A FIRE IN THE PASTURE 2007

A Fire in the Pasture 2007

Traditions in our family die hard, but even more, we develop traditions very quickly. Cornish game hens will always be served on Christmas Eve, but our Thanksgiving tradition is new and will last a long time. As a kid, my Thanksgiving was at the Capitola House. That tradition lasted until all the kids were gone. Our tradition is now going to Heidi and Shawn’s farm in Arkansas. Hopefully each of these trips in the future will give me things to write about – more fires in the pastures of our lives.

Shots rang out from the woods. Cell phones began sending texts. “Was that you?” “Did you shoot a deer?” No deer. Not yet. The boys are out hunting, spurred on by Shawn’s 8 point buck shot on opening day. Then just two days later, 12 year old Lauren shot a three point and “buck fever” had its grip on the boys. Thanksgiving was just too far away, but soon it was here and the family’s third annual migration from the south and the east begins. Once again Mom and Dad, 6 kids, 5 spouses and 13 grandchildren descend upon the farm in Arkansas. Add that to Heidi and Shawn and their 7 kids, and you have more than a houseful. Oh, and did I mention the dogs?

How do you keep 8 boys entertained for hours on end without electronics? Build a fire in the pasture. Pap-paw Miller did just that the morning we all arrived. And from then on, from the early frosty mornings to well after dark in the chilly evenings, the fire is stoked, stirred and fed by the boys, and an occasional girl cousin. As I look out the glass door as I write, I can see two boys adding wood and stirring the embers. As an adult I fondly remember playing in the sand and the waves in Capitola; these boys will always have a fire burning in their memories, the fire in the pasture on the Thanksgivings of their youth.

The girls do all the things little girls do. Dressing up as cheerleaders and gymnasts, they rehearse most of the day for their evening performance. . In the evening they put on a show in the living room, showing off the routines they choreographed and practiced all through the day. Much like the shows my cousins put on every year, requiring me to sing a rendition of Sixteen Tons. And the babies – they spend hours toting babies and playing with them, freeing up their mothers to do more important things, like baking pies! Of course, the girls are attracted by the fire as well and every so often you look out the window and see them watching the boys and giving advice on how the make the fire better, which the boys naturally, and promptly, ignore.

Of course, there are the games of Scrabble, Up Words and Trivial Pursuit that are ever present and seemingly always in progress. “I AM THE CHAMPION, MY FRIEND,” the winner sings out at the top of her lungs, or arms fly up in the touchdown symbol as a winner of Trivial Pursuit rubs it in to the loser. Memories we will have forever.

And the food! Turkey, turkey and more turkey! Fried turkey, smoked turkey and roasted turkey. And ham! Homemade rolls, Mimi’s dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole, sweet potato something with pecans on top, ambrosia salads, and olives! And much more food than I can remember, and more than I could eat! And desserts! The pies – apple, cherry, pumpkin and pecan – and the pumpkin cake! And tons of whipped cream to put on all of it. What a feast! With lots of people to eat it! All of us and all of Shawn’s family! I lost count at 30, but in the end, a lot of food was eaten and lots of stories told. Then, round 2: the evening meal. And we ate more turkey! Turkey sandwiches were the fare of the evening! And of course, the pie! And then breakfast in the morning – and more pie! And then all the pies were gone and everyone well filled. And we survived Thanksgiving once again … and already looking forward to next year!

Once again it is early morning and the boys head to the woods to hunt deer. “We need to shoot a deer.” “Heck, we just need to see a deer!” “I’d even settle for a squirrel!” Brett settled for a squirrel and shot it with his cannon, not a trace of that squirrel was left! Then Chad comes into the house, too early to be home from hunting. “Why are you home?” he is asked. “I GOT A DEER!” He is almost too excited for words. He shot a large doe and he and the boys went out and retrieved it. With the deer hung in the tree, Chad began the task of skinning and quartering his prize. A task he had never before done. He had help and “got ‘er done”. His, the only deer shot the entire weekend. All the hunters in their new cammos; and Chad in blue sweat pants and a brown jacket…got the only deer. His first deer – priceless.

Miller’s Pond doesn’t exactly bring images of Huck Finn or Pirates of the Caribbean, but to the imaginations of 9 and 11 year old boys, it is high adventure! A farm pond out the back door of Heidi’s house with a row boat and it doesn’t get any better than that! The boys pulled the boat off the shore, climbed in; they paddled all around the pond. I remember the row boats in the Capitola River and have the same fond memories of my adventures that these three boys will have with theirs. I was fortunate enough to be -outside when the boat was launched and went down to the waters edge and took pictures and gave words of encouragement to the boys as they crossed the pond. What a memory!

