Though it has been over thirty years since my first summer with Gammy, I can still remember it like it was yesterday. If I close my eyes, I can see every detail. Gammy lived in a big old turn-of-the-century farmhouse with several dilapidated barns on 100 acres of woods and fields. A sturdy, masculine looking porch circled the entire house like a protective moat surrounding a castle. Each pillar was ensconced in thick, overgrown ivy. The shutters on several of the windows were broken and had been haphazardly nailed to the sides of the windows. Dozens of old pots and buckets filled with herbs and flowers were strewn around the porch.
I remember the first time I saw it; I was scared, yet excited. Something about the mysterious looking old house drew me closer. Maybe it was the bright pansy faces peering out from their beds or maybe it was the delicate shade of pale pink Gammy had painted the house when my grandfather died. Whatever it was, I knew instantly that I had come to the right place.
From the outside, the house gave off a quiet, mystical feeling. But on the inside, it was warm and friendly. Inviting to all that entered it. The hard wood floors were dark and old. They creaked a friendly hello when I walked across them. Gammy's house was filled with over sixty years of living. Each room pleasantly cluttered, but never dirty. Freshly washed lace curtains hung neatly from each window. I can still smell the scent. Part bleach from cleaning, part bacon from the morning's breakfast, and part just plain old.
The library, as Gammy jokingly referred to it, was by far the most interesting room in the entire house. She called it the library because three of the four walls were filled with books, many older than Gammy herself. They were given to Gammy by her parents and my mother had never taken any interest in them, so they sat on the shelves, collecting dust, waiting for someone to read them. An old brown, faded globe sat on a table in the corner. Scattered throughout the room were small tables and shelves filled with stuffed animals and bird's nests Gammy had collected over the years. Small birds and a squirrel made up most of the collection, but the prize was a three foot stuffed owl perched on a large branch near the window.
Gammy told me that she shot the owl after he had attacked and killed ten of her prize rabbits. He was so magnificent, she decided to have him stuffed so she could display him in the window as a sign to the other owls to keep away from her rabbits or the same fate awaited them. It seemed to work as she said she never lost another rabbit again. That old owl gave me quite a scare the first time I saw him but over the years we became good friends.
* * *
Richard turned the car into the long gravel driveway. The three of them perked up when they saw the magnificent old house come into view. Hannah, who was alternating between sleeping and gazing quietly out the window, came to life. "Are we at Gammy's?" She asked in her sweet child's voice.
"Yes honey. We're here. Isn't this going to be fun?" Replied her mother.
"I can see her house and the barns," squealed Hannah. "Will Gammy let me play in the barns?"
Monique was pleased her daughter was so interested in her visit. It would make it much easier on all three of them when they dropped her off and left for the airport. "Oh, yes." Replied Monique as she turned around and saw Hannah's beaming smile. "I'm sure Gammy will let you play in the barns and by the duck pond and maybe if you're really good, she'll take you for a picnic in the woods like we used to do when I was little." Monique smiled as she remembered trudging through the woods with her mother. They walked for what seemed like miles until they came to a little grassy clearing by a lovely pond. There, they would picnic among the squirrels and deer. She would never forget those picnics and so much wanted Hannah to experience them also. She made a mental note to discuss it with Gammy before they left.
