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Grounds?. This was when everyone who had not been to church in a year came to get a good meal, see friends and family members that they would otherwise only see at funerals and weddings and oh yes to tell me ?Oh look at you, you must have grown a foot.? To which I would have liked to answer, ?no I still just have just two or did you expect me to shrink,? these answers were the ones that would flash into my mischievous mind.
Papa cooked the best pork roast ever to pass my lips. He would sit by the stove and baste it every little while until it was done to his taste. Then he would pour off the grease then take the drippings and make gravy. It will always a special dish to my family and me. When Jimmy married Michelle, we added sweet potatoes fried in the pork grease. A tasty addition if I do say so.
Papa and I did lots of things sometimes at night Papa and I would go out to that lone persimmon tree and kill coons and possum. They ate the vegetables but no we did not eat those coons or possums.
Papa and I cut wood together, picked com, beans, watermelon, cantaloupe strawberry peas everything it seems we only had to buy flour and a few things at the store. Aunt Mary Dave had a store where you charged what you had to buy and once a month when the Social Security check came you paid the bill. Papa and I would load garden goods in a wagon and go sell them. Then go by Summers grocery in Logtown and by stuff that you could not buy from Aunt Mary Dave.
Honey made the best apple pie I ever tasted and strawberry shortcake (the biscuit dough kind). There would be melted and whole pieces of homemade butter running through it and it would be toped off with heavy cream that had been skimmed from milk that Papa milked morning and evening.
Honey strained the milk and but it in large crock bowls. After the cream rose to the top and she skimmed it off the milk was placed in a picture and we made butter and the cream and the milk that was left in the chum after churning what else buttermilk, of course. She also made cream cheese and cottage cheese from clabber, soured milk that has congealed.
A wooden sink and faucet was the water on the porch. That drained into a wooden trough that watered the "butterfly lilies" (ginger lilies) wild iris and fig trees that hid the drain ditch from the kitchen and porch. An old drip coffee pot with a spout hung from a nail by the back kitchen door. A wren would build a nest in it every year. Papa's "Turtle shell" hat hung on a nail beside it. Things like work hats and shoes would never be allowed inside. Once Honey caught Meade, a hired had spitting in the kitchen sink. She had a spell the likes of which I had never seen. I do not think that the thought ever occurred to him again.
After lunch, some day Papa and I would take a nap in a room at the end of the back porch that was called the storm room. Wooden shutters no window pains. The storm room was