HARRY BROWN: We didn’t have any half-runners back in those days; we had cornfield beans. We’d pick’em after they got large enough. We’d take’em and break’em like we were going to cook them, and set down with a big needle and string’em on a thread—[called them] leather britches. People didn’t can so much like they do now.
ILLUSTRATION 15 Everyone helps when beans come in.
ESCO PITTS: When I was a boy we didn’t have bunch beans—they’s all cornfield beans or running beans. Around the edge of the garden my mother planted her butterbeans and what we called October beans, those big old red striped beans. And they’d run up those garden palings, and they’d be nothin’ to bother’em and they’d make all kinds of beans. And out in the cornfield we’d plant field beans and they’d run up on the corn and they’d just be bushels and bushels of beans out there. We ate [the cornfield beans] green as long as the season was open, and what we didn’t pick before the frost, we let dry on the vine.
Fall garden
It was a common practice to take advantage of the cooler weather in late summer and fall to grow more cool-weather vegetables. People planted the same kinds of things they planted in the early spring, but not as big a variety. Collards are included only in this section because they really don’t taste good until they’ve been hit by frost, but everything else mentioned here was also grown in the spring.
ESCO PITTS: For a fall crop, we planted turnips in September and cabbage. Sometimes we’d put out late-multiplying onions in the fall [around September] and have onions all winter. We buried th’turnips along with th’cabbage t’keep’em through th’winter. Usually, my mother planted [collards] in th’fall of th’year. Latter part of July, first of August, she’d sow a collard bed an’ when they come up good size t’transplant, she’d have a row in th’garden. Collards are not much good till th’frost bites’em—makes’em better t’eat.
FLORENCE BROOKS: They planted mustard an’ turnip greens; that’s about all except for late cabbage which they planted before August. They’d dig a hole an’ store those cabbage. Didn’t plant late potatoes—they wouldn’t make.
Collards you grow like y’grow late cabbage. They taste th’best if it frosts on’em before you pick’em—they just have a sweeter taste that way. If you grow’em like early cabbage, they don’t taste right. You can sow your seeds [in July] in your rows, or in a bed an’ then transplant’em into rows. Come the first frosts in October, you can start pickin’ the leaves and cookin’ ’em. Y’don’t pull the whole plant up at one time, just keep pickin’ the leaves, and they like cooler weather, so for a time they’ll just keep growin’ more leaves.
HARRY BROWN: My father would take the collards after they got so high, and push them over, and put a piece of pine bark and then dirt over them. That’d protect the collards and keep them through the winter.
Other farm crops
In addition to the garden vegetables mentioned, people grew other things, either for themselves, or for their livestock. These crops occupy a separate section because they are not garden vegetables per se, but were very important to the overall functioning of the farm as a nearly self-contained unit.
Perennials, herbs, and spices
It was common for a corner or edge of the vegetable garden to be set aside for perennials. The herbs and spices (many of which are perennials) were often dug from fallow or wooded areas and transplanted into the garden so they’d be close at hand. Plants such as Jerusalem artichokes and rhubarb were commonly grown (as vegetables) with the herbs and spices. The Jerusalem artichokes form edible tubers under the ground, and if a few are left each year, they will sprout and grow up again in the spring. Rhubarb grows back each year from the same stock. (We have not included another well-known perennial, asparagus, here, because no one we spoke to used to grow it.)
MARINDA BROWN: My mother had her herbs and spices set aside on one edge of the garden. She grew horseradish for putting in pickles, sage for seasoning sausage, garlic for flavoring different things, dill for dill pickles, and peppermint for flavoring tea. None of these things took much pampering—all but the dill would come back from the same roots, and that would self-sow, and they didn’t take a really rich soil. Of course, you had to weed them and keep them from spreading too far, especially the garlic.
She also grew rhubarb and Jerusalem artichokes along the edge of the garden. The rhubarb she got when a neighbor divided hers. They like a rich, well-drained soil, and [the roots] need to be divided every couple of years. The Jerusalem artichokes grew in rich soil, too. We liked to eat them raw.
