Living Seasonally
As a child, my mom would bring me to my great-grandparent's house every Thursday. I called them Nanny and Boppy. Depending on the season, our pastimes varied. In the summer we rode Boppy’s moped around the neighborhood. Upon our return, we would pick raspberries from the bushes that Boppy had planted in the backyard. Filling tiny green plastic baskets, we brought them inside the house to show Nanny. She always responded with enthusiasm at the harvest we had gathered. In the winter, Nanny would prepare cozy Campbell’s minestrone for lunch. I can still hear the whirl of the automatic can opener mounted to the cabinet. I loved the way the small shell-shaped noodles would cup around the garbanzo beans like a little nest. One time in the fall, Nanny gave me a needle and thread and sent me outside to collect leaves. I wove a garland of color. In the spring, Boppy and I would take walks. We walked to the rock pile in the neighborhood, filling our pockets with treasures. Occasionally, we would trek even farther to the nursery. Rows of spring blooms lined the greenhouses. We would single out one plant for my mom, and sometimes one for Nanny, usually a pink or orange begonia.
Through the seasons, one activity that never changed was watching television together. Boppy would record my favorite shows on VHS tapes and we would binge them for hours in the living room. Nanny would etch the name of the show on the label of the VHS with a blue pen. One show in particular that I remember watching with them was Little House on the Prairie. Now Nanny and Boppy have passed on. I tell my children about them. A few months ago we began watching Little House on the Prairie together as a family in the evenings. I watched as my children were captivated by the characters of Laura, Mary, and baby Carrie. It was surreal to see my kids fall in love with the story of the Ingalls quest out west. I did not expect that I would be watching the show in a different light. In this season of my life, I relate to the mother figure. As I studied Ma, I observed her courage in the face of the unknown. Her grit and determination. I saw her roll up her sleeves and help Pa lift logs to build their little house. I considered all the daily tasks she repeated to make their house a home. Even down to sweeping the dirt floor of their tiny cabin. Caroline Ingalls inspired me for multiple reasons, but primarily her moral character. She is collected and kind in her interactions with her children and her neighbors. She puts the needs of others before her own. She courageously responds when someone is in need. She never once complains, though they go through many trials as a family. She is resourceful and creative with what is available to her.
When my family first began watching the show, I was just coming out of my postpartum weeks with our son. I wanted to get into shape and I was trying to get to the gym, but it was a struggle. While I enjoyed the alone time and loved working out, I felt conflicted. We homeschool our children, we have property and animals to tend to, as well as creative projects. Fitness felt like this extra box that I needed to squeeze in somehow to be a healthy person. Watching
Leave a Comment
