John’s brother wuz here when they got here and the second woman come in the door a-tellin’ these men that her aunt married their great uncle.  He wuz the blind man what owned the telephone exchange and if’n he’d ever hear’d yore voice one time he know’d who you wuz the next time he hear’d ye.  Now as she wuz so excited about telling them all that she spied John’s high school diploma (1942) a hangin’ on the wall and she stopped cold about the marrying subject and started in on sompin’ else.   She couldn’t believe what she wuz a-seein’.  Her ma graduated the same year as John and both graduated from Crossville.  Atter they talked about that fer a few minutes John went and got his year book and handed it to her.  She’d never see’d one before.  I wish you coulda hear’d her talkin’ about this un and that un. She even see’d a ad in the there from her daddy’s cotton gin. She wuz so excited and then we found out her grandparents lived next door to my uncle what owned the blacksmith shop.  Y, we coulda talked to this woman for a week and not caught up.

This cold weather is a hurtin’ old folks and we try to stay at home and try to stay warm — then to have these visitors come in made our day.  Ain’t it fun to git together with other folks and talk about old times?  I’ve hear’d that old folks talk about the past because they have no future.  Oh my, guess you know what that means!!  Now this is enjoyable country living.

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They wuz toys in there fer the chillern to play with, but they wuz wore out.  This little girl, and I don’t thank she was two years old, took a toy to her mother for her to fix hit.  Of course, the mother told her she couldn’t and that little child turned the toy upside down and said, “I guess it needs a new battery.”  Y, when I’se that kid’s age I didn’t know what a battery wuz.  I ain’t never in my life. . . .

May 1 is here and I want to remind you that yore watermelon seed need to be planted before sun up on May 1.  Also on May 1 my pa used to say we could take off our long underwear.  Girls wore union suits and boys wore long handles.  I’se allas so glad to git to do that.  And another thang — he told us we could take off our shoes and go barefooted. Hit didn’t matter how cold the weather wuz — hit wadn’t supposed to make us sick.

Thangs ain’t normal around the Windy Knoll and to tell the truth we don’t know what normal is, but we’re aiming to git back to a better kind of country living.

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I’ve been trying to remember Easter when I was young — that’s been a long time!  We allas had a Easter egg hunt at school and we went to Dr. Parrish’ pasture.  We all brought a few colored eggs to be hid.  Now everybody had hens and could brang eggs,but all of ’em didn’t have coloring.  Onions would make the eggs sort of yeller and walnut hulls would make them brownish, but my Ma allas has a few cents stuck back and I allas had coloring. I can’t remember candy eggs back then and they shore wadn’t no plastic eggs.  I can’t even remember what the prize was fer the one that found the most.  Does that say something about my age?

At home my brother and sister (they’s teenagers when I’se born) allas come back and we had a big meal together.  We had to walk to church, but I can’t remember that happening on Easter.  It seems I can remember having new dress and new patent leather shoes.  Them little shoes could be polished with a cold biscuit rubbed over them.  My, my what thangs I can remember and what thangs I can’t remember.  Sometimes I can’t eben remember what I had fer breakfast.

I hear little ‘uns today talking about the Easter Bunny — well, I ain’t never seen one, but I do see a squirrel at the bird feeders now and then.

Happy Easter and thanks for hanging around with us on Country Living.

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The first Sunday decoration is at Fairview, second Sunday hit’s at Skirum, Crossville and New Harmony.  I’ve mentioned just a few, but there are lots of others.  Folks don’t attend lack they used to.  Billie quit going many years ago when somebody said to her, “Law, Billie Mae, how fleshy you are.”  That made her so mad — she said she know’d how fat she wuz and didn’t need nobody reminding her.  Now she takes a bouquet from the yard to Skirum to her mother’s and little sister’s graves, but she goes rail early.  Her daddy is buried by his first wife and that decoration is the Saturday before the third Sunday and he’s buried in a different cemetery.

Anyway some time in April kinfolks would meet at the cemetery to clean off the graves.  They wodn’t no grass on the graves back then. People would take a hoe and scrap ever bit of the grass off, rake hit up and tote hit off and then they’d sweep a big spot around their family graves with a brush broom.  When they’d git through doing all this them graves looked nice and they didn’t want nobody walking on the fresh swept part.  Some times folks would put white gravel on the grave – if they had a little cement wall around the edge.

Billie ain’t never put artificial flowers on her mother’s grave because she said before she died that if that’s all they had to put on — jest leave flowers off. She might lack artificial flowers we’ve got today. Of course, back then lots of folks made the flowers out’n crepe paper and put the blossom a wire and stuck that wire in the ground on top of the grave.   Now if’n hit rained, that crepe paper would fade and the ground under hit would be red, blue or whatever color the flower wuz.  And lots of Sundays of decoration hit would rain.  And I’ve see’d hit so cold you’d haf to wear a coat over yore new dress.