FLORENCE BROOKS: Oh, we had [Jerusalem] artichokes. I don’t know when they planted’em; they was just there when I was. They kept coming back, an’ we’d just dig’em an’ eat, Lord mercy! They were planted outside of th’fence—it was good rich soil right below th’garden.
Ever’body had rhubarb. We always set it out by th’garden fence an’ let it go. Didn’t dig it up, just let it grow, year after year. It gets in big bunches. Set’em inside th’garden.
ESCO PITTS: My mother had all kinds of [herbs]—rhubarb, rue, comfrey, Jerusalem oak, mallards, sage, parsley, and catnip. She had in one corner of her garden all her medicinal plants, and that corner never was plowed up—she was very careful of that. They’d just come up ever’spring. The rue she made tea of, and I ain’t seen a stock of rue in many a day. She used Jerusalem oak to make candy out of for worm medicine. And th’mallard leaf was to put on a burn—wilt it in front of th’fire an’ slap it on a burn an’ it would draw th’fire out. The comfrey she used for poultices for sores.
ADA KELLY: My mother [had a corner of the garden] where she grew dill and sage, catnip, ground ivy—the babies had to have that for tea. And she grew tansy and peppermint. Most of them came back year after year, but a few, like dill, she had to plant from seed.
Fruit
Many people cultivated fruit in the mountains years ago, with apples, peaches, and grapes being the most common. But it appears to us that people relied very heavily on the wild fruit which grew in abundance. Some examples are blackberries, strawberries, huckleberries, persimmons, cherries, mulberries, mayapples, and elderberries.
KENNY RUNION: People grew apples, peaches, grapes, plums, and pears. And they were delicious. At that time there was no such thing as sprayin’. The people in my young life pruned their trees and grape vines in February, and that was all that was done. And it was delicious fruit. You don’t get fruit now’days that tastes like that fruit. Now some people had a cellar t’put stuff in, but most people just dug holes in th’ground.
MARINDA BROWN: While I was growing up on Middle Creek, my father had all kinds of fruit, and there was no problem with bugs. There were several apple trees all around the house and barnyard. He always fertilized them with stable manure every year. The kinds I can remember that he grew were Shockley, Ben Davis, and Limbertwig. I guess he pruned them, but I really can’t remember.
He also set out some cherry trees around, but as far as I can recall he never pampered them. They just bore every year. There were also some currant and some gooseberry bushes that were on the place when Dad bought it. He never did anything with them, either. They just bore fruit.
There was a man who used some of our land to start seedlings [to sell] on—all kinds of fruit trees. Many of those seeds were carried around by the birds, I guess, and we also had self-sowed plum and peach trees all around from that. And no one ever took care of them—all we did was pick the fruit.
ADA KELLY: We had a nice apple orchard and a peach orchard. We called’em Indian peaches, and they were small and about as red as a pickled beet. And then we had a small peach we called an openstone, because the peach didn’t cling to the seed. We had to take care of the orchard—mainly, we pruned and fertilized them during the cold months. We’d store the apples in a hole dug in the ground. First, we’d put in some hay or straw or dry leaves, and pour the apples in. Then, we covered it over with more hay or leaves, then heavy soil. They kept all
winter.
LON DOVER: We grew grapes and had wild grapes, too. Grapes don’t take a whole lot of work, and they’ll grow in a lot o’different places. We always gave them a trellis t’grow on, and we’d prune them and put stable manure on them every fall or winter. Nothin’ much used to bother’em, but the Japanese beetles [we have now] are bad to eat the leaves. I’ve heard old folks say about pruning, that if you saw an apple tree limb off on the new moon it’s guaranteed t’heal—just grows over like skin grows back. If y’saw a limb off on th’old moon, th’wood’ll generally rot. So, if I have any prunin’ to do, I’ll do it on th’new moon if I can.
