the sweetest tomatoes

The Clay County Fair was a goin' full tilt. The rides were full with long lines for all the good rides. The feller at the pony rides didn't have much to do till some proud mountain mama came along an' their youngin' started squallin' about ridin' a pony. He would perk up then an' grin. He could shame a quarter from even the poorest soul for a pony ride.

The bench outside the rabbit barn was a gatherin' place of sorts for many of the older fellers at the fair. It was close to all the food vendors, but far enough away from the midway and all the loud games an' rides that a person could get a little good conversation in.

Uncle Billy sat by himself on the bench. Several fellers had come an' gone over the space of an hour. All had news to offer about which youngin' won in this or that 4H barn. The turkey judgin' was goin' on an' Uncle Billy expected a report soon from that contest.

He had spent most of the mornin' makin' brooms an' talkin' with folks. His hands had another idea right now, though. Ever' now an' again he suffered with a little arthritis. Today it was worse than it had been all week. He reckoned it was keepin' his hands wet an workin' with the broomcorn for such long periods. He sat with one hand in the other. For good measure he would rub the knuckles softly, hoping to rub the ache out.

As he sat there, he heard someone callin' his name. "Hey, Uncle Billy. Uncle Billy, over here. Here."

There was folks goin' all different directions an' Uncle Billy couldn't see where the voice was comin' from till Junebug Burns plopped himself down on the bench beside Uncle Billy. Junebug had some sheep that were going to be judged later that day an' he was right smart nervous about it. Folks were sayin' that his sheep were the best to come through the fairgrounds in a long time. Junebug hoped that was true. He could use the money from a good auction to put away for college. He wanted to go to college over to Cumberland Baptist College to study an' be a teacher. He promised anyone who listened to him that he would come back an' teach in his hometown of Beloved when he was done.

"Uncle Billy, you look right tired."

"I reckon sleepin' on a cot in a barn ain't as peaceful as I might like, Junebug. How 'bout you?"

Well sir, I just don't mind it a bit. They is so much to do here I don't sleep much anyways."

Uncle Billy chuckled, "I don't know that I would repeat that to your Mama, Junebug."

"No sir, that might be a foolish thing to do."

"How are the sheep this year, Junebug? Think you'll win it?"

Junebug sat an' studied a little while before he answered, "Well, I don't rightly know. Lots of folks have stopped by an' looked 'em over. I think I got as good a chance as anyone."

Junebug watched Uncle Billy rubbin' his hands for a second or two, "Them hands hurtin' you?"

"Yessir, some days is better than others. They hurt more in the mornin's than any other time."

"Mine don't do that none."

Uncle Billy grinned, "No sir, I reckon they won't for another 60 years or so."

"You hungry, Uncle Billy?"

"Mountain men are always hungry. You?"

"Always."

Uncle Billy chuckled. He figured Junebug had spent his money on games an' was lookin' for a good meal. "Reckon you want to go over an' get somethin' to eat with me?"

"Nope, I got somethin' for you an' me to eat right here."

Junebug reached into a bag he was carryin' an' pulled out two of the prettiest red, ripe tomaters Uncle Billy had ever seen. Junebug had a salt shaker in his hand as he handed the bigger one to Uncle Billy.

"Those are nice tomaters, Junebug. I appreciate that. Nothin' better than a tomater with a little salt."

Junebug already had a mouthful as he agreed. The two sat an' ate slowly, each enjoyin' the sweet taste of the tomaters. Ever' now an' again a little juice ran down their lips. Both were quick to catch it and place it back in their mouths. The tomaters were just that good. A feller didn't want to waste a drop.

Uncle Billy chuckled, "I reckon we are both eatin like we are starved. Only thing could make these better would be sittin' in the garden eatin' 'em right off the vine."

Junebug grinned, "Onliest thing could make 'em better is you an' me sneakin' into that garden after dark an' sittin' between the rows eatin' 'em in the moonlight."

"Now, Junebug, what garden did you sneak into? Are these from someone's garden? When did you sneak out?"

"Uncle Billy, I ain't sneaked off the fairgrounds. I promised Pap I wouldn't an' I keep my promises. Just don't ask no questions."

Uncle Billy looked at Junebug for a long time. He had slowed his eatin' down at the prospect of eatin' ill gotten gains. He studied the small piece of tomater he had left for a long while. "Junebug, they don't sell tomaters here at the fair, do they?"

