End of Summer

August is upon us with the chatter of the cicadas and the smell of freshly mown hay along the country roads . It is supposed to be the dog days of summer, but the weather is variable from cool to hot. No consistent pattern of hot sweaty unbearable nights that make the days long and miserable. Local county fairs are benefitting from the milder weather but the tomato crop is not. To ripen properly, tomatoes need some hot August nights. I miss the sweetness of a just picked tomato.
We did not have a garden for the second year but did plant 6 tomatoes, 5 peppers, and 2 cucumbers behind the garage. The cukes are the long burpless variety recommended by my cousin Willa, and as of today, I have picked 15. Well worth the money and time. I used several to make cucumber salad with onions and mayo/vinegar dressing. Yum
This summer has busy for us. We took our first family vacation in the Smoky Mountains. The cabin we rented had plenty of room for 5 kids to run and scream as well as privacy for each family. We were still speaking to each other at the end of the week so I think it was a success. Great to have my quiet early morning broken by "I'm hungry grandma" from soft little voices. Meanwhile, my daughters and sons in law slept on in comfort.
In July, we went to Eastern Kentucky for several days for the annual Callie and Maudie Howard Reunion. This was our 14th year of gathering to honor my maternal grandparents. I am gradually transitioning the arrangement duties to other cousins because I experience too much fatigue to take care of everything myself.  One goal I was able to accomplish was the compilation of the photo book of all their descendants. It took me 4 years of begging, borrowing and stealing photos to reach completion. I wish my grandmother was here to see it. As we gather each summer, I think of how proud she would be to see the growth and successes of her family. She came from such humble stock and lived an often hard life but that never stopped her can do attitude. Or made her waver in her faith in our God.
When we make the reunion trip, we always try to visit the family cemetery at the Head of the Licking River and to stop at the old homeplace to visit our family friend and distant relative, Hazel. The graveyard is high on a steep pine covered hillside on Howard's Fork. The sun shines warmly on the  stones thru the tall forest there. Soft music is provided by the shallow trickling river. What I remember from my youth as a raging river is now barely able to wash the stones left from other times. But that does encourage my wading enough to just wet my hot feet.

Life's Rocks

When I was a small child, I lived in eastern Kentucky at the Head of the Licking River with my Grandmother Maudie Howard and my Aunt Lucy. One day, Aunt Lucy and I walked over the mountaintop to Grassy to see Aunt Alta’s family. On our way, we passed thru an area of giant rocks. We sat and rested. That place always made me feel safe when I needed a place to go in my mind.

I always yearned to return there in reality. Thus begins Karen’s journey to find my rock place. In early September 2015, I was able to convince my friend and relative Hazel Shepherd’s daughter, Sadie Bailey, to guide me to those high rocks. They live on the old home place that belongs to the Howard family still today. I arrived around 9:30 on a cloudy morning. After visiting with Hazel a bit, we discussed several rock  formations atop the ridges and determined that my place was probably at Mandy House, a gap on the property of Berlin Howard, and too far and treacherous for an inexperienced old hiker like me. Sadie and her brother Danny told of a least 3 other areas we might try. We decided to start at the home place and climb that ridge to the first rocks then go around to the other two and back down the hillside at the graveyard. Sadie and I both had walking sticks and we swung them lightly as we walked down the road to find a good start spot along the gas line. I clumsily climbed straight up for ten feet and was out of breath and energy. We rested near a tree and continued on. This pattern repeats itself for the next hour or so. We finally reached a more level spot still not at the top of the mountain. I huffed and puffed. Finally, in the distance, I could see the first rock cliffs. As we walked, Sadie related stories about her family. How they loved the land and the mountains. She said they would come to the rocks on a regular basis as they ran and played on the hill sides. They kept paths worn to the levels and even used the rocks as a playhouse. I could see why as we approached the site. One large rock lay atop several others creating a “house”. In the early days, Indians used the rockhouses for shelter, but Sadie said they had never found any remnants there unlike in her garden that turned up arrowheads at every plowing. We carefully climbed the rocks with me following Sadie’s lead. At last, I was on top those great boulders looking all around at the tall untouched old trees. I was breathless. In awe of Gods beauty. And from climbing. Ha! After some silent reverence for the place, I named it “Sadie,s Playhouse”. Now others will know where I have been. And we have the photos and small rocks to prove it. Yes, Sadie carried the rocks in her backpack.  Now began the next leg of the hike. She told me the next 2 formations were much bigger and higher up the ridgeline. I decided at that point that we should return while I could still move. Finally, I made a wise decision and admitted my health limitations.

The best way to descend looked to be along the gas line. The company had recently trimmed a ten foot wide swath on each side so the area was free of undergrowth and saplings. My first step landed on my behind and I slid several feet. So be it. We slid down the rest of the hill to within 10 feet of the road. Our total time was around 2.5 hours and it looked like rain. Upon siting us in the drive, Hazel commented “Why, you’uns didn’t go no place”. Then she snickered into her hand and asked me “how old do you feel now?”  I guess I have given her a story to tell also.

Hazel invited me in for a dinner of green beans and cornbread and fresh corn and apple cobbler. And for story telling about her younger days and things she knew about my family. Her sister remembered seeing my Mother’s first child Sandra Faye before she passed at the young age of 2 years. Hazel and her husband William were there when my great uncle Henry Mullins preached in the yard at the funeral of Callie, my grandfather. We talked about the rocks I brought down with me and how she does the same thing, even going so far as to packing them in her purse. And how my Italy luggage was heavy due to my sea rocks and glass from Positano.

William’s family lived just down the road and were 2^nd or 3^rd cousins to us. Hazel’s parents were Sadie Crager and Chester Shepherd. We have not figured out our ancestral relationship yet but we are related by heart.

Hazel shared stories of her trips to Walmart in Prestonsburg and how as she sits near registers waiting for a daughter to shop, friends and strangers stop to talk. She often ends up giving them counsel about life and God. As she did for me that afternoon. She told me of her baptism and the joy she feels from her relationship with God. She told me that I will know when God takes ahold of my heart. He already has.

That day, I realized that I find the same peace in listening to others as I find among the mountain rocks. That place has become about me visiting with Hazel as well as visiting the land and the graveyard.

Hazel’s family has lived there over 40 years. She had 12 children and 6 of them still survive. They take care of her. They cook and clean and call every day.  She has chickens and small ponies for pets. Her front porch built by Sadie and Jane provides a view of the traffic, the mountains and memories.

Those other rocks still beckon, but it will take a four wheeler. My mind is still young enough to trick my body into trying it soon.