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Carol Perkins: The Harvest Harvest time is a grand time for many. Carol Perkins has tried her hand making the most of the bounty, but family honors go to her cousin Paula, who is the Queen of Canning, a domestic diva. The next earlier Carol Perkins story is Worry Wart By Carol Perkins The Harvest For years my mother tried to raise a garden on a plot of land at the edge of a gravel road that led to my great uncle's house (Frank Reece). Every afternoon she would grab her hoe and walk through the field from our house to the garden. I had no choice but to tag along. I wasn't old enough to hard labor in the garden yet, except for sowing seeds in the trenches she laid out with the edge of a hoe. No matter how hard I tried, I dropped too many in one spot. Seeds were not wasted then. While she labored, I played on the rock bank across the gravel road from the garden. In my eyes, this bank was steep and treacherous because of the paper-thin slate rocks. When I wasn't slipping on them, I was using them to build cities. I dreaded to hear her call my name, "I need you a minute, Carol." Garden grew painfully slow How did our garden grow? Painfully slow. The dirt was not rich for much besides weeds. Pulling them was another job I could do because I could get down close. I wasn't asked to stick the beans, but what I could do was pick them, dig new potatoes, pull up carrots, pick cucumbers from the prickly vines and pull off ears of corn from stalks taller than I was when the harvest was ready. The gardening season meant jars in a fragile rack positioned in a canner of boiling water on top of the stove. It meant filling those hot jars, screwing on the boiling lids, and later listening for lids to pop (seal). Mashing tomatoes in a grinder to make juice, breaking beans in front of the TV with a newspaper spread in front of me, shelling peas or butter beans, shucking corn in the back yard, trying to make sure all the silk was gone, and cleaning up at the end of the day were part of the summer process. I can see the squeaky clean jars of green beans lined up on the kitchen table now. It might have taken a full day of breaking and canning just for eight quarts. My mother eked out a decent garden on that poor soil, but not a plentiful bounty. She must have enjoyed the effort more than I thought she did because she put out a garden at Grandma Sullivan's house after giving up on the other plot. This soil was better, which meant more beans to pick and more work for me as I grew older. I was glad to leave home. Garden must have been a wifely duty I don't know why, but I think my mother felt it was her duty as a wife and mother to plant and tend a garden. Would others think she was lazy if she didn't? I do believe that a woman, during my growing up, was judged by how many jars of beans she canned or how many bags of corn she froze. Was this her Badge of Honor? My Grandmother Reece showed off the bushels of peaches she peeled and canned to everyone who came through the back door until sickness slowed her. She kept them on the shelves that housed her other canned goods, but her peaches were her prize. Rarely was there a jar of peaches not opened on the table. She canned for entertainment. I tried gardening and canning, as I thought I should, but it didn't take long for me to bail out. I have cut off corn, made beet pickles, applesauce....the works. Hated every minute of it! Guy wanted to grow a garden like his dad had done, but he didn't have the heart for it either. Frankly, he gave up on me. One of the few with nothing from garden to can or freeze Among my closest friends, I may be one of the few who does not garden or at least can or freeze. A couple of my friends are experts. My cousin Paula (Propes) is the Queen of Canning, a domestic diva. I admire their labor. Canning is over for the year and shelves of vegetables are lined for the winter. I have done nothing to prepare. Many families live more from the land than from stores and they are better for it. I wish I had dirt in my veins, but I don't. I just don't. About the author: Carol (Sullivan) Perkins is a lifelong resident of Edmonton, KY, in Metcalfe County where she taught high school English at Metcalfe County High School until her recent retirement. She is a now a freelance writer. is married to Guy Perkins and they have two children: Carla Green (Mark) of Brentwood, TN and Jon Perkins (Beth) of Austin, TX and six grandchildren. Her latest book, Let's Talk About, is a collection of over 70 of her works, and she is presently working on the second book in this series. Carol's ties to Adair County go back to Breeding where her grandfather, Rufus Reece, and her grandmother Bettie Strange, began their married life and later moved to Metcalfe County. You may contact Carol at cperkins@scrtc.com or write at P.O. Box 134 Edmonton. If you would like a copy of her book, you can order through email. Watch for her next story next Sunday. IF YOU'VE ENJOYED READING CAROL PERKINS' STORIES on ColumbiaMagazine.com, you'll love her book, "Let's Talk About It. . . ." The books are $15 plus $4 for shipping. Send check or cash or money order to Carol Perkins, P.O. Box 134, Edmonton, KY 42129 They can be bought at the Herald Office in Edmonton, KY, or Terri's Fine Jewelry in Glasgow, KY. This story was posted on 2009-09-27 15:25:31
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Have comments or corrections for this story? Use our contact form and let us know. More articles from topic Carol Perkins:
Carol Perkins: Worry Wart Carol Perkins: What Page? Carol Perkins: Ma and Pa Kettle Carol Perkins: Shall we gather at the river Carol Perkins: Back to school is such grand time Carol Perkins: A teacher speaks out on groupings, testing Carol Perkins: Put that phone away! Carol Perkins: The Shoe Carol Perkins: Potlucks Carol Perkins: Grandparents' Camp View even more articles in topic Carol Perkins |
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