Jest in case you’re aiming to clean the cemetery and need to clean the tombstones I’m a-goin’ to give you a recipe to use.  John tried to clean his kinfolks stones one time, but this wadn’t strong enough to do the job.  So you try hit at yore own risk.  This is how hit is with Sand Mountain country living.

RECIPE FOR CLEANINHG OLD MONUMENTS
1 gallon water                        1/2 box of baking soda
1 Tbsp. white vinegar           1/2 box  Ajax

If marble is badly stained, try adding 1 1/2 cups of ammonia to a gallon of water and rinse well.  Use finest grade of sandpaper on the monument first and then apply mixture with stiff brush or steel wool.

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Last week Billie let me prowl around on her Facebook page and I see’d this recipe fer Hummingbird Cake.  This woman said “Hit wuz to die fer.”  Well, hit nearly killed me to try to make one today.  I wuz dumb as a ox to thank I could make this anyway.  They’s a lot to do to make this big three-layer cake.  I’m a old codger and to thank I could hold out to make this cake!

I would-a been ashamed to make a pitcher fer you to see.  The cake was leaning toward Miss Jones–eez.  Y, that recipe calls fer bananas, pineapple and pecans and hit’s expensive to make.  These folks what’s on what they call a fixed income have to watch their pennies and making this ain’t watchin’ ’em.  Well, it may be watchin’ em’ go out the door, too.

I set in to make this monster about 9:00 this morning and hit wuz atter 3:00 when I washed up the last thangs.  I wuz give slap out!!  John hope me and I’s still give out — I had to stop fer a little nap and when I woke up I couldn’t hardly git up I wuz so stiff and sore.  Oh me!  And we still had to make the icin’.

As soon as we got the icin’ on this booger I cut us a piece and boy hidy wuz hit sweet.   Now if this had’a been in my Ma’s kitchen she wouldn’t-a let hit be cut til Sunday.  She always said, “Somebody might come home with us from church.”  My, my don’t nobody come home with us if’n we don’t ast em and that ain’t gonna happen.

You could say I made two Hummingbird Cakes today — my first un and my last un!  I’d rather have a piece of my sourdough bread anyway than to have that sweet thang.  But John see’d our first hummingbird today so I guess this here, too, is country living.

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Aunt Bill Rambles

Maybe you don’t know what a Mother Hubbard Dress is — well, hits jest got a yoke and then gathered onto that and long.  Usually got long sleeves.

I used to do programs for children and quilters and wore my black Mother Hubbard Dress.  I allays wore my Sunday Apron and hit’s made out’n a white feed sack.  Needless to say, I keep hit done up.  You don’t know what done up means neither?  Well, hit means hit’s washed, starched and arned.  Them sacks shore do do up purty, too.  We used to make piller cases out’n sacks.  We embroidered some design on them and maybe put a crocheted edging on and they’s purty as a speckled pup.  Back then when wash day come, they’s allays starched and then arned.

Well this one time I done a program in Albertville — now Albertville is about 15 miles from the Windy Knoll and they’ve got a bigger grocery store than we’ve got and I stopped in there to buy groceries atter I finished with the program.  Remember I’ve got on the Mother Hubbard with the white starched apron.  I also had a hankcher in my pocket and hit had a few pennies tied up in the corner.  That apron pocket is a good place to hide a little snuff box, too.

You ort to a seen how folks looked at me.  I thought hit wuz right funny and they didn’t want me to see them a lookin’ neither. I jist went right on with my shoppin’ and I had the buggy piled up with stuff.  As I rounded the corner to go up to the cash register, a man said to me, “Lady, do you reckin you’ve got enough money to git outta here.”  I answered,  “I shore hope I do.” I’ve told that story over and over and hit’s still funny.  I guess they thought that pore ole soul with her country dress didn’t know what she’s a doin’.  Anyway that’s jest another story of country living.

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Snow of 2014

Well, somebody has told me you’uns can’t understand how I talk.  Oh my!  Today I aim to use a term you may not know either and that’s rec-o-lect.  Now some folks would spell that recollect and hit means to remember.

When we had all that snow last week I started rec-o-lecting about snows of years ago.  I rec-o-lect the snow of 1936 — I was jist a kid — and we had a 8″ snow.  My daddy was in the bed sick with the flu.  We had a chicken house across the road and the chickens wuz fenced in and that meant we had to tote water over to ’em.  That fell my job during the snow and hit wuz a job for a kid to tote a bucket of water in that deep snow.

Another snow I rec-o-lect is one when I went rabbit huntin’ with my daddy and he know’d how to find the rabbits buried up under the snow.  I rec-o-lect him findin’ a rabbit, but don’t know what he done with it.

1993 is another big snow I rec-o-lect.  We wuz trapped in here fer two weeks and couldn’t git out.  Trees wuz across the road on one end of the road and a big snow drift wuz out here in the curve.  The road machinery couldn’t even plow through hit.  We did have electricity though.