Cane
LON DOVER: Many people grew cane. Y’sow your cane and when it grows up, it’s like corn. When th’seed turns brown, it’s ripe. Some people cut their cane green an’ make syrup from green cane. If it’s not good an’ sweet, it’ll have a kind of bitter whang. But you let the seeds get good an’ ripe on your cane, cut it down, strip th’fodder off it and bring it to a cane mill t’make syrup. That’s what old people baked their sweet bread out of. Th’people who grew it sold it t’people who didn’t have it. They wasn’t too many people had mills. They’d take it t’other people’s mills an’ make it. Sorghum makes an awful black syrup. We thought it was good then. Black soil like we had won’t make clear syrup—you have t’have a red clay t’make clear syrup.
BURNETT BROOKS: There’s not a whole lot to growing cane. The work starts when it ripens. You just plant it and forget about it for sixty to sixty-five days. You don’t even put much fertilizer on it. It’s really an easy crop grown. You can plow and hoe it about twice. You don’t have to spray it [for bugs]. Then you take it up about this time of year [the middle of October]. This [year’s crop] wasn’t planted until July fourth because of the weather, but usually we try to get it in around the beginning of June.
LAWTON BROOKS: Cane is something that takes a soil that’s not too rich—a good clay soil’s the best. Sow it in rows so it can be worked a time or two during the summer—it’s best to sow it in early June. It won’t take too much wet weather, ’cause it’s bad to blow over during bad weather, and that ruins it.
You’ve got t’try t’get it stripped, cut down, and made into syrup when it’s ripe; if y’wait too long it could come a frost on it in the field and that ruins the taste of the syrup. If y’think it’s gonna soon come a frost, and it’s still in the field, y’can strip it, cut it down, and stack and cover it for a few days, and the frost won’t hurt it that way, but y’can’t leave it stacked too long because it won’t make as good syrup.
ILLUSTRATION 16 The cane tops Myrtle McMahon is holding are fully ripe.
HARRIET ECHOLS: My father grew cane. All those mountain folk made their own syrup. You plant it in the spring. Syrup was cheap and it was hard work. We couldn’t sell it. I used to sell it for twenty-five cents a gallon. My father just made hundreds and hundreds of gallons. He cooked syrup for all the neighbors. He had his own equipment, his own furnace and cooking vat and everything. Everybody couldn’t own a vat to cook syrup ’cause it was too expensive. One person in the neighborhood like would start the operation. They paid’em so much, I don’t remember the prices now, but we always had a big cane patch. I had to hoe it, and that was a job. Plum up until after I married, we had cane.
Tobacco
HARRIET ECHOLS: You get the seed and prepare your bed. First you put your fertilize or barnyard litter in it. Frame it in with planks and put a screen over it. Dig the dirt up and make it soft. Then, in the early spring, sow the seed, just pat them in. They are little seeds and you don’t want them very deep. When they come up then you put a screen over them; or wire; then a plastic cover. You plant them on the east side so the morning sun will hit them. You let your plants get up six to eight inches high, at least six. Maybe eight. The bigger the better.
Then you set them out in your tobacco patch. You have to work the soil carefully to keep the weeds down. Plow it, but you can’t plow close to the plants; you have to go around and be careful not to bruise them. When it starts to ripen, it goes to seed; it has a bloom and a seed on top. Then you top it. They have little suckers on them, little plants that come out on the stalk at the leaves. You have to pinch those little suckers off to make good tobacco, and all that strength goes to the leaves. Then when it ripens enough all the leaves go together.
They cured the tobacco back then. They didn’t have curing houses just for a small farm. They would just hang it in the barn.
ESCO PITTS: My grandfather grew tobacco for his own use, a patch about as big as this room [12’ × 14’]. When those leaves began to turn—now that was his job, we couldn’t do that—he’d go through the field when those bottom leaves began to turn and very carefully pick one off at a time and put them in a basket. He’d go over his little patch two to three times a week. He’d take those big tobacco leaves, tie a bunch together, take’em and hang’em up in the barn till they got good and dry. He’d put’em where we couldn’t get to it. It was hard to grow; seems like every three to four days checking those leaves, looking for worms. I always wanted to work with him in his tobacco, but no, that was apart.
