When I Was young in the Mountains

I found this book at Goodwill Books a few months ago and I love it. It's like a summation of The Little House on the Prairie in way. It's simplicity speaks to me...calls to me...waits for me to respond.

Each page begins with... when I was young in the mountains and she talks of everyday life living in the mountains with her grandparents. Her grandfather coming home from the coal mine covered with black dust. Swimming in a dark and muddy swimming hole. Pumping water for their baths and warming up by the wood stove while her grandmother heats up cocoa. Church at the schoolhouse and walking through the cow pasture to the swimming hole for baptisms. These are my favorite pages...

When I was young in the mountains, Grandmother spread the table with hot corn bread, pinto beans, and fried okra.

On our way home, we stopped at Mr. Crawford's for a mound of white butter. Mr. Crawford and Mrs. Crawford looked alike and always smelled of sweet milk.

When I was young in the mountains, we sat on the porch swing in the evenings, and Grandfather sharpened my pencils with his pocket knife. Grandmother sometimes shelled beans and sometimes braided my hair.  the dogs lay around us, and the stars sparkled in the sky. A bobwhite whistled in the forest.

When I was young in the mountains, I never wanted to go to the ocean, and I never wanted to go to the desert. I never wanted to go anywhere else in the world, for I was in the mountains. And that was always enough.





This is the last page and whispers contentment, joy, and peace. No fancy dinners, no TV in the evening, and no rushing to soccer practice and dance. Family, spending time, and doing what needs to be done when it needs to be done. I admire this book. You may not get it or like it but I do {Grin}