I am visiting my childhood home in Kellogg this week-end. 
Wooden hardwood floors that have been waxed and polished with care by my mother for forty-five years still hold their beauty as I stand in my childhood bedroom doorway.
When carpet was added to the steps a wooden rail was added for safety. The wooden spindles were the only thing to grab before.
The wooden raised beds in Mom's yard appear to be topped with loaves of white bread while they wait for the spring thaw.
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