ROCKWALL, TX (April 11, 2014) Spring weather has hit and I’m lovin’ it. I’ve been cleaning up fallen limbs and straightening up the deck whileIreland, my first grader, plays with her dolls in the dirt. The pastures behind us awake with crows cawing while they mob an invading hawk—the sounds and sights of nature awaking from its brumal sleep remind me of a little old man and his garden.
To call it a garden is to give the impression that it was small – a couple of rows squeezed in a backyard. My grandfather, Nolan McKee, would have nothing of the sort. That oldMississippicotton farmer turned his huge back yard into a sprawling city farm. The front garden grew the spring and summer vegetables: carrots, peas, greens, melons, and his prize “maters” (tomatoes for the non-southern). Peach trees divided the second, which grew corn and potatoes.
In spring, the entire family gathered to hoe, weed, sow, and tell stories. We’d work ’til dusk and sit in the swings to listen to “Pappaw” and “Mammaw” recall the farm days – being the first to own a Model A Ford, the harsh winters, and simple Christmases. Those family gatherings occurred all summer and fall as everyone grabbed a bunch of black-eyed peas to shell or shucked corn or loaded tomatoes that Pappaw would “bootleg” out of the back of his ’54 Chevrolet pickup, swearing he’d put the neighborhood grocery “out of business.” My favorite time was after harvesting corn when Pappaw cut the stalks to dry and I engaged in cornstalk wars with my cousins.
This rambling sounds like the 1940’s in the country, but it was the 1970’s and 80’s in the city ofMemphis,Tennessee. A 7/11 sat across the street cattycornered from an auto shop and a grocery, but those times were very much a simpler, family-oriented day. We didn’t peer into cell phones for hours to occupy our time, we ran around with sticks and our imagination.
Springtime brought three things at my grandparents: family, outdoors, and conversation. Despite all our present technology and our entertainment-heavy schedules, I miss those days.
In his 80’s, Pappaw had a stroke that forced him on a walker. Before the stroke; however, he planted a row of “maters” that grew enough to need supports for the vines. I took off from work one day to help him. In 90-degree heat, Pappaw balanced on his walker, insisting on grabbing the wire baskets, instructing me on placement. A week later he died; it was my last memory of that little old man; a memory that occurred in that garden—the place he loved.
Spring is more than just warmth and new life; it’s about gathering and the outdoors. Now, I don’t have a garden, but my deck is clean and the grill is ready and it’s time to gather family and friends, and revisit simplicity like I had on those great spring days at Pappaw’s, some of the greatest memories of my life.
By Blue Ribbon News special contributor Scott Gill of Rockwall. a teacher, coach and author of Goliath Catfish. Follow his blog at scotttgill.tumblr.com.
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