When we were growing up my brother and I spent most of our summers on a farm in southern Indiana. Our aunt and uncle took us in - along with various other family refugees.
My aunt looked and acted more like a man than a woman, her skin all leathery and sunburnt - but she did her best for us. Her husband, our uncle, had a bad temper but it erupted mostly in swearing at the mules or kicking the tractor.
I loved their big old farm house, the garden and orchard. Their money crop was corn. We had many chores to do every day, like gathering eggs and (hand) milking the cows.
Meals were a marvel. As soon as breakfast was finished the biscuit dough was reworked to make noodles or dumplings for dinner (the big meal in the middle of the day.) There were always two or three meats, (ham, fried chicken) five or six cooked vegetables, sliced tomatoes and onions, deviled eggs, potatoes, breads with home churned butter and fresh fruit pies or cobblers for dessert.
I loved the farm and the old farmhouse but even as a child I realized that just the cooking itself was a never ending chore - and didn't really make sense. And after I was grown I realized that farm life was cruel to my aunt and sent her to an early grave.
Years later, when I was a young woman, I had dinner at the home of some (as Kurt Vonnegut would say) "very well to do" friends. There were six of us. Dinner consisted of an elegant casserole and salad. Fruit for dessert.
It was perfect.
My aunt looked and acted more like a man than a woman, her skin all leathery and sunburnt - but she did her best for us. Her husband, our uncle, had a bad temper but it erupted mostly in swearing at the mules or kicking the tractor.
I loved their big old farm house, the garden and orchard. Their money crop was corn. We had many chores to do every day, like gathering eggs and (hand) milking the cows.
Meals were a marvel. As soon as breakfast was finished the biscuit dough was reworked to make noodles or dumplings for dinner (the big meal in the middle of the day.) There were always two or three meats, (ham, fried chicken) five or six cooked vegetables, sliced tomatoes and onions, deviled eggs, potatoes, breads with home churned butter and fresh fruit pies or cobblers for dessert.
I loved the farm and the old farmhouse but even as a child I realized that just the cooking itself was a never ending chore - and didn't really make sense. And after I was grown I realized that farm life was cruel to my aunt and sent her to an early grave.
Years later, when I was a young woman, I had dinner at the home of some (as Kurt Vonnegut would say) "very well to do" friends. There were six of us. Dinner consisted of an elegant casserole and salad. Fruit for dessert.
It was perfect.
