To Kill a Mockingbird

This last weekend was a triumph for Monroeville, Alabama. It was the 50th anniversary of the book “To Kill a Mockingbird”. It may turn out to be the fiction bestseller of all time. Almost every student in America reads it at some time. It is a multilayered work telling the story of life in a small rural town with the good, the bad and the ugly with honesty and humor. Those of us who live in the area will find ourselves, our lives and our ancestors embedded somewhere in its pages. This book has probably done more for us in the South to examine our prejudices and lay them aside in honor of the plight of the whole human race than the author ever imagined as she pinned her narrative. It is a morality play told through the fresh eyes of a child.

We here in rural Southwest Alabama have learned to appreciate our lives and opportunities because of it, the people in Monroeville, Maycomb’s model, perhaps most of all. They never denied that these things could have happened here. They took the lemons of the situation that could have made they have fingers forever pointed at them and made lemonade. They have been doing it for years with the annual productions of the play about the book.

This weekend, they all banded together to welcome the world to celebrate the birthday. People literally came from all over the world to be part of this. There were four days of activities. The schedule included a variety of activities. All of them were successful. The biggest hit was the dinner party held at the Hybart House, a property owned by the Monroe County Heritage Museum. A dinner was prepared by a husband and wife chef team from the Little Savannah restaurant in Birmingham. The menu consisted of foods mentioned in the book. There were 275 people who showed up for supper. Some came without tickets, which were sold out, but like good southern hosts, they were allowed to come anyway. The vegetables were all locally grown and fresh. There was fried chicken, of course, because frying is a sacred ritual of the south. There was sweet tea, which has been called the table wine of the South. Nothing was served that could not have been found on the table in the 1930s.

There was something for everybody during the celebration. There were children’s games of the Mockingbird era every day on the Courthouse lawn. There were daily walking tours with local stories led by local volunteers. There was a continuous reading of The Book in the courtroom that Hollywood replicated for the movie. There was an art show at a local gallery across from the courthouse. There were barbeque lunches served every day on the courthouse lawn prepared by the locally famous Chrtty Street Barbeque. On Saturday night there was a premier of the documentary “Our Mockingbird” by producer Sandy Jaffe followed by a reception on the courthouse lawn billed as “under the stars”. At the evening events Tequila Mockingbird was served. It was invented especially for Monroeville and oculd be had in a commemorative glass for $10.

The best thing about the whole celebration was how excited and involved the whole community was about being host to the world. Lest you think I am exaggerating, check out the Monroe County Heritage Museum’s website to see the articles written and the broadcasts produced about the event. Two major networks spent three days in this small rural town. Major dailies did stories in advance that helped to promote the event. The people of the town volunteers in whatever capacity they were needed. They manned the museum, lead the tours, lent their art, sold the tickets and whatever else was needed. They were unfailingly polite and cooperative to visitors. The museum staff set the tone with their own style of hospitality and grace. They were never too busy to answer questions and greet guests. The Chamber of commerce supported them in every way. It is amazing how a small town can pull together to pull off an event of national prominence.

The locals were all around town to share their Mockingbird stories. One man in a store located right across the street from the site of Harper Lee’s childhood home shared a reference on the Boo Radley character’s prototype. He said such a person really did exist. The man really was kept in the house. He was spied on by local children just like the book described. He was often seen to beat a stick against the wall in a rhythmic pattern with his head pressed against the wall to listen to the vibrations. There were other stories, too that were shared – speculations as to why Harper Lee denied interviews. People are not defensive about the topic of the story that related to the rape of a white woman by a black man who was innocent but still convicted. Most recognize and verbalize that those were different times. Today, all the people of Monroeville work together to keep the message alive in its real location of the story that has been heard around the world.

Food Equals Love

I don’t think southern culture is the only one that equates food with love in the family sense.All cultures have their equivalent. I just think that here in rural Southwest Alabama we have distilled the tradition to a meaningful fine art.

Several things have happened recently, tht have brought this fact home to me in a personal way. The first was the gift of my Aunt Hazel. She was literally at death’s door 6 weeks ago. I mean literally. She quit breathing twice. She is on oxygen around the clock. She smoked her lungs away. She was so addicted to tobacco that she would slip and smoke after she was told it would kill her. She unhooked the oxygen and lit up a cigarette. She was in the hospital for weeks. I just had a birthday. She cooked me dinner for my birthday present. She knew I loved her cooking, so she prepared food for my special day. It was one of the greatest acts of love anybody has every given me. It was not just a simple meal. She had made stuffed peppers, fried eggplant and green tomatoes, her famous potato salad and a butterscotch pie for dessert. Each dish had several steps in its preparation. The fried eggplant and tomatoes had to be individually pan fried. I don’t know when I have enjoyed a meal more. There was love in every bite.

