One of my very earliest memories is “helping” my father and Grandpa clear away the ruins of an old outhouse in the back yard blown over by a hurricane. Because I was so small, when I was four years old, it looked positively huge to me. And I had no idea what it was used for–they had indoor plumbing by then.
I remember them going at it with saws and claw hammers, and carting the wood out to the curb for trash pickup. It was just the kind of bright and sunny day you get after a major storm. Grandpa had a double lot, half of it for the house, the rest planted all over with flowers, berry patches, and vegetables. And yes, Grandma knew how to can the produce–pots full of black and red raspberries, Concord grapes, and whatnot. People in those days knew how to do a lot of things that have since been forgotten.
The old house is gone now, everything’s gone, even the beautiful dogwood trees. I’m so glad I can still remember it.
Because I think Heaven will be very much like it.