"No sir, they don't. Eat up, Uncle Billy. You are askin' too many questions."

Uncle Billy sat up. He knew something was wrong!

"Junebug Burns! Where did you get these tomaters?"

"Uncle Billy, here is the way it is. Ms.Hazel bugs me to death at church all the time. She tells me to stand up straight, wipes my face with spit an' a hankie if she thinks she sees a little dirt. She tells my Mama on me all the time an' I get in trouble from her carryin' on. Her tomaters was already judged an' won a blue ribbon. They was a whole basket full an' I felt like she owed me a couple."

"Ms.Hazel? Oh, Junebug, if you get caught there will be no end of this! Of all the folks to swipe tomaters from...Ms.Hazel. That woman is a thorn in my side too, Junebug. She will have out hides if she catches us. I'll have to go over to her house for a Sunday dinner to apologize. That woman wants to get her hooks in me anyway, son."

"Well, I reckon we better eat up real fast, Uncle Billy. Don't want anyone seein' us eatin' her tomaters, do we?"

With that thought, both man an' boy put the last bite of sweet, red tomater in their mouth and swallowed hard an' fast. Both grinned a little as they sat on the bench in front of the rabbit barn. Neither said anything for a long time.

"Uncle Billy?"

"Yep?"

"Stolen tomaters is the best."

"Junebug!"

"They are, Uncle Billy. Sneakin' in an' swipin' a tomater makes it sweeter. You said they was good."

"I reckon, boy, I reckon. Just don't tell anyone we ate Ms.Hazel's prize winnin' tomaters. Just my luck I'd have to end up marryin' the woman to end her shame."

Junebug looked at Uncle Billy with a grin that sliced from ear to ear. They shared a secret that bonded them that day. In the years to come Junebug would grow closer to the old man. Eventually he would learn to make brooms from Uncle Billy. Years later he would sit in a barn makin' brooms an' tellin' stories Uncle billy told him on days just like this one. Them tomaters changed the directions of Junebug's life.

Junebug was right. There is nothin' sweeter than a swiped tomater...

Unless it was pullin' somethin' over on Ms. Hazel. Man an' boy both enjoyed that sweet, red secret.

First Frost

There is a chill in the air tonight.
Chickens started roostin' pretty early too.
Twilight and the fog is already started down
Covering the underbrush, slidin' round the trees.

There is a brittle feel to the air.
Like it is hidin' icy fingers,
Waiting to reach out and wrap frosty hands
Round cabin, barn and farmyard.

There is a bone cold feel this evenin'.
Feller needs a coat to go check the barn,
Needs a sweater round the house.
Get that stove a going good, now.

There is a frost just a settlin' in.
Just wait and you'll see, brother.
Grass will be icy blades under foot,
Cracklin' like cellophane as you walk.

There, there it is in the window corner.
See it yonder, there, first frost,
Sneakin' into the cabin near bedtime.
Thinkin' a feller won't see the signs.

There is first frost tonight.
Cover your roses and them mums, now.
Crackly, crinkly frost on the window.
Extra quilts on the bed tonight.

Brylcreem

Years ago, when I was a little feller, I dreamed of being a cowboy. It was just after the birth of television and westerns were the rage. TVs were always and only black and white and there were some folks still who had old radios that had been adapted with a cathode ray tube.

On Saturday mornings the western was the rule and Roy Rogers was the King of the Cowboys! Dale Evans was beautiful and I loved her as only a six year old can love a woman. When I turned five my Mama bought me and my little brother Roy Rogers outfits. They were complete with white shirts with little red roping on the edges of the collars that matched the red bandana the outfit came with. The pants were black with red piping going down the seam that matched a black vest with red trim. The red Roy Rogers hat topped off the outfit easily.

Now, I won't even brag about the beautiful leather gunbelt and two chrome metal six shooters with real plastic bullets that fit into the holdres on the gunbelt. I never could figure why it came with them plastic bullets since they didn't fit the gun. It was a jim dandy cap pistol.

I wore that outfit all the time. Mama has pictures of me and my little brother standin' in the doorway at Christmas in our Roy Rogers outfits...just as proud as any cowpoke could be.

My Grandma and Grandpa lived just down the road from us- a short walk. We spent plenty of time at their house. Grandma could make cookies like you never ate in your life. They had a big ol' poodle dog called Bobo an' my little brother used to pretend it was one of them rodeo bulls and wrassle with it.