Another recent example was when a long lost relative we had never met came to town to put a marker in the family cemetery named for a relative who was the first person buried there. She knew who some of us were because we had emailed family genealogical information back and forth. The local family, who had never met this woman got together and fixed a special supper for her and her husband. When she remarked on how nice it was of the local branch of the family to do this, she was told “If you will come all the way from Texas to dedicate this marker, the least we can do is fix supper!”All the local relatives were invited. Several came, all bearing dishes. One friend of the hostess had a garden full of the fresh vegetables. She lived 18 miles away. She came on Saturday morning bringing fresh string beans, cucumbers, okra, squash, corn and new potatoes. Not only did she bring them, but she sat down and helped the hostess snap the beans. We are still eating leftovers, which is a really good thing. One of the out of town relatives came. She brought 6 people with her, who ended up being my houseguests. I was the fortunate recipient of the leftovers. We had barbeque, snapped beans, squash casserole, coleslaw ( 2 kinds – broccoli and regular), baked beans, lemon rice, sliced tomatoes, cucumbers and bell pepper rings. For dessert, there was chocolate pound cake and strawberry cake. There was sweet tea and cherry limeade to be had by all. This was another labor of love, which the guests apparently enjoyed. They didn’t leave until midnight.

The gift of the leftovers has served me well. I fed 6 guests for 4 days on them. The guests left yesterday, but the leftovers remain. I had another guest yesterday from Arizona. He was here researching his own roots. I live in what was his family home. I treat any of the Dunnings who come through as family. I had a family reunion for them here several years ago, so they know that the door is always open. I fed this man more leftovers for his dinner yesterday. He said he wasn’t hungry and didn’t want much to eat, but he made a liar out of himself. He didn’t eat many choices, but ate a lot of what he did eat.

Southern hospitality is what most people would call having all these people in to feed. Did I mention that some of the people who came with my sister, I had never met in my life? They came highly recommended by my sister and included 4 teenagers. Yes, you heard me right – 4 teenagers. I have observed one thing about teenagers, If you treat them like people, they will act all right. They giggled a bit and spend a lot of time on the computer, but they were pleasant and helped eat up the leftovers. Alll in all, there was a lot of love and a lot of food floating around these past few days. It’s a southern thing and we are celebrating our culture. Hurray for rural Southwest Alabama!

It Just Had to be Cornbread

Sometimes, if you are from the South, nothing will do but cornbread. We in rural Southwest Alabama are the quintessential southern eaters. All my childhood growing up, we had it every day for dinner. Dinner was in the middle of the day. We had fresh vegetables, maybe a meat dish unless the vegetables were at their height of freshness and flavor and needed to be the centerpiece of the meal, and always, sweet tea. No meal was complete without the cornbread. Vegetables without cornbread were just not done.

I was a picky eater as a child. My mother as all southern mamas, was a food pusher. You had to eat.  I was thin little thing as were my brother and sister. None of us are now as a result of Mama’s food pushing and our subsequent love of food that developed through her persistence. My downfall was peas and cornbread with lots of pot liquor. Until they became a summer diet staple, I didn’t really savor food. I liked it, but didn’t live to eat. It was the potlikker (in southern vernacular) that did it.

For those of you not versed in the preparation of peas and beans southern style, I will explain the process. A piece or two of bacon or Conecuh sausage if you are lucky enough to live where you can get it, is put into the pot where it gets brown and leaves drippings. Water is added to the drippings to create a broth. The peas or beans are then added along with a pinch of sugar to bring out the flavor. Be careful not to put in too much water to dilute the broth. Note: when I refer to peas, I am speaking of the southern kind, not the English kind. There are tons of varieties from pink eyed purple hulls to red ripper to my personal favorite, white crowder pea. Frozen peas are equally delicious to the fresh, though there is something mystical about locally grown fresh peas or beans. Butterbeans are either the homegrown kind picked young, which have a nutty sweet flavor or if you MUST serve frozen, use butter peas, the fat little kind. The peas should just be covered in liquid. Do Not salt the broth until the peas are just tender. If you do, they will be hard and take a lot longer to cook. When the peas are almost done, whole pods of okra can be laid on top until they are tender. At this point, our family removes the okra and serves it on the side. I used to wonder why when other people mushed the okra up in the peas. I found out later that my aunt Mary Jim would not eat okra, so my grandmother both flavored the peas and fooled her by serving it on the side. The pot liquor is a byproduct of the process.
The way I learned to love pot liquor was by crumbling cornbread on a plate, then dousing it with pot liquor and peas. It was delicious. It is even more enhanced by slices of fresh tomato. The corn bread and peas have a nice texture, with the liquor providing the savory compliment of moisture. My daddy swore I made humming sounds, a sort of uuuhhmmm when I ate it.

There is no way to duplicate the flavor of this mixed up dish without the cornbread, and cornbread for this dish needs to be made in a skillet. The crust is good for just out of hand eating, but it’s the dense, firm interior of the cornbread that is needed to uphold the pot liquor. There is a special small skillet in all traditional southern kitchens that exists to hold a pone of cornbread. It is just the right size for a family meal. It is always served warm cut in triangles. It is also good served with gravy of any kind, soups and chili. It is the thing that makes the dish substantial enough to be a meal. There is no substitute for it. When I think of food of my youth, I always see cornbread right there.

Historically, cornbread was what we had. It is truly an American thing, but after the Civil War when food was scarce, it was the main thing. When there was nothing else, there was cornbread. It became wired into southern genetic makeup to represent security – home, family, food. John T Edge has called us in the south “the Cornbread Nation”. He was so right.

