The Shed

By the early to mid 70s, when my memory starts to kick in, Mr. Hood was gone and the original farmland farther east in the bend had been sold. My grandfather bought the land where his house is, and my uncle bought the land "across the road" where the original house was. Though the farm was no longer a big commercial enterprise, my grandfather continuted to grow corn, okra, squash, tomatoes, potatoes, green beans, peas, bell peppers, turnips, watermelons, cantaloupe and more. Surrounding the farmhouse on threee sides was a peach orchard, with a few apple and plum trees thrown in to boot.

The Shed, as I posted earlier, came about in the 1950s, I think, when someone suggested my grandfather sell the things he was growing. I honestly don't know if it started out life in the configuration I knew, or was reconstructed from original parts that served a different purpose.

It was a three-sided structure set a couple of car lengths back from the road between two massive oak trees that must've been 100 years old when the thing was built. Looking at it from the road, the right-hand side was solid planks, the back was open about halfway down, but filled in with wire and planked the rest of the way down. The left-hand side was open with a high shelf and wire above it. The front was copmletely open and, in my day, filled with a metal display counter - flat on the front but with an internal shelf that was turned to the inside. Baskets of peaches, tomatoes, and other goodies were stacked on it. I think it came from Mr. Hood's store. It's still with us - under the tractor shed - and will be holding food during the reception.

The floor was soft, powdery dirt. The roof was tin.

My history with the shed, obviously, goes back to the beginning of my life. My grandfather enjoyed telling about how one day, as a toddler, I was sitting out there with him and some other cronies and decided to "wash my hair" with the dirt. Clearly that must've served as a sort of self-baptism indoctrinating me into the place, and the place into me.

As I grew older, when folks came to the shed during the afternoon on the Sundays or weekdays we happened to be down there, I was allowed to go ring up a sale.

During my first year in college, my parents began making noises about me possibly finding a job when I came home for the summer. I resisted, as about the only job I was likely to get would have involved a fast-food resaurant and the polyester uniforms they sported during those days. I wasn't about to go that route. Thankfully, my grandfather came to the rescue and offered me a job as his shop girl.

I worked Monday-Friday, roughly eight hour days, 8-3 or so. I sold corn, tomatoes, green beans, peas, apples, peppers, plums, cucumbers, okra and, of course, those magic peaches. There is no better smell than the shed on a warm afternoon full to bursting with juicy redskin peaches.

And of course, no better taste than a warm peach right off the tree.

I have to confess, I get sniffly now in the grocery store when I walk past a particularly fragrant peach display.

Without a doubt, that was my favorite job ever. I loved being at the farm; I loved being outdoors all day. I loved the people, and thank God for the experience with them. I realize, that growing up as I did I was highly unlikely to be a snob, but I also know that because as a sorority girl who just completed her first year of college, I could have been obnoxious in the "i know everything" sense. I never doubted that my grandfather (both of them, actually) though not college educated was a very intelligent man. But it would have been easy to dismiss some of the other folks I came across down there, but spending just a few minutes talking to these men - most of whom who wore overalls every day and likely never finished high school, instilled me with a deep sense of respect for what the did know - not what they didn't. They knew the land, knew the animals, knew how the very planet worked. And no stint at college could ever teach me that. And I was, frankly, awed by them. Especially my grandfather.