Idella's Gift

There are smells and sights and tastes which always remind of Grandma with her rows of flowers bright, the red of poppy the gladiolas white, the blue of spring violets vain the scent of lilacs in the air and pine needles in the mix. Sometimes too, the memory of her sweet breath does rise of Black Jack gum or peppermint and all those summer times. The search for new spout dandelions the mushrooms other times And summer’s end brought black blue teeth a blueberry’s remind. We’d dig for bait with cans of tin, Idella, grandma mine, and rise from ‘neath the patched quilts of calico so bright. By chance to fish within the stream, trout in our breakfast mix along with silly shaped pancakes so placed on china vain. The beauty of her sky blues eyes never was so vain that wisps of salt and pepper hair gave time its only claim. To rise like yeast a child within this mix to hear a bark of terrier and feel Babe’s tongue remind of childhood days a Grandma’s house. Idella our bright find. Take those blessed tender hands and rise Touch childhood cheek like dough of white and rise have no dark dwelling thoughts of blue blood in the vein the thinness of her fragile skin the dimmed light so bright just remember love full of the better times. And with the scent of venison and sizzling pans remind laced with home made butter, fried onions in the mix. How had Idella’s loveliness from German bloodlines mixed together with the stalwart Grandpa Trussell’s rise to birth the lively bunch of child my Mom’s remind? When in the dark of night the rush of red rolls through my vein mind light flies and flickers like the candle flame of time and I return on winged horse within a dream so bright. Smell the wood smoke from the stove caste iron bright. See the siblings teasing cat and dog within the mix. The mantle clock’s brass pendulum sings in time. Hear the winter wind blow through the rafter’s rise like tucked in chicks the storms blew all in vain, now only grand kids live these tales and do remind. Always in the darkest times I think of my Idella bright and Gram reminds me of both joy and sorrow’s mix soon like the wind on weathervane I'll rise to heaven and her kiss.