Story Ava (Complete)
- Thread starter Kathy in FL
- Start date
Catshooter
Contributing Member
I bet the chart is in her head.
Cat
Cat
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
I keep telling people to get an old copy of VIZIO -- I got one of eBay a few years ago, CD Media, COA et al for about $20-25.00. Easy to learn but, if you ever want to print anything out, you'll likely need a large format printer. I use legal & tape them together; not presentation grade, but functional.
You're right though -- all those coloured lines look....well, 'intimate' isn't the right word but.... you get my drift, I'm sure.
most of it. But I do keep a story outline going that I can refer to.
Jeepcats27
Senior Member
Thank you for the latest chapter!
good luck with moving your parents!
good luck with moving your parents!
Catshooter
Contributing Member
I suspected as much. And I also suspect you don't realize how remarkable that is, too.
Cat
Cat
Old Gray Mare
TB Fanatic
So she has the genealogies for three families going back two - maybe three hundred years with back stories for members. On top of that are the family stories running parallel to the geneology. And don't forget their descendants making Ava's life interesting.
Catshooter
Contributing Member
Yep. Impressive, no?
Cat
Cat
homecanner1
Veteran Member
heh, here's a chart and with a pirate at its base.
Norman Rockwell's famous family tree of some clan that he painted for the Saturday Evening Post 1960
lets just say every bit of this is absolutely true, Rockwell had a dossier provided for each characterization he created, some with photos.
Ava is your best character so far, very True Gritand I enjoyed Trash to Treasure
The legacy of a family is its actual gold, its service to our nation and thus their children's real inheritance.
Those who choose to spend their lives on this earth making mischief and misery, dabbling in covens and mayhem are the malignant branch on the Liberty tree and indeed the best manner is to prune a rancid mess, as the French would urge. To lance the sickness and let the evil pus run out into the daylight so ALL can see its source of greed, then the wound can heal.
Q says sunlight brings purification and there are many who will be persuaded to atone soon ma cher!
Norman Rockwell's famous family tree of some clan that he painted for the Saturday Evening Post 1960
lets just say every bit of this is absolutely true, Rockwell had a dossier provided for each characterization he created, some with photos.
Ava is your best character so far, very True Gritand I enjoyed Trash to Treasure
The legacy of a family is its actual gold, its service to our nation and thus their children's real inheritance.
Those who choose to spend their lives on this earth making mischief and misery, dabbling in covens and mayhem are the malignant branch on the Liberty tree and indeed the best manner is to prune a rancid mess, as the French would urge. To lance the sickness and let the evil pus run out into the daylight so ALL can see its source of greed, then the wound can heal.
Q says sunlight brings purification and there are many who will be persuaded to atone soon ma cher!
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Me'thinks Madam homecanner1 might be espousing a consultation by Dr. Guillotine for some select transgressors, n'est pas?
I could drive the tumbril, if required.
G.
I could drive the tumbril, if required.
G.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Yep, I reread the story 
.
.
Chapter 81 (part 1)
October. Yeah, October. Screwy month. Wasn’t always this way – unless you count all of the Halloween pranks my crew used to pull. But this month has been … okay, pulled out the thesaurus for this one, check it out. October has been hypnagogic. It is a fancy way of saying surreal. But better in a way, at least for my purposes.
First off, I’ve been dealing with my change of station in life. At first it felt worse than it has turned out to be. I kinda went and did the girl thing and got my feelings pinched because Vadie “took my place” in the Big House. She really has, but I’ve come to accept it and even appreciate not having to shift my attention and behavior so much. Playing at being a “dude” out in the yard and gardens and then switching a couple of times a day to “waitress and housekeeper” inside the house wasted a lot of my time. Not have to change clothes and change behavior makes my day more streamlined and therefore easier. Keeps my brain from feeling whiplashed as well. So maybe no one talks to me as much as before unless it is to tell me to do something or that they need something, but that’s not particularly all that different than it was before Vadie came on the scene. Sure, I was there while we were preserving food and stuff but I’m realizing it was less “we” and more “them and me” if that makes sense.
Doesn’t mean that I’ve stopped “preserving” things. I’ve just done it more my way than theirs for the last month or so. More about that later when I won’t make such a hash of trying to explain it all, especially in relation to the evacuation plans that I’ve been making. Ooops, better scratch that. That Em and I have been making. He’s gotten his nose bent out of joint a little bit how the whole new-job-description thing happened. He’s just too busy to expend the energy on objecting the way he keeps thinking he should. I keep telling him to let it go but like I’ve always said, if there was a competition to see which one of us was more stubborn, I’m fairly certain we’d come in a tie.
