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By Jeremy Wayne Lucas (JaxFlaGardener) December 25, 2007
A humble, country celebration of Christmas from a simpler time, decades ago...
As the holiday season approached each year, my Mom would often recall her Christmas memories from her childhood on the family farm in Two Mile, West Virginia. She was born in 1914, delivered by a midwife, in the holler that had been acquired by her great-grandfather, Adam Scites, after he voyaged across the Atlantic Ocean with his family from Esslingen, Germany in 1820. According to the genealogy research of my doctorate candidate nephew, Scott Lucas, my Great-Great-Great-Grandpa Adam set up an operation on the farm to raise silkworms -- an unlikely profession that provides me with reassurance that there is some genetic basis for my own eccentricities. It is also known that, not long after settling at the farm, Adam made a trip over to Ohio to purchase some Pound Royal apple trees (known as the Malus x domestica 'American Golden Pippin'). Descendents of these trees are reported to still be bearing fruit in the holler.
By the time my Mom came along as one of fourteen siblings, life on the farm was pared down to the basics to ensure, above all else, survival of the family from season to season and year to year. The meager profits from any cash crops, such as tobacco, were used to buy the staple kitchen commodities: flour, salt, baking soda, and sugar, from Hal Short's general merchandise store in Branchland, along with a few other necessities that could not be derived directly from the land. The dark, rich loam of the farmland, carefully tended for generations, was bountiful. A shallow creek, verdant with watercress undulating between the polished quartz rocks along its banks, ran through the holler basin. This was a favorite play spot for me in my youngest days of chasing crawdads and scooping up minnows in a Mason jar. The household laundry was done on a washboard with mountain spring water drawn up from the well, using a swaying, splashing, galvanized tin cylinder at the end of an ancient chain and pulley. The washwater was heated in a tub over an open fire, and the red clay encrusted clothes were scrubbed with crude bar soap rendered from hog fat that was mixed with lye and cooked to solidify in a kettle blackened from many years of continual use. The pigs provided most of the meat for the table, alternated with the chickens and their eggs. This fare was supplemented with game from squirrels, deer, and other denizens that roamed in the misty blue backdrop of the Appalachian hills, munching now and then on a healthy sprig of native ginseng. A good cow was a prized possession. Its milk would sustain the infants after being weaned from the breast. It would also provide rich, thick cream, skimmed off the top when making fresh butter, churned in an earthenware pot to the toe-tapping, rhythmic singing of a favorite hymn. Cooking was done on a wood fired stove using iron skillets and pots passed down through the family as heirlooms. Transportation was by horse or mule.
Nothing was wasted. Whatever was not consumed immediately was canned and stored in the cellar -- a hollowed out, granite rock-lined depression in the side of the hill behind the house. The cellar provided natural refrigeration for the shelved rows of tightly sealed jars. The farm's seasonal supply of green beans, tomatoes, and other vegetables; sweet syrup laden peaches, spicy apple butter; and cucumbers preserved as a variety of pickles, were always on hand. A musty blend of vinegar, mold, and a century of other aromas had permeated the cool, earthen floor of the cellar, providing a sense memory of past harvests. Sides of meat were salted down and hung in the smokehouse until needed. In a good year, potatoes were abundant. Like all the garden crops, they were planted according to "the signs." Farmers paid heed to the particular day of the week or month, and phases and influences of the moon. They were sensitive to indications of aberrant climatic conditions and the behavior of birds and beasts. These divinations were deemed necessary steps to ensure a good harvest. Corn was a plentiful crop. It was picked fresh from the fields and boiled on the cob for dinner, canned as whole kernels, or preserved with green and red peppers as pickerel relish. Some of the fullest, firmest ears, usually of white corn, were shucked and sunk into a large crock filled with salt-water on the back porch. The corn was weighted down with a large rock over a saucer covered in cheesecloth. The time would eventually come in winter to crack the ice off the top and reach deep into the brine for a finger-freezing treat of an ear of pickled corn.
