Dancing in the Kitchen



The “early service” this morning, was a gentle affair.  Light fell across the territory in rays just bright enough to cast faint shadows.  Certainly, I was thinking of my father, on this day and thought how he too, rose from a poor little boy on a back road to a noble man . . .quietly, without fanfare .   .yet with a mighty impact.  No one wants to disappoint “Grandaddy”.  I think that is  a high level of respect, for loyalty out of fear is a temporary state . . . but loyalty out of love has a fortitude, that  endures.

Sunday dinner was in the making, just after the mockingbird sang.  A pot of beans simmered and a large bowl of raisins were soaking for a cake.  There was no rush to this morning.  I had the pork smothered in gravy cooking slowly and thought  I could afford another cup of coffee . . .  and so I was sitting under an old tree, watching the morning, when Tres came in.  What a sweet surprise that was!  

The meal was especially nice.  Mama brought the first fresh summer squash of the season and they paired well with the butterbeans and creamed turnips.  I fried cornbread at the last minute, as I always do, for cornbread is best that way, served hot and straight a-way, from the skillet.

The afternoon was quiet and  peaceful, a far cry from most days at the rabbit patch.  How good it felt to pack leisurely, for my trip the next day to Elizabeth City.  I was especially happy about this particular trip, as this time Brant was going, too.

Each night, I have practiced my “fair-weather” habit of going out to bid the world good night.  The sky is filling up with stars as of lately and planets also. Now we clearly see Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn.  The crescent moon hangs over the field like a magnificent charm, casting a spell of peace, hope and a sense of well being. 


It was mid morning, when I turned in to the “Riverside Village” nestled by the “laughing” river.  It felt like a holiday for of course we had planned special meals.  Will and Brant had  a list of projects  to accomplish.  One task was restoring  a dresser for all the little dresses Jenny will need the first of September.

Lyla made a “big production” about my arrival.  For a few moments, the kitchen was filled with dancing and clapping for I joined in the celebration in the same manner as Lyla.  Oh, to be a “Honeybee”is a wonderful thing. 

In the afternoon, Lyla and I made Brant a birthday cake, while Brant and Jenny painted the dresser.  It was a “banana split” cake and did not require baking. We listened to the Brandenburg Concertos, which are my favorites.  Lyla is now convinced that you must listen to music when you make a cake, for we always do.

Brant chose rutabagas for  his belated birthday supper.  He also chose pork chops and parslied potatoes.  Lyla has no interest in cooking such things and abandoned me in that pursuit.

Rutabagas are a root crop that are the most difficult thing I know of to peel and cut.  They were a staple, when I was growing up.  Now, the vegetable hardly ever shows up on a menu . . .or a kitchen table.  I suspect this is due to the tedious preparation and the length of time they must cook.  Despite, the process, rutabagas are worth the trouble.  They taste like a cross between a carrot and potato, but a bit sweeter in flavor and as it turns out very nutritious. 

Will came home early from work, which added to the “holiday” atmosphere.  The evening meal was a huge success, and Lyla presented her cake with great ceremony-while she sang “Happy Birthday” to her Uncle Brant.


Tuesday was hot.  Brant cleaned out the shed and Will mowed the yard.  This delighted Lyla and she was eager to help.  She swept the little shed and carried branches for a good while.  Jenny did laundry and I kept an eye on Lyla, besides relaying messages and assisting everyone at some time or another.  

All of the activity reminded me of my childhood, on the farm.  Everyone busy and working together “for the greater good” of the family.  I still remember those days vividly and with great fondness.  I doubt  that Mama and Grandmama knew  that I would remember them picking squash,  for decades . . nor that  the memories of Pop and Daddy bantering, while repairing a tractor, would strike me so tenderly, now a half century later.  The contents of a life  are never a collection of things acquired, for new cars get old and  even the grandest wardrobe is discarded piece by piece, due to to tatters and frays.  Gadgets break or get lost altogether . . .  no, the contents of life are comprised of deeds done and who we share our seasons with, I think . . . and do not decline in worth.  Even the bittersweet memories, can offer us some advantage.

Shortly after noon, the heat was unpleasant enough, so that everyone pushed to complete their chores. Brant went back to work on the dresser, on the shaded porch, that faces the river.  Lyla gave some dolls a bath and Will went shopping for supplies for more projects.

As is likely to happen on sultry southern days, a thunderstorm popped up in the evening and cooled the air.   I sat on the porch while everyone caught up on the World Cup, feeling quite content.  

Dear Diary, I  am glad for crescent moons and birthday cakes.  I am glad for memories  sweet enough to make you cry and keep your heart tender -and  I am glad for cooling showers in June . . .and dances in the kitchen.





26 thoughts on “Dancing in the Kitchen

  1. the sentence in the post that glowed for me and that I’ll carry in my heart for a few days was, “the contents of life are comprised of deeds done and who we share our seasons with…” I think your choices to actively appreciate the wonders of the world around you and to cherish your family have rewarded you with wisdom, my dear friend.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. If I have any wisdom, I probably learned it the hard way! hahah! I tend to reflect a lot and clearly define what matters to me . . .it comes down to my loved ones. I think it does for most people. love Michele


  2. Beautiful post. It sounds like a beautiful few days full of fun, laughter, memories, and a little work. Thank you for sharing =) It makes me realize that we all need to take time out of our busy lives to just enjoy the day, family, and friends.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Dear Ma’am
    After I read your post, I could truly sayTHE year ‘s at the spring,
    And day ‘s at the even,
    Evening ‘s at seven;
    The hill-side ‘s dew-pearl’d;
    The lark ‘s on the wing; 5
    The snail ‘s on the thorn;
    God ‘s in His heaven—
    All ‘s right with the world! ( with a couple of modifications).
    God bless you, ma’am

    Liked by 1 person

  4. So many little bits I want to linger on…the music and cake combo, your father -quiet and humble, and going to bid the world goodnight. Sigh. I usually like to sit with my husband on our deck on fair evenings in the summer, cooling off and enjoying the starlight. I’ve never had or seen? a rutabaga, so very interesting your descriptions. And this is the loveliest bit of all…”no, the contents of life are comprised of deeds done and who we share our seasons with, I think . . . and do not decline in worth. Even the bittersweet memories, can offer us some advantage.” So much packed into that to muse on.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. thank you Amy-You are making a beautiful life for you and your dear children-by beautiful deeds. I think it is nice to bid the day farewell and welcome the night with your husband-more sweet contents. Bless you my kind friend. love Michele

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Our experiences and memories are the only things that truly last.
    They never wear out, wear thin, grow old.
    In fact, some sweeten and improve with time.
    Indeed, these are the only things I may take with me when I go.
    What else would I need?

    All my best,


    Liked by 1 person

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