Southern Gold

Tiny Lady Peas with a few baby butter beans mixed in.

Am I the only one who loves Lady Peas?  Have you ever eaten them?  When I was a little girl, my grandmama Dandridge, Ollie May Dupuy Dandridge, would plant them for me every summer. She would say, "Sugar, I planted you some Lady Finger Peas," as she called them. I knew this was an effort for her. She was in her mid-sixties when I was born—the last of the grandchildren.

She still kept her garden, picked it, and sat and shelled those tiny peas until she had a "mess."  My grandmama—that's her there with my grandaddy Dandridge—was barely five feet tall. They were famous in these parts....Barr, Looxahoma, Thyatira.  The entertained guests on Sunday afternoons on the big front porch of their farmhouse. She never learned to drive, but Grandaddy would make the rounds each Sunday morning and gather up area children to go to church.

Cathey Spotswood Dandridge
and Ollie May Dupuy Dandridge

He was quite the country gentleman, always tall and dignified, never wearing a cap or hat.  Mr. Cathey was health conscious in a time when most people ate whatever they grew.  He took afternoon naps in a bathtub of cold water to get his blood circulating.  Probably felt good in that hot old house in a Mississippi summer.  If plumbing or electrical work was to be done it was probably done by Miss Ollie.

Grandmama and Grandaddy left Tate County with their three sons after my grandaddy came back from WWI and was told he had TB and should move to a drier climate. She drove, remember I said she didn't drive, all the way out West with their three boys where they settled in West Texas and later New Mexico.  Daddy said when one of the boys would pop up from the back of the old car, she would swat them back down.  It was a long trip.

When my grandaddy's mother got sick, they returned some 11 years later to run the Dandridge farm here in Barr.  Everyday she fed countless men for lunch—grandaddy, her sons, grandsons and little girl me in the summer.

I never recall her sitting down to eat a meal, but standing at the edge of the table waiting to refill a glass or bring another dish from the kitchen. When they were finished eating, she fed the farm workers and the dogs.

But back to the Lady Peas.  Howard and I had planted them once before.  Last year he tried to get seeds for me and there were none to be found. Olivia gave me a pea cousin for Christmas—Zipper Cream Peas.  They are good, much rounder and much larger.

So this summer, the credit has gone to Howard for putting up with these tiny peas.  You do have to shell for what seems like hours to have a little pot for supper.  To me, those peas are the ultimate Southern delicacy, and Miss Ollie was a true Southern treasure.

Hello little ghost

I'm celebrating the first day of fall.  And no, this is not a snowman, it's a little ghost.  Something about beautiful fall weather, coolness inspires cleaning. I did a major cleaning this morning.  Seems like a waste of good time, but good music made it go faster. I love the way the sun comes in the kitchen window at a little different angle. After washing floors, I washed Silky Terriers and everything else I could find.

Out came the fall decorations.  I know it's a little early for Halloween, but we really don't have many trick or treaters out here in Barr, so I have to create a festive mood for the grandkids, and me. Then celebration continued with more good music, candles in a fall scent and the grand finale,
one of my favorite movies, "You've Got Mail."  I know, I know, a chic flick. But it may be the closest I'll get to New York in the fall.

"Delicious autumn!  My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth
seeking the successive autumns." -   George Eliot

There's a clock in the trunk

About 1988 or so, Howard gave me a Howard Miller mantle clock.  It was beautiful and chimed on the quarter hours. After we moved to the country, it never really worked well. Maybe the move was too much for it. I put it in a safe place in the back of the closet.

This clock has contributed to one of those family sayings. I think I have told you a snippet of this story before, but I'm telling you again. The day we got the clock, Howard and the little girls dropped me off at the hospital to visit with a dear friend and her mother who was recovering from surgery. After they let me out, they went on down to Poplar Avenue to the clock shop to get my Christmas present.

Hayley must have been about 7, making Olivia 4.  It was raining that day. After they came to get me at the hospital and I climbed in the car, dried myself off and put up my umbrella. Off we went. I didn't know where they had been while I was with my friend.

We stopped at the first red light. I heard Olivia say from the back seat, with all seriousness, "There is a clock in the trunk."  I didn't say a word. Howard smiled.

So anytime we are keeping a Christmas or birthday secret, we say, "There is a clock in the trunk."

Last week when I found it under the closed underneath the stairs, I got it out and looked it over. Still beautiful, but the hands were bent and were missing the little screw that held them in place. After I put it on the mantle it chimed!  It didn't know what time it was, but it chimed.

I called my friend Katie Powers of Katie's Antiques in Independence and asked if her husband could take a look at it.  He did. And today I brought it home and placed it in its rightful place, and it is chiming up a storm.

I was afraid my nervous little Silky Terrier might bark at its lovely sound, but so far so good.
So glad I found my clock in the closet.

