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The old
apple trees were overgrown but still bared the delicious
fruit as they always had; and the house that I recalled
spending so many warm summer days at stood regal flanked on
both sides with the beauty of the orchard. I was surprised
that the house was never sold and still belonged to a family
member. Maybe they just couldn??™t part with it.
Each
summer had been exciting as a teenager, because I could plan
to stay a week at the countryside where so much activity
took place. Driving on the long road that led back to the
old farmhouse I wished with everything, that I could go back
in time, and once again sit and chat with Aunt Edna as we
had done for so many years.
White
sheets kept the overstuffed chairs and sofas clean, a
Lavender scent permeated my nostrils as I walked in the
front door. I immediately pictured my aunt coming through
the dining room door to greet me.? But there was no one
here. The birds outside chirped a welcome, as I looked
around the older home. A musky scent mixed with Lavender
continued to follow me, and once inside the kitchen with
gingham curtains, Aunt Edna??™s apron could be seen hanging on
a peg against the wall.
I saw
the old colander hanging with the other utensils and I could
almost hear her say,
???Lands
sake we??™d best get to snapping these beans, and have a tall
drink of lemonade so we can keep chattering away.???? We??™d go
out the back door from the kitchen onto the screen porch
that was always so large and accommodating for every need
possible.
Aunt
Edna and Uncle Henry kept some rockers and a small wooden
table with straight chairs, and a red and white checkered
table cloth with an oil lamp; so we could eat our afternoon
or evening meal on the porch. There was an old hook rug that
made it cozy, and always a fresh coat of paint that made it
feel so clean. Sometimes Uncle Henry would bring his guitar
out and play a few cords and Aunt Edna and I would join in
singing ???By the Light of the Silvery Moon??? or something
else. I learned a lot of songs I might never have known if I
hadn??™t gone to my great aunt and uncles for summer visits.
The
rockers were still in place as I walked around the back
porch. The fragrant flowers that bloomed so beautifully
outside the screen filled my head, and I sat down. Some old
galvanized pans were stacked near the table and I remembered
all those Blue Lake green beans that we snapped
as we talked about the things that were happening
everywhere. We must have covered every family event,
historic moments and how Aunt Edna??™s own grandmother had
taught her to sew a perfect stitch. Often a neighbor or
another relative would stop by and they too would pick up a
pan and sit with us, and more talk and laughter would
continue as we snapped those beans! Uncle Henry had a large
garden, and he leased a portion of his land out to some of
the big farmers, as he had retired and was no longer working
the farm with the long hours he once had.
Aunt
Edna didn??™t do a lot of freezing, she canned most of the
produce out of their garden, and beans were no exception.
She liked them canned, and so we??™d get out the old Mason
jars and put up a number of beans, along with zucchini,
tomatoes, squash, pickles and chili sauce and applesauce,
apple butter and so many good recipes.? I was happy to plan
my two week summer stay with my great aunt and uncle, as it
was always special for a city gal in the country.
???Take
something as a memory of Edna and Henry??™s,??? the landowner
and distant relative told me when I picked up the key.
There??™s nobody left and they??™d want you to have something.
Years ago Aunt Edna had given me an old collection of china
slippers that she knew I eyed and loved so. Over the years
I??™d added to them, and now they were part of my d?©cor, kept
in an old china cabinet.?
I
lingered just a few minutes longer thinking back to the
sound of the voices and laughter from the old place that had
come to mean so much to me. We had made a special skirt on
the back porch, sewing the hem and gathering the waist band
one summer afternoon. There was a barn dance that we??™d been
invited to, and at 13 it was fairly exciting to have a new
skirt and be going to a fun activity in anticipation of
meeting others my age. I wasn??™t disappointed, as there were
a lot of kids and I became friends with several. I wondered
now whatever happened to them.
I
picked up the old galvanized pans that we??™d used to snap
those beans and walked back out into the orchard. I picked a
few apples and took them to the car with me. Nothing would
ever bring back the memories more than what I could embrace
in my own heart, about my summer visits with Aunt Edna and
Uncle Henry. But I could hang the pans on my porch and
someday share my memories with my own family.
I
walked back to the car seeing farmland as far as possible. I
heard the noon whistle blow and I could almost hear Aunt
Edna remark, ???We??™d best get the table set and ready, Henry
will soon be here for his dinner.??? And in the distance I
could hear Uncle Henry as he came in from his workshop in
the barn? singing ???It was from Aunt Dinah??™s quilting party I
was seeing Nellie home.??? I smiled, so thankful for the
summer memories with two special people.
?© June, 2005 Diane Dean White
Diane is a freelance writer and author. She has shared her
stories with a wide range of publications as well as
websites online. She is married to Stephen and they are the
parents of three grown children and three grand-gals. They
make their home on the Carolina Coast. Diane is the author
of
Beach Walks
and recently released
Carolina in the Morning,
a moving? Christian story set in present day near Charleston,
SC introducing adventure, history and romance into the lives
of some unsuspecting visitors. To? read more, please visit
Diane's website at
http://www.dianedeanwhite.com/ |
