Kittie Howard

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Maw Maw's Kitchen (Eileen's Louisiana Story); Going on Holiday

(Updates:  Hubby and I are going on holiday next week for five weeks, returning early August.  After six months of planning, we are very excited that British friends will join us for a week!!

Like last year, I'll have my net book (aka "Jenny") for a few posts. Jenny is downright cranky at times.  I'll keep in touch as best I can.  But, from our house to yours, hub and I wish all of you a glorious summer that's forever in your hearts!

I hope Eileen's Louisiana story today touches your hearts.  As I mentioned in the previous post, Steen's cane syrup in the yellow can triggers a certain nostalgia.  Yes, plastic came along and does what plastic does for products.  It's the 'yellow can,' though, that begs another time.  Eileen has written eloquently - and truthfully - about those days.  She's the little girl in the story.  The photo after the story is of her grandparents' house.

Eileen is a dear and wonderful friend who lives in Ascension Parish, Louisiana.  I'm honored she's sharing her 'yellow can' story and hope you will heart her.

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Maw Maw's Kitchen
Maw Maw's shadow dances across the wall as she goes from room to room lighting oil lamps as dusk turns to dark.  The braid which had been coiled into a tight knot at the nape of her neck now hangs freely like a shining silver rope down her back and falls across her shoulder as she bends to offer a good-night kiss. 

Mosquito netting draped around the antique bed sways gently in the cool winter breeze which whistles through the slightly opened window, and the final licks of flame shrink as the fire calms itself for the night.  Silent prayers of thanks are interrupted by the cadence of croaking frogs, the mournful howl of an unknown animal, and the hushed voices of Maw Maw and Paw Paw as they sit waiting for the embers to fade to ashes.

Sleep comes quickly to the child beneath the stack of handmade quilts who knows she will soon be awakened by the smell of sweet, hickory bacon and the sound of it sizzling in Maw Maw's favorite little black skillet.  Warm bread fresh from the oven will be covered with thick black syrup which pours so very slowly from the bright yellow can, its sweetness tempered by the bitter pureness of milk straight from the cow.  Only later will she realize this was a place and time of simple goodness.

Eileen's photo of Maw Maw's house.  It's so warm and inviting.  So much goodness there!

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