ForgeCorvus
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When I read the 'Whats a wok' bit, that old joke "Its a thing you fro at a wabbit" popped into my head...... The dog found the noises I was making next rather puzzling 
Story A Bunch of Wild Thyme
- Thread starter Kathy in FL
- Start date
Chapter XLIII
Tiffany held the screen door open while Jude and Clewis carried something in and when I turned I realized it was a bunch of eggs. And when I say a bunch I mean a bunch. “Where’d those come from?”
Clewis wiped his head looking tired and said to Jude, “I’ll let you tell her.” To me he said, “We got in a fight over it but Crystal is eating the greens you said she needs to. She’s already feeling better but I’m still in the hot seat for it.”
“You want me to say I’m sorry?”
He looked at me and gave a tired grin that was unlike his normal sass-filled attitude. “Naw. I’ll bear the heat so long as Crystal gets well. She can’t afford to get sick now that cooler weather is setting in.” What surprised me most was when he turned to Jude and said, “Thanks for helping me get that wall up. Butch and I couldn’t get the thing squared up and all Dad could do was give the same advice that hadn’t helped the first time around.”
Jude shrugged. “Sometimes he only has one way of doing something and if you don’t get it he can’t see how to explain it to you a different way.”
“Yeah … like that time he tried to teach Rochelle to drive the tractor with the trailer on it and he couldn’t get her to understand that you had to turn the wheel opposite when you wanted to back up with the trailer on.”
They both smiled and Jude asked, “How many melons did we have to pick out of the gully that summer?”
“I don’t know but after a while I started thinking Rochelle was doing it on purpose.”
Jude snorted, “You and me both. But don’t tell her I said that ‘cause I’ll deny with my last breath.”
“You and me both brother.”
Clewis took off and I heard him climb in the wagon and then the chains rattle as he turned to go back down to the main house. “Was that really Clewis Killarney in this kitchen or did someone give him happy weed?”
Jude smiled but then it dimmed when he said, “He’s really worried about Crystal. She says she feels better but she don’t look it. Getting dark under her eyes and kind of pasty-skinned. Clewis wants her to go to the doctor but she’s refusing. I think she is afraid of what they’ll say.”
“Does it have anything to do with why she had a hysterectomy so young?”
“Some I think. She still has her ovaries.” I internally cringed at discussing such a topic but I wanted answers and Jude had them. “She had fibroids real bad as a teenager … I mean really bad … about like Mom’s sister did which is why she and Uncle Martin never had kids. I overheard Mom and ‘Chellie saying that it could be anything … maybe even cancer; it has Clewis scared even if he won’t come right out and say it.”
“Oh good gravey … it sounds like low iron or maybe all out anemia. Why does everyone shoot straight to cancer as the reason? When you and Butch go hunting tomorrow, if you can get a deer, ask Aunt Frankie to fix the liver up for Crystal. Greens have a lot of iron in them which may be why she’s already feeling a little better. If the vaccine is what did this to her I wouldn’t be surprised; one of the side effects of a couple of the vaccines that didn’t make it to market was that it inhibited mineral absorption in the body … especially iron.” He gave me a look with both eyebrows raised. “It killed the T-virus but the cost was practically death sentence for the vaccine recipient as well.”
“Humph. More I hear about those doctors that were supposed to be taking care of the Double Negatives the less I like.”
“That’s what happens when people get jealous and start blaming you for something you can’t help like the color of your skin, the shape of your eyes, or whether you’re immune to something that is killing a lot of other people. If you weren’t obviously Caucasian you tended to be allowed to fall through the cracks. I mean you see me and the kids. Paulie could have gotten out but he refused to go and I was too selfish to let them take him from me.”
“Aw, don’t say things like that Dovie.”
“Why not? It’s the truth. Tiffany and Mimi may not look like it but their great grandmother was Mongolian but that’s where their flat, round facial features come from. Bobby’s father was bi-racial which is why he has that kinky wave to his hair. One of Lonnie’s grandfathers was a Christian that got run out of Turkey when he was a boy.”
“What about Corey?”
“Someone thought he had Down’s Syndrome until they genetically typed him. The only thing I could find in his chart was that his father was adopted so who knows.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that boy. He keeps up with the other kids pretty well considering he’s so little.”
“I didn’t say that all of the medical personnel had good sense, I’m just telling you what they thought.” Changing the subject I asked, “What’s with all the eggs Jude? I thought they were scarce.”
“Yes and no. Mom has … had … been selling the eggs to try and have spending cash for groceries that couldn’t be grown in the garden but the guy she was selling them to went under when he lost his license to do business for failing to pass a pop inspection by the health department.”
“There’s no one else she can to sell to?”
“Sure, but only for pennies which doesn’t make it worth the while of all the input. It doesn’t make sense to carry the eggs beyond the check point, pay the import fee …”
“Wait … an import fee?! They aren’t be carted between countries for pity sake … not even between states.”
Jude chuckled but it wasn’t a nice sound. “Dovie, you just don’t know what they try and do to the farmer in this country. People think because we got land, big equipment, and food on the table that it comes from deep pockets. The people that don’t have those things get jealous and don’t think it’s fair. What they completely miss is the cost of getting food up out of the ground or getting the meat from cradle to slaughter house. He stopped and shook his head. “Don’t get me started or I’ll sound like Dad and Mr. Schnell. Anyway with things like they are it ain’t worth selling at a loss because you can’t make it up in other areas. Plus Dad wants to save the generator fuel for an emergency. That leaves Mom with a cooler full of eggs. What the Sam Hill she expects us to do with them I don’t know. I like my eggs just as much as the next man but even all of us eating ‘em at every meal … just ain’t no way. She’s still gonna have some spoil at that rate.”
Thinking about what he was say I asked, “By cooler you don’t mean the big meat cooler out in the barn.”
“I most certainly do. Why don’t you think we used it for them hogs? Ain’t just eggs in there of course but that’s mostly what’s in there.”
It took me all of two seconds to think of a way to save the eggs before me. “Pickled.”
“Huh? You mean like from the deli?”
“Yep.”
“Can you do that?”
“I already have. I made a gallon from that first batch of eggs Uncle Roe sent over. I’ll walk down and see if Aunt Frankie has thought of it yet or if she’s still too … uh … overwhelmed.”
He barked a cynical laugh. “That’s a nice way of saying fired up and angry.”
I cringed. “That bad?”
“What do you think? And because it ain’t worth keeping a flock the size of the one she’s got if she can’t sell the eggs, she’s going to cull a bunch of her layers.”
“When?”
“They’ve already started separating them out so they can start first thing in the morning.”
I’ll admit my feelings were a little hurt. “Why didn’t anybody tell me? I can help.”
Trying to hide the half a grin that kept trying to tug at the corner of his mouth Jude answered, “River mentioned it but Mom said she didn’t need you puking all over the place on top of feathers, blood, and guts. Faith laughed and Wendalene explained to her that not even Aunt Malissa could get you to stop heaving every time a chicken went into the plucker.”
I shrugged, accepting the truth but then told him, “That was then, this is now. In Phoenix our next door neighbors were Spanish and had a food truck business. The lady of the house taught me a few things when she realized …”
When I stopped without finishing the sentence Jude, who had been digging at a splinter in his hand at the table surprised me by showing he’d actually listening. “Realized what?”
I shrugged trying to make it not seem like a big deal. “That I was pretty much taking care of things on my own. Mom had gotten better, and did real good at work, but being home was real hard on her because everywhere she looked reminded her that Dad and the boys were gone. And before you ask, yes, she’d seen a couple of doctors but all they wanted to do was give her pills that seemed to just make it worse. She refused to join a grief support group or get any other kind of counseling … she just wasn’t there yet. Plus with money being really tight … it made her even more depressed because it reminded her that no one seemed to even care enough to make sure the benefits that Dad and the boys had given their lives for …” I stopped, unsure I’d be able to explain it to someone that hadn’t been there. “It was just a mess. I was doing the banking before we left Florida – taking over what Dad had mostly always done – and learned to forge her signature. And when we needed more money I … well I went to work. Uncle James hooked me up with some people in Phoenix that needed child care – the kind you pay for under the table so you don’t have to mess with taxes and health insurance – and most weeks I got forty hours or more.”
Disbelieving as it probably affected how he had thought of my mom he said, “You did not. School would have taken up too much time and I know Aunt Malissa didn’t let you stay out all night.”
“I was normally home by midnight because I had to get Mom and Paulie up the next morning but I did pull a couple of all-nighters and got paid extra for it. Besides, I didn’t go to school.”
“Dovie Doherty, are you telling me you dropped out?!” Then shaking his head in confusion he said, “Wait, you couldn’t have anyway, you were too young.”
Explaining I told him, “Virtual school remember? Same way the boys and I had always gone to school so we could work our schedule around Dad’s TDYs and when we came here so often. And I wasn’t too young. I turned sixteen out there, so stop squawking.”
Then I laughed which didn’t set too well with Jude. “Dovie, it’s nothing to laugh about.”
“Maybe I should start calling you Gramps.” I walked by and patted him on the shoulder on the way to the sink to wash some more fruit hoping it took the sting out of my words. “It was ok. I did what I had to. Besides I was thinking about chickens again. Did you know rich people … I mean really rich people … don’t know how to cook very much or claim they don’t have time to?”
Not ready to be mollified Jude said, “Changing the subject? We need to get back to the fact that you weren’t going to school.”
“I was going to school so drop it. And actually I was getting back on subject so stop distracting me.” He curled his lip in exasperation but let me talk. “Anyway a lot of those people I did child care for worked really weird hours or socialized a lot so they didn’t have time to cook. Used to be most of them would have either hired a housekeeper sort of person to do the cooking for them or they would have eaten out; but, a lot of them had to economize because their investments were going in the toilet and the affordable housekeepers were all illegals and you know how Arizona was.”
Shaking his head he said, “I thought you said you were getting back on subject. Doesn’t sound like it to me.” I could tell he was still disturbed for some reason.
“Aw c’mon, don’t be that way. It wasn’t a perfect life but we were together … all the way to the end which in hindsight is really all that matters to me. But about chickens and cooking. I started me a little side business in addition to the childcare. I’d buy those chickens my next door neighbor raised … that were as illegal as they were by the way since we were living in the suburbs … and would prepare them and turn them into ‘free-range, organic’ meals. Those stupid birds didn’t do anything but walk around in that big back yard and scratch for their food, eating the locusts and I don’t know what all though we had about as bug-free of a yard as anyone ever did, but they sure turned me a tidy profit. It is amazing how easy it was to learn to tolerate the smell and mess of butchering when I knew that my family needed the food and money that I brought in from it.”
Jude had finished messing with his splinter and planted his elbows on the table and was just staring at me. I asked, “What?”
“Dad always makes out like … I don’t know … like you are a sweet and innocent little thing and that someone needs to look after you and protect you.”
Wiping my hands on the apron I was wearing so that I could pick up jars without worrying they’d slip through my hands I told him, “I used to be, used to need protecting that way too. Dad protected Mom and Paulie and me from a lot of stuff. Even Jack and Jay did though I never really thought of it like that until I had to do it myself. Then they were all just gone. What was I supposed to do Jude? Sit around and wait for someone to come take their place? That’ll never happen.”
“You mean you weren’t looking for a husband?”
I rolled my eyes though he couldn’t see it since my back was turned, thinking he was a chauvinist after all. “I was a little young for that in the beginning, doncha think?”
“Oh. Well yeah. Sorry. It’s hard to … I don’t know. I know you aren’t that old but at the same time the way you are now it’s hard to … to keep separated from the way things were.”
I sighed. “Yeah. Tell me about it.” Using a jar lifter I took jars out of one canner and refilled it so that another batch could be processed. “Look, someone had to step up. Uncle Roe probably would have had we stayed here but … but your family
\was going through their own rough patch and no one knew how bad things were going to get. It’s no one’s fault, it is just the way things turned out. And to be honest … not to sound vain … it suited me, and I was glad it was me and not someone else. We kept family business to ourselves so that busybodies didn’t come in and make things worse, didn’t separate us. Mom knew she … that she wasn’t herself. It embarrassed her at the same time she didn’t feel she could be any other way. But she was getting better … I would have been happy to keep doing what I was doing for as long as it took, forever even. We just all ran out of time and then the world got real nasty real fast. I just learned firsthand a little earlier than a lot of people that waiting on someone else was a good way to be waiting forever.”
Tiffany held the screen door open while Jude and Clewis carried something in and when I turned I realized it was a bunch of eggs. And when I say a bunch I mean a bunch. “Where’d those come from?”
Clewis wiped his head looking tired and said to Jude, “I’ll let you tell her.” To me he said, “We got in a fight over it but Crystal is eating the greens you said she needs to. She’s already feeling better but I’m still in the hot seat for it.”
“You want me to say I’m sorry?”
He looked at me and gave a tired grin that was unlike his normal sass-filled attitude. “Naw. I’ll bear the heat so long as Crystal gets well. She can’t afford to get sick now that cooler weather is setting in.” What surprised me most was when he turned to Jude and said, “Thanks for helping me get that wall up. Butch and I couldn’t get the thing squared up and all Dad could do was give the same advice that hadn’t helped the first time around.”
Jude shrugged. “Sometimes he only has one way of doing something and if you don’t get it he can’t see how to explain it to you a different way.”
“Yeah … like that time he tried to teach Rochelle to drive the tractor with the trailer on it and he couldn’t get her to understand that you had to turn the wheel opposite when you wanted to back up with the trailer on.”
They both smiled and Jude asked, “How many melons did we have to pick out of the gully that summer?”
“I don’t know but after a while I started thinking Rochelle was doing it on purpose.”
Jude snorted, “You and me both. But don’t tell her I said that ‘cause I’ll deny with my last breath.”
“You and me both brother.”
Clewis took off and I heard him climb in the wagon and then the chains rattle as he turned to go back down to the main house. “Was that really Clewis Killarney in this kitchen or did someone give him happy weed?”
Jude smiled but then it dimmed when he said, “He’s really worried about Crystal. She says she feels better but she don’t look it. Getting dark under her eyes and kind of pasty-skinned. Clewis wants her to go to the doctor but she’s refusing. I think she is afraid of what they’ll say.”
“Does it have anything to do with why she had a hysterectomy so young?”
“Some I think. She still has her ovaries.” I internally cringed at discussing such a topic but I wanted answers and Jude had them. “She had fibroids real bad as a teenager … I mean really bad … about like Mom’s sister did which is why she and Uncle Martin never had kids. I overheard Mom and ‘Chellie saying that it could be anything … maybe even cancer; it has Clewis scared even if he won’t come right out and say it.”
“Oh good gravey … it sounds like low iron or maybe all out anemia. Why does everyone shoot straight to cancer as the reason? When you and Butch go hunting tomorrow, if you can get a deer, ask Aunt Frankie to fix the liver up for Crystal. Greens have a lot of iron in them which may be why she’s already feeling a little better. If the vaccine is what did this to her I wouldn’t be surprised; one of the side effects of a couple of the vaccines that didn’t make it to market was that it inhibited mineral absorption in the body … especially iron.” He gave me a look with both eyebrows raised. “It killed the T-virus but the cost was practically death sentence for the vaccine recipient as well.”
“Humph. More I hear about those doctors that were supposed to be taking care of the Double Negatives the less I like.”
“That’s what happens when people get jealous and start blaming you for something you can’t help like the color of your skin, the shape of your eyes, or whether you’re immune to something that is killing a lot of other people. If you weren’t obviously Caucasian you tended to be allowed to fall through the cracks. I mean you see me and the kids. Paulie could have gotten out but he refused to go and I was too selfish to let them take him from me.”
“Aw, don’t say things like that Dovie.”
“Why not? It’s the truth. Tiffany and Mimi may not look like it but their great grandmother was Mongolian but that’s where their flat, round facial features come from. Bobby’s father was bi-racial which is why he has that kinky wave to his hair. One of Lonnie’s grandfathers was a Christian that got run out of Turkey when he was a boy.”
“What about Corey?”
“Someone thought he had Down’s Syndrome until they genetically typed him. The only thing I could find in his chart was that his father was adopted so who knows.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that boy. He keeps up with the other kids pretty well considering he’s so little.”
“I didn’t say that all of the medical personnel had good sense, I’m just telling you what they thought.” Changing the subject I asked, “What’s with all the eggs Jude? I thought they were scarce.”
“Yes and no. Mom has … had … been selling the eggs to try and have spending cash for groceries that couldn’t be grown in the garden but the guy she was selling them to went under when he lost his license to do business for failing to pass a pop inspection by the health department.”
“There’s no one else she can to sell to?”
“Sure, but only for pennies which doesn’t make it worth the while of all the input. It doesn’t make sense to carry the eggs beyond the check point, pay the import fee …”
“Wait … an import fee?! They aren’t be carted between countries for pity sake … not even between states.”
Jude chuckled but it wasn’t a nice sound. “Dovie, you just don’t know what they try and do to the farmer in this country. People think because we got land, big equipment, and food on the table that it comes from deep pockets. The people that don’t have those things get jealous and don’t think it’s fair. What they completely miss is the cost of getting food up out of the ground or getting the meat from cradle to slaughter house. He stopped and shook his head. “Don’t get me started or I’ll sound like Dad and Mr. Schnell. Anyway with things like they are it ain’t worth selling at a loss because you can’t make it up in other areas. Plus Dad wants to save the generator fuel for an emergency. That leaves Mom with a cooler full of eggs. What the Sam Hill she expects us to do with them I don’t know. I like my eggs just as much as the next man but even all of us eating ‘em at every meal … just ain’t no way. She’s still gonna have some spoil at that rate.”
Thinking about what he was say I asked, “By cooler you don’t mean the big meat cooler out in the barn.”
“I most certainly do. Why don’t you think we used it for them hogs? Ain’t just eggs in there of course but that’s mostly what’s in there.”
It took me all of two seconds to think of a way to save the eggs before me. “Pickled.”
“Huh? You mean like from the deli?”
“Yep.”
“Can you do that?”
“I already have. I made a gallon from that first batch of eggs Uncle Roe sent over. I’ll walk down and see if Aunt Frankie has thought of it yet or if she’s still too … uh … overwhelmed.”
He barked a cynical laugh. “That’s a nice way of saying fired up and angry.”
I cringed. “That bad?”
“What do you think? And because it ain’t worth keeping a flock the size of the one she’s got if she can’t sell the eggs, she’s going to cull a bunch of her layers.”
“When?”
“They’ve already started separating them out so they can start first thing in the morning.”
I’ll admit my feelings were a little hurt. “Why didn’t anybody tell me? I can help.”
Trying to hide the half a grin that kept trying to tug at the corner of his mouth Jude answered, “River mentioned it but Mom said she didn’t need you puking all over the place on top of feathers, blood, and guts. Faith laughed and Wendalene explained to her that not even Aunt Malissa could get you to stop heaving every time a chicken went into the plucker.”
I shrugged, accepting the truth but then told him, “That was then, this is now. In Phoenix our next door neighbors were Spanish and had a food truck business. The lady of the house taught me a few things when she realized …”
When I stopped without finishing the sentence Jude, who had been digging at a splinter in his hand at the table surprised me by showing he’d actually listening. “Realized what?”
I shrugged trying to make it not seem like a big deal. “That I was pretty much taking care of things on my own. Mom had gotten better, and did real good at work, but being home was real hard on her because everywhere she looked reminded her that Dad and the boys were gone. And before you ask, yes, she’d seen a couple of doctors but all they wanted to do was give her pills that seemed to just make it worse. She refused to join a grief support group or get any other kind of counseling … she just wasn’t there yet. Plus with money being really tight … it made her even more depressed because it reminded her that no one seemed to even care enough to make sure the benefits that Dad and the boys had given their lives for …” I stopped, unsure I’d be able to explain it to someone that hadn’t been there. “It was just a mess. I was doing the banking before we left Florida – taking over what Dad had mostly always done – and learned to forge her signature. And when we needed more money I … well I went to work. Uncle James hooked me up with some people in Phoenix that needed child care – the kind you pay for under the table so you don’t have to mess with taxes and health insurance – and most weeks I got forty hours or more.”
