Granny Moon

By Hilda R. Austin

Underneath today's asphalt and concrete, there were once woodland trails and dirt roads that told of a different time. As we enjoy the comforts of our homes with modern conveniences, our imagination takes hold as we wonder what everyday life must have been like over a hundred years ago.As we glimpse the scenes of an earlier rural time within the pages of this book, let us ponder the benefits of having faith in God, trustworthiness, honesty, and love for our fellow man.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098055363

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Granny Moon

Hilda R. Austin

Copyright © 2020 by Hilda R. Austin

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

History Past

Appalachia, 1888

Come on…get your dinner. I won’t hurt ye. The old woman coaxes the chipmunk to the edge of the porch for biscuit crumbs. Her rocker creaks, sending the tiny animal scurrying back under the floorboards. Ahhh…ye little scairdy cat! She chuckles as she leans back against the coarsely woven cover on the back of the chair. It’s August, and the air is still. The huge trees surrounding her little cabin help to shade and protect it against the scorching sun. She rocks and dozes off and on. Memories of her earlier life drift behind her closed eyelids, mostly of people she knew and worked with.

She hears voices coming from the old dirt road. It’s actually a weed-grown path. Nobody ever comes by her place…maybe an old beggar from the railroad. She leans forward and waits. A boy pulling a wagon comes into view. Not having keen eyesight, she calls, Who are ye?

The boy answers, It’s me, Granny Moon, Rafe Dupre. An’ I brought my little sister to see ya! He pulls the wagon closer, over rocks and ruts up to the stepping stone to the porch.

Granny rises, peering at the children. Well, looky here, ain’t she purty! The small girl has red-gold curls and freckles across her button nose, her eyes green as moss. Young Rafe lifts the girl from the wagon and, taking her tiny hand, leads her carefully up the old steps to Granny for inspection.

What’s the little thing’s name, honey?

Rafe replies, This here is Maggie Lou.

Granny says admiringly, Well, I’m right glad to meet ye, Maggie Lou. The little girl promptly sticks her thumb in her mouth as she gazes at the old woman solemnly.

Well, what brought you out here today? Granny asks the boy.

Rafe, sitting beside his tiny sister on the top step, says, Maggie Lou follows me everywhere. So Mama asked me to watch her today ’cause they are real busy at the farm. I told her I was thinkin’ about visiting you, so she sent you some stuff.

Granny replies humbly, Now, wasn’t that nice of her? Your mama is one fine lady, you know that?

Granny says, Know what? I have some honey cookies in the stone jar in the kitchen. Turning to the boy, she adds, You know the one I mean. Go in and get one for you and her. Rafe does indeed know where they are. He’s been coming to Granny’s for a couple of years. Entering the kitchen, he smells the familiar cinnamon and apple scent. An old dry sink holds two water buckets with a tin cup beside one. The stone cookie jar sits in the middle of a small table where Granny eats her meals. The table is covered by a hand-hemmed flour sack square. Lifting the lid of the jar, he reaches inside and finds two large golden-brown cookies, each topped with a hickory nut kernel.

Taking the cookies out to the porch, he hands one to his sister. Granny says a trifle peevishly, I don’t reckon you thought to wash your hands, did ye?

Rafe, with one big bite already swallowed, looks sheepish and answers, No, ma’am, I forgot.

Granny says, Well, you’ll live in spite of it, I reckon.

Granny says, Well, we better get you and that little miss a cold drink of spring water ’afore I show her around. The three of them file inside through the much-mended screen door. In the cool dim interior, a large calico cat naps in an old cane-bottomed rocker.

After the cold drink, Granny and the two children troop out the back door and down three steps to a path leading to a small gurgling creek. They pass by a rickety shed with a cow and calf staring at them quizzically. Hey, you old girls, Granny calls to them. She explains, That’s old Minnie and her new baby, Rosie. Leading the way, Granny keeps busy pushing tall weeds back from the path as she makes her way through to a small clearing. This is my little garden, she tells them. It doesn’t look like much of a garden to Rafe. There are a few tomatoes, some half eaten by wild critters. There are about a dozen cornstalks with ripened ears of corn. I already started diggin’ some taters, and there’s only a few beans left to dry.

She pulls three ears of corn and makes a sling from her apron to carry them. Y’all can get some of the good tomatoes and put them here with the corn. Rafe and Maggie Lou readily assist the old woman, dumping their finds into the apron sling. Granny hoists the bundle of vegetables over her shoulder as she pins up a stray strand of hair. To the children’s delight, she encourages them to wade in the cold, sandy-bottomed creek. Maggie Lou squeals when her chubby toes experience the icy temperature of the water.

After an hour or so, Granny sees the little girl tiring. She suggests that they go back to the cabin for a little rest. At her direction, Rafe lifts Maggie Lou up into a small trundle bed and covers her with an old patchwork quilt. Granny says in a hushed voice to Rafe, Why don’t you see if you can find an egg or two around the smokehouse. Ol’ Betty and her sisters have almost stopped laying, but you might look under the back stoop for a nest. When the baby wakes up, I’ll have some tater soup for ye. Rafe, happy to be free from the burden of looking after his little sister, gladly does as she says.

After busying herself with lunch preparations, Granny decides to rest for a few minutes on the front porch again. She relaxes against the back of the rocker and gazes up at the overhead branches of the old oak. Today reminds her of the past when her babies slept and John was out hunting deer or rabbits. She thinks, We were poor, but we were happy.

