My Grandmother's house

My mother was born in the State of Westfalia. She had two sisters and one brother. When Mother was 8 years old the family moved to the Rhineland. My Grandmothers house stood next to the mill where my Grandfather worked. Half of the house stood in the water right next to a waterfall which in earlier years used to drive the mill. You could see the waterfall from the cellar window and my grandmother spent hours at this window fishing out bits of wood and other flotsam that floated past. Sometimes she also found cigar boxes which she then dried and gave to us kids. She used to tell us stories that they came from the far away ocean. I still have one of these cigar boxes which has now also found its way to Australia.
She used to dry the wood and so she always had enough wood to fire the large kitchenstove. She had a very difficult youth, had a stepmother who often hit her. She had to find everything she needed herself – such as pencils and chalk to write with (they used to write on little slates at that time).
Stormy weather used to frighten her terribly and she would hide in the attick. She had no time at all for doctors and cured all health problems via her own remedies. On one of my visits she told me that the pig had lost its appetite and didn’t want to eat. So she cut a piece off the pig’s tail because she felt that this would help. I went into the pigsty and there was the pig with a bandage around it’s tail. When I came home and told Mother she was very worried and got on her bike to ride to Oma’s place. And the next day we ended up having a slaughter feast!
My grandmother’s bedroom always smelled of apples. She used to store her apples on the wardrobe. Her two apple trees supplied them with apples for the entire year. I loved Oma very much because I always had good times with her.
At the end of war, Oma together with her neighbours were hiding in the mill. And the American soldiers thought that the mill was housing German soldiers and so the mill was under heavy gunfire. One night Mother picked Oma up with the help of a small hand cart. And after that she never fully recovered. She was over 80 years old and very weak. She did not live much longer. Mother told me that the first cherries had ripened and she put some into Oma's mouth. She noticed a change in her mother’s facial expression and started to cry. Oma asked her: “why do you cry?” and then died. She herself didn’t feel anything.