Grandpa used to love to have his hair combed. He would pay me the huge sum of ten cents to comb his hair. Now, when I could I would comb for a minute or two and quit. He never let me go with just a minute or two. The deal was a good combin' and it usually took near ten minutes to satisfy him.

I would sit on the back of his chair with my legs draped over his shoulders and comb and comb. He loved that so much. Most of the time he fell asleep as I combed. More than once Grandma would lift me off his shoulders as he dozed.

Now, I gotta tell you something. Combin' hair for a livin' at the age of five or six can get right borin'. There ain't much to it. To top that off, Grandpa loved to listen to the Cincinnati Reds on the radio. So I would sit there and comb while he listened and dozed.

To make it fun I would pretend as I combed. Bein' a cowpoke in trainin', I pretended mostly about cowboyin'. In my mind I would ride an' rope an' shoot em up with the other cowboys. I would catch the crooks an win the gals.

Didn't figure out what to do with the gals when I won 'em for a long time.

Then I decided combin' Grandpa's hair was sorta like curryin' a horse. I had done both. Actually, I had curried and brushed my other Grandpa's mules, but mules is sorta like horses.

From that day on Grandpa became my favorite horse Trigger an' I was Roy Rogers. Grandma didn't know why I called her Dale sometimes, but went along with things. I would take that comb and comb Trigger's mane over and over. It grew longer as I combed. It was a heck of a lot more fun since Grandpa sat an' became Trigger for me. Roy Rogers couldn't be caught combin' Grandpa's hair. It was more respectable to comb Trigger than Grandpa!

Then one day I almost fell off the back of the chair. As I slid backwards I caught Grandpa by the ears and held on. He grabbed my hands to help me up. Right then and there I had an idea. As I sat in front of Grandpa, recovering, I noticed his ears looked a bit longer!

What if I pulled on his ears on a regular basis? Reckon he would start lookin' more like a ridin' and ropin' pony?

Well, I started then and there pullin' on his ears every time I combed his hair. I would sit there and comb, smelling the slight scent of Brylcreem, dreamin' of bein' a cowboy and ridin' the range. When he would doze off to sleep...jerk - his ears would get a tug.

Now he didn't like it much, but he put up with it for the hair combing. He didn't care much for me huggin' him as I left and callin' him Trigger. I don't know what he thought of my attempts to comb his hair to look like Trigger's did on the big screen or on TV. In my eyes he was lookin' more ands more like Roy's famous horse.

I tried to get him to count to ten with his feet, but he wasn't takin' that. When I tried to put that rope in his mouth that one day...well, I got a spankin' no cowboy should ever have to get.

It has been years since I combed Grandpa's hair. He finally got tired of it when the tops of his ears started droopin' over a little.

Never got me a Palimino horse like Trigger. Someday I will. Someday I will.

And I'm gonna name it.......

Brylcreem!!!

Just a Taste of Fall

I reckon the weather will be changin' fast now.
The tomaters have done all they're gonna do.
There's plenty of green ones to fry still.
Doubt any will ripen, weathers turned a bit.

Up in the hillside there's a buck workin' his antlers.
Just a rubbin' that velvet off hard an' fast.
He's gettin' ready for courtin' days right soon.
Listen, hear him thrashin' agin the tree?

Tobaccer's in, hangin' up there,high in the barn.
Stand in the barn door an smell real deep.
Nothin' sweeter smellin' than a cash crop dryin'.
Soon enough folk's be a strippin' 'baccer again.

Dang squirrels are a cuttin' on hickory nuts.
Sittin' on the tin roof, cuttin' an' a cuttin'.
They's gettin' fat, ready soon for a long nap.
'Course, one or two of 'em might be comin' for dinner.

Field corn stalks are turnin' brown, whispery dry.
Tractor's sittin' ready for work tomorrow.
Couple o' days an' the corn cribs will be full.
Them deer will be gettin' their fill 'bout now.

Yessir, weather's changin.
Just a taste o' fall in the twilight.
Light'nin' bugs havin' one last dance.
Mist creepin' down like a quiet quilt.

Cosmic Bunny

Years ago, not too very far from my hometown of Beloved, Kentucky some of my kin lived on Arnett’s Fork, right near Peabody, Kentucky. Now up on Arnett’s Fork was a one room schoolhouse where a whole herd o’ my kin was schooled. Mz. Birdie Sue Poovey was the schoolteacher back then.

