Be My Valentine

Maybe Valentine's Day would be a good day to dust off the New York Times bestselling book from 20-some years ago, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.

In it, author Robert Fulghum explains how the world would be a better place if adults adhered to the same basic rules as kindergarten-aged children, like sharing and being kind to one another.

I didn't learn much in kindergarten: At tiny Byers Grade School, there was no kindergarten class. We started our school journey in first grade. But Valentine's Day did provide a lesson in how we'd all like to be treated: We had to give a Valentine to each classmate. No leaving out any pesky boy who teased me about my red tights.

(I'm second from the left, and it appears I'm wearing the red tights!)

Before Valentine's Day, we carefully cut out pink and red paper hearts and used our Elmer's Glue bottles to adhere them to shoeboxes. Mrs. Bond cut a slot in the top of the lid to make a Valentine's mailbox, which we perched on our desks. Other years, the teacher might give us a white paper sack, and we'd liberally decorate with crayon hearts and cutout cupids. We'd hang them with a piece of tape from the edge of our desks and wait anxiously for holiday greetings from our classmates. If we were lucky, someone might include a heart-shaped sucker along with the holiday card.

My Mom let each of us choose our box of Valentines from the store. I'm sure I very deliberately considered my options in an effort to choose just the right box. I also contemplated which Valentine to give to each classmate. That pesky boy needed a generic greeting, and I wanted to give just the right one to each of my female friends.

Each Valentine's Day, Jill and Brent chose their box of cards, too. A few are still in a box in the cabinet, and I use some each year for this and that. It's fun to look back and think about the choices they made at the time - a football theme for Brent or Barbies for Jill.

We had the same rule at our house. Every class member had to get a Valentine - no matter what.

And wouldn't the world be a better place if we treated each other with a little unconditional friendship? And not only on Valentine's Day, but every day.

As Robert Fulghum would say:

• Share everything.
• Play fair.
• Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
• Be aware of wonder.
  
• Live a balanced life - learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
• Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.

And just in case you want to test the whole warm cookie theory on this Valentine's Day, try these Blonde Brownies. Top them with heart sprinkles, and you're sure to win a heart or two.


Or put a little pink frosting and Valentine sprinkles on sugar cookies and share the love.

What do you remember about your grade school Valentine celebrations?

***

I'm linked today to Two Maids a Baking and Crazy for Crust: Crazy Sweet Tuesday. Check out the other recipes at those sites!

Spring Snowstorm

The skies in recent days have been overcast. It's been rain, not snow, that's fallen here on the County Line.

But as I walked earlier in the week, I did feel like I was caught in a spring snowstorm of sorts. Little wisps from a cottonwood tree south of the house floated on the breeze and carried me back to my childhood.


We had a big old cottonwood tree in our front yard. Every spring, the cotton from the tree covered the ground surrounding that tree. And my sisters and I used both the cotton and the green unopened pods to decorate mud pies.


I'm not sure whether we were actually making mud pies in this photo, but we sure could have been. The photo was dated April 1963, so the cotton could have been flying. I was 5, Lisa was 4 and Darci was 1 1/2.

I have fond memories of adding just the right amount of water to dirt and then pouring it into pie tins. The fluffy white cotton and the green pods were just the right finishing touch. It was all about presentation, even back before knowing anything about garnishing via the Food Network chefs.

The cottonwood tree still stands at my childhood home, where it has sunk deep roots into the Kansas soil for the past 66 years or so.

(Dad - Age 10)

My dad was born at that Pratt County farmstead. When he was about 10, he helped his mom plant six or eight cottonwood trees. They went to the Rattlesnake Creek somewhere south of Dillwyn and picked out some trees growing volunteer along the creek banks.

My grandma was a young widow, and the trees were free. A few of the trees didn't survive the transplanting. Others were removed when my folks built the new house. (It's kind of ironic that we still call it the new house when we moved in when I was 6!)


The surviving cottonwood tree has been one of the first things visitors see as they approach the farmstead and one of the last things you see silhouetted by a sunset sky at night.

So it's no wonder that the cotton floating in the air on the County Line made me just a little nostalgic.

I tried to capture the ephemeral wisps floating through the air. No such luck. But I did think they mimicked the fluffy white clouds in the springtime sky.

While there wasn't enough for "drifts" along our road, it did provide a border of white on the dirt road.

And just like the real snow I'd photographed this winter, the "flakes" of cotton decorated tree branches below.

If you remember your Kansas trivia, you'll recall that the cottonwood is our state tree.

When people plant cottonwoods these days, I know they more commonly use the cottonless variety. I suppose it's less of a mess for those doing yard work in people's carefully manicured yards (not that I would know about THAT!)

But I say that's too bad for all the little girls who could use the white fluffiness for mud pies!