These eggs are pretty. Not?
Eggs remind me of my grandma. Let me explain…
My maternal grandparents had a grainery which was a short walk from their two story
white farm house. They also had a white shed that had little cubbies for the hens to lay their eggs.
As a small, tow-headed girl with time to wander, i would always go into the chicken’s building
when we would visit.
Memory leaves me with the sight of nice looking chickens sitting on their nest, and i was afraid to
bother them because i thought they might peck me.
What i would like even more was to play in the grainery. There were sacks full of grains stacked
in a room of wooden poles and beams and a wood floor. I remember the beautiful delicate light and
the most wonderful smell of the grains.
In the summer there was a special treat to be had in my grandma’s garden. I would find the green
tops of her carrots and pull out a couple of small thin ones, take them over to the pump…work the
handle a few times so that i could wash them off with the cool water and then eat them.
Last time i saw her house was a few years ago. My cousin lives next door and grandma’s house has
been sold. It is now an office of some kind. It was a sunday, and so i couldn’t get inside to see it.
Part of me wants to have one of those days back, to be able to go and see my grandma.
Below is some information that i found online this evening. here
Ben Holtkamp was my grandpa Henry’s father. It appears my grandpa was named after
his uncle Henry. I already had the information that Ben and Caroline had eight children.
My grandpa, Henry Holtkamp, and my grandma, Cathrine Marcus, had seven children,
one of which was my mother. I assume that Henry and Catherine lived in the same house
that Ben and Caroline had lived in previously, and where little Henry grew up.