Grandma Poulson

There are so many things to say about Grandma, and then again...not enough words. My thoughts are sort of random (as if you didn't know!)

Most of my memories of her stem around our visits to Boulder when we were little. Her house was always so warm when we went down there for Christmas. All of the kids would sleep on the floor in the living room warmed by the fire. I still can't figure out how Santa got in and out without waking a single one of us! :)

I remember going to visit Grandma when she worked in the information booth. We always ended up with a bag full of brochures by the time we left. Grandma was always so happy to see us.

When I was in either High School or College (I can't remember...how sad. haha), I had an assignment to interview someone who was around during the Depression. I called Grandma and she told me about living in Boulder at that time. It was amazing to hear about when they brought the first truck into Boulder, how they had to disassemble it and lower it down the side of the mountain. I can just picture it in my head. It amazed me to hear how they lived and worked so long ago. You don't find many people who work that hard anymore it seems.

None of this does Grandma the justice she deserves. She was such a precious person.

The rest of what follows is from my Journal entry last Saturday.

I woke up this morning and thought of Grandma when I looked at my afghan I’m working on. Grandma Poulson taught Grandma Alvey to crochet, who then taught me. I will forever be grateful to both of them for that. I enjoy it so much. Grandma P could also knit. Gma A told me she could never figure out knitting and that is why she just stuck with crochet. Grandma P taught Daddy to knit though! I’m not sure he remembers much of it, but it would be neat if he could help me learn how to do it better. I taught myself last winter, it is a lot of fun, but I don’t have it all figured out by far! I’m still learning some stuff for crochet! I want to learn how to make clothing, not just hats, scarves, and blankets. I enjoy it so much!

I’ve always loved going to Grandma Poulson’s in Boulder. It was a nice little retreat. I will never forget the pink bathroom. Oh boy, was it pink! There are so many things I will never forget about that place, the tree in the yard with the tire swing, the creek out behind the pasture. We used to catch minnows in a gallon jug and then bring them back with us. Oh the conservationists would have a fit! There is no telling how many fish we killed when we forgot they were sitting on the porch. We used to have crabapple fights in the orchard; of course I was always the one getting hurt. I’m such a wuss. The fire ants, oh the fire ants! How I hated those things! They were everywhere. We used to kick over the anthills and run as fast as our little legs could carry us. And we usually wouldn’t go back that way for some time.

We used to walk up to ‘Indian Mound’. I have no idea if that is what it is actually called, but that is what we called it. We would go look for arrowheads or just neat looking rocks. I am still fascinated with rocks. I nearly went into Geology in college. But I remember thinking, what am I going to do? Go into the oil industry? I think not! (Sometimes I kick myself, repeatedly.)

I remember when Grandma used to work in the information booth. We would go visit her and gather a bunch of brochures. I’m still a brochure junkie. Maybe that’s why? Lol. And then there were the trips to the Anasazi village. I still love that place. But it is kind of creepy at the same time. It amazes me how the places of old are so well preserved. Now when we get tired of something we bulldoze it and build on top of that. No preservation, no history for others to unfold. How sad.

I love you Grandma! Give Grandpa our love!