|
My Memories of "Down on the Farm
Over on Cowan"
Some of the things have been
indelibly stamped in my “pleasant memory.”
Walking to the mailbox across the
creek to get a letter from home.
Opening the letter and finding
coins taped on it to be spent at the country store.
Walking to the store with one of
my friends “up the hollow” and deciding how to spend the dimes.
Visiting with my “on the farm”
girl friends; Avis Boggs and Sarah Hampton.
Playing upstairs in the “big room”
and exploring the side rooms.
Being awed by Uncle Kerney’s
library upstairs in the room. I assumed they were his books because he was
a professor at Eastern State University (even wrote one of the textbooks they
used at the university). I love books, so it was one of my favorite places
to explore.
Drawing water from the well with
the cylinder bucket, setting it on the side of the bucket and pressing the
release lever; watching the water fill the bucket.
Stepping on the mint growing by
the well where water was regularly spilled and inhaling its fragrance and
nibbling on it.
Helping Mamaw churn the “seasoned”
milk and making butter from it.
And, oh, especially watching her
dip me a bowlful of the soft, white, fluffy butter before she “worked it down”;
digging a spoon in that wonderful stuff as if it were ice cream and relishing
its warm, creamy, unsalted goodness. Ummm!
Drawing butter and milk up in a
bucket from the square cooling well that sat near the water well and taking it
in to the large kitchen for a meal cooked on the wood burning stove.
Watching Papaw sweeten everything
that needed it with molasses. I don’t recall a meal that didn’t have
molasses on the table.
Gwenda said she remembered the
honey that Mamaw always had on the table. I am sure that the honey was
included with each meal also. Papaw would have robbed
his bees to get it.
Being allowed to feed cane stalks
into the press that squeezed the sugar cane “juice” out for the molasses
stir-off.
Running to the press while the
horse that powered the press was on the other side of its circular route, then
running back out again after it made its pass and was back on the other side
again.
Watching the luscious foam form on
the molasses as they cooked in long narrow pans; with someone stirring, stirring
until it was just right.
Remembering that Will Adams had
the reputation of having the best molasses around. I know--Mother said I
got a taste when I was very young.
She missed me and found me on the screened-in back porch with my finger at the
opening of the keg of molasses. I had managed to turn on the little faucet
at the lower front of the keg and was catching the drip with my finger and
licking the slow moving molasses off my sticky finger. Good thing it was
winter time!
Sitting on the screened-in back porch helping
Mamaw string and break beans to cook, can or to dry for "shucky beans".
Stirring apple butter made from
apples from their orchard with a long
hand-made agitator in the big black cast iron kettle.
Sitting at the long kitchen table
with the men and other kids eating when the family gathered at the Adams
homestead for visitations. The women served us and then took their time
eating and getting caught up on the latest news after we finished; the men
gathered to play checkers and talk, and the kids played in the immaculately
manicured lawn with dolls and whatever we had available.
Watching Papaw don his old hat
with a veil and work with his honey bees.
Playing in the orchard down near
the creek that also had the best plums ever.
Catching butterflies that loved
the beautiful flowers in the yard.
"Fishing" with a straight pin that
Mamaw had bent into a "hook".
And there were always chirping
birds to enjoy.
Playing with the farm dog (I think
it was a collie).
Since dogs were my favorite
animals, I wanted it to go in the house with me, but it refused. Papaw had
thoroughly trained it to be an outside dog.
Visiting Aunt Becky Jones and
eating her biscuit and fresh-churned butter sandwiches.
Aunt Becky and Aunt Lula were
sisters and married brothers. They lived next door to each other "over on
Cowan."
Aunt Becky Jones told this tale on
me. She made me a biscuit and butter sandwich, because she knew that was
my favorite snack. Just to be polite, she said, "Honey, I don't have much,
but here is a biscuit with butter." My reply was, "You don't have much, do
you?" It was so humorous because she knew that was my preference.
Maybe I was trying to be polite too? I don't remember the incident, but I
sure do remember those biscuits!
Turning the huge grindstone that
kept Papaw’s and the neighbors’ tools in shape.
Climbing up in the loft over the
barn and gathering fresh eggs, then a trip to the chicken house where the
“conventional” chickens had left us their bounty.
Bringing “diddles” in when a
sudden storm flooded the apple orchard where the chickens scratched, hatched and
called home. Putting them on the open oven door of the kitchen stove in a
box and covering them to dry their feathers and hopefully save their lives.
Putting my pet “diddle” in an
oatmeal box near the stove at night to keep it safe and warm; waking up the next
morning to find that a rat had somehow got in the house and gnawed its way into
my little chick; crying over the loss.
The flickering light
 from the fire in the
fireplace in the large living room reflecting on the pictures on the wall and
objects in the room; feeling so comforted by the scene. A room softly lit
with indirect lighting still pulls up that memory.
Reading Mamaw’s “motto” on the
wall:
|
Only one life; it will soon be passed.
Only what’s done for Christ will last. |
|
Playing the pump organ and fussing
with my cousin who wanted to play it too.
The best memory of all was waking
up one Christmas morning, walking into the living room where the fire had been
stirred to a blazing light which exposed the most beautiful doll I have ever
seen named “Dixie.” She was sitting on a tricycle, but the tricycle was
only secondary excitement, Dixie claimed my attention and my love. She
became my constant companion who was lovingly put to bed at night under a warm
blanket and awakened as soon as I was and cared for during the day. She
was untouchable; no, cousin, you can’t play with her!
Riding the cow to the milk gap.
Using rose petals and “spit” to
“paint” my fingernails
to shock conservative Papaw and then laughing while pulling them off when I got
scolded for polishing my nails (grin).
Crossing the swinging bridge that
led to the church and school. Crawling across when my big brother made it
sway up and down just as I got to the middle. You did too, brother, even
if you “don’t remember” it. Mother said you did it to her too! So
there! (That's OK, Bob. It's a wonderful memory.)
When we lived there a little while
during my first year of school, drinking water out of the ”community” dipper.
Using the outhouse behind the school which housed all grades in two rooms.
Driving across the creek to get to
the farm house. Rushing to move the cars left parked near the creek bank
when a flash flood gave rise to the “river."
Going to Mayking near Whitesburg
with Mamaw to a tent meeting.
Walking to Whitesburg (about four
or five miles as I recall) with Mother and Robert to have fun at the carnival;
riding the Ferris wheel was a highlight.
“Mud crawling” in the low part of
the creek on a flat rock and sandy bottom—in a wool swimsuit. Ooh, it
scratched! Wading up and down the creek, watching for “crawdads.”
Trying to find the tree frogs that
seemed to always be "singing" in the tree by the front corner of the house.
And many more lovely times!
........... by Delores
|