My Cousin Peanut used to hang around the schoolhouse a good bit. Mz. Poovey wanted to think Cousin Peanut was a tryin’ to better his self. Truth was he had it real bad for Ms. Poovey. He would come in on cold mornin’s right early an’ start a fire in the woodstove, sweep up, clean the ‘rasers. Now, he had an odd way of cleanin’ ‘em. He would beat ‘em on his self till they come clean. He figured all them words on the slate board was in them ‘rasers an’ if he slapped ‘em on his self he might get some learnin…we’d call it by osmosis. Didn’t help none a’tall.

One day Mz. Poovey got a letter from the education an’ learnin’ folks at the Space Program. Said they had been sendin’ seeds an’ critters up into space to see what it would do to ‘em. They was a lookin’ for schools an’ teacher folks to raise some o’ them there seeds to see what they turned out like.

Mz. Poovey had been to the drive-in over to Hazard an’ had seen some o’ them Martian movies an’ was not inclined to raise some kind o’ turnips that was gonna mutate an’ take over the earth. She read the letter out loud to Cousin Peanut that they was carrot seeds, lettuce seeds, punkin an’ cucumber, mushmelon, watermelon an even corn an’ bean seeds. ‘Course they offered lil ol’ monkeys an’ bunnies an’ rats an’ mice to folks if they had the right facilities for keepin’ ‘em.

Well, Peanut heard ‘bout them monkeys an’ would not leave Mz. Poovey alone. He wanted one o’ them monkeys, sure enough. He kept on an’ on till Mz. Poovey agreed to write for some o’ the seeds jus’ to keep Peanut happy.

Mz. Poovey forgot she had been teachin’ Peanut to read back at Christmas time so as he could write to Santy Claus. She had filled out the form for seeds only an’ had it in an unsealed envelope layin’ on her desk. When she took the youngin’s out for recess Peanut got into the letter an’ marked with an X the space where you said you wanted a monkey an’ had the facilities to care for it.

A month or so later here come a big ol’ crate for Ms. Poovey. Peanut was there when it was delivered. When Mz. Poovey opened it they was all kinds o’ seeds, books to be readin’ ‘bout them “gramma” waves an’ all, log books to track the growth o’ the seeds. Inside the box also was one lil ol’ white bunny rabbit.

Peanut said, “That ain’t no monkey!” an’ Mz. Poovey ‘bout whipped him right then an’ there. She tol’ him he had to take care o’ that bunny an’ he groused a while an’ then said alright. He made a little cage an’ they kept it for a right smart while inside the school house.

Them seeds come up real fast an’ Peanut noticed they was a lot o’ carrots. They needed thinnin’ out, so he pulled a few ever’ day an’ fed them to the space rabbit. Ever’ day it got bigger an’ bigger. He sort o’ figured he might jus’ fatten it up for Thanksgivin’

Over the summer it got huge an’ by fall it was ‘bout big enough to take huntin for razorback hogs. Peanut tried to train it to hunt hogs, but it were not much for hog meat. It did get good at trackin’, though.

That fall he brought it back to school. Mz. Poovey commented on how big it was a getting’ an wondered if it was cause o’ them gramma waves. Peanut mentioned he had been feedin’ the grammaw wave food to Cosmo the Cosmic Bunny, as he called it.

Then one day it got a whiff o’ the coal oil in the lamp sittin’ on the table in the back.

The next mornin’ when Peanut got there it had broke out o’ the cage an’ was a drinkin’ the coal oil. He thought it was a gonna die, but it didn’t. It got bigger, matter o’ fact.

A few days later it climbed through an open window an’ got in the shed where the 5 gallon can o’ coal oil was an drank it all.

Then that cosmic bunny got loose. It went to the next farm, smellin’ the coal oil. It had been taught by Cousin Peanut to track an’ it was a trackin’ coal oil. It drank three five gallon cans…an’ got bigger.

It went to the next farm an’ the next, breakin’ into sheds, garages an’ barns an’ drinkin’ coal oil.

One day it sniffed a little propane comin’ from a leaky tank. It took them big ol’ teeth an’ bit a lil hole in the pipe from that tank an’ drank ‘er dry. All 300 gallons o’ propane. That there cosmic bunny got even bigger. It were bigger than a young heifer by now.

It took to climbin’ creosote ‘lectric poles and suckin’ ‘lectricity right from the wires! I ain’t a lyin’ to ye, I’m tellin’ a story here.

