Memories of my first seven years on a beautiful hill near Alma, Arkansas

These may not be in order ... just writing as I remember them.

Our house was on a hill where we raised all kinds of fruits. We raised apples, striped ones, grapes, peaches and strawberries. The strawberries were in a field that had lots of rocks. I remember very well looking for ripe strawberries. It was like hunting Easter eggs.

The grapevine was west of the house. It was hard waiting for them to get ripe. I would get under the vine and taste of some. Blah. Not ripe yet.

To make money mom and dad would fill bushel baskets with those beautiful striped apples and arrange the biggest ones on the top in a circular pattern. Dad would take them in his truck to a tourist area near Mountain Berg and park on the roadside where people could stop and buy them. This was in the depression time and money was scarce.

We had a really nice house that I'm sure my grandpa Cole financed. It had a concrete porch on the front with a swing. We had a wonderful barn and I remember we filled it with peanuts. Yes, we raised peanuts. And they were so good in peanut brittle candy that mom made. (Mom cooked on a wood stove!!!!!!!!!!)

There were no refrigerators available to us then but we had an icebox that we actually put a block of ice in to keep things cool. It seems that an ice truck would deliver these blocks of ice to us. We walked to a two room school building that seemed a long way. One winter we nearly froze getting to school. When we got there we warmed up by a very big heater taller than I was. (Of course it was!!!!!!!)

The classes were taught by a Mr. and Mrs. Crawford. The lower grades were in one room and taught by Mrs. Ruby. The upper grades were in another room and taught by Mr. Crawford.

I wrote cursive handwriting in the first grade. It must have been pretty good because Mrs. Ruby entered me in a contest in downtown Alma. She left me after she told me which room to go in. Silly me! When people started going in one room I just followed them. Wrong room, of course. Nobody helped me. Who knows if I would have won?!!!!!! I still remember how I made my big fat “P” of my first name. In the first grade!!!!!

There were ten kids in my mom's family. All lived in that country area and went to a country church in Mountain Grove. Grandpa Cole led the singing and fanned while he sang. He was so dear!

One Sunday before Christmas there were boxes of cherry chocolates stacked near the pews. Grandpa gave them to our families. How sweet they were! He was such a generous kind man.

Mom taught me to embroider towels for the kitchen. I remember elephants printed so that I could embroider them. One for each day of the week. The elephants were doing the job of the day. Washing on Monday, etc.

Grandpa Cole told mom that I was going to be an artist. Ha.....not so much. 😉

Cousin Lucy's family lived at the bottom of our hill not too far away. Between their house and ours were wild plum trees. So good. And a sweet gum tree. We tried to chew the wax that oozed down the bark of the tree. Stuck to our teeth.

Cousin Lucy had beautiful blond hair that Aunt Lera made into rows of long curls. Jealous me. She was about two at the time I'm thinking of. They moved to the valley before we did and often sent a box of oranges to us for Christmas. Those oranges were kept in the closet by our fireplace and handed out sparingly. I love oranges to this day. Sweet memories.

Some time in the past grandpa Cole went to the Rio Grande Valley and bought ten sections of land, one for each of his ten children. He had a house built on each one. Several of the kids moved their families there. We moved there in 1937. Dad bought a John Deer tractor and became a great farmer.

Grandpa Cole became ill and was in the hospital in Fort Smith. We went to see him. He let the kids have the ice cream someone had brought him. He had prostate cancer and passed away. I remember going into the church for his funeral. We sat on about the second or third row. No one was in front of us. All of the Cole families were there, of course, all dressed up in dark suits and dresses.

Sometime before the funeral all of the Cole children were photographed in their dark suits and dresses in a group picture. Sad looks, of course. No smiles. Not a happy time. But I have one of the pictures and I love it.

Quite a few years ago Arch and I went to Alma to look around. We went to the cemetary to see the graves. A man was on a tractor mower and he stopped to talk to us. When he learned whose graves we were looking for he said he helped build the first brick house in Alma when he was just a boy. It was the Cole's house. Interesting.

There is much more to be told but perhaps another time.

I have loved sharing this and I hope you enjoy reading about this time in history.