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Sunday, April 28, 2013
Cajun Corner - Vol. 5, No. 16
Cajun Corner – Vol.
5, No. 16 – April 28, 2013
Jour!Welcome to Cajun
Stitchery’s weekly email and welcome to our family.
Boxes, boxes, and more boxes of Mama’s kitchen
stuff.It turned out that the
thermometer posted last week is a commercial refrigeration thermometer.Why would Mama have that?Well, there are many do dads that we have
discovered.George says there are enough
eating utensils to feed our entire neighborhood and then some.Bless his heart, he has unpacked more boxes
and washed more dishes this week than you can imagine.We do, however, think we have finished with
the kitchen boxes.Although there are
some things that I remember that are not there.
We were able to give Mama’s microwave to a young,
struggling couple.The girl said she had
been without a microwave for several months.That would be terrible.It’s the
only thing in the kitchen that I feel I have a handle on operating.How can a young couple live without a
microwave?Nevertheless, the young lady
was so grateful and we were happy to give the microwave to her.
The garden is looking pretty nice right now.George spent time today planting seeds.We have more flowers than usual around the
garden area this year. We have
nasturtiums, Johnny Jump Ups, pansies, mums, daisies, roses, and snapdragons.Our blueberry bushes have more blueberries on
them than I’ve seen before.The
Satsumas and lemon trees had flowers but there is only one tiny lemon on them
now. Our tomato plant from last year is
still producing tomatoes.So are our
bell pepper plants.We have carrots,
sweet peas, horseradish, and lots of herbs.
This week I’ve been picking blackberries around
the yard.I have to get them before the
birds and squirrels do.Blackberries are
very special to me.Aside from the fact
that I love blackberries and do know how to make a cobbler, they always bring
back memories of my childhood in Georgia.
Each summer Mama would take Nancy and me to spend
the summer with my Grandmother Poor in Woodstock,
Georgia.At the time Woodstock was a very tiny town.We would drive in from Marietta.The 2 lane highway would turn into Main Street in Woodstock.We would turn left onto Elm
chicken hatchery was on the corner.There
was a sign at the city limits of Woodstock that
Home of the World’s Largest Chicken Hatchery.”Grandmother Poor lived at the end of Elm Street which wasn’t even a mile
long.As we drove down the little paved
street, we would encounter the big elm tree in the middle of the road and veer
around it to Grandmother Poor’s house.Across from the elm the landscape slanted into a small green valley with
a creek running the length of it; then it turned up on the other side to Mills Street.Directly across the front of Grandmother
Poor’s home the valley was full of blackberry bushes. There are absolutely no
bad memories of that house.As we drove
in front of her house the street curved to the left.On the right was her flower garden.At the flower garden there was a fork in the
road.We would go straight and park on
the gravel parking area.If we went
right at the fork, it would take us just beyond the flower garden to the huge
coal pile that was storage for the coal company.The drive down Elm Street was always full of
excitement.Nancy and I could hardly contain
ourselves to see our grandmother and begin the summer’s adventures.
Each year Grandmother Poor would give us each a
bucket and send us into the blackberry bushes.The bushes were much taller than we were.There were rows and rows of blackberry bushes
and just wide enough on each row for one child.More than one child and someone got pricked by the sharp stickers on the
bushes.We would spend most of the day
in the blackberry bushes picking and eating blackberries.By the time we would finally go back to the
house, we were scraped from head to toe by the bushes and covered in blackberry
juice.We always made a point of filling
our buckets with blackberries because Grandmother Poor would make cobbler.Grandmother Poor’s blackberry cobbler was out
of this world delicious, but when you are a little girl and know that you
picked those berries, well, yum yum the cobbler was very special.
There are numerous Woodstock stories.We were related to almost everyone in
town.We were also a novelty.The closest Catholic Church to Woodstock was in Marietta.Each summer the little Catholic girls had to
go to SummerBibleSchool.We were allowed to choose which church’s SummerBibleSchool we wanted to
attend.My grandmother was
Methodist.My father and grandfather had
been Baptist.My great grandmother had
been Presbyterian.All of the churches
wanted us.Nancy and I would visit each
church and inquire about the treats being served.The Baptist church always won us over with
chocolate.Those Baptist people sure
knew how to cook.
Have a wonderful week.
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