She dozes for a few minutes and is awakened by Rafe whispering, Granny, I just saw a giant groundhog. I bet he’s on his way to your garden. You want me to fetch your gun and shoot him?

Granny answers in a shocked tone, Land sakes no, boy! That’s ol’ Mose—he’s my little friend! Why, I feed him almost every day!

Rafe looks puzzled, asking, Why would you do that?

The old woman smiles at him and says, He’s one of God’s little creatures, son. Leave him be. I knew when I put out that little garden the animals would eat most of it. I don’t need that much for myself ’cause the good people like your mama sends me stuff to eat from time to time.

They hear a small whimper from inside the cabin. Granny rises stiffly from her rocker, and she and Rafe go inside. There, sitting in the middle of the bed, curls tousled is Maggie Lou, thumb in mouth. Granny says to her, Now, don’t you look like a little angel! Rafe picks up the little girl who lays her head on his shoulder. Granny puts on another apron and bustles around the tiny kitchen, putting the finishing touches on lunch. She asks Rafe to go to the springhouse and bring back the small can of milk and a crock of butter. He places his sister in a chair at the table. While he is gone, Granny talks about this and that to the child, hoping for a response.

Finally, Granny asks, Did you like your cookie?

The little girl takes her thumb from her mouth and lisps, Yeth, ma’am.

Granny smiles and says, Good!

After the three have eaten their soup and the homemade bread sent by the children’s mother, they go back to the front porch to sit a spell because the kitchen has grown warm from the wood fire in the small cookstove. Rafe asks, Tell us about when you were little. I just love your stories. So the old woman rocks and talks about days gone by.

Autumn, 1826

Virginia Blake, get in here! It’s going on eight o’clock. Help me get the little ones ready for bed. This is the usual order every evening. Virginia just naturally loves being outside, even in winter. She is the eldest of five children born to Lucy and Isaac Blake. The siblings look to her for their needs almost as much as they do their mother. This is because Mrs. Blake is always busy in the garden or helping in the fields. Also, she is the only midwife for miles around. Giving birth is considered a natural event, and doctors are scarce. Living way out in the hills would keep a doctor from arriving in time anyway.

Virginia is happy to see to the younger children. She has experienced seeing each one being born and has taken care of them since. She was born in 1811 and is only twelve years old, but she can prepare meals and do the washing as well as any grown woman. This is quite an accomplishment in an era when cooking was done on a wood-fired stove and well water had to be drawn by a bucket on a rope.

After the children are tucked in, Virginia tiptoes to the front porch to join her mam and pap who are rocking and talking quietly. Here’s my girl, her pap says adoringly. She and her pap are very close.

Her mam smiles at her, asking playfully, What have you been up to today? Have you discovered any new remedies for a toothache or a stubbed toe?

Virginia ducks her head and answers, Aw, Mam, you’ll be proud of me someday. I might just be a doctor or somebody who finds a cure for a certain affliction.

Her mother speaks soothingly. I’m just pulling your leg, honey. You may very well be somebody important. I hope so for your sake. You are a good girl.

Her pap points the stem of his corncob pipe at her, advising her to keep trying. You’ll find out what your callin’ is at the right time…when God favors it.

Back at Granny’s Cabin, 1888

Rafe is holding a still-sleepy Maggie Lou on his lap as Granny stares off into the woods. She says, Did I ever tell you about the time I went up Painter’s Creek by myself? Rafe shakes his head no. Well, I reckon I was ’bout seven year’ old, and I went there lookin’ for blackberries. After I looked for a good while, I found a nice patch up near the falls.

Where did the name Painter’s Creek come from? Rafe wants to know.

Granny says, Way back years ago, the old folks called the wildcats and panthers ‘painters.’ I don’t know why, though. That’s where the name comes from, anyway. She continues with her story. I was pickin’ the biggest berries you ever did see when, all at once, I heard a sound like a baby cryin’. I didn’t know what it was. I waited and listened and started makin’ my way toward where the sound was comin’ from. I could tell I was gettin’ closer to it. Then I hear this loud scream comin’ from way up in a big old tree. I dropped that basket of berries and took off, I tell ye. I never ran so fast in my life. I durn near died of fright!

Rafe, his eyes big, asks, What was it, Granny?

Why, it was a painter screamin’ ’cause she thought I was after her babies, I reckon. I was scratched and scraped all over by the time I got home. I told my mam, and she forbid me to ever go back to Painter’s Creek. ’Course, years later, I went there again. By then, all the painters were gone.

Granny, Rafe, and Maggie Lou sit in silence, hearing only the sounds of crickets and birds. Granny breaks the silence, saying, Rafe, I’ve really enjoyed your visit today. I want you to come back and bring Maggie Lou with you again next time. With that, she gets up and goes inside and returns with the last two honey cookies wrapped in a remnant of clean flour sack. She says, Here, this is for your trip home.

Rafe tucks Maggie Lou in the wagon and turns to wave to Granny and prods Maggie Lou to do so. He pulls the wagon carefully around rocks and tree roots to start for home. He hums a little tune as he pulls his cargo along the old dirt road. All is peaceful and quiet when he hears a rustling in the brush by the road. The hair on the back of his neck prickles. He starts pulling the wagon a little faster. It lurches over the rough road, threatening to dump its passenger. Granny’s panther tale is fresh in his mind.

Granny’s old calico cat Nancy peeks out from under a fallen tree limb and spies the children hurrying along. She cautiously pulls back under cover and concentrates on the fat field mouse’s nest she has just discovered.

That evening, Granny goes to bed at dusk. It was