The outhouse was the only available "convenience." It presented a harrowing experience for me in my first attempts at being potty trained. No American toddler today will probably ever know the terrifying trauma that can come from precariously perching over a gaping adult-sized oval hole above a seething cesspool some six-foot deep. My tiny arms would be rigidly locked at the elbows to prevent slipping through the crevasse (to follow the many small children that were frequently reported to have gone before). My timid body would tremble from the not unreasonable fear of plunging, with little hope of retrieval, into the stinking abyss below. Sears Roebuck's grainy-paged, brown paper catalogs and the stiff-bristled flat surface of dried corncobs were the makeshift toilet paper of the day.
No one was "poor" in this Hillbilly community, because no one did without. Everyone in the surrounding hills was generally on an even par, so there was little basis for comparison. If someone was in need, family and neighbors would join together to share whatever they could, even if it meant a little less for their own table. Deaths were communally mourned, and healthy births brought jubilation to every household. Weddings convened everyone together for a "bell crowd," which involved the new bride and groom being forcibly, ceremoniously marched several times around their house. They involuntarily led a veritable army of kinfolk, neighbors, and friends clanging cowbells, beating tin pots with wooden spoons, firing off shotguns, and making all manner of ear-deafening noise.
There was no extravagant spending for Christmas; no expectations of brightly wrapped packages bursting with shiny, new toys. Instead, at the end of the fall harvest, my Grandpa Scites would carefully select the best of the golden yellow Pound Royal apples that his daddy had planted decades before, and which had been bequeathed to him to tend. Grandpa would store the fruit in a safe and secret place under the hay in the barn loft. When Christmas morning finally arrived, he would dig the apples out of the straw where they had remained cool and firm during the several weeks prior when autumn’s frost had given way to the frigid mountain winter. The first bite into a crisp, sweet apple on an icy December morn was eagerly anticipated for some time prior to the event, as we might today spend days before Christmas speculating what might be in all the wonderful boxes festooned with velveteen ribbons beneath the tree. When times were good, there might be some small extra item to join the apples: a penny stick of peppermint candy or other special treat.
Christmas Day meant a short respite from some of the continuous daily farm chores. It always included a precarious walk across the icy footbridge log to cross the frozen creek, and a slippery climb up the snowy hill on a rocky, mud slush road, in order to get to the nearby church. My carpenter father and other men from the area had constructed the church. It was situated on a parcel of land of my father's family's farm, rising on the hill above the holler, adjacent to the farm of my Mother's family. The acreage for the church had been donated by my paternal Grandmother, Laverna Franklin-Lucas, so that the community could have a proper church building, and to establish the Franklin Cemetery. A gathering of family and neighbors for a lively gospel service, featuring a children's Christmas play (often staged and directed by my Mother as part of her Sunday School duties), would be followed by a down home spread communal meal. Later, back at the farm, there would be sharing of gossip and tales with relatives not frequently seen. Convivial fireside discussions about what was going on around the countryside, replete with memories of times long past, raising raucous laughter and solemn tears, would bring the Christmas celebration to a close as the embers' orange glow blackened and the firewood hissed a final, resigned, whistling sigh.
My Mother died in May 2004, a few days before her ninetieth birthday. To the very end, her mind and memory were remarkably acute. When she would spin a tale of a childhood recollection, she could recall the names of all the characters involved, bits and pieces of folklore as asides to embellish the story, and delicious details down to the color of the morning glory flowers that covered a neighbor's back porch. I felt with her passing that her death marked the end of an era. Few people in our contemporary world can possibly understand what it is like to eek out a sustainable existence from the land. Even fewer are living a life devoid of frills, fixed firmly in the trust that neighbors will rush to assist in times of loss and sorrow to graciously meet whatever needs have arisen. Many of us lack the overflowing, generous abundance, comfort, and warmth provided by the richly textured fabric of a vibrant, close knit community.
