Rum Gully Roots

Living on the farm, our family knew the frailty of life. One poisoned pond could destroy innocent animals; one storm could destroy crops and one flame, a forest.



The biggest battle was that of saving the farm from inheritance taxes. Armed, Momma put her prayers in action. Like a championed coach pushing for potentials, she challenged the land with everything from watermelons, to truck cropping, to a hunting preserve, to forestry, and formed her own business in accounting.



The land has become more than home to her; it is her office in life. It provides the family, but more importantly, it teaches about God and life.



Even the hunters and clients who come with their expectations will find the land and Momma have something to offer: If it is beauty, they will see it. If it is rest, they will find it. If it is excitement, they will catch it.



Whether stringing tobacco or farming, cleaning quail or cooking a Southern Smorgasbord, Momma is happiest when she gives. In return, her radiance brings admiration to her Maker. Like a flower in the field, Momma has a pleasant personality that causes others to pause and smell the fragrance.



Excerpts: Rum Gully Roots



Daddy plowed Nellie. I followed Daddy and walked his footprints. He patched his shoes with rope. I pretended he was a giant. Only a giant could walk that far apart. He smoked a pipe and would blow rings as he puffed. When I had earaches he would blow the warm smoke into my ears. It felt so good. He taught me to plow Nellie. The commands were Gee for right and HAW for left. Daddy had a bad temper. One day Nellie hawed instead of geed. Daddy jumped up and bit Nellie in the neck
and held on like a bulldog. Nellie was swinging him back and forth as he held on, with his feet flapping in the breeze.



Momma stood, shaking her head, muttering something about the sins of The Bell Temper. I regret to inform the public that I inherited said Bell Temper. I have lost and won many battles of which is another story I may never share.



Daddy made the blackberry and grape wine in the corn house. As the liquid fermented, I would stand and smell the sweet aroma. Afterwards I would exit the corn house, staggering, laughing and singing to the top of my voice. Oh, I slept so well.



Daddy asked me to gather the eggs and check on the chicks that had just been hatched. I ignored him and went on with my playing. I got mad and threw an egg at him. The whipping I received taught me a lesson. No more throwing eggs at him! Momma wanted me to pull up peanuts. I was too busy. I saw her coming with a switch. I ran into the house and squirted toothpaste on her. I couldn't sit down for hours. I was supposed to shovel the outhouse. I lied and told Daddy that I had already done that chore. When he found out that I had lied, I got a blistering by a hand as big as King King's. I was mop...