Disbelieving as it probably affected how he had thought of my mom he said, “You did not. School would have taken up too much time and I know Aunt Malissa didn’t let you stay out all night.”
“I was normally home by midnight because I had to get Mom and Paulie up the next morning but I did pull a couple of all-nighters and got paid extra for it. Besides, I didn’t go to school.”
“Dovie Doherty, are you telling me you dropped out?!” Then shaking his head in confusion he said, “Wait, you couldn’t have anyway, you were too young.”
Explaining I told him, “Virtual school remember? Same way the boys and I had always gone to school so we could work our schedule around Dad’s TDYs and when we came here so often. And I wasn’t too young. I turned sixteen out there, so stop squawking.”
Then I laughed which didn’t set too well with Jude. “Dovie, it’s nothing to laugh about.”
“Maybe I should start calling you Gramps.” I walked by and patted him on the shoulder on the way to the sink to wash some more fruit hoping it took the sting out of my words. “It was ok. I did what I had to. Besides I was thinking about chickens again. Did you know rich people … I mean really rich people … don’t know how to cook very much or claim they don’t have time to?”
Not ready to be mollified Jude said, “Changing the subject? We need to get back to the fact that you weren’t going to school.”
“I was going to school so drop it. And actually I was getting back on subject so stop distracting me.” He curled his lip in exasperation but let me talk. “Anyway a lot of those people I did child care for worked really weird hours or socialized a lot so they didn’t have time to cook. Used to be most of them would have either hired a housekeeper sort of person to do the cooking for them or they would have eaten out; but, a lot of them had to economize because their investments were going in the toilet and the affordable housekeepers were all illegals and you know how Arizona was.”
Shaking his head he said, “I thought you said you were getting back on subject. Doesn’t sound like it to me.” I could tell he was still disturbed for some reason.
“Aw c’mon, don’t be that way. It wasn’t a perfect life but we were together … all the way to the end which in hindsight is really all that matters to me. But about chickens and cooking. I started me a little side business in addition to the childcare. I’d buy those chickens my next door neighbor raised … that were as illegal as they were by the way since we were living in the suburbs … and would prepare them and turn them into ‘free-range, organic’ meals. Those stupid birds didn’t do anything but walk around in that big back yard and scratch for their food, eating the locusts and I don’t know what all though we had about as bug-free of a yard as anyone ever did, but they sure turned me a tidy profit. It is amazing how easy it was to learn to tolerate the smell and mess of butchering when I knew that my family needed the food and money that I brought in from it.”
Jude had finished messing with his splinter and planted his elbows on the table and was just staring at me. I asked, “What?”
“Dad always makes out like … I don’t know … like you are a sweet and innocent little thing and that someone needs to look after you and protect you.”
Wiping my hands on the apron I was wearing so that I could pick up jars without worrying they’d slip through my hands I told him, “I used to be, used to need protecting that way too. Dad protected Mom and Paulie and me from a lot of stuff. Even Jack and Jay did though I never really thought of it like that until I had to do it myself. Then they were all just gone. What was I supposed to do Jude? Sit around and wait for someone to come take their place? That’ll never happen.”
“You mean you weren’t looking for a husband?”
I rolled my eyes though he couldn’t see it since my back was turned, thinking he was a chauvinist after all. “I was a little young for that in the beginning, doncha think?”
“Oh. Well yeah. Sorry. It’s hard to … I don’t know. I know you aren’t that old but at the same time the way you are now it’s hard to … to keep separated from the way things were.”
I sighed. “Yeah. Tell me about it.” Using a jar lifter I took jars out of one canner and refilled it so that another batch could be processed. “Look, someone had to step up. Uncle Roe probably would have had we stayed here but … but your family
\was going through their own rough patch and no one knew how bad things were going to get. It’s no one’s fault, it is just the way things turned out. And to be honest … not to sound vain … it suited me, and I was glad it was me and not someone else. We kept family business to ourselves so that busybodies didn’t come in and make things worse, didn’t separate us. Mom knew she … that she wasn’t herself. It embarrassed her at the same time she didn’t feel she could be any other way. But she was getting better … I would have been happy to keep doing what I was doing for as long as it took, forever even. We just all ran out of time and then the world got real nasty real fast. I just learned firsthand a little earlier than a lot of people that waiting on someone else was a good way to be waiting forever.”
Chapter XLIV
“I guess what I’m asking – trying to ask – is do you mind the way things are now, mind me being around or … or am I in the way? Do you even want or need me around?”
I finally turned to look at Jude and gave him an honest answer. “You want the truth? About half the time I know for a fact I’m just fooling myself thinking I can do it all alone. I was almost to the point of giving up when you called my name out of the blue, you don’t know how close. You were right where you needed to be right when you needed to be. And you haven’t stopped since. If I could go back and have Dad and Jack and Jay be around and take care of things, or have Mom whole and well, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But that’s never going to happen, it’s just a fantasy that doesn’t do anything but waste time and cause heartache. And since they aren’t ever coming back, I can’t think of any other way that I’d rather things be right now. I don’t know what we’d do if you hadn’t volunteered to step up … Lord knows I love them ‘cause they’re family, but I would have killed Clewis by now and I’d be ready to run away again if it had been Butch. And Uncle Roe … I don’t know, he keeps getting surprised that I have more sense than he expects me to have though he is a gentleman about it; he treated Mom the same way and she taught me to laugh about it rather than get upset, to appreciate who he is, blind spots and all but on occasion it does make me have to bite my tongue.”
I was smiling but Jude was still serious. “Do … do you think of me the same way you think of Butch and Clewis?”
Confused by the question I asked, “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Well, don’t take this the wrong way but you’re you and they’re them. You are each different in my head. Turns out that you have more sense than Clewis, or at least it seems that way from what I’ve seen; he can’t seem to stop fooling long enough to see that he’s making matters worse rather than better or being funny. Clewis … it used to be I saw him as older than me but since we’ve been here … it’s like a big part of him isn’t ready to grow up yet and doesn’t know it. He’s great with Crystal and all that, and he is a grown man, but … I don’t know … he just seems like it irritates him to have to be responsible somehow … and then he gets irritated because he’s irritated by it. Butch … he’s the opposite and all about responsibility, almost too much to be comfortable around. From what I remember, I hardly ever saw him smile much when I was little; he was always so serious about everything. River’s helped him take some of the stiffness out but … you know what Dad used to say about Butch?”
“No. What?”
“He acted like an old man borrowing a young man’s body but without the sense to know to enjoy it while he had it.”
A brief smile tried to come out on Jude’s face but didn’t quite get to see the sun. “Sounds about right. But what about me?”
“I’m still figuring that out. You’ve always been around for as long as I can remember but at the same time you weren’t because … you always seemed to have your outside interests. You were fast and wild, a little scary as I recall though I don’t think you meant to be. You were alright when you were away from your friends but that wasn’t often. Then you went to work before you were even out of middle school driving tractors and working in the fields … you were either working hard or playing hard, there wasn’t much balance or in between. Now you are very different … or at least different from the way I remember you being but not in a bad way, and all I really care about is how you are now. I’m not sure what to call it … because as soon as I do someone is going to mess it up and confuse things. All I know is that I’m glad it is you here and not those other two. You make things better and easy … and I’m embarrassing myself because I sound like an idiot so I’m going to stop talking now so there.” I rolled my eyes and went back over to the sink and started filling a pan of water to boil some eggs in.
I peeked around and his mood had changed again and he was smiling. “Well. Glad I’m not the only one feeling like an idiot. Dad keeps saying things and …”
“What things?”
“I don’t know, nothing outright and kinda stupid. I don’t know how to take him sometimes. And now I’m done talking about this too because I’m starting to feel really weird for asking in the first place.”
I laughed and said, “You are weird. But since you’re here, can you tell me what you did with those squirrels?”
He jumped up. “Dang it, forgot all about them. I’ll go dress ‘em and they can be supper unless you’ve got it all planned out.”
“Three squirrels aren’t going far but I’ll fry them and the boys can be the great hunters for a change.”
He laughed and went outside and I stayed because I had things to do and the first one was to get a bunch of eggs hardboiled so that I could pickle them. The first recipe was for Golden Pickled Eggs.
Golden Pickled Eggs
1 tablespoon pickling or kosher salt
1 1/2 cups cider vinegar
1/2 cup water
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1 1-inch cinnamon stick
1 teaspoon crushed white peppercorns
1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
1/4 teaspoon whole celery seeds
2 shallots, thinly sliced
About 12 hard-cooked eggs, peeled
In a nonreactive saucepan, combine all the ingredients except the eggs. Bring mixture to a boil, reduce the heat and cover the pan; simmer for 15 minutes. Let the liquid cool. Put eggs in a sterilized quart jar. Pour the spiced vinegar over the eggs. Cap the jar and refrigerate it for at least a week before serving. Refrigerated eggs will keep for several weeks.
But I wasn’t finished. I also made Sweet Pickled Eggs and Beets. I had some beets that I had canned but the lid hadn’t sealed for some reason so this was a good way to use them up.
Sweet Pickled Eggs and Beets
beets
1 dozen eggs
2 cups beet juice
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup cider vinegar
Boil eggs, cool and shell. Place in bowl with drained beets and onions. Bring the 2 cups of beet juice to a boil. Reduce heat and add vinegar and brown sugar. Allow to simmer until brown sugar has dissolved. Pour over eggs, beets, and onions; cover and let stand in refrigerator for at least 2 days.
I had other recipes for pickling eggs – Dad really liked them anyway he could get them – such as Ginger Pickled Eggs, British Pub Pickled Eggs, and Hot Spicy Pickled Eggs but they all needed ingredients that either I didn’t have much of or didn’t have at all so I decided to be happy with what I could do.
Once I started thinking about it I realized I could pickle a lot of things that I was overlooking. I could pickle a few of the lemons, pickle some squash and pumpkin, make watermelon rind pickles, pickle some of the pears like I had the apples, and save some of the smallest green tomatoes that didn’t look like they would survive to ripen and pickle them as well. Then I could get downright weird. I like the pink pickled turnips Mom used to make for the holidays. I could pickle some purslane. I could pickle some sunchokes since they didn’t last long after digging. I could even pickle walnuts for that matter.
A lot of it would depend on how much time I had and whether my supply of vinegar and other things would hold up. With the “mother” I found floating in the jars of vinegar in the pantry cabinet I could make more vinegar as long as the apple juice held out which reminded me that now that we’d had a frost the few remaining apples that we’d been trying to leave on the trees would need to come down and get squeeze in the cider press. But there were spices and other things that I would need and I needed to get a list going just in case I ever got a chance to go to the Exchange again. I’ve got to keep myself from counting on it; I felt the pinch when Mom had been counting so much on Dad’s benefits coming in and they never did until it was too late to do her any good.
Pickled Lemons to Preserve Them
Slice the washed and dried lemons lengthwise, almost in quarters. You want the lemon to still be in one piece, but almost cut through. If you are using Eurekas, which often have little nubs on the ends, cut them off before you almost-quarter the lemons. Using Kosher, pickling or pure sea salt, stuff the lemon. Pack it in well, and use about a tablespoon per lemon. Mush the lemon into a clean Mason jar; use quart jars. Repeat until you have the jar mostly full. Toss a little more salt on top. Now you have several decisions to make. You can jam in some spices — I suggest a cinnamon stick, some peppercorns, a couple cloves and a bay leaf. And you can choose to cover the lemons with vinegar or lemon juice, or not. Some people just keep mushing the lemons down until their own juice covers them. The early British and Americans covered the lemons with vinegar. I cover them with lemon juice. Seal the jars in a hot water bath (water at a simmer) for 10 minutes. Wait at least 3 weeks before eating.
“I guess what I’m asking – trying to ask – is do you mind the way things are now, mind me being around or … or am I in the way? Do you even want or need me around?”
I finally turned to look at Jude and gave him an honest answer. “You want the truth? About half the time I know for a fact I’m just fooling myself thinking I can do it all alone. I was almost to the point of giving up when you called my name out of the blue, you don’t know how close. You were right where you needed to be right when you needed to be. And you haven’t stopped since. If I could go back and have Dad and Jack and Jay be around and take care of things, or have Mom whole and well, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But that’s never going to happen, it’s just a fantasy that doesn’t do anything but waste time and cause heartache. And since they aren’t ever coming back, I can’t think of any other way that I’d rather things be right now. I don’t know what we’d do if you hadn’t volunteered to step up … Lord knows I love them ‘cause they’re family, but I would have killed Clewis by now and I’d be ready to run away again if it had been Butch. And Uncle Roe … I don’t know, he keeps getting surprised that I have more sense than he expects me to have though he is a gentleman about it; he treated Mom the same way and she taught me to laugh about it rather than get upset, to appreciate who he is, blind spots and all but on occasion it does make me have to bite my tongue.”
I was smiling but Jude was still serious. “Do … do you think of me the same way you think of Butch and Clewis?”
Confused by the question I asked, “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Well, don’t take this the wrong way but you’re you and they’re them. You are each different in my head. Turns out that you have more sense than Clewis, or at least it seems that way from what I’ve seen; he can’t seem to stop fooling long enough to see that he’s making matters worse rather than better or being funny. Clewis … it used to be I saw him as older than me but since we’ve been here … it’s like a big part of him isn’t ready to grow up yet and doesn’t know it. He’s great with Crystal and all that, and he is a grown man, but … I don’t know … he just seems like it irritates him to have to be responsible somehow … and then he gets irritated because he’s irritated by it. Butch … he’s the opposite and all about responsibility, almost too much to be comfortable around. From what I remember, I hardly ever saw him smile much when I was little; he was always so serious about everything. River’s helped him take some of the stiffness out but … you know what Dad used to say about Butch?”
“No. What?”
“He acted like an old man borrowing a young man’s body but without the sense to know to enjoy it while he had it.”
A brief smile tried to come out on Jude’s face but didn’t quite get to see the sun. “Sounds about right. But what about me?”
“I’m still figuring that out. You’ve always been around for as long as I can remember but at the same time you weren’t because … you always seemed to have your outside interests. You were fast and wild, a little scary as I recall though I don’t think you meant to be. You were alright when you were away from your friends but that wasn’t often. Then you went to work before you were even out of middle school driving tractors and working in the fields … you were either working hard or playing hard, there wasn’t much balance or in between. Now you are very different … or at least different from the way I remember you being but not in a bad way, and all I really care about is how you are now. I’m not sure what to call it … because as soon as I do someone is going to mess it up and confuse things. All I know is that I’m glad it is you here and not those other two. You make things better and easy … and I’m embarrassing myself because I sound like an idiot so I’m going to stop talking now so there.” I rolled my eyes and went back over to the sink and started filling a pan of water to boil some eggs in.
I peeked around and his mood had changed again and he was smiling. “Well. Glad I’m not the only one feeling like an idiot. Dad keeps saying things and …”
“What things?”
“I don’t know, nothing outright and kinda stupid. I don’t know how to take him sometimes. And now I’m done talking about this too because I’m starting to feel really weird for asking in the first place.”
I laughed and said, “You are weird. But since you’re here, can you tell me what you did with those squirrels?”
He jumped up. “Dang it, forgot all about them. I’ll go dress ‘em and they can be supper unless you’ve got it all planned out.”
“Three squirrels aren’t going far but I’ll fry them and the boys can be the great hunters for a change.”
He laughed and went outside and I stayed because I had things to do and the first one was to get a bunch of eggs hardboiled so that I could pickle them. The first recipe was for Golden Pickled Eggs.
Golden Pickled Eggs
1 tablespoon pickling or kosher salt
1 1/2 cups cider vinegar
1/2 cup water
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1 1-inch cinnamon stick
1 teaspoon crushed white peppercorns
1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
1/4 teaspoon whole celery seeds
2 shallots, thinly sliced
About 12 hard-cooked eggs, peeled
In a nonreactive saucepan, combine all the ingredients except the eggs. Bring mixture to a boil, reduce the heat and cover the pan; simmer for 15 minutes. Let the liquid cool. Put eggs in a sterilized quart jar. Pour the spiced vinegar over the eggs. Cap the jar and refrigerate it for at least a week before serving. Refrigerated eggs will keep for several weeks.
But I wasn’t finished. I also made Sweet Pickled Eggs and Beets. I had some beets that I had canned but the lid hadn’t sealed for some reason so this was a good way to use them up.
Sweet Pickled Eggs and Beets
beets
1 dozen eggs
2 cups beet juice
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup cider vinegar
Boil eggs, cool and shell. Place in bowl with drained beets and onions. Bring the 2 cups of beet juice to a boil. Reduce heat and add vinegar and brown sugar. Allow to simmer until brown sugar has dissolved. Pour over eggs, beets, and onions; cover and let stand in refrigerator for at least 2 days.
I had other recipes for pickling eggs – Dad really liked them anyway he could get them – such as Ginger Pickled Eggs, British Pub Pickled Eggs, and Hot Spicy Pickled Eggs but they all needed ingredients that either I didn’t have much of or didn’t have at all so I decided to be happy with what I could do.
Once I started thinking about it I realized I could pickle a lot of things that I was overlooking. I could pickle a few of the lemons, pickle some squash and pumpkin, make watermelon rind pickles, pickle some of the pears like I had the apples, and save some of the smallest green tomatoes that didn’t look like they would survive to ripen and pickle them as well. Then I could get downright weird. I like the pink pickled turnips Mom used to make for the holidays. I could pickle some purslane. I could pickle some sunchokes since they didn’t last long after digging. I could even pickle walnuts for that matter.
A lot of it would depend on how much time I had and whether my supply of vinegar and other things would hold up. With the “mother” I found floating in the jars of vinegar in the pantry cabinet I could make more vinegar as long as the apple juice held out which reminded me that now that we’d had a frost the few remaining apples that we’d been trying to leave on the trees would need to come down and get squeeze in the cider press. But there were spices and other things that I would need and I needed to get a list going just in case I ever got a chance to go to the Exchange again. I’ve got to keep myself from counting on it; I felt the pinch when Mom had been counting so much on Dad’s benefits coming in and they never did until it was too late to do her any good.
Pickled Lemons to Preserve Them
Slice the washed and dried lemons lengthwise, almost in quarters. You want the lemon to still be in one piece, but almost cut through. If you are using Eurekas, which often have little nubs on the ends, cut them off before you almost-quarter the lemons. Using Kosher, pickling or pure sea salt, stuff the lemon. Pack it in well, and use about a tablespoon per lemon. Mush the lemon into a clean Mason jar; use quart jars. Repeat until you have the jar mostly full. Toss a little more salt on top. Now you have several decisions to make. You can jam in some spices — I suggest a cinnamon stick, some peppercorns, a couple cloves and a bay leaf. And you can choose to cover the lemons with vinegar or lemon juice, or not. Some people just keep mushing the lemons down until their own juice covers them. The early British and Americans covered the lemons with vinegar. I cover them with lemon juice. Seal the jars in a hot water bath (water at a simmer) for 10 minutes. Wait at least 3 weeks before eating.
Chapter XLV
“About time you got here.”
I didn’t say anything as anything would have been considered sass and I breathed a sigh of relief when Aunt Frankie went on to the next person she had decided to use her tongue on.
“I told you,” Jude whispered to me in passing as he headed to the woodshed to chop more wood. “You’re taking your life in your hands.”
Aunt Frankie caught sight of him and said, “Boy, whatever you are up to you better get. I don’t have the patience for your confoundedness this morning.” Jude got; but by the shaking of his shoulders I could tell he was trying not to laugh. I don’t know how he can be such a stinker when he knows it is only going to get him into more trouble.