Unfortunately, most of my Mother's stories died with her. Though I at one time bought a mini-tape recorder that I intended to use to covertly document the finely embroidered oral legacy she wove in her Two Mile Tales, my own hectic schedule and dedication to other diversions prevented me from getting her stories preserved for future generations. I greatly regret that.
To keep alive her memory of the simple country gift of the Christmas apples, I had considered always having apples available on Christmas morn, and initiating a tradition of sharing apples with my family and closest friends. Apples, however, are alien to me as a garden crop. They will not grow in northeast Florida, and even if they did, I certainly wouldn't be able to keep them for months, fresh, firm, and unblemished, hayloft or not, in my hot, humid sub-tropical climate. To sentimentally pass around apples, I think, would be a mockery of my Grandfather's sincere, humble presentation of the best he had to offer on Christmas Day. This ritual of mimicry would be as devoid of true meaning as the frenetic shopping and obligatory exchange of purchased presents (many of which will be unappreciated and returned), in our current consumer oriented, mawkish imitation of the gifts of the Magi.
No, my Grandfather's true gift was to share the best of his season, the actual fruit of his labors, garnered by the toil of his back, the calluses of his hands, and secured despite any setbacks from drought or flood, winds or hail, feast or famine. My desire is to appropriately honor my heritage and grow strong from the tree stock from which I was propagated. I wish to continue to draw nourishment from the centuries of eroded rock and flint of the mountains that has been literally taken up into my veins from the plants which nourished me and my forebears, and which remains a part of my essential being. To accurately achieve these goals of direct lineage in my actions, I must share simply and honestly, as my Grandfather did, that which I have produced as a result of my own dedicated efforts. . Though there have been few actual manifest calamities, it has been a difficult growing season for me. I have struggled, not always with great success, just to continue to tend my fields and glean what remaining grains of hope I might sprout in my urbane garden of life. Sometimes, the best any of us can do is just to continue to hoe the row. Despite the stormy emotional weather, in reviewing my past year, my "finest apple" was to complete a two-foot by three-foot oil painting, "Hetty's Joy No. 1," based on a plumeria photo by Dave's Garden friend, DutchLady. I donated the painting to an art auction to raise funds for a local charity.
This is the "Christmas apple" I bring to you.
I invite you to also review your past twelve months and select from your bounteous harvest or depleted provisions that single thing which represents the tangible results of your good work. I especially entreat you to share that achievement with our friendly online neighborhood community, in an unashamed, unrestrained sense of joy of your accomplishment, to provide us all a ray of winter sunshine, by posting a note below.
I would also encourage you, perhaps at your holiday dinner table, to take a moment for each of your family members to share in turn what they sincerely consider their finest attainment of this past year. In this way, we may all revive and relive the pleasure of the profound love and the physical and spiritual sustenance that was provided by my Grandfather's gift of the Christmas apples.
Photo credits: "Shadows on the Vizqueen Studio," by the author. Family photo: Me at age six with minnows in a Mason jar, my brother, Jack, in the middle, and a cousin on the right (photographer unknown). Creative Photographic Service, Jacksonville, Florida - digital photo scan of painting.
About Jeremy Wayne Lucas
Jeremy (JaxFlaGardener) is a frequent contributor to the Florida Forum and other forums on Dave's Garden. In an ideal world, he would spend nearly every waking moment gardening, oil painting, and writing. Lacking such a Utopia, he currently works part-time in the Horticulture Department at the Jacksonville (Florida) Zoo and Gardens. His own half-acre garden is a hodgepodge of just about everything that will grow in Zone 8b/9a, with a homemade greenhouse for his orchids. He is a Master Gardener who esteems digging in the dirt more than book learning, but greatly enjoys research about plants and botanical nomenclature. He is pictured here with one of his large paintings, "The Healer's Leaves," based on a wonderful photo by DGer GardenWife of Ricinus communis (Castor Oil Plant) used by permission.
