September Gran'ma Gertie
Howdy Ya’ll!
I hope this purty day finds ya’ll doin’ good. Me, I been about as busy as a sore tailed cat on a porchful of rockers. It’s that time of the year. I done finished with all my cannin’, and September’s time fer cane grindin’, peanut boilin’, and jelly and preserve makin’.
The pear’s is jest now startin’ to get ripe enough for makin’ some preserves. I done sent Gran’pa out to the barn to bring in some of my mason jars. I reckon I’ll have to go into town to get some more lids and rings. Fer some reason, I never get back all my lids or rings. Oh well, I guess new ones will work better anyhow. I figure I aught to get at least four bushels off the trees out back. I’ll probly freeze a few fer the gran’young’uns. They like me to peel’em, add a little sugar, boil’em jest until the sugar melts and freeze’em. Then, when it’s done got good and cold outside, heat ‘em up a bit and eat’em over hoe cake. I got one gran’young’un that likes me to make cobbler. Gran’pa likes the cooked down preserves better. I always add a little spice to’em while they’re cookin’. They make a real treat with a hot buttermilk biscuit and a piece or two of fried fat back!
I know I’m gonna have my hands full when Gran’pa starts the cane grindin’. He always wants to sneak a little juice off to the side to make Happy Jack. That’s kinda like a homemade rum. It is some kinda powerful. I’ve seen that stuff make reg’lar men plum crazy! My daddy liked to take some juice in a old bottle down to the river with him. He’d set and fish while the juice got cold settin’ in the water. I never liked the juice myself. I wait fer the syrup!
It ain’t every body that knows how to make syrup. I’ve seen some that was real watery, and some almost as thick as molasses. I tasted some that wasn’t sweet at all, and some that was cooked too fast and tasted burnt. I’m perty picky when it comes to my syrup. After all, it’s gotta be good enough fer my hoe cake, my biscuits, and my griddle cakes. I also ain’t never had a piece of pork that didn’t taste better if’n you had a little syrup and bread to go with it!
I’ll be perty tied up this weekend, too. I got the gran’youg’uns comin’ to help me pick bullass grapes off the vines in the edge of the woods. I shore hope the birds ain’t got to’em first. Those wild grapes make some real perty jelly. I know them young’uns will probly eat as many as they pick, but at least the seeds aught slow’em down some!
After all this cannin’ and puttin’up is done with, I hope to throw a real ol’fashioned peanut boilin’ party. The kind we had when I was still a young’un. I’ll get out a couple of my cast iron washpots, set up some saw horse tables out by the barn, and invite the whole community. I’ll tell ever’body to bring somethin’ fer supper. That way, we can have supper first. The little young’uns won’t be so hungry and so apt to get into mischief. I also learned that the older young’uns won’t be so apt to complain when they got a full belly. There aught to be enough gitar pickers and fiddle players around to make us some music. It should turn out to be a right nice little get together.
People used to do things like that all the time. Ever’body knew ever’body else, and all had a good time. It gave the woman folks a chance to catch up on their gossipin’, men folks a chance to talk about farmin’ and hog prices, the little young’uns a chance to play, and sometimes, and the older young’uns a chance to sneak off and smooch a little bit! You’d prob’ly be surprised as to how many married folk got that way because of community get togethers!
I’ve heard so much about today’s get togethers that I’m glad I’m old now. About all I ever hear is about the fightin’, the drugs, and the other bad stuff. I know about the drinkin’ too. Shore, sometimes the men folks would sneak a little shine, or some young’un would bring a ceegar that he’d stole from his daddy, but we dealt with things a lot differnt. If’n a man got out of line ‘cause he’d been drinkin’, his wife or the other men folks would embarrass him so bad he’d be ashamed to show his face in town fer a month. If’n the young’uns smoked that ceegar, they’d all show up by the bonfire lookin’ a little green, and too sick to enjoy the rest of the evenin’. It really taught’em a lesson!
Well, I reckon I’d better get busy. Things don’t happen by themselves. Now that I think about it, that get together I been plannin’ sounds better and better. Maybe if more people had get togethers like this, we wouldn’t have so much trouble with our young’uns. It would at least give’em somewhere differnt to go, and somethin’ differnt to do beside hunt trouble. Think about it the next time ya’ll are plannin’ some kind of party!