As kids, we dreamed of the go-carts we would never ride. What adventures we had on our imaginary motorized wheels. This year it was go-carts in the pasture. During the summer, Heidi acquired a go-cart and it was a nice one. The older boys and girls tore around the pasture at “break-neck” speeds. “Grandpa, I can’t wait until Nathan gets here so I can take him on the go-cart” Tyler said to me as he was taking a pit stop. And the little kids all got rides, too; the older ones driving them all over. Then the dare-devil took over and down to Miller’s Pond! What fun darting around the pond. Then they hit the soft mud and, “STUCK!” someone cried. The boys and Rebekah pushed and pulled, being cheered on by a couple of the little girls. Finally, free at last and the adventure could continue….all they had to do was start the motor. “Try and try again” seemed to be the tactic, but it just wouldn’t start. I had seen their predicament and wandered down by the pond to see what assistance I could provide. “Grandpa, it just won’t start. I have the choke on full, but it just sputters”, Tyler told me, his eyes knowing that Grandpa would have the remedy. “Close the choke”, I said. I then gave a good pull on the rope and the engine jumped to life. “Thanks, Grandpa,” Rebekah and Tyler shouted as they jumped into the cart. They accelerated, but they were still stuck. Pulling and pushing a little more and they were soon free of the mire. As I walked back to the yard, I looked back to see them at full speed on the levee of the pond. Then back up into the pasture; and the rest of the afternoon I could hear the tell tale hum of the Briggs and Stratton and laughter in the air.

Laughter. What a joy it is to hear it. Especially the laughter of children. Whether it was in the house or in the yard, there were lots of young laughs filling the air. The house isn’t that big and you could easily tell when there are 15 adults and 20 children under one roof. Conversation went on, games were being played, tales of deer shot, missed, and unseen filled the air. But above it all – laughter. Kids having the time of their lives. I believe that there was not a cross word spoken the entire weekend between cousins and siblings, or between anyone for that matter. Just fun and laughter! And nothing is sweeter than the sound of laughing children.

It’s Friday; it’s the last day for some of us. Tomorrow some will be going home and back to the grind of daily living….BUT today; we have today! And tonight is the bon fire! All weekend the fire in the pasture has been stoked and stirred by the boys. Now another fire. The fire pit is in the yard and Uncle Shawn has been preparing for it. Logs are stacked and kindling is placed so it will ignite the logs. Benches surround the fire pit. All is ready. Inside preparations are made for the weenie roast. Packages of hot dogs are opened and dogs put in a big bowl. Chips of every kind abound. Chili is heated and cheese grated. And mounds of olives! We sure do love the olives! Weenie forks are ready and now it is time. We ask for a blessing on the food and for safety in our activities of the evening. Kids grab the forks and skewer the weenies and head to the fire. Everyone else follows. Weenies of every degree of doneness are brought in for buns, ketchup and mustard. And many are topped with chili. In a manner of a few minutes, the dogs are gone, the buns are gone and everyone is stuffed. Then S’mores! Chocolate covered graham crackers with a toasted marshmallow smashed between. Mothers worry about the nutritional value – but this is a weenie roast! We can eat greens tomorrow. We made dinner and made memories … memories that will well up in the minds of these little ones many years down the road.

Saturday it rained. And it rained. And it rained. The fires went out, except in conversation and memories. The burning of buck fever also was doused by the rain. Brett felt like he was coming down with a cold and they quickly packed and left for home. Heather and Shawn planned to leave at about one o’clock … as soon as her car got out of the shop. The kids were quickly gathering their things and getting ready to pack cars. Then, it was time. Hugs and kisses and then the kids and dogs were gone. But not all the kids. Still, there would be plenty for fun. The kids had to entertain themselves in the house. The moms, along with Lauren, all went to lunch in Texarkana. So the dads and grandpa were here. I was apprehensive about all these kids with no place to let out their energy, but they were great. Laughing and playing with each other all afternoon. Dinner was tacos and the house was alive with kids talking and eating. Then pajamas and the house quieted down for the night.

If there ever was an ideal family gathering, this was it. We don’t know what the future will bring, but we will always have the memories of this Thanksgiving on a small farm in Southwestern Arkansas. We will always remember the fire in the pasture.