During the 1993 blizzard a man from Geraldine called and wanted a bale of hay fer his goats.  Said he wuz a comin’ atter hit.  I told him if he wuz a comin’ to brang me some cokes.  He had to park at the end of this road and walk up here.  John put a bale of hay on a piece of sheet arn and the boy drug hit to the road.  This is jist a few memories of long ago country living.

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Lordy me, they’s a bunch of drawers that need to be cleaned out and I tackled one yistiddy.  How in the name of common sense can a body collect so much stuff?  You might know I had to read ever little bit that I come to and look at ever pitcher.  I can’t throw away all them pretty Christmas cards and you know I don’t even remember some of the folks what sent ’em.  I ain’t never in my life! I found some list for different thangs — one  wuz John’s list from years ago.  Hit listed ever cow he had, how old they wuz and what number wuz in their ear. Why in the world do we want to keep sich as that?

One thang I found wuz a letter John’s grandma got from her friend in Ohio in 1916.  That woman wuz selling aggs for thirty cents a dozen.  Her baby wuz a cuttin’ teeth and the next ‘un wuz a startin’ to talk.  I allas here’d  the baby orten to be cuttin’ teeth — hit ort to the one next to the baby cuttin’ teeth.  Whee!!  That’d be lots of little ‘uns and lots a diapers to wash.  Y, I don’t thank folks washes diapers  no more.

I found I don’t know how many quilt patterns and, of course, I don’t want to git rid of them.  I ain’t a-makin quilts right now, but you never know when I’ll want to start another ‘un.

I’ve got some quilt tops and shore would like to put one in the frame, but don’t know if’n I could quilt now er not.  You know, quiltin’ is right hard work — hard on your shoulders.

Well, about cleaning out the drawer — I can’t call hit cleaning out — I jist put what I found in a different place.  I‘ll leave the throwing away to somebody else.  I feel sorry for ever who is in charge of all our  “stuff.” Hit’ll take a big truck to haul hit to the dump.

That’ll be a job and a different kind of country living.

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What I’m talking about today is this dirt road and what a mess hit’s in.  On top of the zero weather we’ve had some frog-strangler rains, too.  There’s a lake in the road in front of our house and I don’t know what can be done about it.  When the drain pipes is cleaned out, the road machinery comes by and puts the dirt right back in ’em.  And another thang — them machines don’t know how to make a ditch fer the water to run in — going down the hill over here on the north end of the road they’s two ditches washed out clean across the middle of the road.  TWO!  Y, they’s six inches deep — maybe more.  The cars shore do have to slow down to get over ’em and then they git a good bump. They ain’t no ditches fer the water to run in and the only place hit’s got to run in is down the middle or across the road — this time hit went across the road big time!!

If air one of them road commissioner lived on this road hit wouldn’t be lack this, and I don’t guess they even knows this road is here.

Times is hard around here and we’ve had two hands quit — the two hands on the antique clock has quit and we don’t know what time hit is.  This is jest how hit is here with country living.

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When I’m in the garden and see I can git me a mess of beans or whatever else is ready – Y, I jest pick up the bottom of my apron and gather the stuff to take to the house.  Then we can set on the front porch and string them beans and have them ready to cook in the morning.  I like to put on whatever I’m gonna have fer dinner when I cook breakfast and while the old black cook stove is hot.  And another thang — if’n I’m at the barn or chicken house and see that old settin’ hen has hatched off her babies I can put them in my apron and bring them to the chicken coop — that old mother hen follers jest a-fussin’.

When I wuz growin’ up our house set way back off’n the road and my ma could see somebody a-comin’ down that long driveway and she’d snatch off her apron, do some quick dustin’ and then put on a fresh apron afore they could git in the house.

A few years ago I visited a new neighbor what had moved in our community and we set down in her cook room fer she wuz a-cookin’ dinner. Her little boy had  sight of cold and his nose wuz a-runnin’ bad and she said to him, “Joe come here and blow yore nose — if there’s anythang I can’t stand hit’s nass-ness.”  Y she wuz a cookin’ and had that young’un blow his nose on her apron.  Now if that ain’t nastiness, I don’t know what is.

I’ve used my aprons lots of times to sceer off a hawk when he was after some of my young chickens.  I can wave that apron and holler at him and he’ll leave.

Now a feed sack  makes a nice big apron and I allus want to make my work aprons out of a dark color fer they won’t show dirt nigh as bad as white ‘uns will.  I use the white sacks to make my Sunday aprons — or the ones I wear when company is around.  They shore do do up pretty.  You don’t know what do up means?  Well, hit means to wash, starch and arn.

A body can tie a apron around a little boys shoulders and he’ll turn into Super Man and then you can fold the apron up in a way and a little girl can make-belief and call hit her doll.  Hit comes in handy, too, to wipe a little skint knee or sumpin lack that.

Well, I ain’t told you nigh all I could about the apron, but Billie fusses if I talk too long.  Hit’s jest  the way hit it is with country living.

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