The other thing I like about Vadie dealing with the house stuff is that I don’t have to step lightly about “friendships” or “fraternizations.” Of course with Vadie being obviously “taken” she doesn’t have to be bothered about it very much but it is (or was) getting to where most everyone has forgotten about me being a girl. Or at least acting like they did. Everyone but Em who started thinking of me more like a woman in direct proportion to everyone else forgetting I was female. I swear I’ll never understand guys no matter how long I work with them.
The one thing I don’t like about it, at least now that I’ve come to terms with things, is Fontaine and Franc – back from their short stint in Juvie – are really making much of me not even being good enough to be a house slave these days. They aren’t exactly doing this where anyone else can hear them ‘cause the PC police are alive and well on this part of the bayou; but they get enough digs in that I’m losing my patience with them. And everyone can tell you that it isn’t a good thing. However, I’m not as stupid as they think I am. I’m not going to give them what they seem to be after. They can continue to run their mouths and I’ll ignore them as long as their mouths are all they are running. Too many times I’ve felt like I was being set up. On the other hand, I refuse to be alone with them any more than I can avoid and I’ve also spoken to Major Broadstreet.
“They’re just kids,” she responded, making me want to prove my age and roll my eyes.
“So was I once upon a time,” I told her and she in turn gave me “mom eye”. I ignored it and kept going by saying, “And while I know you have no reason to take me too serious on this subject here is something else for you to think about. They are running around unsupervised on what is basically a military installation. I know you can’t fence off The Isabelle or the Old House, but you have the communication center next door fenced off and you have this area patrolled. I’m nobody in particular in the grand scheme of things, but it would seem to me that it would be easy to use kids to set something up and these two particular kids already don’t have the best reputation having just left the juvenile justice facility over in Lafayette and still being on probation. Isn’t it interesting that their ankle monitors seem to appear and disappear at will and no one says anything about it?” She gave me a sharp look then nodded after taking a moment to think about it. That was also her version of dismissal which I took with good grace since I’d made my point.
The one concern that I’m beginning to have is that it is getting more and more difficult for me to avoid showing my hand. The Major isn’t stupid any more than I am. If she bothers to think about it, which she appears to be doing, she’ll see the ankle monitor issue for what it is and then think about if those monitors are being watched, by who … and etc yada and all of the other mess that road takes you down. But it might be a “civilian issue” for her, something she is restricted from getting involved in by her superiors. On the other hand, sure would be nice for her to set some rules about what the dumbtastic duo can and cannot do around the military personnel and equipment … and consequences if they choose to ignore those rules. Be even better if it affects their probation. I’d love to get rid of those two again. Life was so peaceful in their absence. Fabrice is turning twitchy again though not as bad as I think Vadie has caught on and may very well be coming at it from a side that Aunt Orélie can’t ignore.
I suppose at the end of the day it won’t matter a great deal. My life is what it is and may always stay this way with only bits and pieces of “stereotypical femininity” thrown in for my own interest on occasion. Take this month for instance. Or at least I’ll explain the crack about my femininity in a bit. Mostly it is normal stuff that I’ve faced. I’ve been every bit as busy as Vadie and those in the Big House, but most people wouldn’t see it; or if they did, might not appreciate it because it doesn’t directly affect them or so they think.
First off, I added to the herb garden by planting dill, oregano, sage, and fennel. Might not seem like much in the grand scheme of things but it kept those in the house from having to use ration points to purchase those things. And saved having to put it on the list that goes to the Trust lawyers. Dill is a necessity for pickling. We’d finally gotten all of the cukes from the gardens – after nearly drowning in them – but there were other things to pickle like carrots and cauliflower. Dill is just one of those things that when you need it you need it but otherwise you don’t think about it much. Thyme, Rosemary, and Paprika are along the same lines. Well I can grow thyme and rosemary but paprika has to be ordered in and it has gotten expensive, and where it isn’t expensive it is in short supply. I view it as part of my job description to try and get around the shortages when I can. Mizz Evelyn … as in Evelyn Cartier … has taken to calling me a couple times a week and we’ve had some interesting conversations on the topic. Those conversations remain between the two of us as she has asked me not to tell anyone that she and I are speaking. Not sure why to be honest but it doesn’t bother me. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that maybe she knows more about her DNA than people want her to and it leads to complications she’s not sure how to untangle without causing heartache on one front or another.
Crazy stuff that almost equals the soap opera that is my family. She also let on that her mother is adopted and isn’t Auntie’s biological sister. On second thought scratch “almost” and if she tells me she has pirates or something like that in her family we’ll call us equal in the soap opera department. It gives me some sympathy for the position she’s in. And she seems to appreciate a new set of ears to listen to her. She sent a bunch of strawberry plants that I set out in a raised bed. I will add chicken wire over them in a few weeks to keep things from munching on them even before the fruit sets. I sent her a picture and she liked it so well that I’ve taken to sending her a few more here and there of things. Gives us something to talk about and keeps those awkward silences at bay.
