Part One: The Garden.
I had the privilege of spending my childhood summers in the country with my Mawmaw (Momma’s mom) and at the South Carolina Coast with my Memaw (Dad’s mom). I wanted to jot some of these beautiful memories down…
It’s early morning and the back of my leg receives a tight pinch before I hear, “get up girl; ain’t wasting the day.” My eyes slowly begin to open and my nose instantly smells the familiar morning routine of Mawmaw in the kitchen frying up bacon, livermush, biscuits, and pancakes (just for me).
I make my way to the kitchen to load my plate before heading into the living room where Pawpaw is already up and watching his morning shows. I have been told that I was such a spoiled grandchild, because I spent breakfast in the living room having hissy fits over Pawpaw not wanting to watch cartoons. My fits would come to a halt whenever Mawmaw finished cleaning the kitchen from breakfast. She would instruct me that it was time for me to put on my old clothes and get ready to complete our daily chores. I would light up with delight, because this was my favorite time of day.
Out the back door I’d fly into the Carolina heat; across the green grass, and straight into the dirt. My finger tips steadily grazing against the corn, squash, cucumbers, tomatoes, okra, potatoes, peas; just so many colors clashing and shining vibrantly. “Now watch me” as Mawmaw would rip the corn from the stalks. I would mimic her movements a couple of times, then dash off to see Becky the goat, snuggle my favorite barn cat (Blue Eyes), admire the rose bushes, swing from the limbs of the maple tree, before gradually making my way back over to Mawmaw. “Teach you how to shuck some corn.” Oh, did I love to shuck.
After we would gather everything that was fresh and ready, look for unwanted weeds, feed the animals, water the flowers, sweep off the porch; it would be time for lunch. Back in the kitchen she would go to see what Pawpaw and I wanted for lunch. I would ask for my usual livermush sandwich. Sometimes while waiting I would just plop down and crack open a jar of Duke’s Mayonnaise and begin eating it with a spoon. Lunch was yet again spent torturing Pawpaw, because he wanted to watch “Price is Right” but I insisted “Rugrats.” Often times I found myself chowing down my livermush sandwich and sipping my sweet tea while Bob Barker announced the winner of a trip to Hawaii.
Our afternoons depended on the day. Mawmaw would spend many afternoons cooking up a storm of food for either her church, family dinners, or her friends. If she were cooking, then my assignments were to stir, pour, and lick cake batter. Mawmaw would let me bake small cakes or cupcakes to add as the dessert to her meal(s). After we tidied back up the kitchen, then she would instruct me to clean my face and put on nicer clothes because “we had to go to town.”
If we were cooking dinners for her friends, then we would load up the food and begin driving into town to visit and deliver dinners. I absolutely adored visiting her best friend Lillian. Lillian lived in this huge white house with lots of interesting antiques. I remember picking up her antique pen and writing my name with the sharp tip. I remember playing songs on her piano. Her house was dark and lonely, but she always beamed upon our arrival.
Some afternoons were spent at home. Mawmaw would can vegetables, while I would make crafts. I would rummage through cabinets, look under beds, and simply destroy the house as I scavenged ideas together. Two vivid and special crafts were:
1) The bag full of popcorn kernels that I created for my Pawpaw when he was in his last days fighting cancer. I was five and I instructed him to just shake that bag of kernels and I would be right there. I remember the little bit of strength he had left picking up that bag to give it a shake.
2) The quilt. It may have been an assortment of mix and match patterns, uneven stitching, thread showing in all the wrong places, but it was a learning experience that I will always cherish. Mawmaw let me pick out all my patterns and her patience walked me step by step through sewing the whole thing together. We were both so proud that I entered my quilt in the Cleveland County Fair that year. I held my participation ribbon with pride.
June would come to it’s peaceful end, while the firecrackers and excitement of July lit up. Days leading up to the 4th of July were full of anticipation and chaos. My Aunt Pat, Mawmaw, and Momma would annually plan trips to town for new patriotic outfits, beach toys, along with a trip to the golden arches (McDonald’s) for good behavior. The time would come to pack up from my “country livin” stay with Mawmaw and get ready to hit the sandy beaches of the South Carolina coast with Memaw…
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