Today, my blog post has nothing to do with my bees, or does it?. My Poppa Forrest was the one who planted the beekeeping seed deep down in my soul. So i guess in a sense, it has everything to do with me becoming a beekeeper.
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| My Poppa Forrest (left) and his Dad |
Although both my Grandparents were farmers, I spent most of my time on my Grama and Poppa Forrests farm. Those were some of my finest days growing up. I was pretty small when they still had dairy cows and use to ship milk but i do remember walking next to my Poppa while he wheeled the 2 milk cans down the driveway and down the road to the Milk Stand in front of the neighbours driveway. I also remember the cream separator that stood in the milk house. The milk house was one of my favorite places, especially because it had this big double cement sink and a cement trough along one side that was filled with cold running water. The milk cans were placed in there to keep cold until they were filled and ready to ship. I use to love watching Grama stand and separate the milk from the cream. When they were all done everything was washed in the that big cement sink with a cleaner which smelt just like iodine. And to this day i still love that smell and the memories it brings back.. I also think about the wood handle scrub brush with the stiff blue bristles that made the most amazing noise when you scrubbed out the sink with them.
Another favorite thing I loved was how all the wood in the barn was so worn from use. All the calf pens had smooth wooden latches that you would slide across to lock and unlock. I loved the feel of that well worn wood in your hand. I remember having the job of closing the stanchions on the cows necks as they came in for milking. The wood all around them were worn smooth from age and the constant rubbing from the cows necks. I can still remember the way they felt, it was like someone had spent hours sanding an expensive piece of furniture.
Hanging on the wall as you went in the barn was an old wooden cupboard. Poppa would keep all the things he needed for the cows, like medicines, teat cream etc. It was a long narrow cupboard and it had darkened with age and dirt. I remember being told how it hung in one of our distant relatives barber shop in the Peace River area and had been built out of dynamite crates. You could tell my Poppa loved it. As a kid i was intrigued with the old metal key hole it had in the door, the key was long gone.
Parked in the lean to next to the barn was my Poppas old red Farmall Cub tractor. I remember the day when i was old enough to finally be able to drive it. There was many hours driving around the field during haying season. I remember whenever i had to sit and wait for something, i would open the glove compartment that was located in front of the steering wheel. Inside was years of dust and hay and to this day i can still remember what it smelled like, a combination of oil, grease and hay. Hiding in the bottom of the glove compartment was a small key chain that held a little plastic skull. I use to always sit and look at it, wondering where it came from and why it was in there. The skulls lower jaw was on a spring and you could open and close it. The other day i mentioned it to my Uncle and he also remembered the little skull, but had no idea where it came from, but it had been there for as long as he remembered also.
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A few days before my Grama and Poppa sold the farm and retired, they had a garage sale. It was a sad day as this was the place I grew up, this was where my really special memories were made. I spent a lot of the day there, just wandering around and touching things, for the last time. The worn wooden gate latches and the smell of the hay loft. Then I ran my hand across the hood of the old red Farmall one last time and wondered if i should take the little skull key chain that lived in the glove box. Later that day, my Poppa asked if i would like to have the old medicine cabinet that hung on the barn all them years. It is my most prized possession. He also tucked a milk can with their route number still painted along the top and a cream can in my car.
This was in the early 80s when they sold the farm and both my Grandparents are gone now. Since then, I have moved way too many times and each time I would get rid of more of my belongings. But one thing has never changed, wherever I go, that little cabinet and the milk cans goes with me. And even though it hasn't hung in a barn for over 40 years, everytime I open it I can still smell the vaseline and iodine which once sat on the shelves so many years ago.