In my childhood, we ate our big meal in the middle of the day. If there were leftovers, we might have them for supper, but frequently, supper was a lighter meal. I can remember my grandmother electing to have cornbread crumbled into buttermilk for her supper many a night. In the winter, she’d pull up in front of the gas heater and eat. I tasted it, but didn’t develop the taste for it that she had.  I wanted my cornbread warm doused in pot liquor and studded with peas. Either way, we agreed on one thing. Nothing would do, but cornbread!

Eiffel Tower – Been There Done That

I have seen the Eiffel Tower in every possible place but in real life. It is in books, movies, advertisements, television and its face is recognizable anywhere. It is part of every Paris tour. That is how I got there. I signed up for an excursion from London. We got up at 4:30 in the morning and took the Euro Star through the “chunnel”.

I loved Paris as a whole. I think I liked the city better than London. I know that is sacrilegious coming from a WASP from the Deep South. Most of my ancestry came from the British Isles, so when I say that Paris was prettier than London, I do so quietly. We did a bus tour before we got to the Eiffel Tower.  We had a young guide who was good at laughing at his own jokes, but little else. He put the bus full of us out and said “Go up the tower, get something to eat and be back in an hour and a half. Obviously, he like us, had not done this much.

I had heard all the tales about pickpockets who made their whole living at the Eiffel Tower. We had already encountered a horde of them at the Changing of the Guards at Buckingham Palace, so we were not quite as naïve as we would have been. People from rural Southwest Alabama are naturally trusting. We think because we like everybody, they are going to like us, too. Furthermore, if you like somebody, why would you bother their stuff? Nobody that I ever heard of in rural Southwest Alabama makes a living as a pickpocket. There are good reasons why. One is that if they got caught doing it, whoever they were hitting on wouldn’t wait for the police, they would beat the living hell out of the pickpocket on the spot. Plus, since everybody knows everybody else, they’d tell the whole town and that would be the end of the pickpocket career. Reason two is that very few people carry enough cash to make this form of thieving profitable. There are a few kleptomaniacs around scattered in the general population, but since everybody knows who they are, including their families, items taken are quietly returned, so nobody beats hell out of them.

The pickpockets at the Eiffel Tower are a whole different breed. In fact, they are several breeds. There are the run of the mill pickpockets who sell souvenirs out front. They work in groups so that one can distract you while the others surround you. The one nearest the pocket will strike so quickly your never know what hit you. The thing to do is stay with your own group if you are a tourist. The other pickpockets mingle with the crowd on the tower itself.

I had only one companion with me on the Paris trip. The others in our party had done Paris last year and spent the day shopping London. The two of us tried to follow the instructions about going up and finding something to eat after a look at the city. The entire day tourist population of Paris had the same idea. With our limited time and threat of being left behind, we decided to forgo lunch. It took 20 minutes to get in the bathroom which had a traffic director letting you in 3 at a time. WE couldn’t even find the way to the elevator, so we decided to walk down. Walking down the Eiffel Tower is a bad move. Remind yourself never to do it, given any other option other than jumping. It didn’t seem too bad at first, until we got surrounded by a group of 4 girls going very slow. Apparently, they, too were in the pickpocket business. When it dawned on me, I said to my companion. “Go around them. Start walking fast and don’t ask any questions.” We took off at a gallop. Put that on your list of things not to do at the Eiffel Tower. The girls sped up, too and a couple passed us. WE saw them coming back up shortly. They passed us and went to look for new tourists. Who goes back up the Eiffel Tower, for goodness sake, except someone up to no good? Going down is hard enough. I was making pretty good time, so I hazarded a look toward the ground. It scared me good. It made me realize how far I still had to go as well as how far up I still was. We made it down in time to load the bus. I didn’t realize the full impact of the walk down until the next day. My legs have never been so sore. For three days, I felt every bend and step I made in a bunch of places I didn’t even know existed.

Luckily, our next stop was on a barge to travel down the Seine. We got to sit the whole time on it. I think the barge ride was my favorite part of the day. I don’t know whether it was for the scenery or for the chair I sat in.

We still hadn’t had lunch and it was 4pm Paris time. We got to the Louvre and went to find something to eat. It took practically the whole time allotted to eat at Marley’s, their most famous café. We got to sit down there, too. I saw very little of the museum itself. I really felt like I missed a great experience. I intend to go back there and back to the Victoria and Albert Museum in London before I die. I really felt like that death could be imminent for the few days after walking down the Eiffel Tower. Been there. Done that –mark it off my list of things to do!

TIPSY TEA AT THE WINTER COURT

My dream has always been to go to High Tea at some good place in England. I have always loved British novel and tea. I wanted to go to an authentic place and have it. When I knewI was going to Britain that was the first thing I put on my to do list. Just as some of my friends wanted to go up in the Eye and I went along to be a good sport, so did they accompany me to my dream scenario. We couldn’t get in the Ritz on short notice, so we went to the Winter Garden at the Landmark Hotel. It is new by British standards, late nineteenth century. It was all we hoped for. It was a courtyard under glass that looked just like an upscale mall in Virginia that seems to be copied from it. It was light airy and had huge potted palms like the conservatories in many of the novels I read. In the mall in Virginia, they had potted palms, but they were made of copper.