Posted by dancingbear27 (from Elba, NY) on January 5, 2008 at 11:03 AM:
I have similar memories growing up in a very rural environment in NY. Although we did have indoor plumbing, there was an outhouse out back as we purchased the home from my great grandfather. There were times we did end up reverting back to that outhouse! I ended up marrying a farmer and have chosen to work part-time to spend more time with my family and have fewer extras. My Mom and Grandma taught me how to can and freeze just about everything and I do it today. It amazes my friends that my food tastes so much better that I have grown and canned or frozen. How could it not when you do it out of love for your family such as your family did? The best memories I have from growing up are not of material things but of playing in the creek and sledding with my family. Your article brought tears to my eyes remembering... Thank you.
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Posted by JaxFlaGardener (from Jacksonville, FL) on January 5, 2008 at 9:06 PM:
Thanks, DancingBear. I'm very glad the story revived some memories for you. Those of us that were born into farming families share a special connection with the Earth, I think, and are able to appreciate the moment to moment wonders that reveal themselves to us in the most ordinary ways. It seems unfortunate that future generations will probably lack the simple joys of growing crops and being mostly self-sufficient. At least we have the memories to share, and I greatly appreciate that you took the time to let me know you identified with the story.
Jeremy
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Subject: The Strawberry Tree
Posted by marsidoats (from San Clemente, CA) on December 31, 2007 at 3:15 PM:
My son and is wife got a "Strawberry Tree" as a gift for Christmas, As a matter of fact, it was left in their front yard Christmas Eve with a big ribbon on it, to be discovered early the nedt morning,''The family that gave them this tree have a teenage daughter who is quite an artist. She drew a picture of a beautiful tree (a grown strawberry tree I think) and on the back of the drawing was a story about Friendship and Family and this tree. It was so beautiful that it brought tears to my eyes. To think that my son and his family have dear friends with such deep values of their lives and entwining days is just so heartfelt.
I really enjoyed the story about the apples at Christmas, if we could only get back to living like this, wouldn't it be wonderful. Happy 2008 to all!
Marisdoats
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Posted by JaxFlaGardener (from Jacksonville, FL) on December 31, 2007 at 11:19 PM:
Thanks, marisdoats! Very nice about the strawberry tree. It is heartwarming to know that some folks still care enough to provide a personal gift. Perhaps there is hope for a return to a more simpler way of living and celebrating the holidays.
Happy New Year!
Jeremy
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Subject: Thank You!
Posted by VGMKY (from Louisville, KY) on December 31, 2007 at 9:49 AM:
Jeremy, A big "thank" you for sharing your Christmas story with us. I grew up in the foothills of South Carolina and have lived in Kentucky for many years. I had grandparents who farmed as well and Your story mirrorowed their livesl The warm memories touched my heart and renewed my desire to share the simple things with my grandchildren and others. I have had health problems for some years now; what better gift than to leave wonderful memories for them. to enjoy!
Gary
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Posted by JaxFlaGardener (from Jacksonville, FL) on December 31, 2007 at 10:31 AM:
Thanks, Gary! I'm glad you found meaning and identification in the story. We are probably the last of the generation that will have had much of any contact with farming as a way of life, and that is sad, I think, for all those that will grow up without the immediate knowledge of the Earth as provider and the simple joys of living off the land.
My healing thoughts coming your way for your health problems.
Happy New Year!
Jeremy
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Posted by Fitsy (from Hayesville, NC) on December 31, 2007 at 10:41 AM:
Thank you for your stunning article!
I moved into mts. of Georgia just as the old ways were fading
away, but I saw enough to deeply appreciate their beauty and
dignity and value.
I was mightly struck by your invitation to "select from your bounteous
harvest or depleted provisions that single thing which represents
the tangible results of your good work", because this year I told
everyone "do not give presents to me, because I have not made
any for you this year - no paintings, no quilts, no blackberry jelly,
because I have been consumed by a music challenge." (and when
I wasn't stressing over that, I was seeking solace in my garden!)
So that is my "good work" this year. I have helped to bring extra
beautiful music to this area, and I have kicked my own bravery up
a couple of notches. But I have nothing to tie a bow on.