When he got ready to twist his tobacco, he would make a sweetened water with homemade syrup and he’d put a big wagon sheet down, put his nice leaves down on that sheet, and take that sweetened water and sprinkle it on the tobacco. When it got pretty damp, why, he’d twist it. He’d keep on until he got it done. Some parts he’d have for chewin’, and some for smokin’. I’m pretty sure he saved his seed. Some people had big old tobacco patches. They didn’t sell it. They made their tobacco and they divided it with people who didn’t have any.
ILLUSTRATION 17 When the tobacco is cut, the curing process is begun by tying it in bundles and hanging it in the field.
ILLUSTRATION 18 Tobacco curing in the sun on Conway and Park Hughes’s farm.
Hay
LAWTON BROOKS: Lots of people grew hay. They could sow it along in August in their corn. After I laid by my corn, I’d go in th’corn an’ sow it. Then when y’gather your corn, you go back in there, cut th’stalks, rake them off, an’ you’ll have you a clear meadow. An’ then when your hay gets up big enough t’cut, you cut it sometime in th’spring. They’d get an old mule mowing machine [pulled with mules or horses]. Then they had an old rake driven with horses, an’ it’d rake up an’ when it got full, you’d trip it an’ it’d dump th’hay. Then after it cured, y’had t’stack it. Didn’t have no balers then.
You could get three cuttings out of a meadow. You won’t get too much th’third time. It keeps comin’ up by itself each time. Then you could plow it under and put it in something else, like corn.
ILLUSTRATION 19 Belle Dryman and her son Foy put up these haystacks. Her cows have nibbled away some of the hay from the bottom portions.
HARRIET ECHOLS: Hay is a crop raised in most every area now. All the work is done with tractors and big machinery today, but used to be, it was all done by hand. Lot of times people would plant grass on worn out cornfields, where the land wasn’t good enough to grow other crops anymore.
When the hay got up tall enough and there was a good stretch of dry weather, people’d go out with their scythe and cut it. Now some folks had horse-drawn moving machines, but we didn’t. How long it takes to cure depends on the temperature, how long the sun is out, and the humidity. They’d turn it a time or two with rakes while it was curing, till it was ready. Then they’d rake it up and haul it in the wagon where they were going to put their stacks. We didn’t know what a bale of hay was. I didn’t see one until I was full grown, ’cause they didn’t have the machinery to work with like they do now.
BELLE DRYMAN: We stack our hay yet. [My son] Foy bales some, but we don’t have enough cover for it all. We put up a tall pole t’stack the hay around it, then lay some brush on the ground [around the pole] so it doesn’t set on th’ground. Then we just go to stackin’ it around the pole. Y’have t’try t’make the top of the stack bigger than th’bottom
, and you have t’lay th’hay on the top so the water’ll run off. It’ll keep right on—just a little on the outside’ll get moldy.
Rye, wheat, and oats
ESCO PITTS: You can plant wheat in December, and harvest it late next spring. Back then people had t’harvest it with a cradle, an’ th’same thing with rye and oats. I’ve followed my father many a time and banded it, picked it up and tied it in bundles, an’ put eight bundles to th’shock. Let that cure, an’ th’thrashing machine’d come around after a while an’ thrash it. You grow all three ’bout th’same way, except y’sow your rye when you lay by your corn in June. We never grew many oats, but I think we sowed them in th’spring. They’d just cut th’oats in th’green stage, and feed it whole to th’animals—grain and hay and all.
LAWTON BROOKS: You can sow rye in August in your corn—it likes cooler weather. I’uz always proud t’see th’old thrasher come in there—pulled by oxen—after we cut it with a old-time cradle. M’daddy’d cradle it an’ me an’ m’brother’d tie it in pretty good-sized bundles. Then we’d go back an’ shock it—several bundles in a shock an’ two bundles spread out on th’top for a kind of roof. Stayed dry till we got ready t’stack it in th’field. We’d stack it when th’old iron thrasher could be brought in by th’oxen. When they got done thrashin’ at my house, he’d go to yours. We had to haul wood for the thrasher—it had a old steam boiler. We’d stack the straw t’use for bed ticks. Ever’year we got new straw for our bed ticks.
Planting By the Signs: Mountain Gardening: The Foxfire Americana Library (10) Page 4
