The Month of May

(pictures of me taken in front of my aunt's house ~ I guess even then I liked being outside)

I always looked forward to the month of May when I was growing up.  The days that seemed to go on forever, as if time had stood still.  Running barefoot in the grass, making mud pies, sleeping with the windows open and hearing the bull frogs at night and staying out late in the evening until I could see the fire flies.  Either my aunt or my grandmother would come looking for me.  I was an explorer, still am, and wanted to see all there was to see on my aunt and uncle's place.  Growing up in the country was just such a wonderful experience, you can read some of my previous posts I've done on them here and here.  There were the grasshoppers you could catch and put in a jar or a frog or two.  Of the course if you saw a snake, my aunt would say, "you better run!"  I was always on the lookout for snakes because I was so scared of them.  I didn't have a care in the world. 

Getting back to why I loved the month of May so, I couldn't wait for this month to get here.  It meant that school was nearing the end and summer would start, usually right around my birthday and then there was Memorial Day.  Yes, this usually marked the beginning of heaven for me.  I'd have my bags packed and I was ready to go come Friday afternoon, I couldn't wait for school to end.  We'd load up in the car and down the road we'd go.  My dad was a fast driver, even then, he pushed the speed limit.  So I knew that we'd be there in no time, even though we were only 12 miles from paradise. 

As soon as we got there, I'd run into my aunt's house, the screen door would slam (that's if I came in the front door, but usually we'd come in the side door).  I'd actually start opening the car door before my dad even put it into park, I was always getting in trouble for this and at times to this day I'm still guilty of this (drives my husband crazy). 

There was the smell of home as you walked into the house, just undescribable.  I still can smell the fresh coffee that was making in the morning, even though I didn't drink coffee then, I loved the smell of it brewing.  Then, there were either cookies or a pie or a cake that had been baked, you could smell it.  In the morning, there were fresh biscuits baking, and the bacon that smelled so good it normally would wake me up.  The thick slab bacon that my uncle had made from the pig he took to the meat market.  My uncle would have his over easy eggs (yuk!), none for me thank you.  I'll take mine scrampled I'd say to my aunt.  We'd always have pure cane syrup in the house (the kind that came in a silver tin can), I haven't seen any of this in a while.  You could mix the syrup with butter (now, don't give me a frown, try it and you'll be glad you did) and then dip your fresh biscuits in it until the butter melted, oh my the memories of this.

Come Saturday, this was a busy day.  My uncle would be up before the crack of dawn and have the fresh vegetables he'd picked ready for my aunt to cook and start canning them for the winter months.  He'd have to start early before the sun came out and started to heat up the day.  We'd have fresh new potatoes (these were just red potatoes and I'm not sure why they always called them "new" potatoes), green beans, black eyed peas (that we'd sit on the porch in the evening taking them out of their hulls), corn (there's none been any sweeter than his), okra, tomatoes that were so good, bell peppers that usually were planted next to the jalapeno peppers so they had some heat to them, green onions that were almost as big as my fist (I never saw a small green onion then), turnip greens, and then he'd always have to experiment with a new item.  Before he died he had always wanted to plant peanuts, he had a huge crop that year. 

Once all the produce was brought in and he'd weeded the garden, my uncle would come in and freshen up and then off to the small town where he'd get his weekly haircut.  I used to always love to tag along.  We'd drive down the road in his pickup truck, with the windows down, and I was just watching the houses as we'd pass by.  There was always someone he knew and we'd wave as we went by.  We'd arrive in the small town, he'd get his hair cut, and then back to house we'd go. 

As I grew up, he decided on one of these trips that it was time for me to learn to drive.  I was 12.  Oh my the excitement that I was going to be behind the wheel was almost uncontainable.  He'd sit right next to me in case he had to quickly take over.  We didn't wear seat belts back then, never even occurred to us to wear one and of course the thought of a cell phone, well there was no thought of these anyways.  My aunt and uncle still had a party line (if you don't know what this is, this is where they shared their phone line with usually about four other people, so if you picked up the phone to call someone, usually someone else was talking on the line and you had to wait your turn), unless you were like me and asked them could you please use the line.  Well, that's another story for another time.  Getting back to the drive, my uncle commented one day that now that I had learned to drive, I could now drive them into town.  This didn't take many trips to learn, I think after about the second time I was on my own. 

They only went into town on Saturdays.  Yes, once a week.  Can you imagine that?  So many of us go to the store almost daily.  So after the produce was picked and we drove down to get his haircut, we knew once we returned my aunt would be ready to "go to town".  This was all done usually before noon.  She'd have a light lunch ready and then it was time to go.  We'd load up in her car and off to town we'd go.  Driving back into town seemed different when I was with them.  We go to the local "Piggly Wiggly".  This name still makes me laugh.  Have any of you ever heard of this grocery store?  Here was their logo picture:

 

Once we returned home that afternoon, I'd help my aunt start to make dinner and get the Sunday lunch ready for the next day.  We always made some kind of dessert because you never knew who would come home with you on Sunday and this had to be ready.  This was one of our all time favorite cakes to make.  I know the pastors never complained and neither did we.  This was a special cake that was made during the summer time when either the pastor was joining us for Sunday lunch or to take to dinners on the ground with other churches:

(I found this image here but this is exactly the way I remember this cake looking)

 FRESH STRAWBERRY CAKE

1 pkg. white cake mix
1 sm. box strawberry Jello
1/2 c. water
1 c. oil
4 eggs
1 t. vanilla
1/2 c. fresh strawberries crushed

ICING:
1 stick butter
1 box powdered sugar
1/2 c. strawberries, drained
1 t. vanilla

Mix cake in order and bake at 325 degrees until done, about 1 hour. Mix butter and powdered sugar, then add strawberries and vanilla.  You can a small amount of milk if you want to thin it out.  Put icing on cake after it has cooled.

Please let me know if your family makes this recipe. 

Warrenton Tx reminds me so much of the country place where I grew up.  I guess that's why I love this town so.  I hope you enjoy the stories I occassionally tell of my childhood.  I know I really enjoy reliving them.  Hope you all have a great weekend!