Grandpa, a tall, slender man, couldn't stay in the house for any length of time.  He enjoyed cooking and didn't mind cleaning the kitchen, but that was the extent of his household chores.  He was an outdoor man.  Piddling in his barn, cutting the grass or working his garden was where you could always find Grandpa.  A quiet, gentle man, he was always a pleasure to be around.  Some may have called Grandpa a simple man, but he was far from simple minded.  Sharp as a tack with patience to spare, he could design and build anything from a piece of furniture to a house - he designed and built his own home, but he knew how to make do with what he had. 

In the winter, I would follow him to the barn and watch as he worked on tools, repaired chairs or tables, or built some piece of furniture for the house.  He was a fine carpenter and seem to be able to build a beautiful piece of furniture out of scaps.  He used hand tools - no, not the power tools of today - to slowly plane the wood to the perfect size.  He used a brace and bit when holes needed to be bored and made his own sand blocks for achieving the smooth beautiful finish on his furniture.  He carved his own dowels and biscuits to ensure a good tight fit to each piece of furniture he made.  I could sit idly by and watch him for hours, but when I "got on his nerves" he would tell me to go check on Grandma and make sure she was alright. 

In the spring, Grandpa would get his mule out and plow the garden.  Poor old mule, that was the only time Grandpa put him to use.  Grandpa felt that if you wanted to eat you had to plant and Grandma's freezer was always full.  He had a huge field that he planted each and every year.  From the road to the barn, about 300 feet, he turned the ground and layed out the rows.  I would go with Grandpa to the seed store and we would come out with bags of limas, string beans, corn, okra, squash, cucumbers, crowder peas, watermelons, cantelopes and of course tomato plants.  Grandpa didn't waste garden space on vegetables he didn't like, but he was known to plant a few gourds for his bird houses and scoops. 

I wasn't allowed in the garden until it was time to put the seed in the rows, but I sat at the edge of the yard and watched as he turned the ground.  I had the job of dropping the seed, but Grandpa was awfully finicky about dopping the seed.  I would scoot down the row on my bottom putting the seed in the row.  Grandpa would place the first few seeds and tell me to space the rest of the row just like he had done.  He would follow me covering the seeds and if I didn't have them spaced right he would tell me "too close together" or "too far apart."  I loved scooting down the row in the freshly turned dirt curling my toes in as I scooted along, but man those rows were long.  When the planting was done, we waited on the rain and watched for the little shoots to poke through.

My work was done until picking time, Granpa didn't trust anybody with a hoe in his garden but him.  I would sit at the edge of the yard and watch him hoe up and down those long rows.  Sometimes he would take a break and send me for a glass of water while he rolled him a Prince Albert.  Grandpa didn't smoke much, but he enjoyed his cigarette after eating, midmorning, right before bed and those breaks after hoeing the garden.

I think of Grandpa often, but this time of year when I turn my garden, lay out the rows, and place my seeds, he is very close to me.  Grandpa always had enough garden for the whole family.  Maybe I will make my garden bigger this year.  

I have been looking for those same Alabama Black pole beans that were so good tasting and had little or no strings, but I have not found the first one.  One of these days I will find someone that has a stash and maybe they will share.  For now, I am off to my garden for more planting.  The ground has warmed and tomorrow is Good Friday!  Thank you all for visiting and come back soon!

Happy reading!
Belle