I inherited my green thumb from relatives on both sides of my family. As far back as I can see in our family tree we were farmers and gardeners. I remember helping both my grandmothers work in their flowers and their vegetable gardens. My maternal grandma, Nannie, taught me how to pick, fry and eat squash blossoms - yummy! I remember watching my paternal grandmother, Ma Meadows, dig a new flower bed around her foundation and fighting the brown snakes that were abundant there. I still don't like snakes!
My dad was an avid journal writer. He is gardening in heaven now but I can look back at his journals and see what he planted, what the weather was and what he and my mother did on any given day before he died.
I begged him for years to write down his childhood stories - you all know the ones I mean - the ones told at family gatherings, those word of mouth family histories that are passed down verbally and usually are lost after the old folks are gone. For my fiftieth birthday, he gave me 350 handwritten pages of those stories. He wrote how his family farmed, discribed the farm equipment, talked about his dog, Ring, and his cousins and friends. He told funny stories about Halloween tricks and how they all lived through the great depression and World War Two. I shared the book with friends and family and to a person, they all loved the stories and urged me to publish them.
I finally did and everyone who has read Dad's stories about farming, family and growing up in the country and small towns in the south, have wanted a copy for their children or parents. One friend bought copies for her school library, others have read them to their children., they especially liked the story of Daddy's dog, Ring.
If you would like a copy, the book is called Papa's Journal by Robert H Meadows