Another day working at Miss Hobbs’ and I am on my home. One thing about walking home every night, it sure gives me time to think. Sometimes I get thinking so hard, I find I have walked to the top of the mountain and going down the other side. When I realize that, it makes me pretty darn happy as my feet and legs are tired.
Today Miss Hobbs thought we should have a cleaning day in the two bedrooms upstairs. I dusted her bedroom first and I really enjoy that as I can look out the window facing Indian Pond and it is so pretty. I wish I were down at the foot of the pond with my brother, Curt, looking at our flatfish and fishing off a rock. Anyway, Miss Hobbs has an old, old bureau and I make sure everything is shining when I am through. She has a lovely set…I think it is plastic..but it is baby blue and has designs on the round one and the square one. I think she keeps her pins in there and maybe some jewelry. I don’t look in them! I make sure they are clean and dusted well. I always enjoy cleaning them as they are very delicate and my favorite color.
Miss Hobbs stayed with me today during the cleaning and dusted the other bedroom. Then we had to do her “trunk”. It sits at the head of the stairs in the hallway…and so big I swear it used to hold pirate’s booty. She uses the key and opens the trunk and that is when the mothball smell hits my nostrils. I cannot stand the smell of mothballs and am allergic to them, but I also want to work and get my ten dollars on Friday! The trunk is full of blankets and we take each one out, give it a good shake, fold it again and back into the trunk. I haven’t figured out just what that does for the blankets unless they need fresh air. Miss Hobbs says some day we will hang them on the clothesline. I hope we have some one mighty strong to help us!!
With all this thinking, I am at Dan Cole’s farm and a mile to home. Greenwood Center has changed. There are more camps on the pond now…really pretty cottages and many of them are owned by people from Berlin and Gorham, New Hampshire. I remember when I rode in the boat with Dad fishing, he pointed out Johnny Howe’s camp, Cushman’s, Eichel’s and a few others. Now it seems there are so many on the back side of the pond. I walk by Stan and Flossie Seames’s house and how I wish I lived where they do, up on the little knoll. They are nice people. Someone has bought the house where Uncle Elmer lived and Tina Morgan has moved now and others in there. It makes my head spin to see the changes.
My cousins moved away a few years ago and I miss them. The path in the woods isn’t used much, only when I want to walk up it to find flowers or to sit on the ledge and think. Sometimes I take a tablet and pencil and write while I am sitting on the ledge. This summer I haven’t had time!! Maynard and Mary Hazelton have moved into their house. They have five children and Curt has someone his own age to play with and he and Butch are good friends. Sometimes I babysit for them in the evening if there is an emergency. Even my Grampa and Grammy Martin’s house is not the same..not to me, anyway. My Aunt Vi and her husband, Harold, have moved back from Connecticut and they are living with Grampa, Gram and my Uncle Louis. They have a little girl, Christine. I take her for walks once in awhile. It is all just changing and sometimes I am not sure but what I would like it back where it used to be. Gram and I used to have fun gathering eggs and visiting while she quilted on the big porch.
Henry and Janet Bowers have built a beautiful log home almost to the foot of Twitchell Pond where once there was only woods. I always hate to see trees cut down, but their home is beautiful.
I am on the “flat” now and when I go by Howe Brook, I am going to look in and see if there are any brown trout coming up from the pond. Usually there are none, but I like to look and then I can tell Dad.
Home at last! Dad is sitting on the front steps, hat cocked on the side of his head as always. I swear if he didn’t wear a hat, his head would fall off! His dickies still have sawdust from the mill and he has a jar of what looks like sand in his hands. He holds it up and says, have you ever seen anything like this, Muff? Well, to me, it looks like sand, but I say no and he says, well, this is some dirt I gathered off a grave up near Upton. He is labeling them as he collects. I don’t think he collects anything else in this world except important ( to him) grave dirt. Maybe it makes his head rest after working in the mill.
He moves to one side and I go in to find Ma having a cup of tea at the kitchen table. I bet she would like to hear about the pretty blue containers I dusted today. I grab a piece of bread, plop a hotdog in it, grab a glass of water and sit down to tell her all about it.
Feels good to be home.
**The photo is, indeed, the blue containers I dusted for so many years. One year, while getting her things together to return to Forest Hills, Miss Hobbs wrapped them in tissue paper and gave them to me “for working so hard”. Apparently there was very little that Miss Hobbs missed and she noticed her young helper admiring them.