We’ve also has a few discussions about the nice and the knuckleheads around here. One thing we both seem to agree on, as hard as it is to believe there are people that this war still hasn’t been able to knock the smarts into. For instance, I know Zeb and a few other of the Enlisted know where food really comes from but I question that most of them do. It just magically appears for them to eat and there’s always enough. Not everyone can say that these days and I’m proud to say that it is at least in part from my efforts that those noodleheads can keep their ignorance and focus on just being a soldier.
October. Yeah, October. Screwy month. Wasn’t always this way – unless you count all of the Halloween pranks my crew used to pull. But this month has been … okay, pulled out the thesaurus for this one, check it out. October has been hypnagogic. It is a fancy way of saying surreal. But better in a way, at least for my purposes.
First off, I’ve been dealing with my change of station in life. At first it felt worse than it has turned out to be. I kinda went and did the girl thing and got my feelings pinched because Vadie “took my place” in the Big House. She really has, but I’ve come to accept it and even appreciate not having to shift my attention and behavior so much. Playing at being a “dude” out in the yard and gardens and then switching a couple of times a day to “waitress and housekeeper” inside the house wasted a lot of my time. Not have to change clothes and change behavior makes my day more streamlined and therefore easier. Keeps my brain from feeling whiplashed as well. So maybe no one talks to me as much as before unless it is to tell me to do something or that they need something, but that’s not particularly all that different than it was before Vadie came on the scene. Sure, I was there while we were preserving food and stuff but I’m realizing it was less “we” and more “them and me” if that makes sense.
Doesn’t mean that I’ve stopped “preserving” things. I’ve just done it more my way than theirs for the last month or so. More about that later when I won’t make such a hash of trying to explain it all, especially in relation to the evacuation plans that I’ve been making. Ooops, better scratch that. That Em and I have been making. He’s gotten his nose bent out of joint a little bit how the whole new-job-description thing happened. He’s just too busy to expend the energy on objecting the way he keeps thinking he should. I keep telling him to let it go but like I’ve always said, if there was a competition to see which one of us was more stubborn, I’m fairly certain we’d come in a tie.
The other thing I like about Vadie dealing with the house stuff is that I don’t have to step lightly about “friendships” or “fraternizations.” Of course with Vadie being obviously “taken” she doesn’t have to be bothered about it very much but it is (or was) getting to where most everyone has forgotten about me being a girl. Or at least acting like they did. Everyone but Em who started thinking of me more like a woman in direct proportion to everyone else forgetting I was female. I swear I’ll never understand guys no matter how long I work with them.
The one thing I don’t like about it, at least now that I’ve come to terms with things, is Fontaine and Franc – back from their short stint in Juvie – are really making much of me not even being good enough to be a house slave these days. They aren’t exactly doing this where anyone else can hear them ‘cause the PC police are alive and well on this part of the bayou; but they get enough digs in that I’m losing my patience with them. And everyone can tell you that it isn’t a good thing. However, I’m not as stupid as they think I am. I’m not going to give them what they seem to be after. They can continue to run their mouths and I’ll ignore them as long as their mouths are all they are running. Too many times I’ve felt like I was being set up. On the other hand, I refuse to be alone with them any more than I can avoid and I’ve also spoken to Major Broadstreet.
“They’re just kids,” she responded, making me want to prove my age and roll my eyes.
“So was I once upon a time,” I told her and she in turn gave me “mom eye”. I ignored it and kept going by saying, “And while I know you have no reason to take me too serious on this subject here is something else for you to think about. They are running around unsupervised on what is basically a military installation. I know you can’t fence off The Isabelle or the Old House, but you have the communication center next door fenced off and you have this area patrolled. I’m nobody in particular in the grand scheme of things, but it would seem to me that it would be easy to use kids to set something up and these two particular kids already don’t have the best reputation having just left the juvenile justice facility over in Lafayette and still being on probation. Isn’t it interesting that their ankle monitors seem to appear and disappear at will and no one says anything about it?” She gave me a sharp look then nodded after taking a moment to think about it. That was also her version of dismissal which I took with good grace since I’d made my point.
The one concern that I’m beginning to have is that it is getting more and more difficult for me to avoid showing my hand. The Major isn’t stupid any more than I am. If she bothers to think about it, which she appears to be doing, she’ll see the ankle monitor issue for what it is and then think about if those monitors are being watched, by who … and etc yada and all of the other mess that road takes you down. But it might be a “civilian issue” for her, something she is restricted from getting involved in by her superiors. On the other hand, sure would be nice for her to set some rules about what the dumbtastic duo can and cannot do around the military personnel and equipment … and consequences if they choose to ignore those rules. Be even better if it affects their probation. I’d love to get rid of those two again. Life was so peaceful in their absence. Fabrice is turning twitchy again though not as bad as I think Vadie has caught on and may very well be coming at it from a side that Aunt Orélie can’t ignore.
