Ahhhh…the smell of cows

At my house in Orange County

On my way home today I swear that I smelled cow. Which is odd because I was not driving anywhere near cows. It is possible it was someone over seeding and fertilizing grass (yeah it’s that time of year here….to plant grass).

But when I smelled what I thought was cow my mind was filled with thoughts of my childhood. And how lucky I was to have the opportunity to experience different landscapes growing up…really experience, not just drive through.

Growing up in Orange County (I have to say this because we moved a lot all over O.C.) I experienced the beach and manicured lawns with nice grassy parks and community pools. Winters were spent skiing and enjoying cozy hotels or cabins.

On a lake in Wisconsin...or Minnesota...

Vacations consisted of visiting family in Wisconsin and Minnesota, depending on if I was with my mom or my dad. For a little while some vacations even sent me here to Arizona (of course I remember…next to nothing of those trips). I spent summers in the lake (I LOVED being in the water) and on the rope swing at my Grandma and Grandpa’s cabin, or in the fall at their house in town, jumping in piles of yellow and red leaves. If I was with my mom it was mostly summer time, which was at my aunt and uncle’s houses either on the lake or at their farms. Let’s just say the sound of a fan in the window and the noise a floor makes in a double-wide makes brings a smile to my face.

My mom and I in my uncle's pool - O.C.

When my dad moved me to Washington I longed for vacations out of that place! Montana, Wyoming, Tennessee…any place was better than the utter hate I felt for Washington.

Yet as I smelled that cow smell today my memories didn’t turn to the Midwest, and obviously not Orange County, but to Washington…to when my husband and I lived at our first house just outside of fields upon fields of farms filled with cows. In the summer when we would open the windows the smell would come hurtling in at full force.

So I guess after all I do miss Washington…even if it is linked to other memories, that have nothing to do with Washington.

Update: Grandma and Grandpa’s Lake Cabin

I’ve noticed a lot of continued interest/hits on my post about Grandma and Grandpa’s Lake Cabin as the weeks continue by and was lucky enough to have my dad send me a picture taken by a family member of what it looks like now.

Grandma and Grandpa's Lake Cabin (recent)

The original shade of dirt brown has been re-painted, but I surely recognize it.  As you can see the left part of the cabin would the screened-in-porch and how you get to the front door. The window in the picture is the dinning area. Can you make out the lake through the screened-in-porch and just beyond the trees?

I wonder if the new owners make apple crisp like Grandma used to make….

Those Times at Grandpa and Grandma’s Lake Cabin

Flexing Muscles Outside The Cabin

Ahhh…the long drive from my Grandparent’s house to the lake cabin which, always consisted of a themed Minnesota cassette tape. A few favorites “How to Speak Minnesotan,” and the “Lake Wobegon,” collection.

I visited mostly in the summer, but a few times, I remember being there in the fall. (Much to my displeasure)

We arrived, climbed out of the car and there it was, Silver Lake. Off in the distance, our private fishing spot, Big Fish Bay, of course I think that wherever we found fish was our “private fishing spot.”

If it was summer and no one wanted to fish, then I would swim in the lake. I recall a floating dock wayyyy out in the lake, I was too afraid to swim out that far regardless of how bad I wanted to jump off it. I think most of the time when we visited in the summer there were no kids to play with so I would swim for hours by myself.

If you walked back toward the cabin, past the detached garage and up the driveway (yes, up) you would come to the rope swing  attached to the tree.

This swing was wonderful enough to get me to come outside when it was so cold my nose was running. Of course, the swing couldn’t give me its full potential unless I had an adult push me. (All this swinging took place before I developed a fear of height) I would swing so high, I would dare myself that if I let go I could easily land on the roof of the cabin or if I happened to be swinging sideways, in the bed of the neighbor’s truck. I LOVED that swing. (I know there are pictures of me on it somewhere…just not sure where.)

Fishing With Cousin Keith

Inside the small dark brown cabin was more wood paneling!! They must have had leftovers from the basement. (My Grandpa and dad, along with the other brothers built the cabin) A cuckoo clock hung on the wall in the small dark kitchen, pale wood cupboards, and small counter space.

Down the hall were a bathroom and a guest bedroom. All I remember about those are: the bathroom had a HUGE spider in the sink one time and the guest bedroom had windows so high up you couldn’t see out them and it felt like jail. I never slept a wink in that room! I know my Grandparent’s bedroom was off the living room, but I don’t think I ever even went in it in all the times I visited.

The living room had a small black and white TV on a rolling cart and a wide-open view of the lake. If you stayed up late to watch TV you could hear Grandpa and Dad snoring in the rooms.

The memories of the lake cabin and all that we did around the area have faded faster than I would like.

I know that the rope swing is no longer there; in fact, I believe it came down even before they sold the cabin many years ago.

Remembering…Grandparent’s House

If there was an interior designer writing a book on retro style, they surely could’ve used my Grandparent’s house (on my dads side) in Minnesota for some amazing pictures. I don’t think they ever updated a single thing!

Outside stood trees so high, they blocked the sun at all phases of the day. The leaves in the fall were killer and a mess!

The front door had three diamond-shaped windows in it. The TV sat low encased in wood just under the front window. Grandma spent her time in the living room doing crossword puzzles.

The kitchen had a long counter top and they had the best refrigerator ever. Olive-Puke Green with one of those silver handles that snapped closed and you had to watch your fingers. Grandma kept half-open pop cans in there…and she drank it after it was all flat!

The kitchen chairs that neatly fit around the table were fully padded vinyl of some kind. When you pulled out the chair, it made a distinct noise and when you scooted it in the chair legs made another distinct noise. Grandpa spent his time playing solitary there. The wallpaper in the kitchen area would have made even a slightly drunk person go crazy. I watched Grandma make many apple crisps in that kitchen, and lastly saw Grandpa placing Cheetos in the bird feeder outside the kitchen window.

Down the hall was the bathroom. This bathroom had to have the worse colors of any bathroom. I think, if I remember correctly, the bathtub was pink or maybe a pink/peach color. There might’ve been some blue in there too…but what that bathroom lacked in poor color choices it made up for with the laundry chute. I remember sending my Hot Wheels and Barbie’s down that thing!

The laundry chute went down stairs…to the scary “Home Alone” basement. The stairs were steep and made an old wood noise I could pick out of a line up even today.

Now of course other than retrieving my toys I had a good reason to go into this damp, cold, dark basement…the Rec Room!!! It was half of the basement and you would flip a switch on the wood panel wall and slowly, one by one, the noisy overhead lights would hum on.

And there it would sit…on the linoleum…THE WORST POOL TABLE EVER! You placed a ball on this table and it would roll until it hit a side. Nonetheless, I would grab a cue off the rack, rub that infamous blue chalk across the top and rack up a game. I played for hours on end, until I had to use the restroom…then I ran back upstairs…I sure as heck wasn’t going to use the scary basement bathroom!!!