Saturday, June 11, 2005

A misty, musty summer morning

Also posted on my new, trial, typepad site.
Another humid SC summer morning, well almost summer. Reminds me of mornings spent in Grandmother's garden. Seems like every summer when I was a kid we three West family children spent a couple of weeks or more at Grandmothers house in Glenwood, Georgia. Lot's of good memories there.

Grandmother wasn't much for sleeping late and if you wanted a good, hot, country breakfast (this was before the days when sausage was verboten; nobody gave a second thought to gravy, biscuits, and butter) you got up early. No vegging out in front of the TV (shouldn't they call it larding out?), we had work to do!

I sure remember weeding the garden when the dew was still on the plants! Walking through the backyard barefoot with grass sticking to my feet. Then kneeling in the sandy dirt while we pulled up chickweed and other garden villains. After that, we picked beans, squash, tomatoes, or whatever else was ready to pick. By the time we finished, the south Georgia sun was beating down and clouds of gnats had gathered to pester us for the rest of the day. Sure don't miss gnats! Thank you God for keeping them down in Georgia!

Produce to wash, beans to snap, walls to wash, mattresses to turn out and air, raking pine straw, always something to do at Grandmothers. That's not to say we were slave labor or anything. Though working wasn't my favorite thing to do, it's just what we did. This was balanced by trips to the whirlpool in Scottsdale (?? Scottsville? something like that), cool watermelon, or playing in the sprinkler outside.

Man do I miss those days. Why? Sounds like a lot of work, doesn't it? I don't know. I sure miss my Grandmother; I loved her with a fierce pride. She was a strong woman who knew what it took to make her way in that world. She lived by herself and supported herself for many years before marrying again. She was a disciplinarian, that's for sure, but without crushing your spirit. I know I got lots of swats with the "fly-flap"; well deserved I'm sure. And yet I always felt a home there. Somehow I always felt loved there too. You knew what was expected and the consequences for not fulfilling them.

Well, I guess I've got my own chores to do now. Like cutting the jungle I call a yard before the neighborhood kicks us out. (While trying not to give in to the urge to kill the stupid beagle behind our house who bays for hours at nothing!) Somehow I think there's a comfort in having someone else watch over you.

Perhaps you missed that as well, Grandmother. I sure do miss you and Mommy. I still love you both.

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