Fitsy
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Posted by JaxFlaGardener (from Jacksonville, FL) on December 31, 2007 at 12:24 PM:
Thanks for your kind comments, Fitsy! It is often the things that won't fit in a box that are truly the most valuable. Thanks for sharing your music to your community and for presenting it as your "Christmas apple" here.
Have a wondrous New Year filled with harmonious tunes!
Jeremy
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Subject: Christmas story
Posted by selrodjx (from Jacksonville, FL) on December 28, 2007 at 7:06 PM:
Wonderful Christmas story. Thank you for sharing-----and for reminding us of our plenty.
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Posted by JaxFlaGardener (from Jacksonville, FL) on December 28, 2007 at 9:17 PM:
Thanks, Selrod! Always nice to meet a new neighbor. Check in to the Florida Forum if you haven't already. You'll find some friendly folks there. We are all getting together sometime in March at MollyMc's house near Gainesville. All are welcome (especially if you have some plants to trade that we don't already have! LOL)
Jeremy
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Subject: Absolutely , LOVED
Posted by CSMMaMaw (from Branchland, WV) on December 27, 2007 at 6:13 PM:
This is a true, beautiful story of a family that didn't have much but LOVE. I still live in this small community and attend the church that my Father with Jerry's dad helped build. I Thank God for the men and women that taught us about the LOVE of a family, friends, and neighbors, that I try to teach my children and grandchildren today. I myself remember some of the stories that My Dad told about how his grandfather and Dorothy's grandfather (same man)Hatfield, how they worked all summer for the harvest so they could rest and enjoy during the cold winter. Thanks, Gerry
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Posted by JaxFlaGardener (from Jacksonville, FL) on December 27, 2007 at 7:03 PM:
Wow, Gerry! How amazing to get in touch with a long-lost neighbor and relative by way of this story! It certainly brings home the message of how close-knit our community was and remains. Thanks greatly for contacting me. Add a winter flower to the graves of my Mom & Dad (Dorothy and Norman) for me, if you get up to the church anytime soon. You've certainly brought the sunshine to my life today!
Jeremy
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Posted by CSMMaMaw (from Branchland, WV) on December 28, 2007 at 6:01 PM:
Gerry, I definitely will take flowers out to the graves. I am at the church 2-3 times a week. I can not or will not forget the older members that made our life better!!!!Keep the stories coming, I really enjoyed the memories. GOD BLESS, Carolyn
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Posted by JaxFlaGardener (from Jacksonville, FL) on December 28, 2007 at 9:22 PM:
Thanks, Carolyn! All of us remaining boys will greatly appreciate that you will add some flowers to Mom & Dad's graves. Do you get to see my brother, Jack, from Kansas, when he stops in for Decoration Day? He is about the only one of us that gets back there on a regular basis. Wally is currently in nursing facility -- had to have a foot removed due to infections that wouldn't heal from diabetes. Jay, the oldest now, is not doing well either. Gene is now retired, mostly doing the flea markets for something to do. I don't see any of them very often. I'm certainly very thankful for my continuing health. I stay too busy to get sick! Come visit if you get down this way for any reason!
Jeremy
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Subject: Southern Traditions
Posted by gloria125 (from Greensboro, AL) on December 25, 2007 at 6:50 PM:
Hi Jeremy: Your story has reminded me of an old man I met here in Alabama who for the first time ever will not be with his family this Christmas. It was from him I learned the old tradition in the South of sending any visitor away with a sackful of whatever was on hand. In summer it would be a sack of fresh picked okra, or maybe a sack of green tomatoes to fry up for supper. In the fall there would be a grocery sack of pecans -- they might even be shelled ready to be made into pecan pie. And, yes, at Christmas there would be a sack of apples. What ever was on hand was to be divided and shared with a visitor.