Quilter's Trash

I usually put scraps in ziplock bags to use later, but these tiny scraps are just too little. They are so pretty in my white wicker trash basket, that I'm going to have a hard time dumping them.  A coincidence, since the quilt we at Loose Threads are working on is a pineapple quilt from the Trash to Treasures book. We are all looking forward to getting things going in our new location next Thursday, Sept. 6, in our new location at Cotton Treasures in Senatobia. Want to learn more?  Come to this information sharing meeting and see if we are the right quilting group for you.  We are all so excited!

Jobs required for pony and mule

Last week my son wrote me an e-mail and asked if I had pictures of Homer.  I told him I was sure I did, but did not know where they were. Homer was a miniature mule.

This morning I decided to tackle the horrible task of cleaning out the closet under the steps. In that odd-shaped space were crammed Christmas ornaments, blankets, boxes of unknown items, and a box that held Jason's 4-H record.  He did one on Dog Care when his grandaddy let him supervise the pregnancy and delivery of a litter of red Australian Shepherds.

In that file was the picture of Homer.

Bubba Rhodes (left) and Jason Gibert driving Homer in the Senatobia Christmas Parade.
On the back of the cart is the sign, "Dandridge Leather Shop."

When the kids were little and thought they needed a pony, my daddy—the ultimate trader—swapped a green-broken, non-colored Appaloosa mare for Homer the miniature mule, and Nugget, a paint-colored, chestnut and white, Shetland pony.

Daddy thought animals needed jobs, so he made sure Homer and Nugget could earn their keep.  Nugget could be ridden, but barely. When we first got him, he would let you ride awhile and then go to the nearest post and scrape his bridle off.  The girls put a stop to that.  Before long Hayley could ride him around our backyard pasture bareback.

Hayley and Nugget get in an afternoon ride in the pasture at Westwood. 

Daddy made Nugget and Homer a cart and made sure both could safely pull it before loading it with kids.  I walked beside Jason and Bubba at the Christmas parade, holding on to Homer's harness every time we stopped. He would walk forever with that cart but was not so good at stopping.



We soon found out that Homer could not be ridden. He would upset the rider and then look down on him or her with his sad-looking, big-eared face.  But he was great at halter breaking colts.  Remember I said he usually got his way. If Homer wanted to go one way, the colt had no choice but to follow.

See what I mean?

I guess Homer and Nugget were about five or six when we got them. Their hair was long, they needed clipping and worming.

In time they turned into respectable-looking guys. Nugget was our pride and joy in local shows and 4-H.  Both girls showed him in pony pleasure, they ran him in barrels and poles (he couldn't go very fast), and he even captured a Reserve Grand Champion Pony Gelding award in 4-H.


We had birthday parties and Nugget was the entertainment—pulling the cart or letting kids take turns riding while I led him. We took Nugget and another pony Ace to the Very Special Arts Festival at Northwest and let children with disabilities take turns in the saddle. You should have seen their smiles!

Jason and friend John Alexander took a turn in the cart one July 4th.

Homer was sold to a man down the road from our farm.  We were sad to learn later that he had died. We sold Nugget to a little girl who wanted a beginner barrel pony after Olivia was too old to show him.  I remember Daddy saying, "This pony may not be the sharpest one in the ring, but you'll never have to worry about your little girl on or around him."

I've been known to say that horses don't love people—not like dogs do. But when Hayley and I saw Nugget at a barrel race years later, I had to rethink that statement. He was standing tied to a trailer, beginning to show his age and taking a little nap.  She walked up to him from the side and ran her hand down from his ears over his nose. He opened his brown eyes and inhaled deeply. I watched as he nestled his head into the pit of her stomach. He took another breath and the sighed loudly.

Olivia lets her favorite cat Patches take a ride on Nugget.  

Good Morning Barr!

There are disadvantages to living in the country.  When you run out of a particular cooking ingredient, you have to drive 10 miles to get it.  Your dogs go for a morning romp and come back full of cockleburs and smelling like cow poop. (That was yesterday's adventure.) My city grandchild was standing on the diving board of our pool looking around and said, "Nonni, you are the only one in your cove." There is grass to cut, hay to worry about, and the frogs and crickets make a racket at night. But on mornings like this, when I look out my kitchen door and see wild turkeys leisurely strolling down the levy of our pond, all those other minor inconveniences fade away.  As Eddie Albert sang in the corny 1960's TV show "Green Acres,"—

"Green acres is the place to be.
Farm livin’ is the life for me.
Land spreadin’ out so far and wide
Keep Manhattan, just give me that countryside."

Only problem is I need someone like Eb.

The last of the zinnias

It's not really the last day of summer according to the calendar, but the night before area children go
back to school surely feels like the last day of summer.  More hot days ahead.  Time for the zinnias to
go.  They were pretty this year, but shouldn't have been in the flower bed in the first place.
Next year I'm envisioning a nice cutting garden.  I tend to let things go when the heat index stays
over 100 for days on end.

Best-selling author visits Hernando

You may remember a past post where I reviewed Into the Free, a first novel for Oxford author Julie Cantrell.  It has done phenomenally well.  Julie was in Hernando today to discuss her book and take questions from the audience. If you haven't read the book yet, please put it on your list.