And he had good reason for a chuckle or too. Rochelle and Wendalene were there as well as River and Crystal and none of them looked the least bit ready to get down to the task before us. They all had butchering aprons on and galoshes but that was about as far as it went. Wendalene said sweetly, “Oh Dovie, why don’t you go first.”
I turned to my kids and said, “Paulie, Bobby, Lonnie … go help stack wood or whatever else needs doing. Tiff, can you corral Mimi and Corey with Taylor and Loretta and keep an eye on them? When they go down for their N – A – Ps you can come help me.”
“OK Dovie.”
I turned back and asked, “Aunt Frankie, which ones did you want to start with?”
“Girl, just pick one.”
I snorted silently and decided that I’d had enough and reached into the nearest chicken corral made out of squirrel fencing and pulled out the slowest hen by its feet, stepped away, and then wrung its neck. I turned to Wendalene and handed her the chicken. “I know how you hate having to chase after them so here. Now you can just go on and pluck it.”
Aunt Frankie let out a sudden cackle surprising all of us. To me she said, “Well it is about time. Now was that a lucky move or can you repeat it? This cold has my hands aching and I’ll be more than happy to turn the neck ringing over to someone else.”
And you can guess what I spent the morning doing. Of course I still consider that better than bleeding and plucking the birds so I counted myself blessed. I might not puke my guts up anymore when the smell of plucking chickens hits my nose but I can guarantee it will never be my favorite thing in life to do. First comes bleeding the chicken, then swishing the carcass in scalding water that has a little dish soap in it. After scalding you have to dunk it quickly in ice cold spring water to keep the skin from tearing as you pluck the feathers.
If we had had power we could have run an electric chicken plucker but since we didn’t that meant all the feathers had to be pulled off by hand and then a pinfeather knife had to be used to get the last of them so that every single one came off, even the little ones. After the plucking I consider the worst to be over but for others they think that it has just begun; that’s when the actual butchering starts.
You begin by cutting the head off. Then you have to separate the neck from the windpipe and crop which you have to cut and discard. You cut the neck off at the backbone and cut the legs off at the leg joint. Next you cut around the vent and pull out all the innards of the bird. Get the liver out next and separate it from the bile duct. Next comes the lungs, heart, and gizzard. The gizzard gets sliced open and cleaned out and then peeled and now is as good a time as any to peel the chicken feet as well. Going back to the carcass you cut the glands from the chicken tail and then scrape and clean the inside of the body cavity. After that it really is easy peasy lemon squeezy … you either leave the bird whole to roast or you cut it into parts.
Once a bird is slaughtered and plucked and gutted it shouldn’t take more than five minutes to cut it into parts if you have butcher knife that is worth anything. All the knives we were using were homemade from tip to handle; some of them were older than Uncle Roe. They may have been homemade but they were kept in tiptop shape and sharp doesn’t even come close to describing their edge … and they liked to cut anything that got in their way including fingers.
We butchered chickens all morning. None of us women were what you would call hungry for the noonday meal but everyone else was. Crystal had pretty much given out half midmorning and had been sent to watch the big cauldron of burgoo that was cooking … burgoo is basically just a mishmash of a lot of different things that gets cooked forever and then finally served after everyone is just about starving to death. Tiffany had helped Crystal, helped set the table and wrangled the little kids to help, and then helped in the clean up afterwards while the youngest kids were all down for a nap on the living room floor in front of the fireplace.
She came over to me and asked, “Is it all right if I help Crystal?”
I looked at her as she dubiously watched the whole process of separating the various chicken parts out into piles. I tried not to smile as I had seen that very same look on my own face when I was her age. “Sure. That would be helpful.”
Rochelle watched her jog back over to where the dishpans had been set up then looked at me and said, “She’s your shadow all right.” All I could do was smile. But it was also time to pick up the pace if we were ever going to finish before it got dark.
On another fire we dumped all of the peeled chicken feet, wings, backs, and necks into another big kettle, cold water, some chopped onions, chopped carrots, and chopped celery along with a cheesecloth bag of seasonings. This would be the light chicken stock. And on a third fire we started roasting chickens. As pans of birds would finish we took them off the heat, shred the meat off of them, and can it.
As the day wore on Aunt Frankie said, “Well I’m done with this roasting business, the boys are complaining that we’re using all the wood as fast as they can get it chopped. Take these bones and whatever feet and wings we have left and just dump ‘em in the big stock pot and we’ll make the dark broth … don’t forget to scrape in the drippings out of the pans. Which one of you can bone meat without cutting your own hand off?”
“I’ll do it Aunt Frankie, you did most of the plucking,” I said volunteering.
“Humph. Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to volunteer for nothing?” She sighed and eased back, rubbing her hands surreptitiously which said she was hurting more than she was letting on. “I’ll watch you do a bird or two ‘cause ‘Chellie don’t need any more work than she already has. If you pass inspection then you can go ahead … but you’ll need to be able to keep up.”
I wasn’t as fast as Aunt Frankie but she didn’t have any complaints that I was ruining the meat so I kept at it. I did have a hard time keeping up until they got the big pressure canner going – the one that holds nineteen quart jars at a time - and then I finally could slow down a little while the raw pack chicken meat was canned.
Aunt Frankie had held back a couple of roasted chickens and that’s what we had for supper as the last of the jars cooled on the kitchen table under towels to keep a cold breeze from hitting a jar and cracking it. Everyone was drooping but Uncle Roe made the best of it by saying, “Feels like a Sunday dinner with roasted chicken and vegetables all around. We are blessed to have so much when there are so many out there with so little.” Everyone agreed.
With all the women being able to pitch in the clean up went much faster than it had at noon time. Paulie, Bobby and Lonnie, as well as Rochelle’s two boys Travis and Trent, were all duly praised for helping the men with the wood all day. Tiffany got her share of the spotlight as did Reba – Wendalene’s oldest – despite refusing to help the girls since she had to “help Poppa.” Mimi, Corey, Taylor (Rochelle’s youngest) and Loretta (Wendalene’s youngest) were simply too tired to care whether they were praised or not. It was getting late and I really didn’t blame them as I was more than a little tired myself.
Aunt Frankie told me, “As soon as we make sure all the jars seal I’ll divide ‘em and send your share up. Did you ever figure out what to do with all them eggs. I swear you would have thought Clewis and Jude were being ordered to do something at gun point just to cart ‘em to your place; ‘fraid they were going to break on the trip up.”
I told her about pickling several dozen and she said, “That’s a fine idea and I reckon I’ll do some that way as well … but not tonight. As for your idea of trying to figure out how to preserve them, those eggs wouldn’t work anyway; you have to use fresh laid eggs. You just give them a coat of mineral oil and then put them in the egg crates and keep ‘em for a few extra weeks that way. Them I sent up are already getting a little long in the tooth as they’ve been in the cooler so the oiling is useless.”
“Oh. Well … that’s kinda disappointing. I was hoping to have fresh eggs for a while yet.”
She snorted, “Know the feeling. The hens were already slowing down for the change of seasons, reckon we’ll all learn what it is to want a fresh egg and not have any in the not too distant future.” She looked over my shoulder. “You better get. Jude’s got the little one in his arms and that Mimi looks like she’d be happy to snatch him out and take his place. She’s sure a pistol. You’d think Jude was her pap the way she carries on.”
I didn’t know what to say to that and a reply hadn’t really been required as Aunt Frankie spotted someone else to set straight and took off to do it.
“About time you got here.”
I didn’t say anything as anything would have been considered sass and I breathed a sigh of relief when Aunt Frankie went on to the next person she had decided to use her tongue on.
“I told you,” Jude whispered to me in passing as he headed to the woodshed to chop more wood. “You’re taking your life in your hands.”
Aunt Frankie caught sight of him and said, “Boy, whatever you are up to you better get. I don’t have the patience for your confoundedness this morning.” Jude got; but by the shaking of his shoulders I could tell he was trying not to laugh. I don’t know how he can be such a stinker when he knows it is only going to get him into more trouble.
And he had good reason for a chuckle or too. Rochelle and Wendalene were there as well as River and Crystal and none of them looked the least bit ready to get down to the task before us. They all had butchering aprons on and galoshes but that was about as far as it went. Wendalene said sweetly, “Oh Dovie, why don’t you go first.”
I turned to my kids and said, “Paulie, Bobby, Lonnie … go help stack wood or whatever else needs doing. Tiff, can you corral Mimi and Corey with Taylor and Loretta and keep an eye on them? When they go down for their N – A – Ps you can come help me.”
“OK Dovie.”
I turned back and asked, “Aunt Frankie, which ones did you want to start with?”
“Girl, just pick one.”
I snorted silently and decided that I’d had enough and reached into the nearest chicken corral made out of squirrel fencing and pulled out the slowest hen by its feet, stepped away, and then wrung its neck. I turned to Wendalene and handed her the chicken. “I know how you hate having to chase after them so here. Now you can just go on and pluck it.”
Aunt Frankie let out a sudden cackle surprising all of us. To me she said, “Well it is about time. Now was that a lucky move or can you repeat it? This cold has my hands aching and I’ll be more than happy to turn the neck ringing over to someone else.”
And you can guess what I spent the morning doing. Of course I still consider that better than bleeding and plucking the birds so I counted myself blessed. I might not puke my guts up anymore when the smell of plucking chickens hits my nose but I can guarantee it will never be my favorite thing in life to do. First comes bleeding the chicken, then swishing the carcass in scalding water that has a little dish soap in it. After scalding you have to dunk it quickly in ice cold spring water to keep the skin from tearing as you pluck the feathers.
If we had had power we could have run an electric chicken plucker but since we didn’t that meant all the feathers had to be pulled off by hand and then a pinfeather knife had to be used to get the last of them so that every single one came off, even the little ones. After the plucking I consider the worst to be over but for others they think that it has just begun; that’s when the actual butchering starts.
You begin by cutting the head off. Then you have to separate the neck from the windpipe and crop which you have to cut and discard. You cut the neck off at the backbone and cut the legs off at the leg joint. Next you cut around the vent and pull out all the innards of the bird. Get the liver out next and separate it from the bile duct. Next comes the lungs, heart, and gizzard. The gizzard gets sliced open and cleaned out and then peeled and now is as good a time as any to peel the chicken feet as well. Going back to the carcass you cut the glands from the chicken tail and then scrape and clean the inside of the body cavity. After that it really is easy peasy lemon squeezy … you either leave the bird whole to roast or you cut it into parts.
Once a bird is slaughtered and plucked and gutted it shouldn’t take more than five minutes to cut it into parts if you have butcher knife that is worth anything. All the knives we were using were homemade from tip to handle; some of them were older than Uncle Roe. They may have been homemade but they were kept in tiptop shape and sharp doesn’t even come close to describing their edge … and they liked to cut anything that got in their way including fingers.
We butchered chickens all morning. None of us women were what you would call hungry for the noonday meal but everyone else was. Crystal had pretty much given out half midmorning and had been sent to watch the big cauldron of burgoo that was cooking … burgoo is basically just a mishmash of a lot of different things that gets cooked forever and then finally served after everyone is just about starving to death. Tiffany had helped Crystal, helped set the table and wrangled the little kids to help, and then helped in the clean up afterwards while the youngest kids were all down for a nap on the living room floor in front of the fireplace.
She came over to me and asked, “Is it all right if I help Crystal?”
I looked at her as she dubiously watched the whole process of separating the various chicken parts out into piles. I tried not to smile as I had seen that very same look on my own face when I was her age. “Sure. That would be helpful.”
Rochelle watched her jog back over to where the dishpans had been set up then looked at me and said, “She’s your shadow all right.” All I could do was smile. But it was also time to pick up the pace if we were ever going to finish before it got dark.
On another fire we dumped all of the peeled chicken feet, wings, backs, and necks into another big kettle, cold water, some chopped onions, chopped carrots, and chopped celery along with a cheesecloth bag of seasonings. This would be the light chicken stock. And on a third fire we started roasting chickens. As pans of birds would finish we took them off the heat, shred the meat off of them, and can it.
As the day wore on Aunt Frankie said, “Well I’m done with this roasting business, the boys are complaining that we’re using all the wood as fast as they can get it chopped. Take these bones and whatever feet and wings we have left and just dump ‘em in the big stock pot and we’ll make the dark broth … don’t forget to scrape in the drippings out of the pans. Which one of you can bone meat without cutting your own hand off?”
“I’ll do it Aunt Frankie, you did most of the plucking,” I said volunteering.
“Humph. Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to volunteer for nothing?” She sighed and eased back, rubbing her hands surreptitiously which said she was hurting more than she was letting on. “I’ll watch you do a bird or two ‘cause ‘Chellie don’t need any more work than she already has. If you pass inspection then you can go ahead … but you’ll need to be able to keep up.”
I wasn’t as fast as Aunt Frankie but she didn’t have any complaints that I was ruining the meat so I kept at it. I did have a hard time keeping up until they got the big pressure canner going – the one that holds nineteen quart jars at a time - and then I finally could slow down a little while the raw pack chicken meat was canned.
Aunt Frankie had held back a couple of roasted chickens and that’s what we had for supper as the last of the jars cooled on the kitchen table under towels to keep a cold breeze from hitting a jar and cracking it. Everyone was drooping but Uncle Roe made the best of it by saying, “Feels like a Sunday dinner with roasted chicken and vegetables all around. We are blessed to have so much when there are so many out there with so little.” Everyone agreed.
With all the women being able to pitch in the clean up went much faster than it had at noon time. Paulie, Bobby and Lonnie, as well as Rochelle’s two boys Travis and Trent, were all duly praised for helping the men with the wood all day. Tiffany got her share of the spotlight as did Reba – Wendalene’s oldest – despite refusing to help the girls since she had to “help Poppa.” Mimi, Corey, Taylor (Rochelle’s youngest) and Loretta (Wendalene’s youngest) were simply too tired to care whether they were praised or not. It was getting late and I really didn’t blame them as I was more than a little tired myself.
Aunt Frankie told me, “As soon as we make sure all the jars seal I’ll divide ‘em and send your share up. Did you ever figure out what to do with all them eggs. I swear you would have thought Clewis and Jude were being ordered to do something at gun point just to cart ‘em to your place; ‘fraid they were going to break on the trip up.”
I told her about pickling several dozen and she said, “That’s a fine idea and I reckon I’ll do some that way as well … but not tonight. As for your idea of trying to figure out how to preserve them, those eggs wouldn’t work anyway; you have to use fresh laid eggs. You just give them a coat of mineral oil and then put them in the egg crates and keep ‘em for a few extra weeks that way. Them I sent up are already getting a little long in the tooth as they’ve been in the cooler so the oiling is useless.”
“Oh. Well … that’s kinda disappointing. I was hoping to have fresh eggs for a while yet.”
She snorted, “Know the feeling. The hens were already slowing down for the change of seasons, reckon we’ll all learn what it is to want a fresh egg and not have any in the not too distant future.” She looked over my shoulder. “You better get. Jude’s got the little one in his arms and that Mimi looks like she’d be happy to snatch him out and take his place. She’s sure a pistol. You’d think Jude was her pap the way she carries on.”
I didn’t know what to say to that and a reply hadn’t really been required as Aunt Frankie spotted someone else to set straight and took off to do it.
Chapter LXVI
Acorn Bread
2 cups acorn flour
2 cups cattail or white flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1/3 cup maple syrup or sugar
1 egg
1/2 cup milk
3 tablespoons olive oil
Bake in pan for 30 minutes or until done at 400 degrees. A far more simple form of acorn bread is to make a thick acorn porridge out of cold processed acorn flour. Take a large tablespoon of the porridge and drop it into cold water. This causes the porridge to contract. Take the lump out of the water and dry.
“Dovie! What did you go getting yourself into now?”
“Shut up Clewis,” I told him irritably followed closely by, “Where’s Jude?”
He just stared at me and pointed in the general direction of the barn. Rather than leave me alone he followed me which did nothing for my already thin patience. “Jude?”
“Yeah … huh? Wha …?”
“Did you and Butch forget to tell me something?”
“Er … uh oh … um … now that you mention it …”
Butch spotted me and rather than giving a care that I was covered from head to do in muck and wet water weeds he asked, “You didn’t knock our trap over did you? We were going to try and catch …”
Since I had already been rudely introduced to what they were trying to catch I growled at him, “You’re going to be lucky if I don’t knock you two over. Here. Your stupid traps work; they nearly trapped me.”
As soon as I handed off the bag I felt something in my galoshes and squealed and kicked it off so that it flew several feet making Jude and Butch duck. I sat on the step of a tractor and pulled the other one off and upended it but nothing came out of it. The same couldn’t be true of the one that I had sent flying. A rusty crayfish waddled out and finally Clewis figured out what had happened.
He started snickering, then laughing, and then he was braying like a mule and all but rolling on the floor of the barn. When Uncle Roe came over to see what the noise was about he pointed first at me attempting to pull water weeds out of my hair then at my shoe that had apparently had not one but two crayfish in it and then at Butch and Jude who were looking down inside the poke sack that I had meant to fill with cattail roots but instead was filled with rusty crayfish.
Uncle Roe tried to look sympathetic but couldn’t quite pull it off. “Baby Sister, did you get the bad end of a crawdad trap?”
Ignoring Jude and Butch I told him, “Someone failed in their duty to tell me that they’d set not one, not two, but three of those things up along the stream, near the cattails … the very cattails that I mentioned that I was going to be digging to get the roots.” Then a breeze came and I shivered involuntarily.
Jude noticed. “Hey … you’re gonna catch a cold. Take my jacket.”
“No,” I told him turning my nose up. “I’m going home … but if you expect me to fix those vicious things you’ve got another think coming. They ruined my whole morning of foraging because now I’ve got to go home and clean up before I can get anything else done. I hope you two are happy.”
I grabbed my other wader, knocked it against the tractor sending a third crayfish flying out, and then put it on and stomped away. As I was squishing my way home I heard Jude say, “I better go make sure she gets back ok.”
Uncle Roe told him, “I’d let her cool off a spell if I were you. I accidentally sent Malissa head first into that very stream when she were just a little younger than Dovie and … well, you just let her cool off a spell. They’s gentle type females normally but some things tend to turn ‘em right good at aiming things at a man; and we ain’t just talkin’ words neither son.”
By the time I got back up to the house I regretted not taking Jude’s jacket even if it did smell. I was freezing.
Paulie wanted to know, “What did Jude say?”
I snapped, “He better not saying anything to me for a bit or I’m liable to ch-ch-ch a-CHOO chew his head off.”
It’s not that I hadn’t fallen into the stream before. It’s not that they didn’t say they were sorry, but of course they didn’t. It wasn’t even that those stupid crayfish had looked like monsters for a second when my head went down into one of the traps … well, maybe a little bit of that one. But mostly it was the lost time.
I hadn’t slept very well and woke up stressed out. I kept dreaming that I’d put something into the pantry only to go get it and realize I’d already used it and the kids were going to have to go hungry because no matter how hard I searched, every shelf and cabinet was empty of everything but dust and cobwebs. I knew that I had food in the pantry but I also knew that there wasn’t enough to get us through until another garden would make. Heck, it wouldn’t last long enough to get us through until the wild spring greens were ready. It felt like, between the two home sites, we were going to wind up eating lard and vinegar before spring got here and that was if we didn’t use all the vinegar up beforehand. And I didn’t even want to think on the fact that winter hadn’t ever really arrived yet.
If all I had to do between now and the first snow was work on food preparations for the winter I might have been ok, but that’s not the way real life is. There’s cooking for every day meals that has to be done. There’s clothes that have to be washed. There are clothes that need to be sewn or repaired. There’s housework to do. There’s taking care of the kids. There is sharing work with the family when there are big projects that need doing like the chicken killing. It’s not that I resent any of it … like Mom used to say, I resent there not being enough hours in the day to ever finish.
