Just a Mornin' in Beloved

The Big Ben alarm clock ticked away without missin' a beat.  Wound tight the evening before it dutifully counted cadence as the new morning crept quiet like into the holler.  Animals around the farm had not yet started to move and prepare for the day.  In the hills above the old log cabin there was little sound as even the sparrows an' robins still slept on.

Though it was unseasonably cold, the coal grate did not glow with dyin' embers of yesterday's fire.  Those embers had fussed an' glowed long into the early mornin' hours before givin' up an' lettin' the cold in.  Soon enough sparks an' flames would dance from place to place and send wild reflections to whirl an' jig on the walls of the small front room.

In the bedroom an old man lay alone and listened to the clock tick the day away... tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.  He didn't move just yet.  It would soon enough be time to stand, stretch his time worn ol' bones and begin his chores.  Just now he lay still in the dark and listened to the Big Ben alarm clock.

At the foot of the bed his old dog Sooner lifted his head and yawned, waiting for his master to make the first move.  He knew the routine, knew to wait, knew soon enough two sets of worn out bones would begin to move.

Without any sign of a change, the room filled with movement as man and dog sensed the time were right.  Up to stretch, turn a light on, pull on worn out overalls, shirt next and straps over the shoulder.  The old man, Billy, sat down careful like on a ladder back chair beside the bed.  Leanin' to the side he pulled open a drawer an' grabbed a pair of socks.  He had learned years ago as he served his country that "clean socks were a blessin' an' a necessity" for a soldier.  It was a lesson he never forgot, a lesson told by the neat rows of socks, pairs doubled into themselves an' lined up neat in that drawer.

Boots on an' tied tight, he turned an' reached into the same drawer to get a faded ol' red hanky.  Faded an' worn, but pressed an' folded as neat as a dry cleaned shirt.  Billy pushed the hanky into his back pocket, checked his other pockets to make sure everything was secure.  Pocket knife, change purse, pocket watch in the front watch pocket.  The watch he pulled out an' checked the time agin the Big Ben.  As always, the time was right.  Twistin' the stem to wind the pocket watch for another day was his last chore before he left the bedroom, turnin' off the light an walkin' to the coal grate.

He picked up the coal bucket that sat by the grate an' talked absently to the dog, "Sooner, I told y'all they weren't enough coal in that grate, but we was too sorry to walk out to the coal pile an' get more coal last night.  I put you in charge o' that an' y'all jist din't do a thing I asked ye to do."

Sooner hung his ol' head obediently, lookin' sorrowful, like it were his fault.  Ol' Billy sat the bucket by the door, turned an' walked back to the kitchen. "Better put some coffee on to boil a bit before I get goin'.  Ye'll make me fergit that too.".  Before he left the kitchen,scoops of coffee he had carefully ground in his Mama's ancient coffee mill were poured into the coffee pot.

"Well, ol' Sooner, better git some fresh water if this here coffee is gonna taste any good a'tall." 

With those words to his dog, Billy opened the back door an' walked in the dark to the well.  It was a drilled well with a long, round an' narrow bucket hangin' from a rope above the rock that covered to hole.  With practiced motions he lowered the bucket down the hole till he heard the first "glug".  Careful like he lowered a bit more and more till a big ol' "Glup Glug" sounded an' he pulled hard.  He held the long bucket over the enamel house bucket an' pulled on the ring that released the cool well water in a gush.

Inside the kitchen Billy poured water into the coffee pot an' turned on the electric stove.  He didn't wait but turned an' headed for the door, picked up the coal bucket an' called, "Hup, Sooner, come on dog".  Sooner stood, stretched an' followed his master out an' to the side of the house. 

Sooner nosed around, checkin' to make sure his domain was safe an' no invaders had snuck in durin' the night.  Confident in his ownership of all around the house yard, the ol' dog proceeded to water an' mark the edges of his kingdom.

Billy filled the coal bucket with clinkers an' a few bigger pieces that would burn long an' hot.  He headed toward the door an' with practiced ease the ol' dog joined him.  Once inside, the fire was relit quickly.  It would take a while to heat the room, so Billy went back to the kitchen, threw some food into Sooner's bowl, poured the ol' dog fresh water an' walked over to check the coffee pot.

No city folks would have been much interested in that pot of black, boilin' coffee, but Billy smiled to himself as he smelled the rich smell an' reached into the small cupboard hangin' on the wall to get one of several mismatched china cups.  His wife, (Aunt Dell folks had called her.  They mostly called him Uncle Billy too) had bought him china cups here an' there at barn sales or charity sales.  He didn't like coffee in mugs an' she didn't like him breakin' her good china cups.  There was just somethin' about a hot cup of black coffee in a china cup.

Cup in hand, he went into the front room, pulled a ladder back chair close to the new fire in the coal grate an' sat down.  He held the warm cup between his rough ol' hands.  "'Mere, Sooner", he called.  The ol' dog rose from the kitchen an' walked over to the chair.  He dropped beside the chair as if his bones had just melted.  Billy reached down to absently rub the collar of loose fur around the dog's neck an' watched the coals glow an' dance.

"Ol' dog, we have some chores to do.  Them chickens have eggs to gather, I'll need to throw hay down to the mules an' we need to go down to Hap Collin's place to see about buyin' some pullets from him... it the weather ever is goin' to break."

