“For every house is built by someone, but God is the builder of everything.”  Hebrews‬ ‭3:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

One of the things I stumbled upon at the Country Living Fair over the weekend were these sweet little berry baskets. Oh, my…did they bring back memories! When I was a little girl, my uncle was going to college at WVU majoring in Vocational Agriculture. He was always doing something around the farm to help my grandparents. He added the cinder block building with a cistern to collect the rainwater from the roof for drinking water. There was a well here on the property and it had wonderful, sweet water…until they capped the old oil and gas wells on the property. Something they did caused the aquifer to fracture and the water became briny and undrinkable. For a long time, we had to drive several miles with two big milk cans and haul water from a local spring. Then Uncle Bud helped my grandparents build the cistern and we finally got good drinking water on the farm again.

My uncle also put in a septic system, built a basement, rolled the house on top, build a cinderblock bathroom and we joined the civilized folks with indoor plumbing. I was about six years old when all this occurred. After the barn, the cow shed, and the pig stye were built, the next thing on the agenda was to try to make this land not only support us, but pay us. Uncle Bud planned out and planted a huge strawberry patch up on the hill. He and my great grandfather built a nice structure with a long window down one side. The window was hinged and opened outward to make an overhanging awning with a counter. The pickers would bring flats of strawberries to this shed to be sorted and cleaned to take to the Farmer’s Market in town. At the corner of the building was a huge water tank that collected water from the roof of the strawberry shed to be used to clean the berries.

These little berry baskets took me right back to those long summer days spent out at the farm…the very farmhouse I am sitting in as I write this. Oh, those berries were the sweetest things I had ever tasted. You didn’t even need sugar. They were deep red all the way through. And they were huge! One filled my little hand. Grandma wouldn’t let me pick them because I had a tendency to eat the berries and step on the runners. Runners are what makes more plants and more plants means more berries which translates to direct profit. I was relegated to the kitchen to cook for the pickers…which served me well as I got older. I learned to cook at grandma’s elbow…standing on the red kitchen stool.

Grandma made big, fluffy buttermilk biscuits and would slice them open, slather them with fresh churned butter and sugar, then add a good portion of sliced strawberries. She always had a jar of top cream in the fridge and would whip that with a hand cranked egg beater and add a little sugar and vanilla. Then she would spoon out this soft whipped cream on the top of our little biscuit “shortcakes” for a dessert fit for a queen. What I would give to have one of those…made by her loving hands and served with a peck on the cheek. I miss my grandma so much and feel closest to her here in the home of her heart.

We were planning to come to the farm today to mow anyway, but last evening my cousin called to say someone had been seen sleeping on the porch of the community building down the road. I started to ask if we could just come on out last night, but I stopped mid-sentence. It was almost dark and we’d already had a busy day. Mr. FixIt picked up on it though. He asked if I wanted to come out right then and I really did. We packed up the truck and off we came. It is worrisome to drive these country roads after dark. There are so many deer out at dusk and the early night hours. When we pulled into the driveway, the only company we had at the farm were four deer out on the front lawn. I was a little worried because the front porch light was burned out, but that was quickly fixed and nothing had been disturbed.

We stay here often enough to let people know the place is occupied. There’s someone here every day between us and my cousins. We were going to go camping this weekend, but staying here at the farm is as good as any vacation for me. The memories are as thick as buttermilk here and there is truly no place like home for this hungry heart of mine. ❤️