Memory Monday-It’s a thing…
Growing up on a farm, I remember Grandpa had a garden behind our house and I remember riding on the tractor with him. You know right up on top of the wheel well which is without a doubt the safest place ever to put a kid. I also remember helping pick beans, tomatoes, and other stuff. I helped in the garden when I wanted to and as I pleased.
Yet, according to Mom, Grandpa was not always so easy going about his gardening help.
She said the fields I had always known as hayfields were cornfields when she was young. The corn was planted by hand at that time. She and her brothers and sisters would make holes in the ground for the corn seed. Once they made the hole and seeded it, they had to cover it and water it. All by hand. The fields are big and there were at least three if you count the area around Aunt Bessie’s house. I imagine it would have taken days to sow the fields.
Once the corn grew a couple feet tall, they had to go back through the pants and thin them out. This meant going back over the huge fields to pull up some of the plants planted few weeks prior. Mom said Grandpa told her and her siblings to pull up two stalks, skip one, and pull up two more. My mom, being the stubborn person she is, pulled all the stalks out of her row. When she told me this story, she laughed even though she got spanked for her efforts. She also had to replant the row she destroyed.
Gardening isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. This was especially true for my mom and her brothers and sisters when they were growing up. On another occasion, the family hoed weeds out of the smaller vegetable garden. Mom said Grandpa criticized the way my uncle Grady hoed. She remembered Grandpa saying something like: “If I couldn’t hoe weeds any better than that, I’d just go in the house.” Mom said Grady dropped the hoe where he stood, turned around, and went in the house. Uncle Grady refused to go help in the garden from then on.