There were seven of us. I had the regular tea menu, but some of the group had a chocolate tea, which I would choose next time because everything about it, but the sandwiches was chocolate. Thank goodness, the friends who did the chocolate tea were generous in sharing, so we got to try it all. The high tea was accompanied by champagne. I do not generally like champagne, but with the tea goodies, it was delightful. Waiters in tuxedos hovered over, refilling glasses and teapots regularly. We got slightly tipsy. We are proper ladies, so it was as much a surprise to us as anybody. We had a delightful giggly time.

I  often go to tea at the Windsor Court Hotel  when I am in New Orleans, so the whole ceremonial effect was  to new to me. The menu was the same. We started out with tea sandwiches = chicken salad, cucumber. egg salad,and salmon. That must be traditional because they were the same on both continents – only the English sandwiches had no mayonnaise or cream cheese on the bread. I found this to be true of all british sandwiches – rather dry. Next came the scones in the US, whereas in England, they were served last. They came with clotted cream. In the US, we had lemon curd as well as the clotted cream and raspberry jam. The sweets were a lovely assortment. Which we enjoyed, but I envied the chocolate tea. I had Earl Grey tea, which is my favorite. We tried several different pots among us. Some of my friends had herbal tea with no caffeine. I always feel like what’s the point if you don’t get your caffeine jolt, especially if you’ve walked a hundred miles around the city. They piano music was softly tinkling in the background. It was all quite elegant. We giggled and sipped our way through a delightful afternoon. Some of the group was not were not too keen on going to tea, but once they got there, they were glad they came. I don’t know whether it was the atmosphere, the whole experience or just the champagne, but the Tipsy tea is a must do if you ever get to Britain.

Souvenirs of England and Paris

I left home knowing I was not going to buy much. I knew that the pound and the euro were worth a lot more than the dollar at the moment, even after the Greeks pulled their money stunts, I knew that food was not included in the cost of the tour and that most of my resources would go toward that end. I also had gotten a good deal on a triple strand of small pearls on ebay exactly three days before departure. I’m glad I got those pearls. All jewelry was very expensive in Europe. I got my mother a fake rhinestone flower basket pin at Windsor Castle and it cost me $50.

I did my limited souvenir in the gift shops of the historic sites and at the National Trust stores which benefit the historic sites. Their shops are stocked with things picked out by cultured little old ladies with taste. Also, they must be impoverished gentlewomen because the prices are reasonable. Notice, I didn’t say cheap. My souvenirs need to have a sense of place to be meaningful. Also, these days, one suitcase is all you get unless you pay dearly. I did take a fairly large shopping bag from an American shopping mecca that is trying to get us to use recyclables. I put my purse in it on the return trip to make it my personal carryon item. Still, the things I bought were small. I bought music twice - a choral and organ CDs at St Paul’s Cathedral (where Charles and Di got married) and a set of  3 CDs of symphonic music by famous classical orchestras called “A Walk in the Countryside”. I have been playing the music constantly since I got home. The music gives me a great sense of the places I have been. I bought a heavy plaid wool throw (they call it a lap rug). I was a little worried about its weight, but I didn’t go over my 50 lb limit with it. It was cold enough when I got home with what our nanny used to call “the Easter snap” that I sat under it all day Sunday when I got back listening to my imported music. I always tend to buy music, books, and something to eat.

I love food. I tell everybody that food is one of my religions and I worship at every shrine I pass. What you can bring in to eat as limited. I .of course, got tea. England is famous for its tea drinking. I did a good bit of tea drinking there. Earl Grey is my favorite for everyday drinking, but I love fruit flavored teas. I looked all over to find some. There was this sleazy little shop across the  hotel that had some. I didn’t like dealing with them because they cheated one of our party out of her change the first night. They were from a county that doesn’t much like tourists, especially women. Once they did that to her, I didn’t like giving them business. When she objected, they returned the right change, but it’s buyer beware. I searched all over for my tea. I didn’t want English Breakfast or Afternoon Tea. I finally found some flamboyant fruit varieties at Harrod’s. I think of the Food Halls at Harrod’s as a branch of heaven. I had read about them years ago in Gourmet Magazine. I had put a trip there on the top of my wish list. It didn’t disappoint. I went into the take away bakery and go some interesting things. I got a cheese and onion bread that was filled with browned onion slices and topped in the cuts with real sliced parmesan cheese. I can make that at home as I can the other pastries I tried. In fact, my favorite souvenir of all was the tastes I brought home to try. There was a cream cheese filled pastry that was flavored with lemon juice. The lemon made it probably the best cream cheese pastry I ever had. I’m going to make my special cream cheese braids for Easter and this time use lemon juice instead of vanilla. The best thing I got there was given to me by a friend who bought and didn’t want to keep up with it. It was a kind of pizza like bread that had fresh tomatoes and pesto baked on top. When you bit into itr, it was loaded with stuffed olives. I am an adventuresome cook who rarely uses recipes. I can taste something and tell what is basically in it. I knew I could make this. I came in today and did it. I whipped the pizza dough up in my food processor. I pulled it out thin and put the olives on. I used sliced olives because that is what I had. I have some very good pesto in a refrigerated jar from Sam’s. I bought some roma tomatoes at the grocery store because they are the only kind fit to eat this time of year. The English love their tomatoes. They even broil them for breakfast. We had a full English breakfast buffet at the hotel where we stayed that included the broiled tomatoes. It also included pork and beans. Of course, I tried them and decided beans on toast was a taste I had yet to acquire.