Thanks for the reminder.
gloria
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Posted by JaxFlaGardener (from Jacksonville, FL) on December 26, 2007 at 10:24 AM:
Thanks for reminding me of that tradition, Gloria. It's one I recall from being born to hill folk, too. No matter how sparse the provisions might have seemed at times, there was always something to share. It is a wonderful custom to recall and one I will now reinstate in my own life.
Have a happy, prosperous, and serene New Year!
Jeremy
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Subject: Thank you for sharing!
Posted by doccat5 (from Fredericksburg, VA) on December 25, 2007 at 8:54 AM:
What a wonderful story, thank you so much for sharing. I fondly remember many of my Grandfather's stories, he died when I was only 8, but I use to coax stories from my Mother and Aunts about their life on a farm on the Nebraska prairie. I did take the time to write them down and have preserved them for our family. I also taped my husband's Grandmother's many stories of growing up in "town" in the same little Nebraska town and her experience throughout her life. I regret I never knew my other Grandparents, but you do the best you can with what you have to work with. One of my projects this year is to start recording my husband and my life experiences. We're pretty ordinary people, but I would like to think there are "high" points that will be of interest to our future family members! Blessing of the day to you and yours.
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Posted by Sharran (from Calvert City, KY) on December 25, 2007 at 12:03 PM:
Ahhhhhhhh, Jeremy. What a story, and what a legacy you were given. I too grew up in the Appalachian mountains of eastern KY very near the WVa line, so I know of what you speak.
Thank you for the warm memories and for sharing your close to the heart tribute to your family. Again...what a story!
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Posted by Dea (from Frederick, MD) on December 25, 2007 at 5:17 PM:
This was a superb read - WOW - thanks Jeremy!
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Subject: Wonderful story!
Posted by KyWoods (from Melbourne, KY) on December 25, 2007 at 3:32 AM:
You are a gifted writer and painter, and I thank you for sharing these gifts with us this Christmas. Love the childhood picture, too! I really enjoyed your family history story. I could picture the rows of jars and smell the earthy aroma of that cellar, and I could taste the crisp sweetness of those wonderful apples!
My best achievement this year has been maintaining a high grade point average at school, setting an example for my son. He graduates from high school, and I will graduate from college about the same time in spring.
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Posted by Dutchlady1 (from Naples, FL) on December 25, 2007 at 7:25 AM:
Jeremy I loved your story; a life like that seems more than a lifetime ago.
I am thrilled that Hetty's Joy counts as your major achievement this year and that I could contribute in a small way to its birth.
My major achievement for this year has to be the continued help (through diligent fundraising) I was able to provide to a young family whom I met by chance last year. Briefly: the father has leukemia and the family is criippled with medical bills. They have managed to keep the wolf from their door with the assistance and generosity of many in the gardening communities on the web.
This message was edited Dec 25, 2007 6:25 AM
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Posted by Wvdaisy (from Buffalo, WV) on December 25, 2007 at 2:51 PM:
I always enjoy your stories, Jeremy. The painting shown was beautiful, I would love to see more of your work.
I, too, have sat on a wooden seat precariously over that stinking cesspool below. Though I was lucky enough to have actual toilet paper ;) I do remember the cold breeze from below in the winter, brrrr!!! There's nothing like it. In my childhood did plenty of creek running, catching minnows, crawdads, and other critters for inspection. What fun that was. As we've talked about before, Jeremy, my husband was born and raised very close to where you were, in the same county. So he too has some of the same memories and experiences. His family lived from the garden, had large families, and large get togethers at his grandparents house every Sunday after church. Coming from a small family myself these get togethers can be a little overwhelming but fun, too :) Every Sunday is like a family reunion.
