yard at 949 Berne Street

One thing I remember about 949 Berne Street is the concrete pit at the end of the driveway.  It seems the driveway widened toward the house about where the covered patio was at the bottom of the steps, on the left side was the pit.  I don't know if it was there when all six children were growing up or if it was added later.  I remember Uncle Bo in particular pulling the cars over the pit to change the oil or work on something he got to from under the car.  I wish I could remember if my Granddaddy Smith did that when I was very young or not.

At some point, Grandmother used it for her "Leaf Mold Pit".  I don't know if she put any garbage that would make good fertilizer in it, but definitely nothing that smelled bad.  I remember the way the right side of the yard was terraced with big rock steps so Grandmother could work in her flowers.  The flowers covered the whole back yard back to the garden area, which was in front of the fenced-in Chicken area and Small Hen House, which had an area just large enough to milk the cow.  I imagine (but don't know) that there was more yard and less flowers when the children were growing up.

At some point I remember Uncle Bo and Uncle Jarold and probably Granddaddy built Grandmother a Greenhouse that one went into from the basement.  At the bottom of the stairs you could turn right and go down a few more stairs (my memory is they were cement and not wood like the stairs coming down from the back porch) or you could go down one more step and open the door to the basement, which I remember as having a paved area where Grandmother killed the chickens.

I am trying to remember if the huge window facing the driveway was always there and if it opened to the side.  Grandmother loved to sit down there in a rocking chair in the winter and feel the sun coming in, during her older days.

Beverly

Sewing patterns for aprons

I remember those patterns well and my Grannie and Grandmother wearing an apron over their dresses all the time from when they got up to when they retired for the night.  Mother wore one a lot but not all day, like they did.

I have four aprons at my disposal and I am always going to wear them when I cook, but I forget.  I have one hanging in the kitchen, but even that has become a fixture and I forget to wear it.

Oh, for the good ole days.

When I was young, before they outlawed cows and chickens in the Atlanta City Limits where my Grandparents lived, my Grandmother had chickens and they had a cow which Granddaddy milked most of the time.  I was going to learn how but I can attest there is a method of milking a cow that I never was quite able to master.  So, I had to settle for gathering eggs in the hen house.  I always looked for the brown ones because they had double yolks and I love egg yolks and detest egg whites unless they are scrambled so no white shows.    There is a story behind that, having to do with being a skinny, anemic child, believe it or not.  Anyway, growing up, my sister hated the yolk so we sneaked and swapped my white for her yolk.  I tell her now that we know cholesterol is bad, that even as a child she was trying to kill me with her yolks.

I remember the wood burning stove at Grandmothers and she even had to heat her iron on it.  It had a special place to heat irons and once the heat was gone from the iron, she sat it back down to warm again.  I remember how she killed a chicken, plucked it and cooked the most delicious fried chicken you ever ate.  I won't tell you the procedure, in case you have a weak stomach.

Then there was churning milk to make buttermilk or to make butter.  I did master that.  Best butter and buttermilk there ever was, was made in Grandmother's home.

I hope this hasn't bored you but I think my cousins will enjoy it.  Some of them probably don't have those memories because I, fortunately or unfortunately, hold the distinction of being the oldest grandchild from both sides of my family.

Beverly