year there is plenty of grass. It was a joy to set up camp there.

By the time I brought my camping gear down, the tent and a shelter for the food was set up. All I had to do was put my sleeping bag on a cot. The kids were good to me this time. They set my cot up in the section by itself. Last year when I tripped over my son’s boots on my midnight foray to the bathroom I ended up with a giant bruise on my arm and my leg.

We camped for the whole weekend. The weather was great. Although Saturday night was warmer than Sunday, both nights were comfortable. What a luxury to commune with nature and still be in your backyard! Although my daughter and her family did not spend the night, they took part in all the festivities. We gathered the following day to celebrate the birthday of the youngest grandson. He turned seven this year. Can it really have been seven years ago that he was born on Memorial Day?

The song of the pond was delightful. Those bullfrogs croaked all night. I thought they might cause me to lose some sleep, but they didn’t. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Since some of the family are watching their eating habits, we planned meals to be as healthy as camp menus can be. The first night we grilled chicken in between a metal contraption. We baked potatoes wrapped in foil in the fire. The meal was rounded out with raw vegetables and fruit.

Breakfast was eggs and sausage - from the farm, of course. My grandson is so proud of the eggs they raise. He will tell you about the nice high yolks that mean the eggs are really fresh. The sausage was also a farm product. They are hoping to raise piglets of their own this season.

We went home for the day and returned in the late afternoon. Farm chores were done early. The second night we grilled fish - salmon and Tilapia - not farm raised. I mock fried potatoes at home and brought them to heat up on the camp stove. Since my daughter does not eat fish, I brought a cube steak for her.

The pond is the most relaxing place. We built a campfire in the morning as well as in the evening. Heavy dew made the chairs wet as we sat around the fire with our coffee and cocoa. A possum hurried by in the field right beside us. It is a good thing the dogs were otherwise occupied or we might have had a hunt right on the spot.

I asked my son about the two distinct sounds I heard from the frogs. We suspect there were two types contributing to the frog chorus. I also heard a sharp repetitive sound the second morning. My son informed me that was a fox. They have lost some chickens recently. The sounds of nature did not bother me, I was simply curious as to what I heard.

I could not help but think that my husband would have enjoyed our camping experience if he were still alive. He probably would have complained about spending the night in a sleeping bag, but he would not have complained about the sounds. I think so often about all Dick has missed, yet I like to think that he is watching over us and joining us in spirit.

Last summer a lady I met at Chautauqua sent me a copy of a book by Sarah Ban Breathnach call Simple Abundance. While I cannot agree with all the author writes, some of it really makes you think.

“Only love can transform a houseful of needy, self-centered individuals into a loving, close-knit family,” says Ban Breathnach. Stop and think about it. A family is made up of multiple individuals each struggling to exert their independence while maintaining a cohesive atmosphere within the home. Children are challenged to do things for themselves yet they are reminded that the family has rules that must be obeyed. Husbands and wives suppress individual desires for the betterment of the family.

I heard a man on a television program say that adults have to stop being selfish and self-serving in order to be a good father or mother. They must put aside hopes and aspirations to teach the next generation. Often that is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Parents do not want to stop playing. They want to act like they are single, but enjoy the pleasures of family life

June is the season for weddings. Brides and grooms enter into vows with an attitude of if it works fine, if not I’m out of here. Clergy need to discuss the knitty- gritty of family dynamics up front focusing on the needs of each party as well as the responsibility each has to pleasure the other and the responsibility each holds in the future family.

View from Hickory Heights: The American Family
by Ann R. Swanson

"Cleaning your house while your kids are still growing is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing." Phyllis Diller.

Talking about mothers is a weighty subject, so I begin with a bit of humor. I am sure we can all relate to what Phyllis Diller said. My daughter often asked me why we cleaned before company came and not just after they left. Often we take ourselves too seriously.

When I stopped to think what the word "mother" meant to me, I was overwhelmed with emotion that was just below the surface.

My mother has been gone for ten years, my grandmother for about twenty-five, and my mother-in-law for six years. In spite of the time since I communed with them, the thoughts of them are fresh in my mind. I think of each of these ladies in the mother role. Since I lived in my Grandmother’s and Grandfather’s house from the time I was two until the time I was twenty, Grandma fulfilled the role of mother for me. She taught me how to bake, how to make potholders, and how to knit. My mother-in-law taught me to sew, to garden and can, and how to adjust to farm life. Of course, my mother taught me the most. All I learned about feminine duties and feminine ideas I gleaned from her. She taught me by example to be a good listener. She taught me how to be a good mother. The sphere of influence of all these ladies lives on through me. I, in turn, passed on these things to my daughter who is now passing them on to her daughter.

I am who I am because of the strong women who went before me. Those women taught me to love. They taught me how to accept love as well as give it. They taught respect for others and compassion. They modeled the skill of motherhood. I owe these ladies a debt of gratitude.

In these troubling times it seems that a basic institution is undergoing a change. The American family is not what it used to be. Gone are the days of a mother, father, and children living under one roof in many instances. In vogue are alternative lifestyles and all they embrace. While we still celebrate Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, in some instances there are multiple mothers or multiple fathers. Family conveys different things to different people and we must be respectful to all.

The institution of motherhood is sacred. In the Bible we read of strong Christian women who were good mothers. Eunice was a Christian mother who faced raising her children nurturing them in their spiritual life without the help of her husband. He was there but he took no part in the spiritual training. In my reference book it said, "She had two crucial things going for her that offer hope for mothers today - the inherent power of being a mother and the dynamic power of a loving God."

Jochebed helped shape the life of her son. She became a wet-nurse to him after he was pulled in his basket from among the rushes. Her son went on to be the person God chose to carry the tablets of stone to the people.

Naomi was a mother-in-law, but her influence was great. Her daughter-in-law, Ruth, chose to remain with her instead of returning to her own people after her husband died.

Do you have the strength and the heart to be a Christian mother? I have heard so many people say that going to church does not matter. They believe that it is what they have in their heart that matters. While in some ways that is true, the experience of worshiping with other Christians is a powerful one that teaches and reinforces. It provides a support system in times of trouble.

Our small church was extremely responsive to a young farm couple who experienced an accident on the farm. They received calls and cards wishing them well and offering prayer. In a small church everyone knows everyone. It was like family.

Our family used to sing the song "Family of God" written by Bill and Gloria Gaither. The words are wonderful, the tune, one easy to remember. At a recent concert which I attended that song was part of the repertoire. The evening would not have been complete without it as far as I am concerned. If you have never heard Gaither songs, look through your hymn book to see if it includes any. They wrote many wonderful songs paying tribute to the Lord.

Today when I look into the mirror I see my mother. Although I strongly resemble her physically, I have a personality and style unique to me. That is how it should be. I made choices in my life that helped me evolve into the mother and grandmother that I have become.

Being a mother and grandmother has been a joy. I feel I am where I was meant to be in my life. Raising two children was a privilege. Being part of my grandchildren’s lives is a privilege as well. Mothers have a unique position in God’s world.

There is a popular saying, " the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world." Mothers hold your heads high. You are doing what the Lord called you to do.