Daddy built the house that we lived in when we were in the Appalachian Mountains of Kentucky. I was far too young to remember a lot of the particulars, but some things stood out more than others.
Like the way Mom use to pull her old ringer washer out the kitchen door and into the yard with an extension cord to use it. She would put a metal washtub up in a chair to sit underneath the ringer and fill it with water to rinse the clothes in as they came out of the ringer.
I remember the big upright canisters of propane that we used to run our stove that Mom cooked on. I can’t remember what kind of cook stove it was, just that it ran on gas and sure did a fine job cooking a meal.
I remember exactly where everything sat, and how simple it was…
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