I suppose at the end of the day it won’t matter a great deal. My life is what it is and may always stay this way with only bits and pieces of “stereotypical femininity” thrown in for my own interest on occasion. Take this month for instance. Or at least I’ll explain the crack about my femininity in a bit. Mostly it is normal stuff that I’ve faced. I’ve been every bit as busy as Vadie and those in the Big House, but most people wouldn’t see it; or if they did, might not appreciate it because it doesn’t directly affect them or so they think.
First off, I added to the herb garden by planting dill, oregano, sage, and fennel. Might not seem like much in the grand scheme of things but it kept those in the house from having to use ration points to purchase those things. And saved having to put it on the list that goes to the Trust lawyers. Dill is a necessity for pickling. We’d finally gotten all of the cukes from the gardens – after nearly drowning in them – but there were other things to pickle like carrots and cauliflower. Dill is just one of those things that when you need it you need it but otherwise you don’t think about it much. Thyme, Rosemary, and Paprika are along the same lines. Well I can grow thyme and rosemary but paprika has to be ordered in and it has gotten expensive, and where it isn’t expensive it is in short supply. I view it as part of my job description to try and get around the shortages when I can. Mizz Evelyn … as in Evelyn Cartier … has taken to calling me a couple times a week and we’ve had some interesting conversations on the topic. Those conversations remain between the two of us as she has asked me not to tell anyone that she and I are speaking. Not sure why to be honest but it doesn’t bother me. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that maybe she knows more about her DNA than people want her to and it leads to complications she’s not sure how to untangle without causing heartache on one front or another.
Crazy stuff that almost equals the soap opera that is my family. She also let on that her mother is adopted and isn’t Auntie’s biological sister. On second thought scratch “almost” and if she tells me she has pirates or something like that in her family we’ll call us equal in the soap opera department. It gives me some sympathy for the position she’s in. And she seems to appreciate a new set of ears to listen to her. She sent a bunch of strawberry plants that I set out in a raised bed. I will add chicken wire over them in a few weeks to keep things from munching on them even before the fruit sets. I sent her a picture and she liked it so well that I’ve taken to sending her a few more here and there of things. Gives us something to talk about and keeps those awkward silences at bay.
We’ve also has a few discussions about the nice and the knuckleheads around here. One thing we both seem to agree on, as hard as it is to believe there are people that this war still hasn’t been able to knock the smarts into. For instance, I know Zeb and a few other of the Enlisted know where food really comes from but I question that most of them do. It just magically appears for them to eat and there’s always enough. Not everyone can say that these days and I’m proud to say that it is at least in part from my efforts that those noodleheads can keep their ignorance and focus on just being a soldier.
Chapter 81 (part 2)
I had a ton of things coming up in the gardens and trees: Beans, Broccoli, Cabbage, Cantaloupes, Carrots, Cauliflower, Collards, other Greens, Pumpkins, Summer Squash, Sweet potatoes, Turnips. That’s just in the gardens on the property and the co-op gardens. I don’t have to, but I’ve continued to glean stuff where I can. One it helps the folks that I do it for – some of the old folks just can’t get up in the trees like they used to (and that brought memories of Yula Mae that made me “cranky” according to some folks that like to gossip without knowing the real reason. A) – and for another it lets me grab stuff for my own (mine and Em’s) supplies. I worked several watermelon fields on shares using Em’s truck to haul them to this place outside Lafayette where some Boy Scouts were trying to pull together a camporee for the Cubs in their district. They bought them for 25% of their value which paid for fuel and my time and paid me better in personal satisfaction that I haven’t abandoned everything that kept me upright and moving forward while I was growing up.
A man I met during that transaction said he had groves that he couldn’t get anyone to come harvest for what he could afford to pay. All my days off for three weeks I turned up at his place – and boy wasn’t he surprised for some reason – and I cleared a bunch of fig trees (100 pints per tree), apples, persimmons, pomegranates, and a greenhouse full of Meyer lemons grown in containers. Made a deal with the folks running the Fruit Stand and they took everything the man could give them. I got a nice bonus in product and pay for that one since I got a bit of finder’s fee to go along with all the rest. That man had an Auntie of his own who lived with his family to help take care of his grandmother who leaned way into the description of “ancient and frail with enough energy to be cantankerous” and she proved interesting and helpful in equal portions. Thanks to her I got lots of stuff made from raspberries as I helped her clear out the fence line of wild berries. Lost a few pints of blood before I smartened up enough to wear gloves, but it was worth it. My favorite is when she taught me how to make a concentrate called Raspberry Shrub that all I have to do iss add water to for a really nice drink. And if I want it fizzy I can add tonic water. Did that one night and got Em hooked on it. He helped out by finding bottles that we could process the raspberry shrub into for storage and then built another bottle rack for the storage locker.
