Maeburl Tincher
The first thing that comes to mind when thinking of summer is green grass, blue skies, plenty of sunshine and daddy’s garden.
He used to say, “I grow vegetables and Ada grows blossoms – but vegetables taste better than blossoms."
While he farmed, mama was busy cooking, taking care of the family and raising beautiful flowers. She and the neighbors would even compete with one another, to see who could grow the biggest and the best blooms.
In front of the house, you could see beautiful roses, lilacs, snowballs and wild dogwoods. Hanging from the rafters and sitting on the banisters of the front porch were beautiful potted plants that made me think of the hanging gardens of Babylon spoken of in the Bible.
While visiting each other, the women would spy and sometimes help themselves to a cutting from a flower or bush they did not have. The old saying was, “if you stole a cutting it would grow better flowers.”
A particular favorite was the red or pink rambling rose that attached itself to trees, fences and trellis. Like me, it had a passion for traveling on.
The women also competed with embroidery and tatting. They would use the clothesline to show off their handiwork. Most items were sewn onto pillowcases made from flours sacks. One time, mama got carried away and embroidered the Statue of Liberty on a bed sheet for a top cover. It outdone them all!
When daddy stayed busy working for the NCDOT, my older siblings would step up and help with the farming. When he was around, I would stay as close to him as I could get. One day, he didn’t know I was next to him and he accidentally hit me on the ear with his hoe handle.
He would harvest 50 bushels of potatoes each fall and he had a method of keeping them stored in the field during winter. This was called “holing up potatoes.” He would dig a shallow hole and make large mounds, then cover them with dirt, straw and hay. He arranged them in a shape that reminded me of the pyramids of Egypt.
Daddy was serious about his farming and his sharing. It was a rare occasion if a visitor ever left our house without some of his fresh vegetables. In the winter he would share freshly-butchered meat with others in the community.
One time, mama and I cleared a creek bank across from the house to plant flowering bushes. Daddy thought we did such an excellent job clearing that bank, but he still insisted pole beans tasted better than rhododendrons.
Maeburl Tincher writes a monthly column for The Graham Star. She is a native of the Jack Branch community.