Butter yellow home

 Springtime finally arrived in all its colors, splashed against a backdrop of green, as children once again rode their bicycles. The ringing of handlebar horns—pink and blue—filled the air. Some showed off Christmas bikes, while others found the nearest mud holes to christen their mighty steeds.

Springtime meant mom opening every window in the house and shaking the winter's dust outside, where it belonged, as Dad took inventory in his shed, preparing to paint the house a butter-yellow that mom insisted was the best choice.

Snow shovels were put away, replaced with hoes, rakes, and sprinklers, with great expectations of a bountiful harvest. Mom let us reach into her apron pockets, and each of us removed a packet of seeds to plant and nurture throughout the coming months.

Snow tires were replaced with good-weather tires, and dad changed the oil in the car they'd had as long as anybody could remember. It was grandpa's car at one time, but he bought it second-hand and handed it down to dad when his eyesight was almost gone. As it turned out, it was fifty-some years old, but you'd never know it. It's a classic, Dad would say, and someday it will be a collector's dream car.

April brought showers and summer sweltering heat that made tending the garden a chore, but also the promise of keeping it alive and thriving. Late spring brought baseball games at the town park, where families brought picnic lunches, spread out on a blanket of red-and-white checkers, some watching the game while others read books or played with the young children whose energy knew no bounds.

Spring gave way to summer, then to autumn, with a freshly painted house and a garden ready for harvest. Baskets overflowed with vegetables, each of us proud of ourselves for the promises fulfilled. But one thing we didn't plan for was the biggest pumpkin anyone had ever seen. We thought it would stop growing, but week after week it doubled in size and became a contender at the county fair, where it took first place in the two-hundred-and-twenty-pound giant category.

Winter made itself known in the wee hours of a December day, covering the land around them in a blanket of white, where bicycles were buried and some not found for weeks. Snow tires were put on, and shovels replaced the hoes. Colored lights of Christmas were strung again, and snowmen popped up all over the place as Mom kept asking where all the carrots had disappeared to.

Life is a circle that always comes around, filled with memories of family and friends and everyday acts of love and kindness. Its promises made and promises kept, its wonder and joy, and watching as everything and anything grows before your eyes, and that's how I see it all from the porch of my butter-yellow home.

Mike 2026