I guess my favorite souvenirs are the food memories I bring back and try to recreate in my own kitchen. The pizza bread is rising on the counter as I write. Some friends are coming over this afternoon to hear about the trip. I’m going to try it out on them, so they can tangibly share my souvenirs. I couldn’t fit them presents in my suitcase, but they’ll having something I made just for them that I’d never have known about without the trip!

I have a confession to make. Alongside the pizza bread rising, I have a pot of butterbeans and okra seasoned with Conecuh sausage cooking. I was hungry for some home cooked food that tasted like rural Southwest Alabama.

Auditioning Shoes for England

As you read this, I will be touring Merry Old England! I have always liked why my college history professor said about England. He always referred to it as “The Mother Country”. One of the students asked another “What part of England is Dr. Smith from?”. The other answered wryly “Mobile”, which of course, is in our own rural Southwest Alabama. Along with Dr. Smith, I have always been something of an Anglophile. I love all things British. Team, hot, not the sweet tea that has been called the table wine of the South. Okay, I admit it, I make the tea hot in the morning to drink at the start of the day, but in the afternoon, I pour the leftover tea into a big glass of crushed ice. I don’t sweeten it, though. Really sweet tea sets my teeth on edge! I’m really looking forward to drinking tea with the locals over there.

I have made up my mind not to buy many souvenirs. The pound is made up of two dollars, which means everything costs twice as much. I learned a shopping lesson in Italy, a few years back. I debated hard about whether to buy this beautiful pottery pasta bowl. I was afraid I would break in on the way home. I didn’t buy it. I came back to the US and found a very similar one by the Italian pottery maker at a local discount chain. It was less than half the price of what it would have been in Italy. I plan to try to buy some tea that I can’t get at home. I may treat myself to a scarf or something easy to bring back. I have learned that if your bag (we are only allowed one) weighs one pound over 50lbs, we’ll have to pay $150. That will cut down on your buying quick! My everyday china is by Portmeirion, an English company. I can get all I want of it at the same discount store I bought the Italian bowl at. I’ll let you know how well I stuck to plan when I get back,

As I write this, I should be packing. My clothes are lying next to the suitcase for editing. I know that I am limited on what I can put in my 1 suitcase. I will debate with myself the rest of the night about what to take. Everybody tells me it will be damp and chilly, so I am planning accordingly. I am going to layer my clothes. The one thing that I know for sure about my wardrobe is that I will be taking two pair of the most comfortable shoes I own. I have been auditioning shoes for months to find the best candidates. Believe me, it was not a beauty contest. Neither pair is very pretty, but they make my feet feel well cared for. I promised my feet long ago, that I’d never do anything to hurt them again! If my feet are warm, I’m warm all over. If my feet are not hurting, I can walk many miles. My goal is to see everything I can in the short eight days allotted to the trip. I am going with friends that I have traveled with before, so I know we’ll be a congenial group. The only place I anticipate any trouble is try to drag my dear friend into an Indian restaurant. My daughter has traveled to England a number of times and says that the best food is the Indian food. There are a lot Indian restaurants because of its being an English colony for so long. Nobody has anything nice to say about English food except the pub food. I love to eat. I am like an army, I travel on my stomach.

The one thing I must do while I am there is to have a high tea somewhere. I love to go the Windsor Court, the English hotel in New Orleans for tea. I feel so elegant eating the frilly food served on those pretty little stands while harp music is being played in the background. Another thing on my MUST SEE list is the food hall at Harrods, which I understand cover several floors. There is bound to be something special amongst all those. Anther on the list is the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London.
We’ll also be making excursion to Stonehenge, Bath, Salisbury, Windsor and a very long day trip to Paris via the Chunnel (the tunnel that runs under the English Channel). We leave at 4:30 am for that, but some things are worth it.

I can’t begin to predict how things will go, but I can predict one thing – I’ll be wearing comfortable shoes. The two pair that made the cut will assure me of that!

I love living in rural Southwest Alabama. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see the world. I must admit, though, it is hard to leave now that the cold has gone away  and I can sit on the porch. A neighbor and I enjoyed wine on the porch last night. I’ll have the rest of my life to do that, Going on this trip will give me some new stories to tell on the porch.

Weather Looking Up!

It’s grey, cloudy and warm! I love it! I’m back on the porch which is where I belong, not huddled by the fireside. As one of my friends said yesterday “If I had wanted to be this cold, I’d have moved to Vermont. This has been a weird, cold, not all together pleasant winter. The best thing I can say about it is that I’ve learned to build a mean fire! I have used almost two racks of wood in the process. That isn’t normal for rural Southwest Alabama! I live in a big old house that was designed for cool summer living. I do have insulation and storm windows, but there are still drafts I have to plug up. My heating bill hit the stratosphere this winter, as did everybody's that I have talked to. We got through it. Like Forrest Gump. That’s all I’ll say about that.

