The Story of The Hill

I added a tag line to my blog yesterday and thought I'd share the story behind "The Hill".

When I was a child Grandmother and Grandad owned 200 acres of land four miles up the road from where I grew up. Their homeplace was there.  The homeplace consisted of their house, a garage with a loft, a corn crib, chicken pen for the house chickens, a chicken house for the chickens they raised to sell and a wood working shop where Grandad built things.

Later when a big development was being constructed up the road my Grandad was asked if they could build a lake on his land.  And they did.  I remember visiting the lake in progress.  They moved earth to create the depth and piled the excess dirt up to form the dam.  At the dam was a sort of earthen dock that jutted out very high above the dry lake bed.  One day we all went down to take a look at the progress.  My brother and I went out onto the "dirt dock" and started throwing rocks below.  It must have rained because when our rocks hit the bottom they sank into the mud.  I remember being so amazed at how high up we were and I couldn't imagine what it would look like when it was finished.

As it turned out the lake became a huge source of entertainment for the family.  We spent weekends camping there.  Daddy bought a power boat and pulled skiers behind.   We swam and had marshmallow roasts. It was great.

There were other things about the homeplace I remember.  Often after church Grandmother invited us over for Sunday dinner (lunch) and after we ate Grandad pulled out the cards and we'd play Rummy or Rook for hours.  Then we'd pick sun warmed grapes from the arbor and eat them while sitting on the porch.  The game was to see how far one could spit the hull after sucking out the sweet, warm pulp.

At some point Grandad sold 100 acres and the remaining acreage began to be divided among the children and grandchildren.  Through the years many of us started to build our homes here.  My brother was first, then my cousins, we were next, then Mother and Daddy moved here and finally my sister's family.  At this moment my entire immediate family lives within a short walking distance from each other.  We like it like that.

When we built our house DH wanted to give it a name.  He kicked around a few things but nothing stuck. Then when our son moved away to go to college he often brought his friends up for the weekend.  Those were such good times having a house full of guests all the time.  It was during this period that someone - I can't even remember who or how it stared - began to refer to coming to visit us as "going to The Hill".  And it stuck.  Then over time "going to The Hill" came to refer to visiting anyone from our immediate family.

So if you're ever in the neighborhood drop by "The Hill".  You'll get a hearty hello, a glass full of ice water and the peace and comfort that everyone who has visited knows and returns for.

Later....