"Yep", he said, "they is things to do, things to do.  But I think we can sit an' watch this coal grate get goin' good before we start up agin.  We have all mornin', Sooner.  Let's me an' you just sit here an' drink our coffee."

An' they did just that.

Morning at the Gilbert place

Del Gilbert woke easily, well before the sun was up.  Her husband, Billy would be up soon.  He patted her shoulder as she rolled to the edge of their bed and sat up.  Most mornings he would lay in bed and spend a few moments in quiet prayer as he prepared for his day.  His day would start fast and go steady till their noon meal.  He would be back in the fields soon after and would finally stumble in, dog tired just before dark to eat a bite, sip on some iced tea on the porch and listen to the radio till bed time.  Most folks called him "Uncle Billy" and he was what folks call "a good ol' boy".

There was a pretty good chance that one or more neighbor would wander by and stop for some sweet tea and conversation in the early evenin' hours.  Though their home was off the beaten path and at the end of a road that wandered deep into a holler, it sometimes seemed like Grand Central Station to Del.

 Del quickly made biscuits and pushed the pan into the oven.  Bacon and ham soon fell into a fryin' pan and the little cabin tucked into the holler was smellin' wonderful.  Grits bubbled and steamed on the back burner right beside a little pan filled with warm water in which she put a quart jar of maple syrup to warm.  Billy liked maple syrup in his grits and his own sourwood honey on his biscuits.

Five bee gums (hives for the Yankee folks) sat a little further back in the holler and were just about ready to be robbed of the season's bounty of sourwood honey.  The sourwood trees had been just beautiful this year with all the rain.  Their limbs had hung low, laden with white, fragrant flowers that they could smell from their front porch... or anywhere else in their humble cabin when the windows were open.

The bees worked those trees steady for weeks.  Their buzzin' created a hum around the trees that was magical.  It seemed like the whole hillside was alive an' singin' glory an' hallelujahs to the Good Lord above when the Sourwoods were bloomin'.  Del often took a chair out close to the trees on a nice day and sat in the shade, listenin' to that hum as she pieced quilts or peeled taters for dinner.

The biscuits came out of the oven and Del cracked eggs into a little pan shined up with just a dab of bacon grease... made the eggs taste good an made her cleanin' the pan easier with a slick of grease in the bottom.  Billy ate two and she had one, all over easy.  Since her layin' hens were goin' great guns, she fried up a few more.  Maybe Billy would want another for breakfast.  Maybe he would put a cold fried egg on his plate for dinner.  Maybe one of the neighbors would stop for coffee and have a biscuit stuffed with a fried egg to gossip over.

"Better come on, ol' man.  This breakfast is coolin' quick an' I am 'bout ready to toss it out for the dogs" she called.

"I hear ye. I hear ye.  A feller cain't even get his boots laced 'round here.  You threaten me every day with throwin' my breakfast to the dogs.  It ain't happened in 48 years and I don't reckon you'll start now." Billy chuckled.

Del grinned and sat the plate of eggs on the table.  She wiped her hands on the dish towel that hung on her shoulder, folded it and laid it by the sink.  Billy and Del sat, joined hands and bowed their heads.

"Now Lord, we ain't got much to brag about.  What we got is from You and we are humbled by the bounty of this little patch of ground you have given us here in this holler.  We don't rightly know what we have done to deserve all we have been blessed with, don't reckon our blessin's come from what we deserve, but what You grace us with.  For that and for this table we give You thanks, Lord.  Watch over us and them we love this day.  Bless our country, our President, them that govern and us that live free.  Be with the boys that guard and protect in the Armed Forces.  Bless the Governor of Kentucky and those folks we have elected to guide our state, the local folks.  Lord, give 'em some wisdom... give them government folks a lot of wisdom, Lord.  I just don't know about them folks sometimes.  Get 'em off their high horses an' back down to earth." Billy prays.

Del squeezes Billy's hand and he chuckles; "Sorry I went on so, Lord.  Help us as we go about our work today.  Help us to be humble and to know You are God.  Thanks for your son, Jesus.  I'm prayin' all this in His Mighty name.  Amen."

They squeeze each others hand, Billy leans over, as he does every day and kisses Del.  This is a custom he started their first day of marriage as Del sat cryin' over burned biscuits an' crispy eggs.  He leaned over that mornin', kissed her, told her every thing looked wonderful and ate every bite.  From that day till this he would kiss her before his first bite.

Breakfast is soon over.  Billy grabs the bowl of scraps Del has prepared and crumbles a biscuit into the bowl. He is out the back door and into the barn to begin his day.  Del sits back down an' pours a cup of coffee.  Them dishes ain't goin' nowhere.  She listens as Billy calls his ol' Sooner dog.  Sooner has been sleepin' under the front porch but soon is up, has a good shake and trots - side aways over to eat his breakfast as Billy throws cracked corn to the chickens.

Sooner will follow Billy from chore to chore all day long.  When Billy begins to work, Sooner will go round and round a few time and drop like he was dead to the ground... one eye openin' occasionally to make sure Billy is there.  At noon, man and dog will head back to the house.

That's the way it happens most days.  It is a simple life, a good life.  It is, as they know, a blessed life.