This week I’ve been able to get back on the porch. My wind chimes are kicking up a mighty tune because it is windy... but, hey, what else do we expect in March. I’ve had two meetings on the porch already this week. We’ve gone through a whole German stolen and a package of cookies – both procured from that local storehouse of the incredible – Dirt Cheap. You just never know what you might find there. I found a shipment of foreign baked goods. They had all kinds of holiday treats. They have upgraded my porch entertaining to a whole new level.

I don’t mind the cloudy weather a bit. I don’t even mind the stormy deluge I drove home from Montgomery in last night because I WASN”T COLD!! I hate it when I can’t enjoy the yard. I love the daffodils that are raising their frilly heads now. I love the camellias that brighten the landscape this time of year. I watch for the first roses to go on sale. I don’t like those prima donna tea roses that have to be petted. I like the heritage ki9nd that the settlers brought here from the colonies with the clippings stuck in a potato to keep them moist. There’s a historical fact for you. I often wonder about how the earlier generations did things. I just love to think of them riding in a wagon holding potatoes with rose cuttings. I have planted my first roses at the end of last month. I went to a lecture at the Rural Heritage Center on roses and the speaker told us that November was not too early to plant roses and that February was not too late. So why do they just go on sale now? I put them out anyway. My roses live, but in the past season droughts, they have not thrived. I did better last year because I bought some organic rabbit fertilizer locally from John Hall who raises rabbits. It is fine fertilizer and roses really love it. I’m going to buy more this year.

This time of the year, I love to walk around my yard and see which buds are swellings. When you see a lot of buds on the shrubs, it generally means that spring is just around the corner. I really love living in Rural Southwest Alabama where the growing season is so long. We enjoy flowers months longer than most parts of the country. My goal is to have something blooming at every season of the year. I’m getting there! All my life, I have been a flower picker. I just couldn’t resist picking flowers and making bouquets. It’s my way of celebrating life. If I’m at home, I’m going to have a bouquet in the living room. Right now the bouquet is daffodils and “Koss ME at the Gate” as my grandmothers called it. I think the pass-along plant name is winter honeysuckle. It smells loudly like the finest French floral fragrance.

I just hope that his is not a false alarm. I hope spring really is just around the corner. I think it must because the red maples are blooming along the roadsides. After them come redbuds, then dogwoods and finally the beautiful purple clusters of wisteria. It is beautiful alone the roadsides, but is scourge of my yard! I spend more time that I’d like to getting rid of it. I have an erstwhile gardener who works hard for me when he needs a few dollars. He spends a good deal of his time in jail (for not paying child support) or drinking. He is a very hard worker, He is not reliable about coming at specified times, so when he shows up, I let him work a few hours. He usually shows up on the weekends when he is short of cash at around 3 pm and works until dark. I take him when I can get him because plants seem to love him. I think he must have a good heart underneath all that liquor smell. If I let him borrow money, he will disappear for a few months until he thinks I’ve forgotten. I never let him borrow over a few dollars, so I don’t worry much about it. I take the gardening help where I can get it. I have a good friend who has turned her husband into a gardening helper. We jokingly call him “Leroy the yard boy”

I never dreamed I’d feel the pull to getting my hands in the dirt that I do this time of year. It’s like something is missing from my life if I ‘m not planting. Pulling weeds doesn’t evoke the same longing, but I’ll do that, too just to get my hands in the dirt. Welcome Sweet Spring Time to rural Southwest Alabama!

Snow in Southwest Alabama

Wow! It is snowing hard outside in rural Southwest Alabama. I can’t believe it. We will on occasion have a day of snow. This may last a whole weekend. The whole world stops for snow when it happens here. I know the people further north laugh at our behavior. They don’t know us Southerners. They are descended from the pilgrims. We come from the cavaliers and scoundrels with some younger sons thrown in for flavor. We will celebrate anything.

Isn’t Mardi Gras coming from a cowbell and rake (the Cowbell de Rakin Society) proof of that? It started Mardi Gras in Mobile just south of us, They are celebrating their own snow right now.  We do our snow celebrations in predictable ways. Those with children go out in snow with them, making snow men and having snowball fights, then coming in and making snow ice cream. The mature citizens have their own way of celebrating. I can speak for them because some people would put me in their ranks, though not to my face. We settle into the house with a good book, good music and movies we have recorded meaning to watch for months. We cook something hearty and warming, sharing with neighbors because we always cook too much. How can you cook a little stew or small pot of dry beans to eat with a small pone of cornbread? We treasure the chance to escape from as normally busy life and vegetate with the blessings of God who sent the snow and society which is taking its own vacation from normality.