She answered questions about her writing process, about the characters who came to life within her, about the little-known culture of the Romany Travelers (gypsies) and even told us about Kelly Mitchell, the queen of the Gypsy Nation who died giving birth to her fourteenth child at age 47. She was buried in1915 in a ceremony that attracted some 20,000 people.

Sound interesting?  Read more on Julie's blog: http://juliecantrell.wordpress.com/, or better yet, read the book. She told us that the first draft of the sequel is on the way to editors.

Julie Cantrell and me at the Hernando Library July 6. 

Book time: Discover Jo-Ann Mapson

I started reading books by Jo-Ann Mapson several years ago. I started with Hank and Chloe and was hooked. I then moved on to Blue Rodeo, Shadow Ranch, and Loving Chloe.

Jo-Ann Mapson

What made her writing irresistible to me was that she used most of the elements that make my life what it is—Horses, Appaloosas even; dogs; great friendships; a little love story; and even jewelry by my favorite Native American designer Ray Tracey.

These elements were not the main focus, but were interwoven into the lives of her characters. Makes you want to jump in and be a character in one of her novels.  In 2000 she released Wilder Sisters and then started her trilogy on the friendships of women and the men in their lives, again set in the backdrop of horses, dogs and the floral business. Check out Bad Girl Creek, Along Came Mary, and Goodbye Earl.


Next came The Owl & Moon Cafe in 2006, followed by Solomon's Oak. And here we get to the heart of the matter. This was by far my favorite work. Here's a description from the Jo-Ann Mapson Amazon page:


Glory Soloman, a young widow, holds tight to her memories while she struggles to hold on to her Central California farm. She makes ends meet by hosting weddings in the chapel her husband had built under their two-hundred-year-old white oak tree, known locally as Solomon's Oak. Fourteen-year-old Juniper McGuire is the lone survivor of a family decimated by her sister's disappearance. She arrives on Glory's doorstep, pierced, tattooed, angry, and homeless. When Glory's husband Dan was alive, they took in foster children, but Juniper may be more than she can handle alone. Joseph Vigil is a former Albuquerque police officer and crime lab photographer who was shot during a meth lab bust that took the life of his best friend. Now disabled and in constant pain, he arrives in California to fulfill his dream of photographing the state's giant trees, including Solomon's Oak.

In Jo-Ann Mapson's deeply felt, wise, and gritty novel, these three broken souls will find in each other an unexpected comfort, the bond of friendship, and a second chance to see the miracles of everyday life.


In this she also works in a few dogs, with details of dog training and of course, a horse or two. I love it.

So, here is your charge.  Read Solomon's Oak before the sequel comes out in October.  Check out the author video for Solomon's Oak on her Amazon page. It is so powerful.  http://www.amazon.com/Jo-Ann-Mapson/e/B000APZ5XW/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1341321512&sr=8-2-ent.

Although it Finding Casey can be read as a stand-alone novel, it follows Glory, Juniper and Joseph's story with an unusual twist.

Hope you enjoy meeting Jo-Ann.  Happy Reading. 

Nice day for air conditioned car in the Mississippi Delta

Every day is an adventure here in retirement land. Today, I went with my sister-in-law to take pictures in the Delta.  What a day to be in cotton fields. They sky was perfect blue, irrigation systems were running full blast as was the air conditioning in her car, or I wouldn't have been along for the ride.

Since retiring from the floral business several years ago, Robbie Boyd now has time to devote to her real talent—painting.  She specializes in portraits and landscapes.  After being commissioned to do a Delta cotton scene, she looked through her cotton photographs and didn't find one that captures the Delta "lay of the land."  So today we searched for cotton houses, old pole barns, and of course, cotton fields.

You can read more about Robbie and see examples of her work at her website: rpattersonboyd.com

Robbie shooting a picture of a giant irrigation arm in the Delta.


Before lunch we drove around Clarksdale and strolled around the grounds of the Shack Up Inn. If you are from somewhere other than the Mississippi Delta, this might be a really unique experience. 

Old cotton houses and tenant shacks have been turned into lodging.  Old cars and trucks are strategically placed near each shack.  My favorite yard art was the use of bottle trees.
You can read more about this one-of-a-kind hotel at shackupinn.com

Bottle trees "grow" in the grounds of Shack Up Inn in Clarksdale.

After touring the town, we selected the Yazoo Pass (http://yazoopass.com/) restaurant on the recommendation of a friend. The store front could have been a hardware store, but inside we found wonderfully-fresh salads with homemade dressings, deli sandwiches on your bread of choice and much more.  Very refreshing on a day when temperatures neared 100. 

More scenes at Shack Up iInn.  

Today we only had a small sampling of Delta culture. You can see more of the Delta nightlife in a beautifully-photographed book, Blues, Booze & BBQ (http://www.michaelloydyoung.com/gallery.html?folio=&gallery=Blues%2C%20Booze%2C%20%26%20BBQ by Senatobia native Michael Loyd Young. Proceeds from this book benefit the Delta Blues Museum in Clarksdale.

You can also see a preview of his latest book, Changes in Latitude. which benefits the Historical Museum of South Padre Islands.