Autumn in an Indiana Farmhouse
When I was 5 my parents rented an old farmhouse that I will forever hold in my heart.
Thinking back to that time, it's like savoring a beautiful dream. To start with, it had a treacherous attic and my parents forbade us to go up there.
But my four-year-old brother and I could not resist the siren call of the strange staircase. Truly odd in that rickety house, it was a grand and classic structure that curved at the bottom with a smooth, glassy banister. It was perfect for dramatic sitcoms and classic movies.
My brother Misi (pronounced Mishi) and I were disappointed that we were not tall enough to straddle that banister and slide down but we were still crazy about it.
The staircase was absurdly menacing to adults - a fancy invitation that hinted at affluence yet led to nowhere in a house that lacked many basic necessities. The stairs led to the second story, a floor of loose plywood boards and one tiny but perfect window. We loved the attic. Our breath hung like clouds in the air and we pressed noses to the window cold as ice. Santa's workshop must have felt like this.
The staircase was a magical climb to whatever place we imagined.
But the house was loaded with actual adventures, mysteries, and gifts that excited us as much as they horrified our mother. She did not drive, so we were isolated out in the country while our father was building lovely homes with staircases that lead somewhere special. In addition to us, Mom had her third child, Imre, a tiny future Superman snoozing in his crib, and our nearest neighbor was 4 miles away.
Before we moved in my parents painted the kitchen a sad boring white.
The original colors had an ice cream parlor feel - wide vertical stripes of pink and cream. I was wild about it but my opinion was rudely ignored. The kitchen decor was rounded out with cracked linoleum, a gas stove that leaned to the right, and a farmhouse sink with frightening iron stains reminiscent of a Stephen King scene of butchery.
On the first floor were the kitchen, bathroom, living/dining area, two small bedrooms, an enclosed porch, and that gigantic staircase which alone took up a space bigger than each bedroom.
A cellar was below, the one place me and Misi decided to skip our exploration. One, those stairs were nothing special and, two, there was a dank odor rising from the darkness and we did not want to be the ones who discovered the source. Common sense trumped life experience. We believed in Santa but were nobody's fools.
The sole bathroom was tiled in a bloody shade of red.
By contrast, these iron stains seemed even more grotesque than those in the kitchen sink. No relaxing spa baths were enjoyed in that house and it took a lot of coaxing to get us cleaned up. That was the only drawback for us kids.
The crisp sweet autumn smell of dried leaves and apples drew us down the back steps to the adventure of the openness surrounding the house.
A rusty swing set constantly had seats swaying as if children just jumped off them. A toy truck half buried lured us to dig and to our astonishment, we excavated an extensive toy collection - metal cars and trucks, wooden alphabet blocks, a few catatonic dolls, blue flowered plastic plates, and little-girl kitchen items including that coffee pot that emptied when tilted over. The more toys we found, the happier we got, running to show Mom and barely noticing that she was not nearly as thrilled.
All around were the beautiful red and yellow leaves falling and swirling.
Across the old road was a fence where horses munched on grass, tails lazily swishing, and occasionally lifted their beautiful heads to watch us with huge gentle eyes. Of all the treasures at that house, I loved the horses best.
Acres stretched out behind the house silently calling us.
Pumpkins dotted a huge field. The tall dry grasses parted and a black Labrador bounded out and licked our faces. From that moment on, we were her family and she followed Misi everywhere. There were several rickety wooden sheds that we were told to never enter. But of course, we couldn't resist exploring and found bikes, sleds, baskets, old milk jugs, heavy chains, and tractor parts,
Even at the age of 4, Misi was a take-charge pint-sized man and protected our mother while I was in first grade,
Before the black Lab adopted us, our father brought home a German Shepherd trained for security. That dog got confused as to who it was supposed to guard and for many hours it trapped Mom and Misi in a small bedroom. Misi somehow reversed the situation and slammed the door trapping the dog in the bedroom. That evening it was returned to its original owner.
Another time Mom got a phone call from the neighbor miles down the road asking if she was missing a 4-year-old boy and a black Lab.
Upon being questioned Misi had matter-of-factly stated that he was going to his grandmother's house. To his credit, he was headed in the right direction, but it was 15 miles away. No doubt he'd have arrived safely with that precious dog in tow.
After that incident, floorboards were secured in the frigid attic room and our toys were moved up there.
As long as were wore coats and leggings that winter, we were allowed to climb the enchanted staircase and keep our adventures inside.
It was a wonderful season!