Since my forest and stream foraging time was gone I decided to forage in the herb garden and near the house for as long as I could. The easiest to start with were the sumac berries. Well, they aren’t really berries and Mom would wring my tail for calling them that. The red fruit of the sumac is actually considered a “drupe.” I collected all of them from around the house that I could see; there were areas that needed mowing that I absolutely was not wading through until the cold put all the snakes to sleep. They make a really good drink that is tart – like lemonade – or they can be ground into powder and used to flavor some dishes calling for lemon.
Next came harvesting the seed heads off of the amaranth that ran wild out of Mom’s garden. They are pretty and colorful plants but if you don’t pay attention they will escape from the part of the garden you put them in and start to crowd out other things. They aren’t as bad as horseradish but in the right environment they can give them a run for them money. I could take the amaranth seeds, which remind you of millet or birdseed, and grind them into a type of flour that I can use to piece out the wheat flour.
That’s actually what I had gone after the cattail roots for. I’m really worried that the wheat and cornmeal isn’t going to last. I’ve been trying to be careful but a cup of flour here and three over there to just make biscuits and bread uses the wheat berries up a whole lot faster than I expected.
My next task was to gather beautyberries. OK, I know people think it is a disgusting, insipid wild fruit … that’s assuming they don’t think it is poisonous … but I have to say it makes one of the absolute best wild jellies. I only have a few boxes of sure-jell that I found when I opened the buckets of jar lids but I’ll spend one of them on this. You take one a half quarts of berries and cover them with two quarts of water in a pot and then boiling them for twenty minutes.
You take this infusion and strain it to get the gunk out and the resulting liquid is your “juice.” Take three cups of the “juice,” bring it to a boil, add a box of sure-jell, and four and a half cups of sugar. Yeah, that’s a lot of sugar but since I had the honey and sorghum I decided that just this once I would splurge. You bring everything back to a boil and then continue boiling for two minutes. Skim off any foam and then pour in jars and process like you would apple jelly. It is so pretty in the jars.
I noticed while I was out in the yard that Paulie was teaching the kids how to snack on the sly. I don’t mean that in a bad way because Mom taught us how to do it. In our home snacks were rarities. Mom just didn’t believe in it thinking that we’d get spoiled, fat, or both or get bad teeth. Today Paulie was teaching them how to snack on beechnuts. Those things are too small to be worth gathering unless you are real hard up … you would use way more calories finding them than you could possibly take in eating them. But for snacking while on the trail or just out in the yard playing beech nuts are pretty good.
And speaking of nuts I had the boys shake the last of the almonds, hazlenuts, and chestnuts loose from their respective trees and onto vinyl tablecloths. While the beautyberry jelly was making I also decided to preserve some chestnuts to fill the rest of the canner with. The only adjustment to the recipe that I made was for Jude’s benefit; rather than using real brandy I made fake brandy with brandy-flavored extract and water.
Whole Chestnuts in Vanilla Syrup
3 pounds fresh unshelled chestnuts
2 cups firmly packed brown sugar
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise
1 cup brandy
Cut an X on the flat side of each chestnut. In a jelly-roll pan roast the chestnuts in a preheated 375 oven for 20-25 minutes, or until the shells have cracked and the chestnuts are tender when pierced with a knife. Let the chestnuts cool slightly and remove the shell and the papery inner skin. In a large saucepan combine the brown sugar and 4 cups water and heat the mixture over low heat, stirring, until the sugar is dissolved. Bring the mixture back to a boil and add the peeled chestnuts and the vanilla bean. Bring the mixture back to a boil and let it cool. Let the chestnuts soak, covered, overnight. Return the mixture to a boil and with slotted spoon transfer the chestnuts to warm jars. Divide the brandy evenly among the jars, add enough syrup to cover the chestnuts, and seal the jars. Process the jars in a boiling water bath for 50 minutes. Let the jars cool completely before checking the seals and storing. Makes 2 quarts
I also made chestnut jam which was usually a holiday treat for our family.
Chestnut Jam
4 pounds fresh unshelled chestnuts
3 cups firmly packed light brown sugar
1 cup mild-flavored honey
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise
Cut an X on the flat side of each chestnut and roast the nuts on a baking sheet in a preheated 350 oven for 45 minutes, or until the shells have pulled back from the incisions and the flesh can be easily pierced with a skewer. Let the chestnuts cool until they can be handled. Remove the shell and the papery inner skin, trying to keep the nuts whole. In a preserving pan combine the brown sugar and 1/2 cup water and cook the mixture over low heat, stirring, until the sugar is melted. Add the honey and the vanilla bean and bring the mixture just to a boil. Add the chestnuts and simmer them for 15 minutes, or until they start to break up. Remove the vanilla bean and with a slotted spoon transfer 1 cup of the chestnuts to a bowl. process the remaning mixture in a food processor until smooth and combine the puree with the whole chestnuts. Instead of a food processor I had to use Mom's old hand mill which was a lot more work. Spoon the jam into jars and seal the jars. Process the jars in a boiling water bath: 10 minutes for 1-pint jars, 15 minutes for 1-quart jars. Let cool completely before checking the seals and storing. Makes 1 quart.
I made breakfast for supper. I had to think of some way to use up all of the eggs before any of them spoiled and while it may seem a little silly to some it was a tradition in my home that every so often we’d just flip the meals around in the house and have breakfast for supper and supper for breakfast. I made big cat head biscuits, busted down gravy with some sausage out of the smokehouse, a big pile of scrambled eggs and I even splurged and made home fries. I would have liked to have had some cheese to grate over the eggs but the cheese wheels from Mrs. Schnell were still green.
To be honest I was feeling kinda blue. I knew that I hadn’t acted my best and had laid into Jude and Butch more than I should have. It was my own fault for not watching where I was going and giving myself a scare. Once I’d come down off my high horse I could see it.
I heard the screen door open and rushed over before he could get half way in. “I’m sorry. My mouth got away from me.”
His eyebrows shot up. He looked behind him, almost looking like he was making sure it was him I was talking to. When he realized I really was sorry and nodded. “You were right, I shoulda said something because we both did hear that you were going over there.”
“Don’t make me feel worse by being nice about it Jude. I should know better. I just got out of the habit of minding my tongue. You’re so easy to talk to, and you play but you aren’t mean … I don’t know … I just didn’t think and I’m sorry. I … I don’t …”
“Don’t what?” he asked cautiously.
“I don’t want you to think I’m as mean to you as the rest of them can be. We’re supposed to be friends … even better than friends because we supporting each other and everything. I was a jerk and I shouldn’t have been.”
“Oh hey now … that’s going a bit too far. I made a mistake. You feel like you made one too. We’re both sorry. ‘Nuff said, right?”
I was relieved and gave him a smile but when it came to supper all I did was pick. After clean up, after Jude had given the kids their story that had become a nightly routine, after they had gone to bed and the house was quiet I finally admitted to myself that I wasn’t feeling good.
Acorn Bread
2 cups acorn flour
2 cups cattail or white flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1/3 cup maple syrup or sugar
1 egg
1/2 cup milk
3 tablespoons olive oil
Bake in pan for 30 minutes or until done at 400 degrees. A far more simple form of acorn bread is to make a thick acorn porridge out of cold processed acorn flour. Take a large tablespoon of the porridge and drop it into cold water. This causes the porridge to contract. Take the lump out of the water and dry.
“Dovie! What did you go getting yourself into now?”
“Shut up Clewis,” I told him irritably followed closely by, “Where’s Jude?”
He just stared at me and pointed in the general direction of the barn. Rather than leave me alone he followed me which did nothing for my already thin patience. “Jude?”
“Yeah … huh? Wha …?”
“Did you and Butch forget to tell me something?”
“Er … uh oh … um … now that you mention it …”
Butch spotted me and rather than giving a care that I was covered from head to do in muck and wet water weeds he asked, “You didn’t knock our trap over did you? We were going to try and catch …”
Since I had already been rudely introduced to what they were trying to catch I growled at him, “You’re going to be lucky if I don’t knock you two over. Here. Your stupid traps work; they nearly trapped me.”
As soon as I handed off the bag I felt something in my galoshes and squealed and kicked it off so that it flew several feet making Jude and Butch duck. I sat on the step of a tractor and pulled the other one off and upended it but nothing came out of it. The same couldn’t be true of the one that I had sent flying. A rusty crayfish waddled out and finally Clewis figured out what had happened.
He started snickering, then laughing, and then he was braying like a mule and all but rolling on the floor of the barn. When Uncle Roe came over to see what the noise was about he pointed first at me attempting to pull water weeds out of my hair then at my shoe that had apparently had not one but two crayfish in it and then at Butch and Jude who were looking down inside the poke sack that I had meant to fill with cattail roots but instead was filled with rusty crayfish.
Uncle Roe tried to look sympathetic but couldn’t quite pull it off. “Baby Sister, did you get the bad end of a crawdad trap?”
Ignoring Jude and Butch I told him, “Someone failed in their duty to tell me that they’d set not one, not two, but three of those things up along the stream, near the cattails … the very cattails that I mentioned that I was going to be digging to get the roots.” Then a breeze came and I shivered involuntarily.
Jude noticed. “Hey … you’re gonna catch a cold. Take my jacket.”
“No,” I told him turning my nose up. “I’m going home … but if you expect me to fix those vicious things you’ve got another think coming. They ruined my whole morning of foraging because now I’ve got to go home and clean up before I can get anything else done. I hope you two are happy.”
I grabbed my other wader, knocked it against the tractor sending a third crayfish flying out, and then put it on and stomped away. As I was squishing my way home I heard Jude say, “I better go make sure she gets back ok.”
Uncle Roe told him, “I’d let her cool off a spell if I were you. I accidentally sent Malissa head first into that very stream when she were just a little younger than Dovie and … well, you just let her cool off a spell. They’s gentle type females normally but some things tend to turn ‘em right good at aiming things at a man; and we ain’t just talkin’ words neither son.”
By the time I got back up to the house I regretted not taking Jude’s jacket even if it did smell. I was freezing.
Paulie wanted to know, “What did Jude say?”
I snapped, “He better not saying anything to me for a bit or I’m liable to ch-ch-ch a-CHOO chew his head off.”
It’s not that I hadn’t fallen into the stream before. It’s not that they didn’t say they were sorry, but of course they didn’t. It wasn’t even that those stupid crayfish had looked like monsters for a second when my head went down into one of the traps … well, maybe a little bit of that one. But mostly it was the lost time.
I hadn’t slept very well and woke up stressed out. I kept dreaming that I’d put something into the pantry only to go get it and realize I’d already used it and the kids were going to have to go hungry because no matter how hard I searched, every shelf and cabinet was empty of everything but dust and cobwebs. I knew that I had food in the pantry but I also knew that there wasn’t enough to get us through until another garden would make. Heck, it wouldn’t last long enough to get us through until the wild spring greens were ready. It felt like, between the two home sites, we were going to wind up eating lard and vinegar before spring got here and that was if we didn’t use all the vinegar up beforehand. And I didn’t even want to think on the fact that winter hadn’t ever really arrived yet.
If all I had to do between now and the first snow was work on food preparations for the winter I might have been ok, but that’s not the way real life is. There’s cooking for every day meals that has to be done. There’s clothes that have to be washed. There are clothes that need to be sewn or repaired. There’s housework to do. There’s taking care of the kids. There is sharing work with the family when there are big projects that need doing like the chicken killing. It’s not that I resent any of it … like Mom used to say, I resent there not being enough hours in the day to ever finish.
Since my forest and stream foraging time was gone I decided to forage in the herb garden and near the house for as long as I could. The easiest to start with were the sumac berries. Well, they aren’t really berries and Mom would wring my tail for calling them that. The red fruit of the sumac is actually considered a “drupe.” I collected all of them from around the house that I could see; there were areas that needed mowing that I absolutely was not wading through until the cold put all the snakes to sleep. They make a really good drink that is tart – like lemonade – or they can be ground into powder and used to flavor some dishes calling for lemon.
Next came harvesting the seed heads off of the amaranth that ran wild out of Mom’s garden. They are pretty and colorful plants but if you don’t pay attention they will escape from the part of the garden you put them in and start to crowd out other things. They aren’t as bad as horseradish but in the right environment they can give them a run for them money. I could take the amaranth seeds, which remind you of millet or birdseed, and grind them into a type of flour that I can use to piece out the wheat flour.
That’s actually what I had gone after the cattail roots for. I’m really worried that the wheat and cornmeal isn’t going to last. I’ve been trying to be careful but a cup of flour here and three over there to just make biscuits and bread uses the wheat berries up a whole lot faster than I expected.
My next task was to gather beautyberries. OK, I know people think it is a disgusting, insipid wild fruit … that’s assuming they don’t think it is poisonous … but I have to say it makes one of the absolute best wild jellies. I only have a few boxes of sure-jell that I found when I opened the buckets of jar lids but I’ll spend one of them on this. You take one a half quarts of berries and cover them with two quarts of water in a pot and then boiling them for twenty minutes.
You take this infusion and strain it to get the gunk out and the resulting liquid is your “juice.” Take three cups of the “juice,” bring it to a boil, add a box of sure-jell, and four and a half cups of sugar. Yeah, that’s a lot of sugar but since I had the honey and sorghum I decided that just this once I would splurge. You bring everything back to a boil and then continue boiling for two minutes. Skim off any foam and then pour in jars and process like you would apple jelly. It is so pretty in the jars.
I noticed while I was out in the yard that Paulie was teaching the kids how to snack on the sly. I don’t mean that in a bad way because Mom taught us how to do it. In our home snacks were rarities. Mom just didn’t believe in it thinking that we’d get spoiled, fat, or both or get bad teeth. Today Paulie was teaching them how to snack on beechnuts. Those things are too small to be worth gathering unless you are real hard up … you would use way more calories finding them than you could possibly take in eating them. But for snacking while on the trail or just out in the yard playing beech nuts are pretty good.
And speaking of nuts I had the boys shake the last of the almonds, hazlenuts, and chestnuts loose from their respective trees and onto vinyl tablecloths. While the beautyberry jelly was making I also decided to preserve some chestnuts to fill the rest of the canner with. The only adjustment to the recipe that I made was for Jude’s benefit; rather than using real brandy I made fake brandy with brandy-flavored extract and water.
Whole Chestnuts in Vanilla Syrup
3 pounds fresh unshelled chestnuts
2 cups firmly packed brown sugar
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise
1 cup brandy
Cut an X on the flat side of each chestnut. In a jelly-roll pan roast the chestnuts in a preheated 375 oven for 20-25 minutes, or until the shells have cracked and the chestnuts are tender when pierced with a knife. Let the chestnuts cool slightly and remove the shell and the papery inner skin. In a large saucepan combine the brown sugar and 4 cups water and heat the mixture over low heat, stirring, until the sugar is dissolved. Bring the mixture back to a boil and add the peeled chestnuts and the vanilla bean. Bring the mixture back to a boil and let it cool. Let the chestnuts soak, covered, overnight. Return the mixture to a boil and with slotted spoon transfer the chestnuts to warm jars. Divide the brandy evenly among the jars, add enough syrup to cover the chestnuts, and seal the jars. Process the jars in a boiling water bath for 50 minutes. Let the jars cool completely before checking the seals and storing. Makes 2 quarts
I also made chestnut jam which was usually a holiday treat for our family.
Chestnut Jam
4 pounds fresh unshelled chestnuts
3 cups firmly packed light brown sugar
1 cup mild-flavored honey
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise
Cut an X on the flat side of each chestnut and roast the nuts on a baking sheet in a preheated 350 oven for 45 minutes, or until the shells have pulled back from the incisions and the flesh can be easily pierced with a skewer. Let the chestnuts cool until they can be handled. Remove the shell and the papery inner skin, trying to keep the nuts whole. In a preserving pan combine the brown sugar and 1/2 cup water and cook the mixture over low heat, stirring, until the sugar is melted. Add the honey and the vanilla bean and bring the mixture just to a boil. Add the chestnuts and simmer them for 15 minutes, or until they start to break up. Remove the vanilla bean and with a slotted spoon transfer 1 cup of the chestnuts to a bowl. process the remaning mixture in a food processor until smooth and combine the puree with the whole chestnuts. Instead of a food processor I had to use Mom's old hand mill which was a lot more work. Spoon the jam into jars and seal the jars. Process the jars in a boiling water bath: 10 minutes for 1-pint jars, 15 minutes for 1-quart jars. Let cool completely before checking the seals and storing. Makes 1 quart.
I made breakfast for supper. I had to think of some way to use up all of the eggs before any of them spoiled and while it may seem a little silly to some it was a tradition in my home that every so often we’d just flip the meals around in the house and have breakfast for supper and supper for breakfast. I made big cat head biscuits, busted down gravy with some sausage out of the smokehouse, a big pile of scrambled eggs and I even splurged and made home fries. I would have liked to have had some cheese to grate over the eggs but the cheese wheels from Mrs. Schnell were still green.
To be honest I was feeling kinda blue. I knew that I hadn’t acted my best and had laid into Jude and Butch more than I should have. It was my own fault for not watching where I was going and giving myself a scare. Once I’d come down off my high horse I could see it.
I heard the screen door open and rushed over before he could get half way in. “I’m sorry. My mouth got away from me.”
His eyebrows shot up. He looked behind him, almost looking like he was making sure it was him I was talking to. When he realized I really was sorry and nodded. “You were right, I shoulda said something because we both did hear that you were going over there.”
“Don’t make me feel worse by being nice about it Jude. I should know better. I just got out of the habit of minding my tongue. You’re so easy to talk to, and you play but you aren’t mean … I don’t know … I just didn’t think and I’m sorry. I … I don’t …”
“Don’t what?” he asked cautiously.
“I don’t want you to think I’m as mean to you as the rest of them can be. We’re supposed to be friends … even better than friends because we supporting each other and everything. I was a jerk and I shouldn’t have been.”
“Oh hey now … that’s going a bit too far. I made a mistake. You feel like you made one too. We’re both sorry. ‘Nuff said, right?”
I was relieved and gave him a smile but when it came to supper all I did was pick. After clean up, after Jude had given the kids their story that had become a nightly routine, after they had gone to bed and the house was quiet I finally admitted to myself that I wasn’t feeling good.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you and oh boy a good way to not get done what you need to is to get sick, I know that one only to well. Then all you can think of is all the stuff you aren't getting done.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Ah well, was hoping to be able to read while the grand daughter was still asleep. But I know how busy you get.
I'm swamped. Had another tenant skip on us. Geez there are days when I am sooooo disappointed in people in general. You guys are one of the few, bright exceptions.
I will try and put something up later tonight or in the morning.
I will try and put something up later tonight or in the morning.
2ndEviltwin
Inactive
Darn you hickory i saw a post and though it was moar... arg
Kathy life comes first we will be here waiting patiently... for a wile...
Kathy life comes first we will be here waiting patiently... for a wile...
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Chapter XLVII
Giving up, I scooted my chair back from the table where I had been trying to focus on my notes. I put all of it back into the old school folder that I had been collecting my thoughts and plans in and then took that back to my bedroom and shoved it in my top dresser drawer. Through the wall I heard Jude puttering around in his room getting ready for bed. I knew he was tired from going out early hunting with Butch and then working the rest of the day for Uncle Roe. I didn’t blame him, I was tired myself.
I stepped out of my room and knocked on his door. “Jude? I’m going to try and get to bed early. You mind?”
“Mind?” he said in a voice that was muffled until he opened his door. “Of course not. I was wondering when your engine was going to start winding down.” His grin was infectious but I just didn’t have much in me so all I could respond with was a small, tired grin. He noticed but didn’t say anything except to look at me closer. “You OK?”
“I’m fine … just tired. I feel like I’ve been going nonstop for a long, long time.”
“Uh … don’t take this the wrong way but you look it. You sure you’re OK?”
A single nod and then I told him, “Sleep is what I need.”