My brother and grandson are the family weather men and disaster preparedness designees, We don’t have to sort through the weather bulletins. They do it for us. According to my brother, There is another snowstorm (for us that means a steady snow, not a call for St. Bernard dogs), right behind this one. That means the snow won’t be gone today. We will have snow the whole weekend. Since Monday is President’s Day, we’ll have a long weekend to extend our snow adventure. According to the family sources, the snow is going to be wet and heavy, which could cause some of us to loose electricity. I started to say power, but we are in control of the ourselves, which is our power. I’m using my power to charge my cell phone, halogen lanterns I keep for hurricane time and am cooking up way to much food in case a starving stranger comes to the door during the storm ( I have watched way too many old movies already, apparently!).

I visited with my 91 year old friend, Kathryn Tucker Windham last night. She gave me a book from her southern literature collection to ready while I am reveling in my solitude. It is called “The Last of the Whitfields”. It came out about the same time as “To Kill a Mockingbird” and was eclipsed by it, She recommends it highly, so I ‘m going to start it shortly. I hear the news on Public radio in the background. It says there has not been snow accumulation on the coastal plain like this  for 20 years.
I will enjoy the solitude for a day or two, but I can predict what we descendants of those cavaliers and scoundrels will do next. When we’ve had enough of the solitude, we’ll get together and throw parties to use up all the abundance of food we couldn’t help but cook. We are natural born cooks and natural born socializers. Where two or more are gathered, there will be a party. Remember who invented Mardi Gras! (photos courtesy of Billy Milstead, our resident GPS guru and motorcycle enthusiast.)

Another View of the Same Place: Haines Island in Monroe County

I just finished reading Don and Judy’s Off the Porch blog. As always, I really enjoyed it. I love the Haines Island Park they wrote about. I enjoy it, too, but from a different perspective. If I were going there, I’d enjoy it just as much, but for different reasons. Don and Judy are outdoor people. They will get up before the crack of dawn to catch sight of special birds. I prefer to wake up at home later and ease into my day with a good cup or tea or a Coke Zero with crushed ice, depending on the season and whether I’m by the fireside, in the sunroom upstairs, or on the porch. I like to get up early enough not to have to rush out for appointments, but late enough that the sun is already up. I like to think philosophical thoughts and read something inspirational. I might also check my email at the time they are out sloshing around the sloughs communing with nature.

I ran into Don and Judy at Lakepoint Lodge recently. Neither of us had a clue the other would be there. They were there for a big birding event and I was there for historic preservation. We were both having fun, but doing different things. They were looking for birds and I was looking for historic culture. If we were both at Haines Island, we’d have different agendas. I would be sitting on a blanket with a good book, a notebook, and a chicken box from Joe McKissick’s store. It is only store on the way. He is way out in the country, but people from Monroeville drive out to get his fried chicken. It is worth the trip. I’d have a cooler of soft drinks and tea with lots of ice. I would have packed a whole series of snack. I’m always all about food not matter where I go. I’d probably invite a friend to go, too, but not one that was very chatty. When I go out in nature, I like to be quiet and ponder things. I would only take a friend that like to read as much as I did. We might go into Monroeville and get a new book from the Beehive bookstore. Chrissy, the owner always has something good to recommend. I ‘d probably also bring along the magazines that I hadn’t had time to read earlier. I’d have a big blanket or bedspread to sit on. It used to be a quilt, but now that we’ve learned what valuable folk art they are, I wouldn’t dare take one.

I am sure I will be going that way this spring. The road to Haines Island is called “the Mountain by the locals. It is very high and one of the only places in rural Southwest Alabama where mountain laurel grow by the side of the road. That is a rare treat in this part of the world.

Another thing I would do at Haines Island is to take the ferry across to Packer’s Bend and right back. It is an old ferry that is powered by a gasoline engine. It’s a fun little excursion. I wouldn’t set up my contemplation site very close to the ferry, though, because the engine is loud. This is the original Gees Bend ferry that was moved in the 1960s/ There are pictures of it in operation  in the early 1900s at the Camden Ferry Terminal and Welcome Center.

Local Folklorist, Buster Singleton and others have written about the ghosts at Haines Island. There is supposed to be a group of Indians there as well as “Crazy Nancy Haines”. I have been on ghost finding expedition with the Central Alabama Paranormal Investigators there one cold fall night. The stars were magnificent that night and we actually registered some paranormal activity on the ghost meter. We also got a picture of 3 balls of light where we found the activity. Buster Singleton, according to his book, said that he saw the Indians in the daylight. I’m willing to chance it. Haines Island is too pretty to miss.

Playing Pioneer in the Cold

It’s been a long time since it has been this cold in rural Southwest Alabama. It has been over 20 years since that Christmas Day when it went from 78 on Christmas Eve to 5 degrees in the morning. For over a week, it’s been really cold here. We have had overnight temperatures as low as 11 degrees. That is not where we are playing pioneer. It is because our little town has been without water for a week. The official word is that there are multiple reasons. The native are getting restless, also for multiple reasons: they can’t bath, flush toilets or send the children to school. There are a few who still have water, but they are not making a big deal of it – jealousy is a bad thing when it is from those you normally know and love. For those still with water, they have been officially informed to not drink the water unless they boil it for one minute first.

Many of us are not good sports about it. I went to the library to return some books. I figured more people are reading by the fireside these days and might need the books. A normally friendly librarian was downright surly. She said she didn’t have any water.