This woman also taught me about some wild foods of this area. Possum haws are a kind of southern viburnum bush that the berries (or haws) turn red on when they are ripe. It is also called a Wild Raisin and you can use your imagination now for how most people use the possum haw if they know what it is at all. I still have my interest in wild foods left over from Scouts because I just don’t ever want to get as hungry as I did a few times when I left Florida. Where Em used to get upset when I would mention in, he has become a believer and says that since it hasn’t hurt either one of us to eat the stuff I experiment with that it might be a good idea if we keep on doing it “more and better”. He hasn’t said outright, but he’s gotten to where he is looking for a way to get out of working for Aunt Orélie as much as he does. He still cares for her like the auntie she is to him, but I think there’s coming a time when he can’t overlook some things that he feels bad about overlooking … namely things that I come into. I told him I’ll bolt before I create a family problem for him but he said I better not ‘cause … well I’m not going to go into what he’s said he’ll do. Not anyone else’s business but I’ll admit that it gives me ideas on a possible future where I just thought it was “moonbeams and dust motes” before.
Raspberries and Possum haws aren’t the only thing that Missus Honoree taught me about. Chinkapin acorns, Black walnuts, Hawthorne fruit, fruit of the black gum tree, hackberries, and something called a Callery Pear were some of the other ones. I liked everything but the pear thing. That Callery Pear is a hot mess and I gotta admit I almost gave up on it. For one the tree has a vicious personality and no I’m not kidding. Dang it makes a nasty thorn thicket when all its seedlings start popping up and growing like crazy. You need to wear armor to deal with it. For another? The tree stinks. Calling its smell “tuna on a trunk” is kind. Yuck. It was an ornamental that was planted all over the place when it was brought in from China in the 1900s but now its considered an invasive pest … like kudzu but less useful. I’ve participated in my share of invasive species round ups as a scout but my Lord that pear thing took the cake, especially the ones that had become full-grown trees that were fifty feet tall. Most of them were about 15 feet tall that I saw but just imagine a giant, people-eating, thorny tree with nearly inedible fruit the size of a wild cherry (in other words small). You can eat it I guess, but not until it has been cooked down for things like wine. Uh huh. About the only reason why you’d grow it is because it has really pretty white flowers … but pretty is as pretty does and I’ll give it a pass for growing. And nuke it from space if I every catch it growing in a yard I’m supposed to take care of. I accidentally sat on one of those thorns and … nope, still having nightmares of embarrassment at having to pull that thing out of my own backside and find a Band-Aid that would stick for more than two seconds when I got sweaty.
The other thing blooming this month is witch hazel which will keep on going until January if I understood Missus Honoree correctly. She wasn’t always the easiest to understand. Try figuring out her Creole slang when she wasn’t wearing her dentures. That was not fun. And she was quick with that flyswatter she took everywhere. Doggone that stung when I didn’t move fast enough. But I got over it because I now know how to make my own astringent which I gotta say has helped me to get rid of the sweat-induced zits that pop up too often for my peace of mind. Those ones on the back of my shoulders near my bra straps … ouch. Em still gets a few on the back of his neck on occasion that only seem to respond to the witch hazel I made. One night he was getting real silly and said that I was getting so useful that he might just change his mind about living in the swamp and cart me off there one day so he could have me all to himself. I think his sugar level was too low as he’d been working all day in an attic rewiring for a new breaker box. He certainly didn’t have a problem with me putting a pan of cool water down for him to put his feet in. It was one of those days I felt bad for how hard he was working because I know, from reading over his shoulder when he didn’t realize, that he had some idea of saving enough money to get his own place sooner rather than later as he was growing tired of being patient with the people around him and wanted us to have more privacy that he didn’t have to feel guilty for.
You’d think all my time would be taken up with gardening of one sort or another the way I tell it, but no. Mr. Hubert somehow fixed it so that he could get special passes to go hunting after curfew so long as we paid a percentage of our catch (or haul) to St. Bernards Church. So far they’ve taken everything we can give them and turned it into meals for the school and what’s left over from that, they put on a feed after church on Sundays. Might not be a big feed after the children are fed all week, but something is better than nothing and there were always some Feds around (not military) to make sure any ruckus was short-lived.
