Grandma’s House

When I was little, we would drive through the mountains to my Great Grandma’s house. I’d look for cows and the big white building with penguins painted on it. I ran through irrigation water and through corn that was so tall I couldn’t see the top. Grandma Hansen always had creamies in her freezer. And also Tab, but I never drank the Tab. Who even liked Tab, anyway, other than my grandma? Oh and a receptionist I knew once.

Several years in a row my cousin Andrew and I threw a circus on the tire swing in the backyard. I’m sure it was pretty boring and terrible (my main trick was swinging sort-of-kind-of upside down) but everyone loved it anyway. We had weenie roasts in the backyard and my mom did NOT like when we called them that. I used to play house in the enormous tree (shrub?) in the front yard. I was obsessed with grandma’s clawfoot tub and remember taking my Arthur toothbrush (We love you Arthur Read!) when we went for a sleepover. I got to sleep in a room with lilac walls with little carousel on the dresser. I played the piano and my grandma was always very impressed at my beginner songs.

Fritz (2) playing house in the tree (shrub?) for the first time

When I was twelve, my Great-Grandma Hansen had a stroke. The family moved her out of the Providence house, which my Great-Grandpa had bought from his siblings after his parents died, and into long-term care. They sold the house to pay for the medical bills and long-term care.

Right around the time they sold the house, we all went up to see it one last time, and pick out something to bring home (I picked a candy dish, for my mom, and a tiny ceramic elephant for myself). We brought out our travel watercolor sets and painted little portraits of the house, sitting on the sloping sidewalk looking down on the green lawn. 

Fritz (2) checking out the chickens

I sort of remember what my painting looked like (I’d never been great at buildings or landscapes). We framed my dad’s, and it’s been in my parent’s living room, on the bookshelf in front of Giants of the Earth and Kristan Lavransdatter ever since. 

It wasn’t so much the house we loved - although the house was great. The house was a link. It was Grandma Hansen, and Grandpa Hansen (who said “tell me something I don’t know” when my parents announced they were getting married, and died just days before their wedding), and their parents, and their parents before them. It was like the house was a pink and white magnet, pulling all of the children and grandchildren and great-children in the family back where we belonged. And then it was gone, and a few years later, so was Grandma Hansen. 

A year ago, the couple who bought the house called my grandma, Karen. They were retiring and moving to be closer to their grown-up kids. Before they put it on the market, would she like to buy it? Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. 

Lars (6 months) the day Grandma Karen went to look at the house.

The day she went to look at the house, I went with my parents and the little boys. The second their little feet hit the lawn, it was like they had known this place their whole lives. And I watched them run down the little hill toward my favorite shrub-tree, which they immediately turned into a house. They hurtled through a peach orchard (new), past a row of roses (Grandma’s) and toward an enormous blackberry hedge in the garden (new). It was the end of the season, but there were a few handfuls of berries left, which Fritz plopped into his mouth. They played trains on the carpet in the front room. 

So my grandma sold her house in Sun Valley (also beloved and full of memories, of course) and moved home.

Shoutout to the Jolley’s Corner lollipop in this photo

Last summer we helped her moved in. We painted some walls and hauled boxes and arranged the books in the library on the landing -- exactly where her parents had had their library.

Lars has named the dog in the background “dinosaur” and he and Fritz feed him, you guessed it, lollipops. Also gotta love a baby with a power tool.

We planted flowers and pulled dandelions and scrubbed cupboards.

Andersen’s Seed and Garden in Logan. Can you getteth over the seeds-sold-by-weight situation? Because I cannoteth.

When the family sold the house in 2003, they sold the dining table, which had been in the family forever, with it. When the couple who bought the house sold it to my grandma, they included the table too.

Lars (1) had just learned the name of face parts (eyes, ears, nose). He kept going up to this dude and saying “nose.” That’s a portrait of my Great-Grandpa Hansen, which used to hang in this very dining room, in the background.

Blackberries with Grandma

Last fall, we had the first Thanksgiving back in the old family house. 

Fritz (3) and Papa making Papa’s famous gumdrop turkeys

Still freaking out that this photo exists. Fritz, the gumdrop turkey, Grandma’s house, Grandpa Hansen watching over him. Cue tears, I am a puddle, the puddle is me.

Ah, yesssss. The best photos in this post. Why are they so beautiful? They were taken by Ben, obviously. He took lots of Thanksgiving photos to commemorate the day.

And this summer has been filled with drives (“Wanna go a Providence” -Lars), watering days with Nana where Fritz pulls open the irrigation gates and watches with delight as the ditches flood with water and Lars splashes through the water in a swimsuit, holding on tight to a lollipop.

We float squash boats down the irrigation ditch and the boys play house in my old tree. They eat as many strawberries and raspberries as they can out of the yard and we’re counting down the days to blackberry season. They leap out of the car when we arrive and rush to my grandma, who is waiting on the porch.

Obviously not the best photo of me except for LOOK AT THIS ACCESSORY.

The proximity to Aggie ice cream is NOT a bad thing. Aggie joy all the way, baby.

Of course we already have a favorite pizza spot, which just happens to be next to Bluebird Candy. Look at Fritz. Just look at him. Doesn’t get happier than this happy place.

First sleepover, I think?

Most recent sleepover. Boys watched Grandma Hansen’s evening primroses pop open as the sunset. She only had one tiny plant when my mom was little, and they would go outside to watch as it opened. Now there are primroses on primroses on primroses. She would be so thrilled. Also, sorry Lars, your eyes are closed in this picture, but it was too cute not to post. Someday when you’re bigger we might have to care about your facial expressions in photos but right now I think every photo of you is perfect and so here you go.

They want to go every week. Actually, every day. They want to see cows and  horses on the drive and they watch for the big white building with penguins painted on it to know we’re close. They run through the irrigation water. The corn is taller than they are. Grandma gives them chocolate creamies and Fritz plays “Tucka Tucka Stop Stop on Grandma’s old piano. And I have a million other things I’d like to say, but maybe I’ll just pack my bags instead. Maybe we could go to Providence tomorrow.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!