Last night I got thirst during the night and went scouting around for something to drink. I thought my bottle of vitamin water would be perfect, but I could get the top off. I drank some bottled green tea, which may be why I was awake for hours.

I had a group of church ladies over last week for soup. I didn’t have any water, which is a key ingredient in soup. I had already soaked the beans for 15 bean soup, so I just added 2 cans of chicken broth and a can of tomato sauce. It was the best I ever made. I understand now why all the famous chefs use stock in their soups because it does taste delicious. I didn’t have either the time or the inclination to simmer meat and vegetables for hours to make the soup, but on another less harried occasion, with 2 days to spare, I might. The other soup I made was potato. I used a milk based white sauce (béchamel, to those who know the difference) and thinned it with the same chicken broth. Yep, I had a cupboard full because I was visiting relatives around Christmas and didn’t use up my supply. It, too, turned out well. Soup is the perfect cold weather food and great for entertaining because it stretches easily. Just add another can of chicken broth!

We all have bathtubs full of water if we are lucky. We don’t bathe in it, just use it for flushing. Indoor plumbing is a wonderful thing. I can’t imagine having to get up and run down the path to the outhouse when nature called. I certainly would have put a slop jar in the bedroom if it came to that. Here in rural Southwest Alabama, many of our parents and all of our grandparents had the experience of using outhouses at some point in their lives. It certainly made them closer to nature. Today, many of us can empathize with the ancestors – the real pioneers. When we see a movie about the past, we see the candles and kerosene lamps, but never do we see the toilet facilities. The movies would not seem nearly so romantic with visible facilities.

What we are getting right now is a big dose of what it was like for our ancestors to survive. We do have certain advantages, though. We have paper plates to eat off of and throw away. We forget all about living ecologically green when we are in desperate times. None of us are desperate enough to go out in 20 degree weather and wash dishes in a pot of water and scrub them with sand and corncobs. We have bottles of water to guzzle after we exercise to stay fit. All our ancestors had to do was go about their daily lives to get their exercise. We have a better appreciation of how good we have it when we don’t have it for a few minutes.

I will have to close by saying that I don’t intend to move because of these brief hard times. For at least 6 months of the year, I can sit on my porch and be at peace with the world. Life is good in rural Southwest Alabama. It’s even better with soup made with stock (canned chicken broth is quite fine)!

WINTER IN RURAL SOUTHWEST ALABAMA

Well, at long last –winter has arrived. It is as cold here today as it is in Vermont. After sitting on the porch in December and reading my Christmas cards. Today, I am stoking the fireplace and sitting by the heater. There is just one catch – I am having a family party tonight and the pipes are frozen. There is no water. Thank goodness that I did my washing yesterday. I think clean underwear is important when you are giving a party. I did some other chores yesterday that will make me be able to go ahead with the party as planned. I soaked the beans for my 15 bean soup. In fact, I found out about the water being frozen when I started to put more water on the beans to cook. Fortunately, I am well provisioned in my pantry. I found 2 cans of chicken broth and one of tomato sauce that I used instead. It may be the best bean soup I ever made!

My menu is a choice of 15 Bean Soup with Conecuh Sausage or Potato Soup with Ham served with cornbread as the main course. Appetizers are Mexican Cheese Dip with Hamburger served with corn chips plus the wonderful okra chips from Fresh Market and Homemade Party Mix on the side. Dessert is a Chocolate Fondue with pound cake, flavored marshmallows and leftover Christmas cookies. Everything is hot and heavy. It will be in the teens tonight. We will drink wine and hot Fruit Punch. I’m calling this the Last Christmas Party. I wanted to do the party on Jan 6 because that is the last day of Christmas, but Wednesday night is church night in the rural south, so I made it one day sooner.

I spent the whole Christmas Holiday traveling, so I didn’t have a Christmas Party. I wanted to have a few people in before I HAD to take down my tree. My house has lots of red and green all year, but at Christmas, I add lots of velvet and sparkle. I wanted to give Christmas one last whirl. Tonight is it. I don’t care if I don’t have water. I just won’t tell anybody until they get here. It is really an adventure to plan a party without running water. We in rural Southwest Alabama have a pioneer spirit. Many of our parents didn’t get electricity until they were grown. My granddaddy had a battery powered radio to listen to the Grand Ole Oprey on, so all the neighbors came to his house on Saturday night to listen. He entertained without amenities and so can I.

I do know how to build a glorious fire in the fireplace. I learned by trial and error, with an often smoked up living room until I got the hang of it. Now I can build a blazing fire almost every time. The only catch to a roaring fire in the fireplace is that mine is in a wood burning heater in the living room. My house has 4 fireplaces, but when the second story was added to the house, the chimneys were knocked down to make way for progress. After I moved in, a hearth and wood heater were added. The reason that it was a heater and not a fireplace was because my roof is so steep, that the only place we could put a functional chimney was between the two front living room windows. It was narrow and would accommodate only a wood heater. Fortunately, we found one with a wide opening so we can see and enjoy the fire. Often in old houses, the placement of things seems funny. Usually there is a functional reason why. Just like the case of the party with no water, we just make do with what we have, take it in stride and move on. Happy New Year!