First half of the month I got to save some ammo due to it being archery season for deer. I used up a few of my tags taking bucks, one of them was a big ol’ boy that must have been getting fat on someone’s garden. He was a bad-tempered 8 pointer. He could have been a ten, but he was weird in that he had five points on one antler and three points on the other. He must have gotten into a head on collision at some point because the three-point antler looked like it had been broken or deformed in some way. Didn’t bother the eats, I still managed to get 70 lbs of meat from the animal. I took another smaller buck on another hunt and that left me with four tags. I’m actually down to two tags because I was able to get two does after that. I’ve given my personal portion of the venison to Em and he’s turned it into jerky and ground meat that he’s made summer sausage out of. I’ve also canned some of it too.
Went nutria hunting a few times and what a lot of work but with hungry kids to feed the church is grateful for whatever they are “blessed” with. I feel kinda funny when they call it that to be honest given all the “blessing out” that gets done during some of the hunts. Guess God knows what he’s doing using people like us to help the church do its job. The other things we’ve brought in are rabbit (daily limit of ten and be careful you don’t wind up with more than 24 in your possession at any one time), squirrel which they are even stricter on (limit of 3 per day with a limit of 9 in your possession), doves which seem to be multiplying out of control (probably due to a lot of cats being terminated with prejudice during the rabies problem), and one week when we couldn’t bring in anything else for some reason (things are getting hunted over) we brought the church ladies racoons, opossums, and blackbirds. They didn’t even blink but instead teared up and hugged on Mr. Hubert enough to turn him red as a beet. I guess they were worried they’d get nothing for the children.
We kept our eyes open for some Outlaw Quadrupeds but the hogs are hiding deep in the swamp, the few that remain. We shot a couple of coyotes because they are multiplying and getting into people’s chickens, but you can’t eat those scavengers though there’s one old man that pays us in fish he’s caught for the coyote pelts.
Speaking of fishing, when we aren’t on a hunt Mr. Hubert tries to fish though it is all freshwater these days. He also gets paid in fish for working on people’s boats which some say is a come down from being a captain. I think he might of thought the same thing at first but he seems to have come to accept this is just a season in life and he’s at peace with it … at least he is so long as the fish are biting and we can bring things in for the St. Bernards. I think it helps him to think he is providing real help for real people that aren’t in a place to help themselves as much as they want to. I like Mr. Hubert even with the complication of Thib and Vadie. He’s never gotten on to me about being angry at the way it was handled. On the other hand I’m careful about what falls out of my mouth on the subject since in a way it isn’t Vadie’s fault; she just got caught in Daniel Edgar’s strategy.
Every once in a while we’ve been getting coastal fish but not as often as people were used to. Same for oysters and shrimp though I did some shelving repair and cleaning at the Super 1 last week and the chief butcher – or whatever you call him – gave me a bag of oysters and a case of canned shrimp. The oysters I traded to Colonel Morgan for some shotgun shells (they were reloads but good ones). I held back just enough to make my mother’s famous oyster stew for Em and you would have thought I’d come up with the cure for something awful the way he acted like he’d died and gone to heaven. The smell would have drawn attention if all the soldiers hadn’t been at some special dinner where they were eating hamburger steaks. I was angry that Em hadn’t been invited which is what made me act out like I did. Only two other people got a taste … Mr. Hubert and Mr. Julius and they were nearly as silly as Em. Made me totally feel like a girl. Which is kinda what leads into the next mess I’ve gotten myself into and why I started out calling this month hypnogogic.
I had a ton of things coming up in the gardens and trees: Beans, Broccoli, Cabbage, Cantaloupes, Carrots, Cauliflower, Collards, other Greens, Pumpkins, Summer Squash, Sweet potatoes, Turnips. That’s just in the gardens on the property and the co-op gardens. I don’t have to, but I’ve continued to glean stuff where I can. One it helps the folks that I do it for – some of the old folks just can’t get up in the trees like they used to (and that brought memories of Yula Mae that made me “cranky” according to some folks that like to gossip without knowing the real reason. A) – and for another it lets me grab stuff for my own (mine and Em’s) supplies. I worked several watermelon fields on shares using Em’s truck to haul them to this place outside Lafayette where some Boy Scouts were trying to pull together a camporee for the Cubs in their district. They bought them for 25% of their value which paid for fuel and my time and paid me better in personal satisfaction that I haven’t abandoned everything that kept me upright and moving forward while I was growing up.