“OK, but we agreed that you’d talk to me if …”
“Oh, I’m … I don’t have the sweats Jude. Stressed? Yeah. Sweats? No.”
“Well ok … just remember our agreement.” At my nod he said, “I have to leave out early in the morning again. If you don’t mind I’ll grab a few of them extra biscuits on my way out.”
“That’s what I made them for,” I told him. “Well, goodnight.”
“Night Granny.” I laughed lightly because I knew he expected me to and then turned to go to bed.
It didn’t seem like I was in bed all that long before I was waking up hot. I knew I shouldn’t be hot which told me I wasn’t just feeling tired and puny; I was honestly sick. “Great. This is all I need. I manage to not get a doggone thing in all the time since the T-virus hits, not even the sniffles, and a stupid little dip in the stream does me in. I swear if I didn’t have bad luck I wouldn’t have any.”
I forced myself out from under the quilt and blankets and hadn’t even put my feet on the floor before I was shivering like someone had put ice cubes down my pants. Being as quiet as I could I opened my door and then slunk to the kitchen and then almost cursed when I remembered that all of the first aid stuff was down in the basement. I opened the basement door and then carefully felt my way down the stairs. I had left the little wind up flashlight at the bottom of the steps instead of at the top like I was supposed to but I knew it was hanging on the rail post by its string.
Sure enough, I hadn’t completely lost my mind, and it was hanging exactly where I had remembered having it last. I gave it a couple of winds and turned it on. Once my eyes adjusted and I got my bearings I headed straight for the old cabinet that had a catch on it too high for the youngest to open and sighed in relief when I spotted the acetaminophen. As if the fever had reduced my brain to mush it took me a minute to remember how to open a childproof bottle. Unfortunately I was shaking so bad that I could barely hold the bottle much less grasp it in one hand and push and turn the lid with the other.
An involuntary whimper came out and I nearly threw the bottle across the basement. “I knew it.”
Jude scared me so bad I would have jumped a mile had I had any coordination left. Instead I fell over … or almost. Jude caught me and then almost jerked his hand away. “Dang Dovie,” he muttered. “You’re burning up.”
At any other time I would likely have snapped a pithy comment about stating the obvious but I was in such a state by that point that all I could do was hold the bottle out to him and ask pitifully, “Please open it for me Jude.”
When he shook his head I thought he was saying he wouldn’t. Instead he picked me up and carried me up the stairs mumbling under his breath. “No slippers. No house coat. Wandering around in a dark, cold house. Coulda thought she was a burglar. And geez, don’t weigh enough to make me even a little out of breath climbing the stairs. Bones poking out at all angles. Better hope I don’t go get Ro …”
“Don’t,” I begged. “I swear Jude I’ll do anything but don’t go get Rochelle. I feel bad now, she’ll make me wish I was dead by the time she’s done.”
He snorted and told me, “Would serve you right if I did. Were you feeling like this earlier?”
“No,” I said on a hard shiver. “I think I’d rather be hot again.”
“Yeah, and you’re making sense all right. Here, lean against the counter and I’ll get you some water.” He handed me a glass from the pitcher I keep to start the morning with. “It’s gonna taste stale.”
“Don’t care. It’s wet.”
“Anything besides a fever?”
“Huh?” I asked after taking the pills and the water he handed me.
“Besides the fever … anything else.”
“Uh uh. Should have listened to you and taken your jacket instead of having a royal snit fit. My own fault. Can you believe that? I’m not sick forever and ever and a little bit of wet and a bad attitude and look where I am at now. I can’t get sick Jude, I don’t have the time for it.”
I started shivering hard again and turned to go to my room only I didn’t get a step before Jude was picking me up again like a sack of potatoes.”
“I ain’t dying; I can walk you know.” His only response was a snort.
I had to close my eyes because the flashlight swinging crazily where I still had it on my wrist was making me woozy. I jumped when I realized he was putting me down on my bed.
“Whoa, hey … easy there. You really are out of it.”
“No … no I was just getting warm and … I don’t know.” Embarrassed yet too tired to really care I tried to crawl under my covers but wasn’t having much luck and almost conked myself in the head with the flashlight.”
“Here now before you do some serious damage. Just lay still and I’ll drag your covers up.” I sighed in relief though I was almost immediate too warm. “Better?”
“Yeah. Just need to sleep it off.”
To himself he mumbled, “Don’t them words sound familiar.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing. I’ve just said those words a few times myself only for less good reason than what you’ve got.”
“I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“You didn’t. I was up to get ready to go meet Butch when I heard you leave your room. I’m just going to go up and tell him I can’t …”
“Don’t,” I moaned. “Please don’t tell. Just go hunting. I don’t need a babysitter and if you don’t call down death by Rochelle on me Butch just might. Just leave my bedroom slipper on my door knob and Paulie will come in here when they wake up.”
“Leave your …? What on earth for?”
“It’s kinda our signal … he’ll understand.”
“Whatever you say; still sounds silly.”
“That’s the whole point. He’ll know though.”
“OK … now just get some sleep. We’ll be done no later than mid-morning because we need to finish piling that grass up now that the frost has dried it out.”
I didn’t even hear him leave.
Giving up, I scooted my chair back from the table where I had been trying to focus on my notes. I put all of it back into the old school folder that I had been collecting my thoughts and plans in and then took that back to my bedroom and shoved it in my top dresser drawer. Through the wall I heard Jude puttering around in his room getting ready for bed. I knew he was tired from going out early hunting with Butch and then working the rest of the day for Uncle Roe. I didn’t blame him, I was tired myself.
I stepped out of my room and knocked on his door. “Jude? I’m going to try and get to bed early. You mind?”
“Mind?” he said in a voice that was muffled until he opened his door. “Of course not. I was wondering when your engine was going to start winding down.” His grin was infectious but I just didn’t have much in me so all I could respond with was a small, tired grin. He noticed but didn’t say anything except to look at me closer. “You OK?”
“I’m fine … just tired. I feel like I’ve been going nonstop for a long, long time.”
“Uh … don’t take this the wrong way but you look it. You sure you’re OK?”
A single nod and then I told him, “Sleep is what I need.”
“OK, but we agreed that you’d talk to me if …”
“Oh, I’m … I don’t have the sweats Jude. Stressed? Yeah. Sweats? No.”
“Well ok … just remember our agreement.” At my nod he said, “I have to leave out early in the morning again. If you don’t mind I’ll grab a few of them extra biscuits on my way out.”
“That’s what I made them for,” I told him. “Well, goodnight.”
“Night Granny.” I laughed lightly because I knew he expected me to and then turned to go to bed.
It didn’t seem like I was in bed all that long before I was waking up hot. I knew I shouldn’t be hot which told me I wasn’t just feeling tired and puny; I was honestly sick. “Great. This is all I need. I manage to not get a doggone thing in all the time since the T-virus hits, not even the sniffles, and a stupid little dip in the stream does me in. I swear if I didn’t have bad luck I wouldn’t have any.”
I forced myself out from under the quilt and blankets and hadn’t even put my feet on the floor before I was shivering like someone had put ice cubes down my pants. Being as quiet as I could I opened my door and then slunk to the kitchen and then almost cursed when I remembered that all of the first aid stuff was down in the basement. I opened the basement door and then carefully felt my way down the stairs. I had left the little wind up flashlight at the bottom of the steps instead of at the top like I was supposed to but I knew it was hanging on the rail post by its string.
Sure enough, I hadn’t completely lost my mind, and it was hanging exactly where I had remembered having it last. I gave it a couple of winds and turned it on. Once my eyes adjusted and I got my bearings I headed straight for the old cabinet that had a catch on it too high for the youngest to open and sighed in relief when I spotted the acetaminophen. As if the fever had reduced my brain to mush it took me a minute to remember how to open a childproof bottle. Unfortunately I was shaking so bad that I could barely hold the bottle much less grasp it in one hand and push and turn the lid with the other.
An involuntary whimper came out and I nearly threw the bottle across the basement. “I knew it.”
Jude scared me so bad I would have jumped a mile had I had any coordination left. Instead I fell over … or almost. Jude caught me and then almost jerked his hand away. “Dang Dovie,” he muttered. “You’re burning up.”
At any other time I would likely have snapped a pithy comment about stating the obvious but I was in such a state by that point that all I could do was hold the bottle out to him and ask pitifully, “Please open it for me Jude.”
When he shook his head I thought he was saying he wouldn’t. Instead he picked me up and carried me up the stairs mumbling under his breath. “No slippers. No house coat. Wandering around in a dark, cold house. Coulda thought she was a burglar. And geez, don’t weigh enough to make me even a little out of breath climbing the stairs. Bones poking out at all angles. Better hope I don’t go get Ro …”
“Don’t,” I begged. “I swear Jude I’ll do anything but don’t go get Rochelle. I feel bad now, she’ll make me wish I was dead by the time she’s done.”
He snorted and told me, “Would serve you right if I did. Were you feeling like this earlier?”
“No,” I said on a hard shiver. “I think I’d rather be hot again.”
“Yeah, and you’re making sense all right. Here, lean against the counter and I’ll get you some water.” He handed me a glass from the pitcher I keep to start the morning with. “It’s gonna taste stale.”
“Don’t care. It’s wet.”
“Anything besides a fever?”
“Huh?” I asked after taking the pills and the water he handed me.
“Besides the fever … anything else.”
“Uh uh. Should have listened to you and taken your jacket instead of having a royal snit fit. My own fault. Can you believe that? I’m not sick forever and ever and a little bit of wet and a bad attitude and look where I am at now. I can’t get sick Jude, I don’t have the time for it.”
I started shivering hard again and turned to go to my room only I didn’t get a step before Jude was picking me up again like a sack of potatoes.”
“I ain’t dying; I can walk you know.” His only response was a snort.
I had to close my eyes because the flashlight swinging crazily where I still had it on my wrist was making me woozy. I jumped when I realized he was putting me down on my bed.
“Whoa, hey … easy there. You really are out of it.”
“No … no I was just getting warm and … I don’t know.” Embarrassed yet too tired to really care I tried to crawl under my covers but wasn’t having much luck and almost conked myself in the head with the flashlight.”
“Here now before you do some serious damage. Just lay still and I’ll drag your covers up.” I sighed in relief though I was almost immediate too warm. “Better?”
“Yeah. Just need to sleep it off.”
To himself he mumbled, “Don’t them words sound familiar.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing. I’ve just said those words a few times myself only for less good reason than what you’ve got.”
“I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“You didn’t. I was up to get ready to go meet Butch when I heard you leave your room. I’m just going to go up and tell him I can’t …”
“Don’t,” I moaned. “Please don’t tell. Just go hunting. I don’t need a babysitter and if you don’t call down death by Rochelle on me Butch just might. Just leave my bedroom slipper on my door knob and Paulie will come in here when they wake up.”
“Leave your …? What on earth for?”
“It’s kinda our signal … he’ll understand.”
“Whatever you say; still sounds silly.”
“That’s the whole point. He’ll know though.”
“OK … now just get some sleep. We’ll be done no later than mid-morning because we need to finish piling that grass up now that the frost has dried it out.”
I didn’t even hear him leave.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you so much Kathy, and sorry to hear u had another skipper.
Hickory7
Senior Member
I just saw this today. LOL. It is usually Sara that gets me.
Chapter XLVIII
“Dovie … you’re … you’re slipper was on the door knob.”
I tried to pry my eyes open. When I finally got them a little higher than half-mast I could see Paulie was really scared. “Hey … don’t look like that. I’m just getting my just desserts for swimming with the crawdads.”
“You sure that’s all it is? You … you wouldn’t …”
“Lie to you about it? No Paulie. If I could get up I would but I feel like cra … uh … crud. I hate to ask but … but do you think if I explained it you could …”
Before I could finish there was a banging on the kitchen door. I pushed Paulie up and out of the way and was fumbling in the nightstand for the Glock when I heard Aunt Frankie, “Yoohoooo, kids, let Aunt Frankie in. I wanna check on Dovie. Jude said she’s running a fever.”
Paulie ran off before I could stop him and I nearly slid onto the floor trying to get organized before the woman followed her voice inside. I was looking behind her when she snorted, “Rochelle ain’t here. Woman down the road decided it was a fine time to give birth to what ‘Chellie thinks is twins or a baby with two heads. Husband came and got her a couple of hours ago … and you’re lucky or she might have followed me up here just to have the pleasure of lecturing you about falling in streams and then being more concerned with ripping a strip off the boys than in changing into something dry.”
I croaked, “She’d have to stand in line and wait some. I’ve been telling myself that since last night.”
She laughed, but only half in sympathy, and said, “So long as you know you’re an idiot you won’t likely repeat the mistake. Now let’s see … girl, you’ve got a fever all right.”
I kept my mouth shut but it was a near thing. There was just something about Aunt Frankie that tried to draw the worst in me out. I figured it was a lot like praying for wisdom or patience … basically, be careful what you pray for because God will send some testing so you can learn what you are asking for. At some point I know I’ve asked for God’s help to control my mouth … and Aunt Frankie is likely what God sent to exercise that self-control muscle I’m supposed to have so it could get strong. After all, if I can learn to keep my mouth shut around Aunt Frankie then I am good to go for just about any other situation life might throw at me. “Yes ma’am,” was my only reply.
She sighed. “I’m gonna take the youngin’s down to the house and feed ‘em. You stay here and take two more of these pills and drink before you dry up like the springs do during a long drought. They’ll eat, help me do a few chores – bound to be more help than those rascals down there now – and then by the time Jude gets back I’ll have some things ready for him to bring up here.”
“You don’t need to do that Aunt Frankie. I’ll be up and around pretty soon and I’ve got several ideas that …”
She looked at me and it was like she was still trying to decide something. “I do believe Roe is correct, you get more like Malissa every day.” She shook her head to clear it. “I’m needing to clear some space and make room. Gonna put all the kids up in the attic and move things around a little bit to free up a bedroom. My sister Twilla is moving in as her husband Martin got drafted.”
“Dr …dr … drafted? They started a draft?!”
“Don’t make yourself sick over it girl. Martin got caught by the medical draft is all and that’s been going on since the T-virus got so bad. They’re losing their house to the lender anyway. Martin’s daddy had put them in that house right after they got married but Martin turned idiot a few years back and took all the money back out of the house in a second loan after paying the first one off to expand his practice right before they started implementing health care laws. You’d think a man with a college education would have more sense. Now he’s going off to play war and my poor sister gets left with nothing but trouble. Your uncle said I could have her out and she said she’d come when I asked. She’s gonna help look after Reynolds though he ain’t near so bad now that he is through the worst of that withdrawal syndrome. He still manages to take on something terrible though sometimes which by way of saying that is me saying I need to get back to the house to make sure he ain’t tearing it down; Wendalene lets him do whatever he wants and leaves everyone else to clean up the mess. You stay in bed and drink that water or I’ll bring Rochelle up here and I don’t reckon you want that.”
“No ma’am.”
Paulie stuck his head in the door and his eyes were still big and worried. “Dovie? Maybe I should stay.”
“No, I need you to go with the others to keep an eye on them. Mind Aunt Frankie and help where she needs it. Sooner you go, sooner you and the others get fed.” I gave him a look and he knew I meant that he and the others needed to mind their p’s and q’s and behave extra well.”
Aunt Frankie rolled her eyes. “She ain’t dying you know. Sooner we get back to the house, sooner you’ll be coming back here when Jude gets in.” That moved them.
I fell back to sleep without expecting to and then woke up with cotton in my mouth … or what felt like cotton I was just that dry. Technically it was my tongue but it felt and tasted like a piece of old carpet. I rolled over and reached for the glass of water sitting on the nightstand only I brushed a hand instead and jumped almost off the bed.
I heard a snort. “You can move when you want to.”
“Jude,” I croaked.
“Here, sit up and drink.”
“I’m trying. Go away … wait, what are you doing back so early?”
He snorted. “Early? It’s midafternoon.”
“Mid … ?”
I tried to say more but couldn’t or I would have drowned. Jude had the glass up to my lips and wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Dovie … you’re … you’re slipper was on the door knob.”
I tried to pry my eyes open. When I finally got them a little higher than half-mast I could see Paulie was really scared. “Hey … don’t look like that. I’m just getting my just desserts for swimming with the crawdads.”
“You sure that’s all it is? You … you wouldn’t …”
“Lie to you about it? No Paulie. If I could get up I would but I feel like cra … uh … crud. I hate to ask but … but do you think if I explained it you could …”
Before I could finish there was a banging on the kitchen door. I pushed Paulie up and out of the way and was fumbling in the nightstand for the Glock when I heard Aunt Frankie, “Yoohoooo, kids, let Aunt Frankie in. I wanna check on Dovie. Jude said she’s running a fever.”
Paulie ran off before I could stop him and I nearly slid onto the floor trying to get organized before the woman followed her voice inside. I was looking behind her when she snorted, “Rochelle ain’t here. Woman down the road decided it was a fine time to give birth to what ‘Chellie thinks is twins or a baby with two heads. Husband came and got her a couple of hours ago … and you’re lucky or she might have followed me up here just to have the pleasure of lecturing you about falling in streams and then being more concerned with ripping a strip off the boys than in changing into something dry.”
I croaked, “She’d have to stand in line and wait some. I’ve been telling myself that since last night.”
She laughed, but only half in sympathy, and said, “So long as you know you’re an idiot you won’t likely repeat the mistake. Now let’s see … girl, you’ve got a fever all right.”
I kept my mouth shut but it was a near thing. There was just something about Aunt Frankie that tried to draw the worst in me out. I figured it was a lot like praying for wisdom or patience … basically, be careful what you pray for because God will send some testing so you can learn what you are asking for. At some point I know I’ve asked for God’s help to control my mouth … and Aunt Frankie is likely what God sent to exercise that self-control muscle I’m supposed to have so it could get strong. After all, if I can learn to keep my mouth shut around Aunt Frankie then I am good to go for just about any other situation life might throw at me. “Yes ma’am,” was my only reply.
She sighed. “I’m gonna take the youngin’s down to the house and feed ‘em. You stay here and take two more of these pills and drink before you dry up like the springs do during a long drought. They’ll eat, help me do a few chores – bound to be more help than those rascals down there now – and then by the time Jude gets back I’ll have some things ready for him to bring up here.”
“You don’t need to do that Aunt Frankie. I’ll be up and around pretty soon and I’ve got several ideas that …”
She looked at me and it was like she was still trying to decide something. “I do believe Roe is correct, you get more like Malissa every day.” She shook her head to clear it. “I’m needing to clear some space and make room. Gonna put all the kids up in the attic and move things around a little bit to free up a bedroom. My sister Twilla is moving in as her husband Martin got drafted.”
“Dr …dr … drafted? They started a draft?!”
“Don’t make yourself sick over it girl. Martin got caught by the medical draft is all and that’s been going on since the T-virus got so bad. They’re losing their house to the lender anyway. Martin’s daddy had put them in that house right after they got married but Martin turned idiot a few years back and took all the money back out of the house in a second loan after paying the first one off to expand his practice right before they started implementing health care laws. You’d think a man with a college education would have more sense. Now he’s going off to play war and my poor sister gets left with nothing but trouble. Your uncle said I could have her out and she said she’d come when I asked. She’s gonna help look after Reynolds though he ain’t near so bad now that he is through the worst of that withdrawal syndrome. He still manages to take on something terrible though sometimes which by way of saying that is me saying I need to get back to the house to make sure he ain’t tearing it down; Wendalene lets him do whatever he wants and leaves everyone else to clean up the mess. You stay in bed and drink that water or I’ll bring Rochelle up here and I don’t reckon you want that.”
“No ma’am.”
Paulie stuck his head in the door and his eyes were still big and worried. “Dovie? Maybe I should stay.”
