The fierce and brutal raindrops fell on the old red tin roof top as I sat on the back-porch swinging in the squeaky paint-cracked swing. The sound was encouraging me sleep to sleep as the hint of rainfall blew in through the screened room and gently bounced off my skin. I covered up with the patchwork quilt that hung on the back of the old rocking chair and surrendered to the morning’s laziness.
Memories of a tenant house sitting on the farming land of the Dick Strain Plantation, materialized into my memories. The small decrepit structure with a scrap of paint here and there and with an old rusty tin roof.
Then there was the big old antebellum house that once sat so magnificently up on the high hill overlooking all the acres of cotton, now falling apart from lack of upkeep and lack of love -- now inhabited by my daddy’s family.
In the winter with the trees free of leaves, you could see the big old house from our little house in the woods. When it came a big soaking rain, the way it was on my back porch today, my mother had to place pots and pans all over the floor to catch the rainwater that fell and found its way into the tin roof holes and dropped to the wood planked floor.
We lived here one summer when my daddy could not find work in town and had to haul pulp wood one winter to make ends meet. This was the first time I had ever lived in the “woods,” and it had been years since my mother did not live in “civilization” as she said. We were not very pleased to leave our town house and live here for the few months.
The little house had belonged to a renter who paid rent and picked cotton for the Strains years ago and at that time was probably a suitable dwelling but now after years of neglect, it barely passed for a hovel.
But, now at this time in my life, I realize that I really loved that little shanty of a house. I had a cousin that was my age that lived in the “big house” and I always had a playmate or someone to wade in Zilpher Creek with, even when it was too cold for us to be in the ice cold running water. This little house and these memories are always here in my memories and will always be part of my heritage.
Cornmeal Hoe Cakes
1 cup self-rising flour
1 cup corn meal
1 tablespoon sugar
¾ cup buttermilk
1/3 cup cold water
2 beaten eggs
¼ cup bacon drippings
¼ cup butter
Mix first six ingredients and fry in bacon drippings and butter until brown. These are good with sorghum syrup.