My 2007 highlight would be the volunteer work I've done for the WV National Guard Families. I've been to deployments where my friend and I set up a kid care room to keep an eye on the little ones while Mom and Dad were busy taking care of paperwork. And have been to troop arrivals where the tears flowed and smiles abounded, my own included, wouldn't have missed either for the world. To top those I was a volunteer at the WV Natl Guard Kids Kamp last summer which was my first year and a great joy that I'm so looking forward to repeating in 2008. At the end of the week the camp director asked how many kids had a family member who was deployed, would soon be deployed or had just returned from deployment and the hands raised just floored me! 3/4 or more of the 200 kids there raised their hands. I am so appreciative of our troops and all they do for their country. They do what we don't even want to think about all in the name of freedom and democracy. I know the sacrifices they and their families make daily, everyone should do what they can for the troops. You don't have to believe in the war to support the troops, they can only do what they're told.
Jeremy, thank you for sharing your memories and experiences from your childhood. I wonder if dh or myself have ever had one of your, however many greats, granddaddys' apples. That would sure enough be a treat. Happy Holidays to you Jeremy, hope you have a better emotional year in 2008. I hope that for myself, also.
Happy Holidays and Seasons Greetings to all,
Lana
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Posted by Islandshari (from Kwajalein
(Marshall Islands)) on December 25, 2007 at 6:08 PM:
Jeremy, a wonderful walk down the roads of memory with you and your family. A gentle reminder to us all of what is truly important - to keep our loved ones close whether in our arms or our hearts, and to always value the experiences that made us who we are.
Warm wishes for all this holiday season.
Thanks Jeremy!
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Posted by carrielamont (from Milton, MA) on December 25, 2007 at 6:24 PM:
Posted by Marcy_1 (from New Madison, OH) on December 25, 2007 at 8:29 PM:
Jeremy, I loved your story about your family. Thank you so much. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you!
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Posted by henryr10 (from Cincinnati, OH) on December 26, 2007 at 12:41 AM:
Jeremy I was thinking of you yesterday as Jon and Teri left for JAX.
Low and behold I run into this touching Tale.
Thank you Sir..... for sharing it and in such marvelous fashion!
I knew you were a talented Artist ... but you might just be a better Yarn Spinner! ;-)
Have a Wonderful Christmas my Friend and an even better New Year!
Ric
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Posted by juja (from Lake City, FL) on December 26, 2007 at 8:01 AM:
Jeremy - you are so gifted and such a wonderful, caring, sharing person.
I enjoyed reading your story as it brought back memories of past experiences with my family and how the "little things" back then were so important. It's somewhat sad on how commercialized and materialistic society has become.
I have tried in 2007 and will continue in 2008 to "go back" somewhat and try to recondition myself take the time to treasure and appreciate the moments and the little things in life that go unnoticed.
My friend, I hope you had a good Christmas and I wish you the very best for the coming year. May God bless and Thank you.
Judy
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Posted by JaxFlaGardener (from Jacksonville, FL) on December 26, 2007 at 10:21 AM:
Thanks, all, for your kind comments and for sharing some of your own "Christmas Apples" of your achievements this past year. Gardeners, I think, are probably the most giving and generous people, possibly because we know we can turn dirt into useful commodities and understand the giving and receiving cycles of Nature.
It is wonderful to have made so many good friends, such as you, in my few years of being a part of Dave's Garden. In many ways, for me, our community here is much like the community into which I was born. It's very incredible that we can now use computers to form bonds that were made, just a generation ago, only by being next door neighbors.
I do look forward to a bright and prosperous year ahead for us all! Keep up the great work!
Jeremy
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Posted by bocaginger (from Coral Springs, FL) on December 26, 2007 at 10:26 AM:
Thank you Jeremy for sharing so much of yourself, not only in this article, but throughout the time you've spent on Daves. Driving to Jacksonville to meet you this year was a highpoint of the year, and we hope to do it again in 2008.
Your memories your childhood brought back such fond memories of mine. It is so nice to have a childhood filled with plants. I hope to give that to my grandchildren as well.
Wishing you and Christine a wonderful holiday filled with love and peace!
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Posted by MicheleJolie (from Gainesville, FL) on December 26, 2007 at 8:55 PM:
Thanks for writing and posting this story, Jeremy! Like all of your creations, it's a gorgeous blend of spirit and matter.
Best wishes to you and Christine for a bountiful New Year.