“No, I need you to go with the others to keep an eye on them. Mind Aunt Frankie and help where she needs it. Sooner you go, sooner you and the others get fed.” I gave him a look and he knew I meant that he and the others needed to mind their p’s and q’s and behave extra well.”
Aunt Frankie rolled her eyes. “She ain’t dying you know. Sooner we get back to the house, sooner you’ll be coming back here when Jude gets in.” That moved them.
I fell back to sleep without expecting to and then woke up with cotton in my mouth … or what felt like cotton I was just that dry. Technically it was my tongue but it felt and tasted like a piece of old carpet. I rolled over and reached for the glass of water sitting on the nightstand only I brushed a hand instead and jumped almost off the bed.
I heard a snort. “You can move when you want to.”
“Jude,” I croaked.
“Here, sit up and drink.”
“I’m trying. Go away … wait, what are you doing back so early?”
He snorted. “Early? It’s midafternoon.”
“Mid … ?”
I tried to say more but couldn’t or I would have drowned. Jude had the glass up to my lips and wasn’t taking no for an answer.
Chapter XLIX
I sputtered and coughed but was finally actually able to swallow some of the blessedly cool liquid before choking to death.
“Better?” he asked.
There was a smart aleck comment on my tongue but instead I said, “Yes, thank you. But what do you mean it is midafternoon. I can’t have slept that long.”
“Can and did. The kids have been pestering me since we got back to wake you up so they could check on you. I finally came in here and sat down just to keep watch so they would stop sticking their head in here every two seconds … though truth be told I was starting to get a little worried myself. You didn’t even move much when Paulie put a damp cloth on your forehead.”
“Oh,” I said feeling embarrassed. “Give me a sec. Y’all must be starving.”
“Move out of that bed and I’ll throw you right back in it.”
His voice was just this side of angry and startled me. “You … you angry at me Jude?”
He sighed. “No. And yes. And don’t mind me ‘cause neither one is your fault. Mostly the kids have been telling stories of some of the things that went on at that facility and on the road. Geez Dovie … who do you think you are? Wonder Woman or somethin’? No wonder you’re thin enough to see daylight through. We won’t even go over some of the meanness you had to deal with from adults at those places you all were held in ‘cause that don’t make no sense at all though why I’m surprised I don’t know since I know for a fact people can be nothing but a bunch of jackasses; pardon my French.” He put the bowl of acorns it looked like he’d been shelling on the nightstand so he could sit back down. “Plus once you escaped you give the kids most of the food you found along the road and most of that sounds like a half load of crappy junk. Eating dandelions and dollar weed soup when you run low on food when aid stations stopped doing much but forcing people a little further down the road. Just … I heard stories on the radio but … but they didn’t make a dent in my feelings except the normal kind. But to hear it wasn’t just stories but the way my … my family had to … had to live …” He shook his head. “No wonder you’re traumatized.”
I tried to snort but it came out more like a squawk when I realized my throat was sore. “I am not traumatized. Don’t make it worse than it was. We survived. We’re here now. And here we’re going to stay now that we’ve got things worked out.” I had just woken up but was already I was already tired again. My hand shook as I raised the glass to my lips to drink more water. After I drank about half a glass I said, “Aunt Frankie was up here this morning.”
Jude nodded. “I know you didn’t want Rochelle but no way was I going to just leave and not have someone keeping an eye out. Dad is down in his back or he’d likely been up here first thing. Mom said it was better to give everyone a little extra sleep anyway. She must have been concerned enough by what she found to take the kids back with her. Startled me when I saw them all racing to get chores done so that Mom would let them come back up here. Got a buck and a couple of turkeys by the way. Anywho, I nearly said something but she said she’d come up a couple of times and you were dead to the world and needed the sleep.”
“Oh Jude, don’t get in a quarrel with Aunt Frankie Jude. She’s seems to be … I don’t know …”
“I know. Don’t know what I’d call it either so don’t strain your brain looking for the words. And you might as well get that other look off your face too, you ain’t getting’ out of bed and that’s that. Mom sent a big pot of soup back with me from several jars out of their pantry of stuff that needed rotating before they got too old. I don’t know what you call it but it tastes good and the kids are eating it. There’s plenty left for supper and I’ve got enough sense to know how to make cornmeal cakes to go with it to make it go even further.”
I nearly cried I was so thankful.
Alarmed he ordered, “Hey, none of that. Soup ain’t nothing to cry over.”
“I know it. Just for so long … Anyway, having family … people that act like family … is better than you can imagine. I gotta remember and do something for them.” It popped into my head with almost no effort. “Hey, how’s Aunt Frankie’s hands? They were bothering her when we were doing the chickens.”
“About like Dad’s back. Sore. Why?”
“Just ask Paulie to come here unless you have him doing something.”
He shook his head. “Might as well get this over with but then you are gonna eat and go back to sleep.”
He walked out of the room and I heard him cross the house and then the squeak of the screen door. A few seconds later it sounded like a herd of elephants slammed into the house. If there hadn’t been a sturdy door stop on the door and a baseboard for it to hit, I would have had a doorknob sized hole in the wall to fix. “Yo! Take it easy Monkey Man.” And when I saw the other kids all piled behind him I said, “And that goes for the rest of your posse too.”
What I hadn’t expected was Tiffany, so stoic for so long, to practically fall on the bed and start crying. Mimi tried to tune up but I nipped that in the bud by telling them all, “Look, I’m fine. I look like road kill I’m sure but a bath and a hair brush will take care of most of it though some of it is likely just my natural looks and there’s no help for those. No need to scare yourselves silly. Jude wouldn’t lie to you and you know it.”
It only took a couple of moments – Tiff really doesn’t like ruckus, not even her own – and everything was fine again. But then I was on to other business. “Paulie? You know what chickweed is right?”
“Yeah. That stuff you had us digging out of the herb patch the other day.”
“Yeah, that’s it. I need you and Tiff to do a very special favor for me. It’s for saying thank you to Aunt Frankie and Uncle Roe and I wouldn’t entrust this to just anyone.” They both perked up at that. “Is the wood stove on?”
Jude called from outside the doorway, “Naw … but the fireplace is. Since we were just heating the soup I didn’t see the sense in making more mess than would then have to be cleaned up. The swivel arm crane is strong enough to hold all you might need.”
The fireplace in the living room was fairly large and the original room of the house. As such all the cooking had once been done in that very fireplace and Dad had refurbished it when the chimney had to be rebuilt after a limb had come down on it. The fire place in the kitchen was smaller but up off the floor and used to be a firebox oven – my great grandmother and grandmother had made most of their breads in it – though it wasn’t used for much in recent years and was covered by a decorative wooden cover; but behind the wood was the original cast iron door. “OK, let me think. My brain is scrambled.”
“Chickweed,” Paulie reminded me.
“Oh yeah. Tiff, get a pint of oil … don’t matter what kind just not lard and nothing that is rancid. Ask Jude if something smells funny and he’ll be able to tell you if it is bad or not. Take a pint of the oil and put it in that heavy pot with the wooden handle; then, set that on a metal trivet – Paulie knows what that is and use the one that looks like a rooster – and push it near the coals but not in them.” She nodded her understanding but I glanced at Jude who nodded as well. “Paulie, your job is to get the chickweed, two big handfuls, and put it in the oil and push it down in there. You need to let that infuse about two to three hours in the oil. Before bed time Jude – if he’s able – can pour the oil through Mom’s herbal strainer.”
Jude asked, “What is that?”
Paulie answered, “I know which one it is. It’s hanging on a hook inside the cabinet door where Mom keeps … uh … kept … keeps … anyway it’s there with all her other medicine making stuff.”
I nodded though I was running out of steam really quickly. “Strain that stuff into a funnel put down the neck of one of those fancy pint bottles up in that cabinet. Let it cool a bit and then stick the stopper in it. That will be like a hand lotion sorta … or more like an ointment maybe. I don’t know.” I hadn’t meant to but I must have made a face when I rubbed my forehead which was sore.
I heard Paulie marshaling his troops. “Bobby, you come with me so I can see whether you remember what chickweed looks like. Lonnie, you help Tiff. Mimi, you and Corey better behave or I won’t play blocks with you for two … no three whole days. Maybe a week if you’re rotten.”
If I had felt better I would have been in danger of smiling or laughing. Instead I lay back down. Jude asked in a voice that sounded like he was trying not to laugh himself, “You want a couple of those pills with your soup Granny?”
“It’s not fair to smart off Jude when I’m not able to smart off right back.”
“Who told you life was fair … Granny?”
When he came back Tiffany was with him. She carried the water pitcher and Jude carried a tray with a bowl of soup on it. “Don’t give me the face Dovie. Mom said you needed to eat this after you woke up. And drink plenty of water too.”
I sighed. I knew he was right and I didn’t really have a fever so I hadn’t no excuse. It was just a clear broth anyway. “Tiff?”
She was so eager just nearly jumped when she answered, “Yes?”
“Can you heat up some water and when it is warm pour two cups of it into my big tea mug that I use in the mornings and then measure in a tablespoon of poultry seasoning? It’s in the cabinet in a jar with a red and white label on it. Not a heaping tablespoon, just flat tablespoon like I taught you. Then just bring it here.”
She ran off to do what I requested and Jude asked, “Do I want to know what that is for?”
“It’s my hurry-up-and-get-well tea when I’m not feeling good. Poultry seasoning has rosemary, marjoram, and thyme in it and they are all good antiseptic herbs that will work from the inside out with this chicken broth. I refuse to be sick any longer than I have to be.” I downed the pills and prayed my head would stop thumping. I’ve never been hung over but I could imagine that’s what it must feel like.
Jude continued to lean on the door frame and was still there once Tiffany had come and gone to go back to going through some of the boxes in the attic looking for winter clothes for everyone. I could tell by the look on his face that Jude wanted to say something and I finally told him, “Whatever it is just spit it out.”
“I hate to bother you while you ain’t feelin’ good.”
“Jude …”
“Alright.” Still looking uncomfortable he finally said, “Would you mind if I asked Paulie to take that liquor you have in the basement pantry and bring them up here and lock them in your chest at the foot of your bed? I wasn’t snooping, just I was down there looking at what all you had been doing and trying to find some space to put jars of venison chili that Mom sent back with me.”
Distracted by the idea of chili I had to put it away for thinking about later as I had forgotten about the liqueurs and other stuff. “Of course I don’t mind … but I trust you Jude.”
“Oh.” After a moment he said, “You shouldn’t. Not about that. Not yet. I’m not sure I trust myself yet if it is going to be that close and easy to get to.”
He looked so upset I said, “Jude, I trust you. But … if it makes you feel better of course you can just have Paulie and the boys bring it up here.”
He nodded succinctly and with more assurance than he started out with. “Yeah, it does make me feel better. I can do it out in public … look at a bottle and not have to have it right then in there … but sleeping in the same house with the stuff? That’s still a ways off I’m thinkin’. Now I’m done bothering you. I told the kids I’d roast some chestnuts for them tonight … if you don’t need them for something else.”
“Jude, you do whatever you think is best and feel lie. I’ve made up everything that I can of them right now and they need to be used up before they mold. Chestnuts don’t keep that long without freezing and since we don’t have one – a freezer I mean – the sooner they get used up the better. I hate wasting food.”
He got a thoughtful look on his face and then asked me, “Aunt Malissa ever tell you what that little sink next to where your parents had that burn pit?”
“You mean that funny hole in the ground on the other side of the clothes line?”
“Yeah.”
I shrugged, “They always just said to stay away from it. All they needed to say was that snakes could be down in it.”
He shook his head at my extreme dislike of snakes. “Used to be an ice shed built over the top of it.”
“An ice shed? You mean like a cooler sort of thing?”
“Well I don’t know about a cooler but at one time it was deep enough you had to climb down in it with a ladder. They’d lay hay all around the floor and walls and then in the winter, once water started freezing solid, they cut blocks out of the stream and layer them like bricks all around the walls. There would be so much ice down in there that it would last all the way until almost the next winter so long as the trap door was kept shut.”
“How do you know that?”
“Dad and Mr. Schnell talked about it one time … aw, it was years ago and I was doing some kind of lame project for school. Anyway, maybe the school project was lame but the idea might not be. It’s gonna take a lot of cleaning out but … maybe …” Then he said, “Tell me to shut up already. Eat your soup and then go back to sleep.”
And that’s exactly what I did minus the telling him to shut up part.
I sputtered and coughed but was finally actually able to swallow some of the blessedly cool liquid before choking to death.
“Better?” he asked.
There was a smart aleck comment on my tongue but instead I said, “Yes, thank you. But what do you mean it is midafternoon. I can’t have slept that long.”
“Can and did. The kids have been pestering me since we got back to wake you up so they could check on you. I finally came in here and sat down just to keep watch so they would stop sticking their head in here every two seconds … though truth be told I was starting to get a little worried myself. You didn’t even move much when Paulie put a damp cloth on your forehead.”
“Oh,” I said feeling embarrassed. “Give me a sec. Y’all must be starving.”
“Move out of that bed and I’ll throw you right back in it.”
His voice was just this side of angry and startled me. “You … you angry at me Jude?”
He sighed. “No. And yes. And don’t mind me ‘cause neither one is your fault. Mostly the kids have been telling stories of some of the things that went on at that facility and on the road. Geez Dovie … who do you think you are? Wonder Woman or somethin’? No wonder you’re thin enough to see daylight through. We won’t even go over some of the meanness you had to deal with from adults at those places you all were held in ‘cause that don’t make no sense at all though why I’m surprised I don’t know since I know for a fact people can be nothing but a bunch of jackasses; pardon my French.” He put the bowl of acorns it looked like he’d been shelling on the nightstand so he could sit back down. “Plus once you escaped you give the kids most of the food you found along the road and most of that sounds like a half load of crappy junk. Eating dandelions and dollar weed soup when you run low on food when aid stations stopped doing much but forcing people a little further down the road. Just … I heard stories on the radio but … but they didn’t make a dent in my feelings except the normal kind. But to hear it wasn’t just stories but the way my … my family had to … had to live …” He shook his head. “No wonder you’re traumatized.”
I tried to snort but it came out more like a squawk when I realized my throat was sore. “I am not traumatized. Don’t make it worse than it was. We survived. We’re here now. And here we’re going to stay now that we’ve got things worked out.” I had just woken up but was already I was already tired again. My hand shook as I raised the glass to my lips to drink more water. After I drank about half a glass I said, “Aunt Frankie was up here this morning.”
Jude nodded. “I know you didn’t want Rochelle but no way was I going to just leave and not have someone keeping an eye out. Dad is down in his back or he’d likely been up here first thing. Mom said it was better to give everyone a little extra sleep anyway. She must have been concerned enough by what she found to take the kids back with her. Startled me when I saw them all racing to get chores done so that Mom would let them come back up here. Got a buck and a couple of turkeys by the way. Anywho, I nearly said something but she said she’d come up a couple of times and you were dead to the world and needed the sleep.”
“Oh Jude, don’t get in a quarrel with Aunt Frankie Jude. She’s seems to be … I don’t know …”
“I know. Don’t know what I’d call it either so don’t strain your brain looking for the words. And you might as well get that other look off your face too, you ain’t getting’ out of bed and that’s that. Mom sent a big pot of soup back with me from several jars out of their pantry of stuff that needed rotating before they got too old. I don’t know what you call it but it tastes good and the kids are eating it. There’s plenty left for supper and I’ve got enough sense to know how to make cornmeal cakes to go with it to make it go even further.”
I nearly cried I was so thankful.
Alarmed he ordered, “Hey, none of that. Soup ain’t nothing to cry over.”
“I know it. Just for so long … Anyway, having family … people that act like family … is better than you can imagine. I gotta remember and do something for them.” It popped into my head with almost no effort. “Hey, how’s Aunt Frankie’s hands? They were bothering her when we were doing the chickens.”
“About like Dad’s back. Sore. Why?”
“Just ask Paulie to come here unless you have him doing something.”
He shook his head. “Might as well get this over with but then you are gonna eat and go back to sleep.”
He walked out of the room and I heard him cross the house and then the squeak of the screen door. A few seconds later it sounded like a herd of elephants slammed into the house. If there hadn’t been a sturdy door stop on the door and a baseboard for it to hit, I would have had a doorknob sized hole in the wall to fix. “Yo! Take it easy Monkey Man.” And when I saw the other kids all piled behind him I said, “And that goes for the rest of your posse too.”
What I hadn’t expected was Tiffany, so stoic for so long, to practically fall on the bed and start crying. Mimi tried to tune up but I nipped that in the bud by telling them all, “Look, I’m fine. I look like road kill I’m sure but a bath and a hair brush will take care of most of it though some of it is likely just my natural looks and there’s no help for those. No need to scare yourselves silly. Jude wouldn’t lie to you and you know it.”
It only took a couple of moments – Tiff really doesn’t like ruckus, not even her own – and everything was fine again. But then I was on to other business. “Paulie? You know what chickweed is right?”
“Yeah. That stuff you had us digging out of the herb patch the other day.”
“Yeah, that’s it. I need you and Tiff to do a very special favor for me. It’s for saying thank you to Aunt Frankie and Uncle Roe and I wouldn’t entrust this to just anyone.” They both perked up at that. “Is the wood stove on?”
Jude called from outside the doorway, “Naw … but the fireplace is. Since we were just heating the soup I didn’t see the sense in making more mess than would then have to be cleaned up. The swivel arm crane is strong enough to hold all you might need.”
The fireplace in the living room was fairly large and the original room of the house. As such all the cooking had once been done in that very fireplace and Dad had refurbished it when the chimney had to be rebuilt after a limb had come down on it. The fire place in the kitchen was smaller but up off the floor and used to be a firebox oven – my great grandmother and grandmother had made most of their breads in it – though it wasn’t used for much in recent years and was covered by a decorative wooden cover; but behind the wood was the original cast iron door. “OK, let me think. My brain is scrambled.”
“Chickweed,” Paulie reminded me.
“Oh yeah. Tiff, get a pint of oil … don’t matter what kind just not lard and nothing that is rancid. Ask Jude if something smells funny and he’ll be able to tell you if it is bad or not. Take a pint of the oil and put it in that heavy pot with the wooden handle; then, set that on a metal trivet – Paulie knows what that is and use the one that looks like a rooster – and push it near the coals but not in them.” She nodded her understanding but I glanced at Jude who nodded as well. “Paulie, your job is to get the chickweed, two big handfuls, and put it in the oil and push it down in there. You need to let that infuse about two to three hours in the oil. Before bed time Jude – if he’s able – can pour the oil through Mom’s herbal strainer.”
Jude asked, “What is that?”
Paulie answered, “I know which one it is. It’s hanging on a hook inside the cabinet door where Mom keeps … uh … kept … keeps … anyway it’s there with all her other medicine making stuff.”
I nodded though I was running out of steam really quickly. “Strain that stuff into a funnel put down the neck of one of those fancy pint bottles up in that cabinet. Let it cool a bit and then stick the stopper in it. That will be like a hand lotion sorta … or more like an ointment maybe. I don’t know.” I hadn’t meant to but I must have made a face when I rubbed my forehead which was sore.
I heard Paulie marshaling his troops. “Bobby, you come with me so I can see whether you remember what chickweed looks like. Lonnie, you help Tiff. Mimi, you and Corey better behave or I won’t play blocks with you for two … no three whole days. Maybe a week if you’re rotten.”
If I had felt better I would have been in danger of smiling or laughing. Instead I lay back down. Jude asked in a voice that sounded like he was trying not to laugh himself, “You want a couple of those pills with your soup Granny?”
“It’s not fair to smart off Jude when I’m not able to smart off right back.”
“Who told you life was fair … Granny?”
When he came back Tiffany was with him. She carried the water pitcher and Jude carried a tray with a bowl of soup on it. “Don’t give me the face Dovie. Mom said you needed to eat this after you woke up. And drink plenty of water too.”