‘Till next time,
Gran’ma Gertie
I hope this purty day finds ya’ll doin’ good. Me, I been about as busy as a sore tailed cat on a porchful of rockers. It’s that time of the year. I done finished with all my cannin’, and September’s time fer cane grindin’, peanut boilin’, and jelly and preserve makin’.
The pear’s is jest now startin’ to get ripe enough for makin’ some preserves. I done sent Gran’pa out to the barn to bring in some of my mason jars. I reckon I’ll have to go into town to get some more lids and rings. Fer some reason, I never get back all my lids or rings. Oh well, I guess new ones will work better anyhow. I figure I aught to get at least four bushels off the trees out back. I’ll probly freeze a few fer the gran’young’uns. They like me to peel’em, add a little sugar, boil’em jest until the sugar melts and freeze’em. Then, when it’s done got good and cold outside, heat ‘em up a bit and eat’em over hoe cake. I got one gran’young’un that likes me to make cobbler. Gran’pa likes the cooked down preserves better. I always add a little spice to’em while they’re cookin’. They make a real treat with a hot buttermilk biscuit and a piece or two of fried fat back!
I know I’m gonna have my hands full when Gran’pa starts the cane grindin’. He always wants to sneak a little juice off to the side to make Happy Jack. That’s kinda like a homemade rum. It is some kinda powerful. I’ve seen that stuff make reg’lar men plum crazy! My daddy liked to take some juice in a old bottle down to the river with him. He’d set and fish while the juice got cold settin’ in the water. I never liked the juice myself. I wait fer the syrup!
It ain’t every body that knows how to make syrup. I’ve seen some that was real watery, and some almost as thick as molasses. I tasted some that wasn’t sweet at all, and some that was cooked too fast and tasted burnt. I’m perty picky when it comes to my syrup. After all, it’s gotta be good enough fer my hoe cake, my biscuits, and my griddle cakes. I also ain’t never had a piece of pork that didn’t taste better if’n you had a little syrup and bread to go with it!
I’ll be perty tied up this weekend, too. I got the gran’youg’uns comin’ to help me pick bullass grapes off the vines in the edge of the woods. I shore hope the birds ain’t got to’em first. Those wild grapes make some real perty jelly. I know them young’uns will probly eat as many as they pick, but at least the seeds aught slow’em down some!
After all this cannin’ and puttin’up is done with, I hope to throw a real ol’fashioned peanut boilin’ party. The kind we had when I was still a young’un. I’ll get out a couple of my cast iron washpots, set up some saw horse tables out by the barn, and invite the whole community. I’ll tell ever’body to bring somethin’ fer supper. That way, we can have supper first. The little young’uns won’t be so hungry and so apt to get into mischief. I also learned that the older young’uns won’t be so apt to complain when they got a full belly. There aught to be enough gitar pickers and fiddle players around to make us some music. It should turn out to be a right nice little get together.
People used to do things like that all the time. Ever’body knew ever’body else, and all had a good time. It gave the woman folks a chance to catch up on their gossipin’, men folks a chance to talk about farmin’ and hog prices, the little young’uns a chance to play, and sometimes, and the older young’uns a chance to sneak off and smooch a little bit! You’d prob’ly be surprised as to how many married folk got that way because of community get togethers!
I’ve heard so much about today’s get togethers that I’m glad I’m old now. About all I ever hear is about the fightin’, the drugs, and the other bad stuff. I know about the drinkin’ too. Shore, sometimes the men folks would sneak a little shine, or some young’un would bring a ceegar that he’d stole from his daddy, but we dealt with things a lot differnt. If’n a man got out of line ‘cause he’d been drinkin’, his wife or the other men folks would embarrass him so bad he’d be ashamed to show his face in town fer a month. If’n the young’uns smoked that ceegar, they’d all show up by the bonfire lookin’ a little green, and too sick to enjoy the rest of the evenin’. It really taught’em a lesson!
Well, I reckon I’d better get busy. Things don’t happen by themselves. Now that I think about it, that get together I been plannin’ sounds better and better. Maybe if more people had get togethers like this, we wouldn’t have so much trouble with our young’uns. It would at least give’em somewhere differnt to go, and somethin’ differnt to do beside hunt trouble. Think about it the next time ya’ll are plannin’ some kind of party!
‘Till next time,
Gran’ma Gertie
posted by Dorothy Taylor @ 12:54 PM
+of+5-18-2009+006.jpg){kind=small}
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home