Today was a beautiful October day out here on the farm made even better by my son and a couple of my granddaughters showing up to go walking with the dogs and me. One of my granddaughters found a nice comfy fallen tree to settle down on to enjoy the beauty of the day. Our walk through the field and down to the creek got me to thinking about all the good Sunday afternoons that have blessed my life.
A few years ago, a writing friend and I talked about the Sunday afternoons of our younger years. He said he remembered lazy Sunday afternoons when he and some of his family or friends spent time leaning on a fence rail talking and watching the cows graze. I can see them with one foot up on a bottom rail while they chewed on a grass stem. I think that might be a guy thing. I’ve chewed on a few of those grass stems or held them between my thumbs to make a whistle, but I don’t think I ever spent a Sunday afternoon watching the cows graze. However, a walk through the pastures past the cows to enjoy a fall afternoon always seemed like a good way to spend some time.
Of course, back in the day, things were considerably slower out in the country where people like my writer friend and I grew up. Sundays were different. After that wonderful Sunday dinner that your mother fixed and put in the oven before leaving for Sunday school, most of us took the day off. Sometimes people headed back out to take a Sunday drive. Gas was considerably cheaper back when. Way less than a dollar a gallon. Folks would drive down all the country roads and see what the neighbors were up to. Or maybe you’d go visiting relatives.
That’s what usually happened around my house. We went to our cousins’ house or they came to ours. Cousins can be the best friends. We’d be outside in the woods as soon as Sunday dinner was over. The grownups would maybe play cards or just talk away the afternoon. In the summer, the men might make banana ice cream in the hand crank ice cream freezer.
When my husband was a boy, he and his brothers might have found a pond to do some fishing and then they’d be home getting the cows in early to milk before heading to church again. Even on Sundays, there were always chores to be done, animals to feed, wood to pack in during the cold months, water to carry into the house.
We didn’t have electronic toys. We had grapevines in the trees instead of swing sets. We made mud pies and went wading in creeks. And we chewed on that sweet grass and watched the cows graze or ran about the fields chasing butterflies. But those were good days.
What about your Sunday afternoons? Now or then?
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We always had Sunday dinners at my grandparents’ houses. My parents were fair; we took week about with each side of the family. There was some good food on those tables.
Author
After I married, we spent most Sundays at either his or my family, Tammy. Sometimes we had lunch at his parents and then ended the day at my parents’ house. We never went hungry.
Sometimes I would bring a friend home from church to spend the afternoon with me and then we would return for the evening service. As I got to dating age, the boyfriend would come by and we would usually ride out somewhere, sometimes up into the mountains or just around town, or we would join other friends at someone’s house and play board or card games.
Author
Good Sunday afternoon memories, Connie. I can remember the excitement of my boyfriend/future husband showing up to get me for those rides. Fun times.
Sundays for me always are synonymous with church from as early as I can remember. The hustle and bustle of my Mom getting kids ready and fed. The lazy afternoons before the evening service filled with nothing in particular. I always clung to the Sunday’s each week as it stretched out the weekend until the start of the new week and resuming the normal routine of life at different stages. As I think back on those times I realize just how peaceful they were and that my parents did set them apart as a special day. In my heart, I’m so thankful for that.
You so accurately describe my growing up years too!
Author
Sounds like great Sundays and a good time to remember, Amy. My parents weren’t church goers, but my mother did see that we went to Sunday school and after my father passed away, she was a faithful church attendee. She had grown up in church. Her aunt took her and her sisters. I started going to church as a teen and married into a family of faithful church people. We never missed church unless somebody was sick after I married. Church makes Sundays even more special.
Wilma, glad you had those special Sunday afternoon memories too.
Thanks! So blessed for my upbringing!