It’s been a long February here in northern Arkansas--record low temperatures and some snow too. Not that we hill folks aren’t accustomed to cold winters, but maybe it is my age that made this February seem long, chilly and a little gloomy. My Dad and nephew spend early December making the old farmhouse ready for the cold months of winter. Water is pumped from the well house 75 yards up a hill from the house, so the pipes are drained and water turned off until Spring comes around. Firewood is stacked on the porch, and we keep bottled water for any water needs. We spend Mondays having lunch with Dad and Thomas- around the old table--a fire roaring in the wood stove. The rickety old blower on the-stove makes a hypnotic rattle while we eat and laugh. Last Monday, while talking about the the well house and surrounding land, Jannette and Dad reminded me that there was once a small one room house built on the property behind the well/spring house. No one from my family lived there but at some point, a family lived there. Shortly after my parents were married and came for a visit to the farm-Mom went down to investigate the old house. It was essentially falling down. My mom spied an old secretary type piece of furniture and came quickly up the hill, asking my Dad to rescue it. Dad and my Grandpa creeped along the old floor boards and hauled the piece back up the hill. It was missing a few parts and had weathered a few gloomy winters itself.  Dad spent time and energy bringing it back to life. That was years before our births; that piece of furniture stayed in their home until we girls went away to college! Mom let us take it to our first college apartment. It has a place of honor in Jannette’s pretty farmhouse today. Just another reminder of why I love OLD things. They have substance and the will to sustain cold snowy winters and blazing sunburns.  They hold the memories of long ago families, new babies, and all the days in between. I love Old.