By Leigh Walkup

My grandparent’s place had a big dinner bell right out the back door. I have no idea where it came from, how long it was there, if they put it up, or if it was there when they bought the farm. All I know is that it was always there. I can still see my tiny grandmother pulling down on that chain to ring that big iron bell letting everyone on the place know that food was on the table. It was basically the cell phone of the farm back then. If you needed to get someone’s attention..ring the bell.

I always loved that bell. So many afternoons, I would sit on the stone steps leading up to the backdoor playing with kittens, catching June bugs, or watching my grandmother pick mint and work in her flower beds. Standing right there was the bell. It was a staple of that place. A forever constant. You saw it every time you passed through the back door. A forever memory of my childhood.

Several years after my twin sister Anne and I grew up, our family would pass, and it would be up to us to pack up a lot of life that had been lived on that place and move on. The day we left for the last time was gut-wrenching.  I remember hating that we couldn’t take the bell. 

Fast forward several years, Anne and I started looking for a place to buy. We were tired of boarding our horses and renting. We were worn out living in the city. We were country girls, and it was time to go home. We looked at several places but didn’t really like any of them. We did end up making an offer on one place. We loved the barn, but the house was a disaster. I remember Mom came to look at it and said, “ok, so the horses will be living better than the two of you? You realize that, right?” Of course, Anne and I didn’t care, but she did have a point. Thankfully that deal fell through. Later we came across another place that looked promising. We immediately set up an appointment and drove out to take a look. As we came down the driveway and parked, Anne and I both saw it….a dinner bell. We looked at each other and knew this was it…WE FOUND OUR HOME.

Earlier this past year, I called Mom and told her we were building an apartment on the place, and it was time for her to come back to the farm. Mom is in perfect health (she walks 2 miles almost every morning) and is perfectly fine on her own. However, we wanted her here with us in the country with the horses and the dogs and the fresh air.  She moved in this past summer, and we couldn’t be happier to have her home.

I’ve come to realize as I’ve gotten older that life is full of unexpected twists and turns. It never plays out exactly as you plan, and honestly, that’s where the magic happens.  Home can forever be changing, and that is ok. Home is what we make it and the people we fill it with. It’s sharing a laugh on the porch, a wonderful meal around the table, and a silent moment in the morning. Home is about the people.  They say, “Home is where the heart is,” and that is absolutely true. 

For me…. home is where the dinner bell is.

Whenever I think if the dinner bell I think of how delicious these Cathead Biscuits are! Stay tuned to learn more about the history of this recipe within our family, in the meantime save the recipe and spoil yours!

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