A man I met during that transaction said he had groves that he couldn’t get anyone to come harvest for what he could afford to pay. All my days off for three weeks I turned up at his place – and boy wasn’t he surprised for some reason – and I cleared a bunch of fig trees (100 pints per tree), apples, persimmons, pomegranates, and a greenhouse full of Meyer lemons grown in containers. Made a deal with the folks running the Fruit Stand and they took everything the man could give them. I got a nice bonus in product and pay for that one since I got a bit of finder’s fee to go along with all the rest. That man had an Auntie of his own who lived with his family to help take care of his grandmother who leaned way into the description of “ancient and frail with enough energy to be cantankerous” and she proved interesting and helpful in equal portions. Thanks to her I got lots of stuff made from raspberries as I helped her clear out the fence line of wild berries. Lost a few pints of blood before I smartened up enough to wear gloves, but it was worth it. My favorite is when she taught me how to make a concentrate called Raspberry Shrub that all I have to do iss add water to for a really nice drink. And if I want it fizzy I can add tonic water. Did that one night and got Em hooked on it. He helped out by finding bottles that we could process the raspberry shrub into for storage and then built another bottle rack for the storage locker.
This woman also taught me about some wild foods of this area. Possum haws are a kind of southern viburnum bush that the berries (or haws) turn red on when they are ripe. It is also called a Wild Raisin and you can use your imagination now for how most people use the possum haw if they know what it is at all. I still have my interest in wild foods left over from Scouts because I just don’t ever want to get as hungry as I did a few times when I left Florida. Where Em used to get upset when I would mention in, he has become a believer and says that since it hasn’t hurt either one of us to eat the stuff I experiment with that it might be a good idea if we keep on doing it “more and better”. He hasn’t said outright, but he’s gotten to where he is looking for a way to get out of working for Aunt Orélie as much as he does. He still cares for her like the auntie she is to him, but I think there’s coming a time when he can’t overlook some things that he feels bad about overlooking … namely things that I come into. I told him I’ll bolt before I create a family problem for him but he said I better not ‘cause … well I’m not going to go into what he’s said he’ll do. Not anyone else’s business but I’ll admit that it gives me ideas on a possible future where I just thought it was “moonbeams and dust motes” before.
Raspberries and Possum haws aren’t the only thing that Missus Honoree taught me about. Chinkapin acorns, Black walnuts, Hawthorne fruit, fruit of the black gum tree, hackberries, and something called a Callery Pear were some of the other ones. I liked everything but the pear thing. That Callery Pear is a hot mess and I gotta admit I almost gave up on it. For one the tree has a vicious personality and no I’m not kidding. Dang it makes a nasty thorn thicket when all its seedlings start popping up and growing like crazy. You need to wear armor to deal with it. For another? The tree stinks. Calling its smell “tuna on a trunk” is kind. Yuck. It was an ornamental that was planted all over the place when it was brought in from China in the 1900s but now its considered an invasive pest … like kudzu but less useful. I’ve participated in my share of invasive species round ups as a scout but my Lord that pear thing took the cake, especially the ones that had become full-grown trees that were fifty feet tall. Most of them were about 15 feet tall that I saw but just imagine a giant, people-eating, thorny tree with nearly inedible fruit the size of a wild cherry (in other words small). You can eat it I guess, but not until it has been cooked down for things like wine. Uh huh. About the only reason why you’d grow it is because it has really pretty white flowers … but pretty is as pretty does and I’ll give it a pass for growing. And nuke it from space if I every catch it growing in a yard I’m supposed to take care of. I accidentally sat on one of those thorns and … nope, still having nightmares of embarrassment at having to pull that thing out of my own backside and find a Band-Aid that would stick for more than two seconds when I got sweaty.
The other thing blooming this month is witch hazel which will keep on going until January if I understood Missus Honoree correctly. She wasn’t always the easiest to understand. Try figuring out her Creole slang when she wasn’t wearing her dentures. That was not fun. And she was quick with that flyswatter she took everywhere. Doggone that stung when I didn’t move fast enough. But I got over it because I now know how to make my own astringent which I gotta say has helped me to get rid of the sweat-induced zits that pop up too often for my peace of mind. Those ones on the back of my shoulders near my bra straps … ouch. Em still gets a few on the back of his neck on occasion that only seem to respond to the witch hazel I made. One night he was getting real silly and said that I was getting so useful that he might just change his mind about living in the swamp and cart me off there one day so he could have me all to himself. I think his sugar level was too low as he’d been working all day in an attic rewiring for a new breaker box. He certainly didn’t have a problem with me putting a pan of cool water down for him to put his feet in. It was one of those days I felt bad for how hard he was working because I know, from reading over his shoulder when he didn’t realize, that he had some idea of saving enough money to get his own place sooner rather than later as he was growing tired of being patient with the people around him and wanted us to have more privacy that he didn’t have to feel guilty for.
You’d think all my time would be taken up with gardening of one sort or another the way I tell it, but no. Mr. Hubert somehow fixed it so that he could get special passes to go hunting after curfew so long as we paid a percentage of our catch (or haul) to St. Bernards Church. So far they’ve taken everything we can give them and turned it into meals for the school and what’s left over from that, they put on a feed after church on Sundays. Might not be a big feed after the children are fed all week, but something is better than nothing and there were always some Feds around (not military) to make sure any ruckus was short-lived.
