Hanging on the clothesline
Whipping in the wind
These dresses that I now call mine
But where did they begin?

Did they clothe a brand new bride?
Or a more seasoned wife?
Were they once her favorite?
Did she lead a busy life?

Did she muddle through old recipes?
Was she a crackerjack cook?
Could she roll pie crust with ease?
Could she tell it done with a quick look?

Did she wonder about the world
And where it was headed?
Did she keep her hair curled?
And her sewing needles threaded?

I bet she had an apron she wore
The stains are so few
There would be more
But she knew what to do

I hope she was a farmwife
That thought makes me smile,
Living the good life
I bet she was calm, hard to rile

I think she filled her pockets to the brim
With misplaced toys and garden treasures
Raspberries picked on a whim
I’m sure she paused for all the little pleasures

I imagine her flinging flour
As her expert hands knead bread dough
Eyes on the clock, watching the hour
Pondering, ‘Where does the time go?’

I carry this all with me
As I slip my colorful, plaid housedress on
So light and carefree
Another part of an era that is gone

My dresses can’t talk, unfortunately
I must imagine and pretend
Contemplate their life before me
When such wear was the trend

So, I don my 1950s attire
Much to my siblings’ laughter and delight
And think of the life it had prior
And it feels quite right

    Jacqui and her family milk 800 cows and run 1,200 acres of crops in the northeastern corner of Vernon County, Wisconsin. Her children, Ira (12), Dane (10), Henry (5) and Cora (3), help her on the farm while her husband, Keith, works on a grain farm. If she’s not in the barn, she’s probably in the kitchen, trailing after little ones, or sharing her passion of reading with someone. Her life is best described as organized chaos – and if it wasn’t, she’d be bored.