My first Hayseed Homemaking tip is regarding the most important feature of the country home, which is the front porch swing. It is ever-so-vital to country living to own one. I pity the person who does not possess one, as he/she might miss out on enjoying, to the fullest potential, the country air, breezes and refreshing beverages which often transpire upon it. Now, granted, a big old rocking chair can most certainly be pleasant, but it can never be a substitute, as one cannot nestle against a big, hard, old belly quaking from the thunderous laughter of a tale-telling grand-daddy with twinkling cornflower-blue eyes, or nuzzle in the safe, soft, squeeze of a sweet grandma with black hair as soft as cotton who smells like Jergens Lotion, applesauce and Vicks Vapo Rub.
One might argue that I received all the education I would ever really need on a porch swing, for it is where my mother rocked me and prayed over me, where my grandmother sang “Eensy Weensy Spider” and “Oh Jolly Playmate” to me, and where my uncles smoked cigarettes, spit chew, played cards, planned hunting trips and farming strategies and argued about the law, the government and whatever president was in office. It is also where my aunts skinned tomatoes, husked corn, said the Rosary and kissed their boyfriends.
“Humility is the fear of the Lord. Its wages are riches, honor and life.” Proverbs 22:4
Some people regarded my humble, God-fearing grandparents as poor country folk, but late at night, after everyone went home, my grandparents rocked together on their creaky old porch swing and gazed out upon their sixty-two acres of farmland thick with flourishing crops, flickering lightening bugs, and toys that had been scattered by joyful grandchildren. They were rich beyond modern imagination…the King and Queen of McIntyre Hollow, and every time I see a porch swing, I remember who I am, where I come from, and what I’m about. Copyright 2013 by Christine M. Snow
Pappy on a Swing
When life is going up and down
It’s sure nice to have around
The memory of my Pappy on a swing
Whose ride in life was the closest thing
To happy, and love, and everything true
And to Heaven that I ever knew.
Laughing, singing, swinging, assured
He was everyday closer to the Lord
His chains chinked at times, enough to rile,
But he’d stay on his swing and smile
Until his swing finally reached the gate
Of the door of home where angels wait.
I wonder what it’s like for you, Pap,
To be sittin’ and swingin’ on Jesus’ lap
I’ll ride this life out, I’ll ride it like you
So I can go to that place, too.
And when the swing of life has swung me nigh,
I’ll, too, be swingin’ in the sky!
And every song I know, I’ll sing,
With my Pappy on a swing.
Copyright 2000 Christine M. Snow