So this is my Grandma Julie. She is to blame for the artist that I am. She is to blame for my obsession with antique things. And she is to blame for one of the best childhoods a little girl could ever ask for!
Grandma Julie taught me the fundamentals of painting as well as signed us up for two incredibly successful painting classes from which I still use techniques when painting things today. Especially when I fool around with water reflections and moons and clouds.
Grandma Julie was the type of woman to have me waiting in my bathing suit on the front step because I knew that as soon as she got home from delivering mail all day around our small city, then she would want to take a swim. She would drink her glass of lemonade, climb into her american flag bathing suit, and maybe even cut off a slice of the zucchini bread for the walk down to the lake. I would jump in the paddle boat, but my Grandma, would walk right in, and pull up seaweed every time in attempt to make a trail for future swims. We would meet up in the middle- right side of the lake where the cold springs bubbled up. We would then get out of the water and head up to the house and eat fish that we caught or my favorite, venison from our neighbors and cheesy velveeta shells.
Other days were spent in the chicken coop swiping eggs, while the best days were putting chicken heads between two nails and axing it off. Some days were spent in her garden picking fresh vegetables to put in homemade salsa. Most nights would simply end with us snuggled in her bed, with 4 sleepy cats, and 1 large lab. She always reads, however she would begin to yawn after the second page and would drift away by the third..
Some of my favorite days were the ones where we went exploring in the woods next to the vacant corn fields. Where we would climb and step over and under logs and bushes and rivers. We would find bones of dead rodents, and spot painted turtles, or patches of poison ivy. We would walk the edge of the water til we found a safe spot to cross. We would kick around an old salt lick placed under a seat far up in the tree used for deer hunting from earlier in the year.
Around dusk we would walk the quarter mile home as the sky would turn a light magenta and orange. The swans and their babies would align and float along the subtle ripples of the water. The lily pads would say goodnight as the sweet fragrance of purple Lilac guided us home. Grandma and I would curl up on the tree swing until at last..
the moon flowers expanded their wings and our day would be complete.