I sighed. I knew he was right and I didn’t really have a fever so I hadn’t no excuse. It was just a clear broth anyway. “Tiff?”
She was so eager just nearly jumped when she answered, “Yes?”
“Can you heat up some water and when it is warm pour two cups of it into my big tea mug that I use in the mornings and then measure in a tablespoon of poultry seasoning? It’s in the cabinet in a jar with a red and white label on it. Not a heaping tablespoon, just flat tablespoon like I taught you. Then just bring it here.”
She ran off to do what I requested and Jude asked, “Do I want to know what that is for?”
“It’s my hurry-up-and-get-well tea when I’m not feeling good. Poultry seasoning has rosemary, marjoram, and thyme in it and they are all good antiseptic herbs that will work from the inside out with this chicken broth. I refuse to be sick any longer than I have to be.” I downed the pills and prayed my head would stop thumping. I’ve never been hung over but I could imagine that’s what it must feel like.
Jude continued to lean on the door frame and was still there once Tiffany had come and gone to go back to going through some of the boxes in the attic looking for winter clothes for everyone. I could tell by the look on his face that Jude wanted to say something and I finally told him, “Whatever it is just spit it out.”
“I hate to bother you while you ain’t feelin’ good.”
“Jude …”
“Alright.” Still looking uncomfortable he finally said, “Would you mind if I asked Paulie to take that liquor you have in the basement pantry and bring them up here and lock them in your chest at the foot of your bed? I wasn’t snooping, just I was down there looking at what all you had been doing and trying to find some space to put jars of venison chili that Mom sent back with me.”
Distracted by the idea of chili I had to put it away for thinking about later as I had forgotten about the liqueurs and other stuff. “Of course I don’t mind … but I trust you Jude.”
“Oh.” After a moment he said, “You shouldn’t. Not about that. Not yet. I’m not sure I trust myself yet if it is going to be that close and easy to get to.”
He looked so upset I said, “Jude, I trust you. But … if it makes you feel better of course you can just have Paulie and the boys bring it up here.”
He nodded succinctly and with more assurance than he started out with. “Yeah, it does make me feel better. I can do it out in public … look at a bottle and not have to have it right then in there … but sleeping in the same house with the stuff? That’s still a ways off I’m thinkin’. Now I’m done bothering you. I told the kids I’d roast some chestnuts for them tonight … if you don’t need them for something else.”
“Jude, you do whatever you think is best and feel lie. I’ve made up everything that I can of them right now and they need to be used up before they mold. Chestnuts don’t keep that long without freezing and since we don’t have one – a freezer I mean – the sooner they get used up the better. I hate wasting food.”
He got a thoughtful look on his face and then asked me, “Aunt Malissa ever tell you what that little sink next to where your parents had that burn pit?”
“You mean that funny hole in the ground on the other side of the clothes line?”
“Yeah.”
I shrugged, “They always just said to stay away from it. All they needed to say was that snakes could be down in it.”
He shook his head at my extreme dislike of snakes. “Used to be an ice shed built over the top of it.”
“An ice shed? You mean like a cooler sort of thing?”
“Well I don’t know about a cooler but at one time it was deep enough you had to climb down in it with a ladder. They’d lay hay all around the floor and walls and then in the winter, once water started freezing solid, they cut blocks out of the stream and layer them like bricks all around the walls. There would be so much ice down in there that it would last all the way until almost the next winter so long as the trap door was kept shut.”
“How do you know that?”
“Dad and Mr. Schnell talked about it one time … aw, it was years ago and I was doing some kind of lame project for school. Anyway, maybe the school project was lame but the idea might not be. It’s gonna take a lot of cleaning out but … maybe …” Then he said, “Tell me to shut up already. Eat your soup and then go back to sleep.”
And that’s exactly what I did minus the telling him to shut up part.
Great chapters! love the ice room idea!
2ndEviltwin
Inactive
Thanks for the additions
mother hen makes us whole again...
mother hen makes us whole again...
naturallysweet
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you, I'm loving the story.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Nice treat before bed thank you, as soon as the carrots are done in the canner.
Chapter L
I was sick and tired of being bossed around. “I’m fine. I’ve done nothing but rest the last two days. Doggone it; I’m tired of these four walls.”
Jude, looking almost as stubborn as I’d ever seen him said, “Mom and Dad say one more day. You want me to get Rochelle up here?”
“Aw go ahead. She’ll just tell you that I might not be fit to bale hay but that me getting out of bed isn’t going to cause the world to end. I’ve … got … things … to … do.”
“Listen hard head, I’ll sit on you if I have to … better yet, tie you down to the bed frame. You are gonna stay in that bed.”
I was really tempted to turn on the waterworks but I had my pride and would not stoop to using Wendalene or Faith’s tactics to get what I wanted. “You just don’t understand.”
“I do understand and better than you likely want to believe. Look, I know you didn’t appreciate Rochelle’s bedside manner yesterday but even she says you are working on a hard row to hoe if you don’t take better care of yourself. She said and I quote, ‘you are just lucky you were young and healthy to start with or you could have wound up with pneumonia’ end quote.”
I told him, “But I didn’t.”
“But you could have,” he told me right back. “And still might if you push yourself into a relapse. Why is it so much skin off your nose to take one more day in bed?!”
“Because!” I hadn’t meant to shout so I stopped myself, took a breath, and then started again only this time doing my best not to sound like a screeching banshee. “Because it is the end of the second week of November and I am losing time. I’ve got to get the rest of the acorns and chinkapins before the animals do. I’ve got day lily roots to dig up. I’ve got sunchokes to deal with and mark off before all the above ground parts disappear and I forget where the patches are. I need to bring in mints and get them dried … assuming the frost hasn’t destroyed them all. I need to dig some sassafras roots. I need to get the prickly pear fruits before they all disappear … Paulie told me this morning that one patch that I had been counting on has already been stripped by something. I need to go see if there are any more persimmons.” Adding to the list in my head I said, “Oh, how could I forget?! The mushrooms … I need to see if the chanterelles, oyster ‘shrooms, and Judas’ ear ‘shrooms are still worth gathering or if the frost got all of them too. Hickory nuts … we didn’t …”
“Stop Dovie, your list making is giving me the fidgets now too.” He shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Look, I know. I understand. How do you think I felt when that stupid hog laid into me? And I bet you are feeling pretty crappy still, just trying to convince yourself that once you get up and in motion it will be ok.” Since that was pretty much what I had been thinking I ignored his blasted perception. “Even if you get up you aren’t going outside today. It’s cool and damp.”
“Then why are the kids out in it?!”
“They aren’t out in it. They are down at the house giving Mom and Aunt Twila some help. Mom likes them to help because it shames the rest of them into working better. And I’ve got work to do too but I can’t go do it if you won’t mind.”
“I’m not two years old Jude.”
“Then stop acting like it and cooperate.”
“Go … away. Now.” I growled at him.
He knew he’d plucked my last nerve and whether deserved or not had not just made me madder than I already was but had managed to hurt my feelings as well. I already felt bad enough and useless, he’d just heaped coals on my head; however, it didn’t cause him to back down. “For once will you just admit that you need someone to look after you? You’re only sixteen for gosh sakes!”
“You just don’t know when to leave a person alone do you?” At the mulish look on his face I told him, “I’ve already admitted six ways from Sunday that I needed help and that I appreciate all that you do, not just for me and the kids but your place here in the family. I let you boss me even and that ought to tell you something right there. You don’t need to rub it in like salt in a paper cut. Have my feet hit the floor yet? No they have not. And for your information I’m seventeen.”
“You are not. I know for a fact that you are sixteen and you even admitted it.”
“Then you better check your facts ‘cause my birthday was October 31st the same as it has been since I was born. We used to go to the harvest festival for my birthday when we were here in town. One of the best presents I ever got was that year I managed to drop Clewis in the dunk tank with only one baseball.”
He opened his mouth but not a sound came out until he muttered, “Dang. You’re right.”
I rolled my eyes. “Duh. I kinda know my own date of birth you know.”
Getting riled up again he asked, “Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“What’s to say? It’s a day.”
“But …”
“But what? It’s just another day and I don’t want to talk about it. Just go off and do whatever is so necessary and leave me the heck alone.”
I turned away from him and ignored him. He was silent for a moment before saying, “You better not get out of that bed. I’ll know if you do.”
“Whatever,” I responded carelessly because he’d touched a sore spot in more than one way.
He was angry enough that I expected the front door to slam but it didn’t. I did spot him when he tried to sneak a peek through the bedroom window without me seeing him. I pretended I didn’t notice but it was hard not to laugh when he tripped over the foundation wall and almost fell. Served him right for not taking me at my word.
I know I was being a brat, but you know what? Right then I didn’t care. I hate being bossed like that and I hated feeling useless and I hated getting further behind in my work and I hated that people didn’t think I had two brain cells to rub together. I wasn’t planning on running nekked through the woods; I just wanted to get out of bed.
I was sick and tired of being bossed around. “I’m fine. I’ve done nothing but rest the last two days. Doggone it; I’m tired of these four walls.”
Jude, looking almost as stubborn as I’d ever seen him said, “Mom and Dad say one more day. You want me to get Rochelle up here?”
“Aw go ahead. She’ll just tell you that I might not be fit to bale hay but that me getting out of bed isn’t going to cause the world to end. I’ve … got … things … to … do.”
“Listen hard head, I’ll sit on you if I have to … better yet, tie you down to the bed frame. You are gonna stay in that bed.”
I was really tempted to turn on the waterworks but I had my pride and would not stoop to using Wendalene or Faith’s tactics to get what I wanted. “You just don’t understand.”
“I do understand and better than you likely want to believe. Look, I know you didn’t appreciate Rochelle’s bedside manner yesterday but even she says you are working on a hard row to hoe if you don’t take better care of yourself. She said and I quote, ‘you are just lucky you were young and healthy to start with or you could have wound up with pneumonia’ end quote.”
I told him, “But I didn’t.”
“But you could have,” he told me right back. “And still might if you push yourself into a relapse. Why is it so much skin off your nose to take one more day in bed?!”
“Because!” I hadn’t meant to shout so I stopped myself, took a breath, and then started again only this time doing my best not to sound like a screeching banshee. “Because it is the end of the second week of November and I am losing time. I’ve got to get the rest of the acorns and chinkapins before the animals do. I’ve got day lily roots to dig up. I’ve got sunchokes to deal with and mark off before all the above ground parts disappear and I forget where the patches are. I need to bring in mints and get them dried … assuming the frost hasn’t destroyed them all. I need to dig some sassafras roots. I need to get the prickly pear fruits before they all disappear … Paulie told me this morning that one patch that I had been counting on has already been stripped by something. I need to go see if there are any more persimmons.” Adding to the list in my head I said, “Oh, how could I forget?! The mushrooms … I need to see if the chanterelles, oyster ‘shrooms, and Judas’ ear ‘shrooms are still worth gathering or if the frost got all of them too. Hickory nuts … we didn’t …”
“Stop Dovie, your list making is giving me the fidgets now too.” He shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Look, I know. I understand. How do you think I felt when that stupid hog laid into me? And I bet you are feeling pretty crappy still, just trying to convince yourself that once you get up and in motion it will be ok.” Since that was pretty much what I had been thinking I ignored his blasted perception. “Even if you get up you aren’t going outside today. It’s cool and damp.”
“Then why are the kids out in it?!”
“They aren’t out in it. They are down at the house giving Mom and Aunt Twila some help. Mom likes them to help because it shames the rest of them into working better. And I’ve got work to do too but I can’t go do it if you won’t mind.”
“I’m not two years old Jude.”
“Then stop acting like it and cooperate.”
“Go … away. Now.” I growled at him.
He knew he’d plucked my last nerve and whether deserved or not had not just made me madder than I already was but had managed to hurt my feelings as well. I already felt bad enough and useless, he’d just heaped coals on my head; however, it didn’t cause him to back down. “For once will you just admit that you need someone to look after you? You’re only sixteen for gosh sakes!”
“You just don’t know when to leave a person alone do you?” At the mulish look on his face I told him, “I’ve already admitted six ways from Sunday that I needed help and that I appreciate all that you do, not just for me and the kids but your place here in the family. I let you boss me even and that ought to tell you something right there. You don’t need to rub it in like salt in a paper cut. Have my feet hit the floor yet? No they have not. And for your information I’m seventeen.”
“You are not. I know for a fact that you are sixteen and you even admitted it.”
“Then you better check your facts ‘cause my birthday was October 31st the same as it has been since I was born. We used to go to the harvest festival for my birthday when we were here in town. One of the best presents I ever got was that year I managed to drop Clewis in the dunk tank with only one baseball.”
He opened his mouth but not a sound came out until he muttered, “Dang. You’re right.”
I rolled my eyes. “Duh. I kinda know my own date of birth you know.”
Getting riled up again he asked, “Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“What’s to say? It’s a day.”
“But …”
“But what? It’s just another day and I don’t want to talk about it. Just go off and do whatever is so necessary and leave me the heck alone.”
I turned away from him and ignored him. He was silent for a moment before saying, “You better not get out of that bed. I’ll know if you do.”
“Whatever,” I responded carelessly because he’d touched a sore spot in more than one way.
He was angry enough that I expected the front door to slam but it didn’t. I did spot him when he tried to sneak a peek through the bedroom window without me seeing him. I pretended I didn’t notice but it was hard not to laugh when he tripped over the foundation wall and almost fell. Served him right for not taking me at my word.
I know I was being a brat, but you know what? Right then I didn’t care. I hate being bossed like that and I hated feeling useless and I hated getting further behind in my work and I hated that people didn’t think I had two brain cells to rub together. I wasn’t planning on running nekked through the woods; I just wanted to get out of bed.
Chapter LI
There had to be something useful to occupy my time, something that moved me forward rather than left me feeling further behind. I tried to remember the things Mom used to do to keep on top of things and organized. It might make me feel sad but I’d rather feel sad than stupid and useless.
First thing that came to mind was her weekly chore schedule that we stuck to heck or high water … or at least as much as life allowed barring catastrophe or Dad leaving TDY.
Monday was wash day. Dainties were washed by hand as necessary. Any other clothes too filthy or rancid were spot treated and/or rinsed by hand then hung on the drying rack to keep them from mildewing or staining before the next wash day. Our dress and school clothes were separate from our work and play clothes and never the twain should meet … at least until they were beyond repair or beyond being someone else’s hand me downs.
Tuesday was a continuation of Monday and is when we did all the ironing, mending, and sewing. With three brothers and a father you know there was a lot of all of that going on. Dad’s uniforms had to conform at all times and Mom made sure his blues and his fatigues were perfect. The boys learned to do their own during ROTC because they’d have to know how for Basic and beyond unless they planned on spending an arm and a leg on drying cleaning. And that’s all the distance down that road I went except to remember Mom always spent that evening working on some handcraft project or other. She claimed it relaxed her. When she was teaching me how to sew I have to say I found the time anything but relaxful because if a stitch wasn’t right I had to take it out and do it over again … and that happened a lot more than I wanted it to.
Wednesday was gardening but during many parts of the year this day spread out into every day of the week but Sunday and even then we would pick anything that was too ripe to last another day on the vine. But, Mom did try and restrict working in her “pretties” to this day of the week … her African violets and roses and the like. Both are gone now except for the wild roses that are just a continuation of the roses transplanted there by some ancestress or ‘nother. There were none I could save from the duplex, and even if I had they never would have survived the trek to Idaho and then to Tennessee. I did manage to squirrel away some flower seeds from her annuals but I have no idea if they will germinate in the spring; we’ll just have to wait and see.
Thursday was a repeat of Wednesday except that it was for food preservation. Up until Dad died there were very few Wednesdays that there wasn’t a canner of something going … usually more than a single canner. I tried to keep it up – that’s actually where I did most of my learning through too many mistakes but it was hard because we were always pinched for money, especially for the electric bill. One time and one time only Dad made a crack about the electric bill being too high from Mom canning so much. I think that is the close I ever heard them get to an argument where we could hear it … and it wasn’t about the electric bill in particular so much as about money in general. The twins were in college but were still living at home and groceries were getting so expensive. The boys could only work so many hours and still go to school full time and do their ROTC stuff. Dad was doing what he called retirement planning and I guess the anxiety of it all just hit both of them, especially after the IDP (imminent danger pay otherwise known to most civilians as hazard pay) had been cut yet again despite the fact that Dad was deployed to some pretty crappy places. They worked it out – and Mom kept canning – but I know for some months afterwards they talked repeatedly of Dad putting in for another tour beyond his twenty even if it meant putting off retiring until after Paulie graduated. In the end I guess none of that mattered very much.
Friday was cleaning day. Not that we didn’t clean every day of the week but Friday was the day we did all the deep cleaning stuff … the baseboards, the inside of cabinets, the oven, the bathroom from ceiling to floor (sometimes literally). We washed out all of the trash cans, checked the sofa cushions for change that tried to escape from people’s pockets, dusted, vacuumed the fans, etc. Dust bunnies were nearly an extinct critter in our home; they were certainly on the endangered species list. If Mom saw one she killed it right then and there so that it couldn’t find a mate and multiply exponentially.
Saturday was baking. Mom hated most store-bought bread and she spoiled the rest of us because of her dislike. She used the electric bread maker Dad gave her one Christmas for our everyday bread but on Saturdays she would make rolls, buns, cookies, cakes, pies, or whatever else was on the menu for the following week. Saturday was also the day of Little League, camp outs, and school projects.
Sunday was church day and ostensibly a day of rest but with Mom I never was quite sure if she truly believed in such a thing. That was the day she worked on her scrapbooking or recipe collection, when she did her letter writing, and when she would sit down and read a book though the book was usually about something useful like gardening or some kind of sewing. Dad was the same way. If he wasn’t on a swing shift or something like that, on Sunday afternoon you could find him fishing in one of the local ponds or lakes or puttering around in his shop … that’s assuming he hadn’t eaten too much of Mom’s good cooking after church and fallen asleep in his recliner or in the hammock outside. I remember one time at one of those silly block parties people like to organize a neighbor asking them why they worked so much, that it was the modern era and people should have more leisure time. Dad answered for both of them and said there’d be plenty of leisure time once they were dead and buried and they preferred to take advantage of the daylight while they had it. Shut the know-it-all neighbor up, that’s for sure.
Ever since I took over the household responsibilities I realized more and more I had a pretty cool set of parents. Every once in a while it was like living in a Dr. Demento movie but looking back I’m fairly certain that it didn’t happen nearly as often as modern psychology and physics dictated that it should have for normal human beings. And they both worked outside the home – Dad in the military, coming and going as dictated by his superiors, and Mom part time in the church day care during the school year. Yeah, I’ll count myself a real woman if I get even half way as good as my parents were at facing, dealing, and living the life that they were given.
There had to be something useful to occupy my time, something that moved me forward rather than left me feeling further behind. I tried to remember the things Mom used to do to keep on top of things and organized. It might make me feel sad but I’d rather feel sad than stupid and useless.
First thing that came to mind was her weekly chore schedule that we stuck to heck or high water … or at least as much as life allowed barring catastrophe or Dad leaving TDY.
Monday was wash day. Dainties were washed by hand as necessary. Any other clothes too filthy or rancid were spot treated and/or rinsed by hand then hung on the drying rack to keep them from mildewing or staining before the next wash day. Our dress and school clothes were separate from our work and play clothes and never the twain should meet … at least until they were beyond repair or beyond being someone else’s hand me downs.
Tuesday was a continuation of Monday and is when we did all the ironing, mending, and sewing. With three brothers and a father you know there was a lot of all of that going on. Dad’s uniforms had to conform at all times and Mom made sure his blues and his fatigues were perfect. The boys learned to do their own during ROTC because they’d have to know how for Basic and beyond unless they planned on spending an arm and a leg on drying cleaning. And that’s all the distance down that road I went except to remember Mom always spent that evening working on some handcraft project or other. She claimed it relaxed her. When she was teaching me how to sew I have to say I found the time anything but relaxful because if a stitch wasn’t right I had to take it out and do it over again … and that happened a lot more than I wanted it to.
