The garden was down the hill in front of the house. But for me, at six or so years old, the creek was down the hill in front of the house. To me, that was a whole lot more satisfying than the garden, but I did learn how to plant beans, chop weeds, and “smell” for copperheads. Old-timers said you could smell them. I found some babies one time and thought they were worms at first, but at least I had sense enough to see the colors and knew what they were. They didn’t live long around our house.
When I talk of growing up in the woods, this picture says enough. Now you can see why I never made it all the way to the outhouse after dark. The hog pen was out in the woods to the left, and lots of times, I carried slop to them after supper. It would be getting dusky dark. Sometimes, a bobcat would squall or a coon dog would sound off with mountain music, and old Jack would leave the hog pen faster than he went to it. See the front porch about ten feet off the ground? I read funny books I borrowed or traded for and anything from Grits to Sears catalogs on that porch, sitting leaned back in a cane-bottomed chair.
That’s why when I went back a few years ago and no one was there and the house was empty, I went up on the porch and just slid down the wall for an hour or so. Took a great ride in my old canoe down the rivers of my memories then, as I am doing now. When we were there, the well and pump was out the back door on the left. It was good water and running water in that you had to run and get it. An enemy on washday when Mama always had to rinse everything twice and the water had to be pumped. For the life of me, I cannot get a clear image of either one of my older sisters ever touching that pump handle. I know they never washed the clothesline – twice, as per Mama’s instructions. The woods in back was full of fishing poles and bows and arrows and slingshots – bean shooters to us. Over in the hollow on the left was some ginseng that Bill West showed me. I was hooked then and have since enjoyed a lifetime of fun in the woods.
Con David lived across the hill on the right. I was scared of him; he was big and strong and didn’t say much, but it didn’t stop me from playing mind games with his bull or rocking his two cocker spaniels or whipping his boy once in a while (I was older and bigger). But I found out later, when we were moving, that he liked me and knew about everything going on. I visited him after I was grown and cherish that time sitting in his yard.
The creek was full of fish. There were horny heads, suckers, chubs, water dogs, water snakes, turtles, and some trout. The water was and is cold coming off Mount Pisgah and Chester. I tried to dam that creek up 16,780 times or thereabouts, and about calf-high is tops…but it was fun trying. The few times my bare feet were really clean, in spite of Mama’s warning to “wash them rusty feet before you get in that clean bed.” Gosh, Mama loved cleanliness, enough to make a little boy sick.
One time, Dad and I were going up the trail behind the house to get some chestnut for kindling, when my dog Butch, who had went on ahead, come barreling down and went between Dad’s legs in a dead run with the hair sticking up on his back. Dad said it must be a bear or a panther up ahead and just kept going. Now, the hair on my neck was standing up… It took a long time for me to go back up the mountain by myself after that.
You see one chimney; on the back side was the kitchen and cookstove and the living room on the left front with the warm morning heater. The bedrooms were not heated. So, like most of you, you backed your butt up to the heater and turned around and ran and jumped in bed. There was a string tied to the bedpost to turn on or turn off the light. Enough of Mama’s quilts piled on to keep us warm. Can you imagine having to get up in the middle of the night in this house in the dead of winter and having to go pee? The outhouse was across the yard on the left and up a little incline into the woods. Close your eyes and see if you can picture me or you going all the way there at night?!
Well, I have enjoyed my little trip today; I hope some of you went back in time with me. I made all my fishing stuff, and I did use bailing string some – Mama’s sewing thread doubled and tripled was better. I cut long slender saplings and used rocks or iron nuts for sinkers and made pin hooks. I remember my first ever real fish hook that Dad brought me from the Enka Plant; he told one of his buddies about my fishing, and he gave Dad some fishhooks for me. Somehow for me, the pin hooks I made fit into my canoe trips better.