First half of the month I got to save some ammo due to it being archery season for deer. I used up a few of my tags taking bucks, one of them was a big ol’ boy that must have been getting fat on someone’s garden. He was a bad-tempered 8 pointer. He could have been a ten, but he was weird in that he had five points on one antler and three points on the other. He must have gotten into a head on collision at some point because the three-point antler looked like it had been broken or deformed in some way. Didn’t bother the eats, I still managed to get 70 lbs of meat from the animal. I took another smaller buck on another hunt and that left me with four tags. I’m actually down to two tags because I was able to get two does after that. I’ve given my personal portion of the venison to Em and he’s turned it into jerky and ground meat that he’s made summer sausage out of. I’ve also canned some of it too.
Went nutria hunting a few times and what a lot of work but with hungry kids to feed the church is grateful for whatever they are “blessed” with. I feel kinda funny when they call it that to be honest given all the “blessing out” that gets done during some of the hunts. Guess God knows what he’s doing using people like us to help the church do its job. The other things we’ve brought in are rabbit (daily limit of ten and be careful you don’t wind up with more than 24 in your possession at any one time), squirrel which they are even stricter on (limit of 3 per day with a limit of 9 in your possession), doves which seem to be multiplying out of control (probably due to a lot of cats being terminated with prejudice during the rabies problem), and one week when we couldn’t bring in anything else for some reason (things are getting hunted over) we brought the church ladies racoons, opossums, and blackbirds. They didn’t even blink but instead teared up and hugged on Mr. Hubert enough to turn him red as a beet. I guess they were worried they’d get nothing for the children.
We kept our eyes open for some Outlaw Quadrupeds but the hogs are hiding deep in the swamp, the few that remain. We shot a couple of coyotes because they are multiplying and getting into people’s chickens, but you can’t eat those scavengers though there’s one old man that pays us in fish he’s caught for the coyote pelts.
Speaking of fishing, when we aren’t on a hunt Mr. Hubert tries to fish though it is all freshwater these days. He also gets paid in fish for working on people’s boats which some say is a come down from being a captain. I think he might of thought the same thing at first but he seems to have come to accept this is just a season in life and he’s at peace with it … at least he is so long as the fish are biting and we can bring things in for the St. Bernards. I think it helps him to think he is providing real help for real people that aren’t in a place to help themselves as much as they want to. I like Mr. Hubert even with the complication of Thib and Vadie. He’s never gotten on to me about being angry at the way it was handled. On the other hand I’m careful about what falls out of my mouth on the subject since in a way it isn’t Vadie’s fault; she just got caught in Daniel Edgar’s strategy.
Every once in a while we’ve been getting coastal fish but not as often as people were used to. Same for oysters and shrimp though I did some shelving repair and cleaning at the Super 1 last week and the chief butcher – or whatever you call him – gave me a bag of oysters and a case of canned shrimp. The oysters I traded to Colonel Morgan for some shotgun shells (they were reloads but good ones). I held back just enough to make my mother’s famous oyster stew for Em and you would have thought I’d come up with the cure for something awful the way he acted like he’d died and gone to heaven. The smell would have drawn attention if all the soldiers hadn’t been at some special dinner where they were eating hamburger steaks. I was angry that Em hadn’t been invited which is what made me act out like I did. Only two other people got a taste … Mr. Hubert and Mr. Julius and they were nearly as silly as Em. Made me totally feel like a girl. Which is kinda what leads into the next mess I’ve gotten myself into and why I started out calling this month hypnogogic.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
A very big thank you Kathy.
Jeepcats27
Senior Member
what a pleasant surprise, thank you for the new chapters!
beaglemama
Contributing Member
Thanks Kathy!
I've got the outline for a few more chapters in Veta 2. Will try and get them posted in the next couple of days.
My plan is to complete Ava and then move back to Hartford and work on that one and Veta 2 until Hartford is complete. I'll have to see where I go from there. A lot is going to depend if Hartford characters cooperate with the muse and let me finish it in good time. LOL
Old Gray Mare
TB Fanatic
Mother Hen when you post new chapters to old stories it's like catching up with distant relatives who haven't been seen in a long while. Looking forward to the new chapters.
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Where is Hartford located at? I don't see is in Kathy's Blog spot. Or is it here in Timebomb? Thanks
Old Gray Mare
TB Fanatic
Link to Up on Hartford Ridge
Up On Hartford Ridge Chapter 1, an action fiction | FictionPress
www.fictionpress.com
Link to Mother Hen's new story blog:
MotherHeninFlorida | FictionPress
MotherHeninFlorida is an author that has written 23 stories for Action, Sci-Fi, and General.
www.fictionpress.com
Double dog dare you to read just one.
Enjoy!