Do you remember your grammar school years? Peanut butter sandwiches and little cartons of milk? An apple, sometimes mushy in the winter months? And how your grade school always had the homey smell of ink, chalk, paper, and peanut butter?
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Schoolhouse, Clouds, & Dreams
The skies in spring are beautiful and interesting to observe. There is so much contrast with color, light, and clouds. On a recent leisurely drive on a rural highway, we passed by the farm my friend, Toni. The farm itself is picturesque with all the buildings painted brown and a windmills that twirls in the wind. But my favorite thing on Toni's farm is this old, deserted schoolhouse. Set against the drama of a changing sky, it seemed to sparkle in the twilight. Set in a wheat field green with new shoots, its painted white walls and framed windows speak of countless children who learned within its walls. Imagine a rural schoolteacher in a flowing skirt and long hair pinned into a tidy bun. Apples, rulers, slates and chalk, baseballs, jump ropes, and lunch boxes lined up in a row --- I can visualize them all if I close my eyes and dream awhile. Toni and husband have moved to town, but their children and grandchildren carry on the family occupation. Although she no longer lives next door, I know that Toni still treasures this little schoolhouse and the dreams it contained in by-gone years.