Christmases on the Farm

I will never forget my childhood Christmases:

Growing up, my parents, my younger brother, Kelly, and I would drive to my uncle’s farm in Pikeville, TN to spend several days during the Christmas season. We did this for many years. 

My uncle ran a dairy farm. He and his wife, Margaret, had four sons and lived in a farmhouse that was over 100 years old. There were six of us grandchildren. I was the oldest and the only girl. I always felt special. When you walked in the front door of the house, there was a huge stone fireplace with a wooden mantle long enough and with plenty of room to hang our six stockings. To the right of the fireplace stood a tall, freshly cut cedar tree, festively adorned with bright lights, ornaments, and an over abundance of icicles. My male cousins had obviously had a battle to see who could “throw” the most icicles on the tree before our family arrived on Christmas Eve. I can still smell the fire burning in the fireplace, the fresh cedar tree, and the aromas of homemade cookies, candy, and other goodies coming from the kitchen. The anticipation was so exciting.

On Christmas Eve, just as it began to get dark, our families, along with grandparents and other extended family (great uncles, aunts, other cousins, and sometimes friends) would gather at the house to visit, eat, and exchange gifts. Anyone was welcome. Everyone had already been to their church programs, office parties, and school events earlier in the week. Christmas Eve was set aside for this family gathering, and that’s what we did. As each person walked in the front door, any gifts they brought were placed under the tree. Each gift was wrapped and tied with a bow; that was long before we had gift bags. It seemed there were piles and piles of gifts, every shape, every size. Each person got lots of presents. Such a sight to see for my cousins, my brother, and me.

First, we had a blessing followed by supper, usually hot soup, chili, or stew with cornbread, crackers, and cheese, leaving plenty of room for all the Christmas goodies. There were decorated Christmas cookies, freshly baked banana bread, cakes, fudge, divinity, and other delicious seasonal pastries—always too much, with plenty to share and take back home. As a child, it was a magical time for me.

After supper, we would gather in the room with the tree to sing, play games, and open gifts. There would be dish towels for the women and socks for the men. Other gifts might include fragrance soap, handmade potholders, small bottles of perfume or aftershave, chocolate covered cherries, ties, hair ribbons, hand knit scarves, caps, or mittens, books, and candy canes. Occasionally, a fresh log would be thrown on the fire, causing a mighty roar and sparks to fly up the chimney.          

After a terrific celebration of eating, visiting, and lots of laughing, everyone was tired and ready to head to their respective homes. Most everyone lived within a few miles. Our family and grandparents would stay and help clean up. There was much to be done. We had to clear out the room so we could hang our stockings and wait for Santa. After all, we were staying in a house with a huge chimney so Santa would have no trouble making his deliveries. I sometimes worried about the fire, but Santa was always very generous and Christmas morning was a special time. When people talk about the magic of Christmas, it occurs to me that Santa frequently brought large items such as bicycles, a basketball goal, and one time he brought my brother a pony and saddle. How did he get all that down the chimney with a fire burning? 

Christmas was such a magical time. We were safe. We were fed. We were warm. We were loved. We were happy.

Merry Christmas!