Wednesday was gardening but during many parts of the year this day spread out into every day of the week but Sunday and even then we would pick anything that was too ripe to last another day on the vine. But, Mom did try and restrict working in her “pretties” to this day of the week … her African violets and roses and the like. Both are gone now except for the wild roses that are just a continuation of the roses transplanted there by some ancestress or ‘nother. There were none I could save from the duplex, and even if I had they never would have survived the trek to Idaho and then to Tennessee. I did manage to squirrel away some flower seeds from her annuals but I have no idea if they will germinate in the spring; we’ll just have to wait and see.
Thursday was a repeat of Wednesday except that it was for food preservation. Up until Dad died there were very few Wednesdays that there wasn’t a canner of something going … usually more than a single canner. I tried to keep it up – that’s actually where I did most of my learning through too many mistakes but it was hard because we were always pinched for money, especially for the electric bill. One time and one time only Dad made a crack about the electric bill being too high from Mom canning so much. I think that is the close I ever heard them get to an argument where we could hear it … and it wasn’t about the electric bill in particular so much as about money in general. The twins were in college but were still living at home and groceries were getting so expensive. The boys could only work so many hours and still go to school full time and do their ROTC stuff. Dad was doing what he called retirement planning and I guess the anxiety of it all just hit both of them, especially after the IDP (imminent danger pay otherwise known to most civilians as hazard pay) had been cut yet again despite the fact that Dad was deployed to some pretty crappy places. They worked it out – and Mom kept canning – but I know for some months afterwards they talked repeatedly of Dad putting in for another tour beyond his twenty even if it meant putting off retiring until after Paulie graduated. In the end I guess none of that mattered very much.
Friday was cleaning day. Not that we didn’t clean every day of the week but Friday was the day we did all the deep cleaning stuff … the baseboards, the inside of cabinets, the oven, the bathroom from ceiling to floor (sometimes literally). We washed out all of the trash cans, checked the sofa cushions for change that tried to escape from people’s pockets, dusted, vacuumed the fans, etc. Dust bunnies were nearly an extinct critter in our home; they were certainly on the endangered species list. If Mom saw one she killed it right then and there so that it couldn’t find a mate and multiply exponentially.
Saturday was baking. Mom hated most store-bought bread and she spoiled the rest of us because of her dislike. She used the electric bread maker Dad gave her one Christmas for our everyday bread but on Saturdays she would make rolls, buns, cookies, cakes, pies, or whatever else was on the menu for the following week. Saturday was also the day of Little League, camp outs, and school projects.
Sunday was church day and ostensibly a day of rest but with Mom I never was quite sure if she truly believed in such a thing. That was the day she worked on her scrapbooking or recipe collection, when she did her letter writing, and when she would sit down and read a book though the book was usually about something useful like gardening or some kind of sewing. Dad was the same way. If he wasn’t on a swing shift or something like that, on Sunday afternoon you could find him fishing in one of the local ponds or lakes or puttering around in his shop … that’s assuming he hadn’t eaten too much of Mom’s good cooking after church and fallen asleep in his recliner or in the hammock outside. I remember one time at one of those silly block parties people like to organize a neighbor asking them why they worked so much, that it was the modern era and people should have more leisure time. Dad answered for both of them and said there’d be plenty of leisure time once they were dead and buried and they preferred to take advantage of the daylight while they had it. Shut the know-it-all neighbor up, that’s for sure.
Ever since I took over the household responsibilities I realized more and more I had a pretty cool set of parents. Every once in a while it was like living in a Dr. Demento movie but looking back I’m fairly certain that it didn’t happen nearly as often as modern psychology and physics dictated that it should have for normal human beings. And they both worked outside the home – Dad in the military, coming and going as dictated by his superiors, and Mom part time in the church day care during the school year. Yeah, I’ll count myself a real woman if I get even half way as good as my parents were at facing, dealing, and living the life that they were given.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you
Chapter LII
I miss Mom and Dad like crazy. And the twins too. I just haven’t felt as safe since they died. Being back here has helped but it hasn’t taken away all of that … that feeling that there is a vital piece of the puzzle missing. But being that wasn’t a constructive thought and I was trying to be constructive I turned away from it and wandered down more gentle memories.
Mom was organized. Some people could have been rude about the extent and depth of her need for organization but not in my hearing they didn’t. Mom was a gentle soul but anyone that knew her knew that everything had a place and everything better be in its place when not in immediate use. How organized was she? Let’s just say I knew how to alphabetize before all the other kids my age because of our household library.
Open any door, cabinet, or drawer in any house we lived in and you would find nails, hooks, and containers all more neatly labeled than the local hardware store with matching, color-coded Sharpie permanent markers. Mom should have owned stock in the Sharpe company. When they came out with those special Sharpie pens for writing on checks that didn’t bleed through to the paper beneath it you would have thought she’d died and gone to Heaven. She had a shoe box full of Sharpies but she always has her “good” set with eleventy dozen colors that no one touched for fear of loss of limb(s).
Same with her good scissors. My mother actually labeled each pair of scissors so everyone knew which was which and where they lived when they weren’t working. General kitchen shears, meat and bone shears, pinking shears, the scissors she used exclusively for silk and satin (Ginghers) and those for general sewing (Fiskars), paper scissors, tool box scissors, garden and pruning shears, Exacto blades, box cutters, etc., etc., etc.
And boy did Mom love shoe boxes; not for shoes naturally, but for organizing. She also loved labels … all sorts of labels and all sorts of labeling devices. She could pack a whole house in a single day and then unpack it and put it back to rights the next just by packing all of her well labeled boxes, files, and crates into more boxes for the movers to haul from one place to the next. To Mom organizing could have been a competitive sport … and she would have won every play off and gone to nationals every year. Her organization is what made it so easy to take over when she got sick. It has also made it so much easier to find things we need when we are looking for them to set this house up as our permanent residence. Doesn’t matter whether it was strung from the basement to the attic all you have to do is look at the packing list taped to the outside of the box and you know exactly what is inside and where it ultimately belonged.
The one black hole that was the exception to her mania is two of the attic rooms. Our attic is divided into three distinct sections that correspond to three major build outs over the many years this house has sat on this foundation. Even for her those two other rooms are a bit much. I’ve only had a couple of peeks inside the first one since I was little and I remember it looks like Alice’s Wonderland puked up everything and then some out of the mirror. I have no idea at all what might be found blocked up in the oldest section all the way over to the end of the house. The window on that end of the attic has been blocked in since at least my great great grandparents were alive and nothing has seen the light of day in there for who knows how long.
This house started out as a one room cabin with a loft. Then a kitchen and three downstairs bedrooms were added at the same time the original hole in the ground where they put the milk to keep it cool was enlarged into an actual cellar … what we now call the basement. The basement is deep and has granite block walls. The floor was nothing but dirt before Dad got a hold of it to deal with a corner that was always damp. I’m not sure who it was that did it but some time before the Civil War there was another enlargement made that added the second story.
The tunnel off the basement was dug during the Civil War and has all sorts of family rumors attached to its original purpose … from a stop on the Underground Railroad, to running guns and shine to the Confederates, to a room where they kept a crazy cousin that lost her husband and sons during one of the battles of Clarksville. Since most of my relatives of that time period were either illiterate or too busy to keep a journal one rumor is just about as believable as the next … or unbelievable depending on who was telling the tale.
The last major expansion was done by my great grandparents during a time of tobacco prosperity when they squared off all of the odd angles and corners and re-sided the house and got rid of the wood shakes for a slate roof. This added the parlor, the formal dining room, and extended the porch so it wrapped around the entire house.
My grandparents decided they preferred living at the front of the farm – incidentally giving my grandmother some peace from her father in law who could be a rough man on most days with a not too high opinion of women – that was closer to the highway and flatter so built their own place a few years after they got married, though theirs was of bricks and mortar rather than wooden tongue and groove and hand whittled nailing pegs. That’s the house that Uncle Roe inherited. They did modernize the plumbing for my great grandmother who refused to live anywhere besides what became known as the Old House after she became a widow and ran wiring that was pretty good for the times as well.
My parents upgraded the plumbing and wiring after Mom inherited the place – something next to useless now – and had plans to add a turret on the outside corner of the house where the master bedroom is but I guess that isn’t happening now. It was to give the master bedroom a sitting area and enlarge the smallest bedroom directly above it. But it would have required cleaning out the attic and Mom always pushed it off as unnecessary and something that could wait until they lived there full time.
Since I obviously wasn’t cleaning out the attic and time soon I moved on to the next thing Mom did and that was to make a weekly menu … sometimes a monthly one. She said knowing what was planned kept wasted time down to a minimum. I like that idea. I like even more that we had enough food to warrant a menu. And a menu is a way to use that food most efficiently so that it will last as long as possible and go the furthest. The fact is it is also something constructive I could do while stuck in my ever loving bed so I got up just long enough to get my papers and pencil from the dresser drawer where I store such things.
The first trick is to stretch the cultivated foods with my wild forage so that both last as long as possible. The second trick is to make it happen in a way that no one notices what I am doing, or if they do eat it anyway.
Day One:
B: Acorn Muffins, hog jowl, grits
L: watercress butter for fish, water cress cooked the Chinese way, hushpuppies
S: apple-spearmint salad, Judas’ Ear mushroom soup
Dessert = popcorn
Day Two:
B: cornmeal nut muffins with persimmons, hard boiled eggs
L: mushroom butter on baked chicken, hickory nut stuffed eggs, canned kudzu
S: chickweed & cress salad, meat pies
Dessert = persimmon quick bread
Day Three:
B: acorn griddle cakes and syrup
L: spearmint sauce on baked possum, burdock roots with pineapple chunks
S: Sunchoke salad, ham pie
Dessert = mint sauce over plain cake (to make up for serving possum at noonday meal)
Day Four:
B: Oatmeal with fried apples
L: Venison burgers, fried mushrooms, hominy
S: Ground nut stew, oatmeal scones, and leftover venison burgers if there are any
Dessert = black walnut pie
Day Five:
B: cornmeal biscuits, fried eggs, ham & red eye gravy
L: raccoon baked with apples (which serves them right as they ate a lot of them all season long as well)
S: bean burgers, gravy, cornmeal ragged robin rolls
Dessert = persimmon custard
Day Six:
B: sunchoke biscuits, squirrel sausage, scrambled eggs, fried mush
L: fried rabbit, carrots, and some other cooked greens
S: Eggless corn bread, stewed potatoes, white beans (with ham hock for flavoring)
Dessert = marmalade pudding (don’t have to use any of the leventy dozen jars down in the basement but might as well since they’re there)
Day Seven:
B: leftover hash (use sunchokes to piece out the potatoes and make them go further)
L: Ham soufflé with parsley sauce, mixed veggies and/or cooked greens
S: split pea pancakes, scalloped ham and hominy (use up any ham that didn’t go into the soufflé)
Dessert = poor man’s cake
I thought that first menu looked pretty good. It could stand some fine tuning here and there of course but I would do that as soon as I asked Jude if he would actually eat it … I wasn’t too sure about the ‘coon and ‘possum. Paulie and I would without a problem though I’ll admit yet again that ‘possum isn’t my favorite but I wasn’t sure how tough a sell it was going to be to everyone else.
Thinking about what the other men had said about what was available locally and hadn’t been hunted over I tried to think of ways to use grouse, woodcock, beaver, muskrat, nutria, and goose (sometimes they hung around in December).
Then I heard a squeak on the floor board in the living room. Uh huh. None of them was going to sneak up on me and check to make sure that I was still sitting in bed like a naughty preschooler; I knew every noise this house made. I carefully slid out of bed prepared to scare the bejeebers out of them.
I tippy toed carefully to the door and then, when I thought I had them, I jumped out of the bedroom door and went, “ROARRRRRR!!!!!”
Oh crud … it wasn’t Jude.
I miss Mom and Dad like crazy. And the twins too. I just haven’t felt as safe since they died. Being back here has helped but it hasn’t taken away all of that … that feeling that there is a vital piece of the puzzle missing. But being that wasn’t a constructive thought and I was trying to be constructive I turned away from it and wandered down more gentle memories.
Mom was organized. Some people could have been rude about the extent and depth of her need for organization but not in my hearing they didn’t. Mom was a gentle soul but anyone that knew her knew that everything had a place and everything better be in its place when not in immediate use. How organized was she? Let’s just say I knew how to alphabetize before all the other kids my age because of our household library.
Open any door, cabinet, or drawer in any house we lived in and you would find nails, hooks, and containers all more neatly labeled than the local hardware store with matching, color-coded Sharpie permanent markers. Mom should have owned stock in the Sharpe company. When they came out with those special Sharpie pens for writing on checks that didn’t bleed through to the paper beneath it you would have thought she’d died and gone to Heaven. She had a shoe box full of Sharpies but she always has her “good” set with eleventy dozen colors that no one touched for fear of loss of limb(s).
Same with her good scissors. My mother actually labeled each pair of scissors so everyone knew which was which and where they lived when they weren’t working. General kitchen shears, meat and bone shears, pinking shears, the scissors she used exclusively for silk and satin (Ginghers) and those for general sewing (Fiskars), paper scissors, tool box scissors, garden and pruning shears, Exacto blades, box cutters, etc., etc., etc.
And boy did Mom love shoe boxes; not for shoes naturally, but for organizing. She also loved labels … all sorts of labels and all sorts of labeling devices. She could pack a whole house in a single day and then unpack it and put it back to rights the next just by packing all of her well labeled boxes, files, and crates into more boxes for the movers to haul from one place to the next. To Mom organizing could have been a competitive sport … and she would have won every play off and gone to nationals every year. Her organization is what made it so easy to take over when she got sick. It has also made it so much easier to find things we need when we are looking for them to set this house up as our permanent residence. Doesn’t matter whether it was strung from the basement to the attic all you have to do is look at the packing list taped to the outside of the box and you know exactly what is inside and where it ultimately belonged.
The one black hole that was the exception to her mania is two of the attic rooms. Our attic is divided into three distinct sections that correspond to three major build outs over the many years this house has sat on this foundation. Even for her those two other rooms are a bit much. I’ve only had a couple of peeks inside the first one since I was little and I remember it looks like Alice’s Wonderland puked up everything and then some out of the mirror. I have no idea at all what might be found blocked up in the oldest section all the way over to the end of the house. The window on that end of the attic has been blocked in since at least my great great grandparents were alive and nothing has seen the light of day in there for who knows how long.
This house started out as a one room cabin with a loft. Then a kitchen and three downstairs bedrooms were added at the same time the original hole in the ground where they put the milk to keep it cool was enlarged into an actual cellar … what we now call the basement. The basement is deep and has granite block walls. The floor was nothing but dirt before Dad got a hold of it to deal with a corner that was always damp. I’m not sure who it was that did it but some time before the Civil War there was another enlargement made that added the second story.
The tunnel off the basement was dug during the Civil War and has all sorts of family rumors attached to its original purpose … from a stop on the Underground Railroad, to running guns and shine to the Confederates, to a room where they kept a crazy cousin that lost her husband and sons during one of the battles of Clarksville. Since most of my relatives of that time period were either illiterate or too busy to keep a journal one rumor is just about as believable as the next … or unbelievable depending on who was telling the tale.
The last major expansion was done by my great grandparents during a time of tobacco prosperity when they squared off all of the odd angles and corners and re-sided the house and got rid of the wood shakes for a slate roof. This added the parlor, the formal dining room, and extended the porch so it wrapped around the entire house.
My grandparents decided they preferred living at the front of the farm – incidentally giving my grandmother some peace from her father in law who could be a rough man on most days with a not too high opinion of women – that was closer to the highway and flatter so built their own place a few years after they got married, though theirs was of bricks and mortar rather than wooden tongue and groove and hand whittled nailing pegs. That’s the house that Uncle Roe inherited. They did modernize the plumbing for my great grandmother who refused to live anywhere besides what became known as the Old House after she became a widow and ran wiring that was pretty good for the times as well.
My parents upgraded the plumbing and wiring after Mom inherited the place – something next to useless now – and had plans to add a turret on the outside corner of the house where the master bedroom is but I guess that isn’t happening now. It was to give the master bedroom a sitting area and enlarge the smallest bedroom directly above it. But it would have required cleaning out the attic and Mom always pushed it off as unnecessary and something that could wait until they lived there full time.
Since I obviously wasn’t cleaning out the attic and time soon I moved on to the next thing Mom did and that was to make a weekly menu … sometimes a monthly one. She said knowing what was planned kept wasted time down to a minimum. I like that idea. I like even more that we had enough food to warrant a menu. And a menu is a way to use that food most efficiently so that it will last as long as possible and go the furthest. The fact is it is also something constructive I could do while stuck in my ever loving bed so I got up just long enough to get my papers and pencil from the dresser drawer where I store such things.
The first trick is to stretch the cultivated foods with my wild forage so that both last as long as possible. The second trick is to make it happen in a way that no one notices what I am doing, or if they do eat it anyway.
Day One:
B: Acorn Muffins, hog jowl, grits
L: watercress butter for fish, water cress cooked the Chinese way, hushpuppies
S: apple-spearmint salad, Judas’ Ear mushroom soup
Dessert = popcorn
Day Two:
B: cornmeal nut muffins with persimmons, hard boiled eggs
L: mushroom butter on baked chicken, hickory nut stuffed eggs, canned kudzu
S: chickweed & cress salad, meat pies
Dessert = persimmon quick bread
Day Three:
B: acorn griddle cakes and syrup
L: spearmint sauce on baked possum, burdock roots with pineapple chunks
S: Sunchoke salad, ham pie
Dessert = mint sauce over plain cake (to make up for serving possum at noonday meal)
Day Four:
B: Oatmeal with fried apples
L: Venison burgers, fried mushrooms, hominy
S: Ground nut stew, oatmeal scones, and leftover venison burgers if there are any
Dessert = black walnut pie
Day Five:
B: cornmeal biscuits, fried eggs, ham & red eye gravy
L: raccoon baked with apples (which serves them right as they ate a lot of them all season long as well)
S: bean burgers, gravy, cornmeal ragged robin rolls
Dessert = persimmon custard
Day Six:
B: sunchoke biscuits, squirrel sausage, scrambled eggs, fried mush
L: fried rabbit, carrots, and some other cooked greens
S: Eggless corn bread, stewed potatoes, white beans (with ham hock for flavoring)
Dessert = marmalade pudding (don’t have to use any of the leventy dozen jars down in the basement but might as well since they’re there)
Day Seven:
B: leftover hash (use sunchokes to piece out the potatoes and make them go further)
L: Ham soufflé with parsley sauce, mixed veggies and/or cooked greens
S: split pea pancakes, scalloped ham and hominy (use up any ham that didn’t go into the soufflé)
Dessert = poor man’s cake
I thought that first menu looked pretty good. It could stand some fine tuning here and there of course but I would do that as soon as I asked Jude if he would actually eat it … I wasn’t too sure about the ‘coon and ‘possum. Paulie and I would without a problem though I’ll admit yet again that ‘possum isn’t my favorite but I wasn’t sure how tough a sell it was going to be to everyone else.
Thinking about what the other men had said about what was available locally and hadn’t been hunted over I tried to think of ways to use grouse, woodcock, beaver, muskrat, nutria, and goose (sometimes they hung around in December).
Then I heard a squeak on the floor board in the living room. Uh huh. None of them was going to sneak up on me and check to make sure that I was still sitting in bed like a naughty preschooler; I knew every noise this house made. I carefully slid out of bed prepared to scare the bejeebers out of them.
I tippy toed carefully to the door and then, when I thought I had them, I jumped out of the bedroom door and went, “ROARRRRRR!!!!!”
Oh crud … it wasn’t Jude.
