Having been born in 1940 and raised on a farm with nine siblings, we didn’t always have the conveniences children do today. Yet, I can’t recall any winter day that our home was cold. As the first person out of bed, Pop was the one to go downstairs to the cellar and stoke the coal furnace. I’m sure I never thanked Pop for this early morning blessing, allowing us to jump out of bed and feel the warm house.
I’m still invigorated by the love of warmth in places and things. I have the pleasure of an early riser – my husband, who turns up the thermostat so it’s nice and cozy warm when I awaken.
Cuddling is also a great way to feel warmth. My husband and I take turns cuddling each other until we fall asleep.
In my childhood days we had thick quilted comforts, usually sewn by Mom and I especially loved those cozy quilts if I was sick in bed. Nowadays we enjoy the comfort of warm down blankets.
My parents did an awful lot of visiting neighbors and I recall one family with a young girl my age. She and I would sit on a large black furnace vent in the floor of their kitchen and play house on winter days.
At home we had a coal stove in the kitchen with a large rocking chair next to it. Oh, how I loved sitting in that chair when Mom had the stove blazing hot for cooking or baking. I’d sit there for hours, with a book, enjoying the warmth of the stove.
As a teen I found warmth on one of the long radiators next to the kitchen windows. I’d place a blanket over the radiator’s full length, lie on my stomach with elbows propped, reading a book. It was hard to drag myself away from this relaxing warmth even if a teenaged friend called.
During summer, whenever Pop mowed behind the barn on a sunny day, I could be found lying on the bank there. I don’t think anything could beat the smell of freshly mowed grass while I basked in the warmth of the sun and day dreamed of being a ballet dancer.
There’s also the warmth of generosity. I walked a mile and a half down a dirt road to catch the school bus, and it was awful on cold wintry days. One day an older neighbor who lived at the end of the lane called to me, “Carole, whenever you get too cold, come stand in my foyer till the bus arrives.” I took advantage of the warm foyer often.
There was also the kindness of my school bus driver, Oscar, who already had a large family. Often, on a blustery wintry day, as I walked down the aisle of the bus, he’d say, “Carole, do you want to sleep at my house tonight?” I always said “yes.” They had beautiful warm quilts like I had at home.
As we grew, Mom allowed us to make a little campfire in the meadow. Before dusk arrived, we’d find a long, strong stick for marshmallows. I’d toast mine as black as could be. In reverie, I can still feel the warmth of the fire bouncing off my cheeks.
Similar to this experience is when my husband and I travel. His car has leather seats and they are darn cold in winter. I always have a fleece blanket under my fanny for those trips. If we travel during the summer, he has the AC blasting and I snuggle in the fleece blanket. Sometimes I get a treat when the sun is on my side of the car and beams its warm rays straight at me. I’m in my “sun” heaven and my husband is in his “AC” heaven.
And I can’t forget my newborn babies radiating the warmth of love to me as I held them, reciprocating my love. I’ve had the bonus of this warmth with grandchildren and great-grandchildren, a cozy feeling that stays with a mother, a Mom Mom and a Great Mom Mom.
It’s late. I’m going to bed to cuddle with my husband awhile. Oh, what I won’t do “for the love of warmth!”
Carole Christman Koch grew up in Berks County and has been published in numerous publications. She has a passion for writing and has many stories from growing up on a farm to everyday stories.
