I grew up in a small rural town in south Alabama. I remember going to church on Wednesday nights for RAs. (If you know, you know) There, out behind the old fellowship hall was a farmer’s field. The best time of the year was after a good plowin’. That’s when dirt clogs were abundant and dirt clog wars could be had. I lived on a dead end street that emptied into another farmer’s field. This was the field where I’d pick green peanuts out of the ground to munch on and where I let my pet snake go after I decided I liked his food, a cute rat with red eyes, better than I did him. So I kept Ruby instead.

Behind our house in this little town was a pasture that had cows in it. Apparently, I was three years old when I climbed over the wire fence seperating our yard from the pasture, under the electric fence seperating the cows from the wire fence, and through the field to the farmers house a quarter mile away. Mr. Pete, the farmer brought me back to my hysterical mom. I was fine. I remember the smell of manure at this little house. Not from the cows out back, but from my dad. He, like a crazy person, brought home a couple truck loads of manure for our garden beds. I remember the neighbors taking notice. I can still see the milk jugs full of blue water that my grandmother always had around. It was some magical concoction that she used to feed her plants. She always had the most beautiful flowers in her yard.

I remember the first time I learned about the boy who cried wolf. It was in a pecan orchard. I was there with my aunt picking pecans. We used these long tools with wire baskets on the end. We collected em, shelled em, and then made pecan pies with em. I remember sitting around listening to all of the adults talk about nonsensical things while the peanuts boiled. I remember eating so many I got sick. I was never into slocomb tomatoes until one day I had a tomato sandwich. Whitebread, mayo, couple slices of a Slocomb tomato, salt, and a dash of pepper. It’s a delicacy where I’m from. White Acre peas, a couple slices of a slocomb tomato, fresh Vidalia onion, and my mama’s cornbread. That’s a meal where I’m from.