I was prompted to take some time to recall my parents' garden this week. I've got all these little snapshot memories and haven't put them down in writing before. May I suggest you give it a try. I started with a drawing of my parents' garden. It ended up being more of a map of memories than a map of the garden.
My memories of my
parent's garden start early with chickens, big, huge, monster chickens. I
remember being a wee small girl and climbing to stand on a broken cinder block
while holding a stick so I would be bigger and badder than the big white birds.
One of my next memories of the garden is of my father carrying my across
the yard on his shoulders. We were going to check on the plums for a
snack. We didn't know it but that day there was someone else checking the
tree for snacks as well. I came almost face to face with a big black
snake draped across a limb. I think I screamed. I never could walk
under that tree after that without checking it thoroughly for snakes.
Parts of the four acre plot
changed over the years but a few features stayed constant. There was a
small pole barn, or big shed, out back. It had 4 four rooms and an open bay.
It had the old smokehouse on one corner. I never saw that used for
anything other than storage space. There was the old brooder house on
another corner. That was where we kept potatoes spread in a layer on an
old door elevated with cinder blocks. The old hen house section was a
no-visit zone for me. It was crowded with old pieces of equipment and, I
was sure, multitudes of big black snakes. The open bay in the middle had
the lawn mower, a tiller and Dad's gardening supplies. There was a big
gourd hanging from the ceiling with a hole for a bird's nest. One little
open storage room on the front was my playhouse. The walls were lined
with hoes, rakes, shovels, a draw blade and several other long handled tools
for yard work. There was also a wagon loaded with sand, a tiny chair and
kitchen table, a doll bed an old mirrored medicine cabinet and a shelf for my
own outdoor home necessities. I made many a sand cake and sand muffins
for my imaginary family there. That's where I kept my walking sticks.
I had one made from a crooked tree just like my great-grandmothers.
I also kept a taller one or two. My favorite was a length of bamboo
from a neighbor's roll of carpet. I took the stick with me everywhere I
went. I imagined it helped to scare the snakes out of my path. Are
you seeing a common theme there? I was NOT fond of snakes.
The vegetable garden was
HUGE at least it was in my eyes. Many long rows meant many hours of work
hoeing, picking, washing, and canning or freezing fresh vegetables. One
of my favorite things was to check to see if the Four O’clocks were blooming on
time. Then I'd go over to the tomatoes and find a nice, warm, ripe one. I
could sneak a tomato before supper. If I was careful with the juice, I wouldn't
get caught.
My bedroom had two
windows, one faced east, the other north. We had a security light near
the shed that lit the yard with an odd purplish glow at night. I used to
slip out of bed and check both windows late at night. If I was lucky, I'd
see rabbits. Sometimes only one, sometimes several. The best times
were when I'd find a family of rabbits playing tag. It would have been so
much fun if I could have joined them. I understood the rules perfectly.
Alas, we two-legs are no fun for little rabbits.
One year my mom decided
to grow pretty little decorative pepper plants in place of flowers in a
container. I was fascinated by the compact little bushes with multi-hued
peppers pointing skyward. They looked like colorful candles of green,
yellow, red and purple. My parents liked to eat them but I had no love
for the zing of hot pepper. In the fall Mom wanted to collect seed to
replant the peppers next year. My sister and I were given the job of seeding
out some dry pods. The pods were tough and I couldn't tear them open.
Being a resourceful child, I did as I'd done with many a chip bag or
candy wrapper and grabbed the end of the pepper in my teeth to tear it open. Yep,
you guessed it. I got a full dose of the heat from that little packet of spicy
joy. Eight glasses of water later, I learned that water does not cool the
heat of peppers. It's been a lifelong lesson that's served to keep me
away from them.
It's funny how I still take
a stick with me when I go walking. I don't mind the snakes quite so much
now but I'd be happy if they go about minding their business a little distance
from where I'm minding my business. I still avoid those little red peppers.