Folks saw it hoppin’ away, big as a chicken coop. They ran for their guns an’ fryin’ pans, but it were wily an’ got away ever’ time..

Bigger an’ bigger, gigantic got that cosmic bunny. It took to diggin’ holes in the road deep enough fer it to lay on it’s back in. When a car would drive over it…bunny claws would dig into the sides o’ the car an’ them bunny teeth would puncture the gas tank an’ suck ‘er dry.

With ever’ drink it got bigger an’ bigger… an’ mean, that cosmic bunny got mean. It chased a pack o’ redbone coon hounds up a tree an’ ate ‘em, tree an all!
It was a garglin’ moonshine an snortin’ dynamite. Ever’ day to drank gallons o’ coal oil, gas an’ even got hooked on diesel. They it dug into a coal mine an gorged on soft coal. It et hundreds o’ tons o’ the finest Kentucky coal.

That cosmic bunny took to breakin’ into tobaccer barns an’ chewin’ whole crops o’ tobaccer. An it could spit, Lordy, you’uns don’t even want to see how far it could spit.

Cousins, it had got big as a coal truck an’ was headed for my hometown o’ Beloved. Kentucky. It was suckin’ down coal oil an’ gas on the was an destroyin’ ever’ thing in it’s path. Folks figured it was them grammaw waves what ruined that cosmic bunny. ‘Course, Annie Pankey thought it got mean after it got into Percival Poovey’s moonshine. Lot o’ folks do get mean when they drink his shine.

Folks got scared, ‘cause if that cosmic bunny got to town it would find gas stations, the Propane Co-op an’ the coal yard by the railroad. They was afraid it would destroy the whole town o’ Beloved. Cars, propane tanks an ever’ drop o’ coal oil was moved from it’s path.

It got closer an’ closer to Beloved. Ever’ mile or two it would find a car or truck some one had abandoned an’ would turn ‘er up an swaller down the gas, regular or ethyl, if it could get it.

That cosmic bunny was hungrier an’ hungrier. It was bigger than an’ elephant, near as big as one o’ them dinosaurs by then. As it got hungrier it slowed down more an’ more.

Folks held their breath an’ hid their youngin’s.

Finally it was just over Big Hill, close to Goose Rock an’ followin’ the road straight up Route 66 to Beloved. They was panic in the streets unlike anythin’ ever seen in Beloved since the prune juice factory had the fire in 1921, sending over 100,000 gallons of boilin’ prune juice down the streets o’ Beloved. Now, that were a disaster.

That rabbit got to Big Creek, past Teges Creek an was passin’ Paddy Rock with a look on it’s face. Folks was scairt, sure ‘nough.

The sheriff an’ a bunch o’ fellers was a drainin’ ever gas tank in it’s way. They let the propane out o’ ever’ tank, shut off the ‘lectric at the ‘lectric co-op. They even drained all the stills along the creek. Finally they weren’t a drop o’ anything in that cosmic bunny’s path.

It started a wailin’, cryin’ fer a drink o’ somethin’, it were dry an’ had the cotton mouth. Nothin’ worse than a cottontail with the cotton mouth.

Then , just two miles from town it stopped. It’s ol’ ears started a quiverin’, it’s feet was a kickin’ an’ a diggin’ asphalt chunks as big as washtubs out o’ the road.

Then if fell over, kicked a couple o’ times an’ was still.

Them space program folks was in town, waitin’ to try an’ capture it. They was the first out to the body. Army men from Fort Knox was there an’ wouldn’t even let ol’ Cousin Peanut get close. Peanut was a blubberin’ like a baby over that cosmic bunny.

They hauled in a ‘frigerated railroad car an’ loaded that cosmic bunny up, gramma waves an’ all an’ hauled it away. Some folks say they took it to Wright Patterson Air Force Base in Dayton, Ohio – that’s where them Martians are stored what crashed at Roswell, New Mexico, ye know. Other folks said it was hauled all the way to Roswell. Some folks didn’t much care where it was took, as long as it was took.

‘Bout a year later Mz Poovey got a letter from that education program with the space folks. It explained that them there gramma waves sure enough did somethin’ to that cosmic bunny…but Percival Poovey’s moonshine got it all whacked in the head.

They also determined what happened that day as it got closer an’ closer to Beloved.

See, it didn’t die……

It just ran out of gas.