I grew up LOVING the Laura Ingalls Wilder books.  My favorite one, I think, is Farmer Boy.  Farmer Boy gives us a glimpse of Laura’s future husband, Almanzo, and his life on a farm in upstate New York.  Whenever I read it, I always thought about how much I would love that life.  It was just this picture perfect ideal in my mind.

Recently, however, I was canning tomatoes.  As I washed them in the sink,

placed them in boiling water for a minute to heat the skins,

then dunked them in ice water to shock the skins so that they would easily peel off,

and finally sterilized the jars and lids in boiling water before filling them with the peeled tomatoes, covering them with water, and using a water bath to seal the jars

it occurred to me how much I take for granted living in a home with running water.

I have fresh, clean, clear, beautiful water coming right out of my tap into my sink.  How often do you turn on your water tap and never even think about such a luxury?  How hard was it for women for millenia to do what I do in the kitchen constantly?  How much extra work did just simply doing dishes bring to their day?  And I don’t even want to think about laundry…

My dad was an Infantry soldier in the Army for thirty years.  I probably don’t even want to know the things he’s done, seen, places he’s been, or conditions in which he’s lived.  What I do know is that he says he never, ever, takes a hot shower without feeling grateful for the ability to take a hot shower.

While I may read the pretty words Laura printed about her husband’s childhood home, I think I’ll start thinking about my own home and how it is the perfect ideal – about the sink where water comes out cold, hot, or in-between, depending on my desires at the time, with just the flick of my wrist.

Hallee

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