Yesterday we were in the Muscoda area for a memorial. I made sure we stopped my Grandmother's property, which was sold to the DNR after her death. The cottage, or as it was known "The Shack", is gone, but the Wisconsin River and the woods are still there as reminders of what was.
It was this time of year that the entire family, Aunts, Uncles and all the cousins would get together to cut wood. The men would head in the old truck to bring out the fallen trees, cut down the dead ones, and cut them into pieces that would fit into the wood burning stove. They would drive back to the shack, unload the back full of wood and the women and older cousins would use a splitter to make usable pieces, and the young ones would stack it. Enough wood to heat the shack through the winter. The day was filled with hard work, wonderful stories, lots of jumping into leaf piles and ended with a huge bonfire, with roasted weiners and marshmallows.
Taking my boys to the area that holds so many memories makes me miss an easier time, my mom and especially my Grandmother. How I wish Grandma could have met my sons. She would have loved J's adventurous spirit and S's gentle ways. And they would have adored her. Although she would have clobbered them in Scrabble, she showed no mercy.
Ready, set, throw 'em!