Tennessee Delta

I grew up in Memphis and my grandparents lived just north of there in a little country town called Trenton. Speed limit 31, 1 of each church- Baptist, Methodist and Presbyterian. And of course the necessities of a small town, McDonald's and Sonic.
My grandfather was well, a smart ass and the local doctor that help found the local hospital and delivered most of the babies in town.

My grandmother, "My" is 87 and a firecracker, very dry, matter of fact and can hold her own. My cousin got confused as to what to call "My". She would call her "My Mom" after hearing her mom call her that. My aunt would say "No, It's My Mom." Eventually, it got shortened to just "My"

Just a couple of years ago she surprised us all at Christmas with a video of her parachuting out of a plane accompanied by Van Halen's "Jump".

She was telling us she got pulled over once, coming over the hill into town. She told the cop if she went 30 miles an hour (as was the speed limit at that time). She'd never make it over the hill. She said it be like when we drove Model T's. We'd have to get out and push our cars over the hill.

The mayor got word of this and I'm sure others complained and the limit was changed to a speedy 31. Ryan says we should just get out and walk. It would be faster.

"My" lives out in the country. Her driveway lined with pine trees and wooden animal cutouts greeting us at Christmas.

We walked behind the house with the dogs around the neighbor's pond. They immediately caught site of the duck decoy. 

Hank our "pointer/hunting" dog, who is afraid of water, was barking and pointing like crazy.

Woody our airhead lab, who is afraid of water, would dip a toe and hop out and then get distracted by grass or wind. It doesn't take much.

Of my grandmother's many quarks, she is crazy about celery, grapes, cheese and fritos scoops. She also hoards bottle cokes so, it's always a treat to get to sit out on the back porch and sip on a cold one. It was a peaceful end to our time with family.

Back on the farm

We spent Ryan's 30th Birthday on the TN Farm. Instead of taking photos this time, I painted the hay barn en plain air and knitted blankets for my friends. I am back logged on my blog photo uploading so, I am going to share my photos from our July 4th trip to the farm.

More of Bertha's folk art

A family heirloom: My mother in law's "Last Supper" Paint by Numbers

Homecoming

I got to visit my family for a week in Memphis. Chip will be going to Timber Ridge Neuro Rehabilitation Center in the next couple of week so it was nice to spend time with him. Once you get him past his questions he gets stuck on from his short term memory loss, he can talk to you about anything. They are suppose to get him walking at the rehab. center. That will be exciting for him to have that independence. I know that is where alot of his frustration comes from.
I made him some folders with his questions on them and sheets of paper inside each one with the answers on them so he can visualize the answer and file it away like his brain should do. Unfortunantly, now for my parents he loves his folders and wants to use them constantly. Time will tell if it will be helpful in improving his short term memory.

For my Dad's Birthday we went to our favorite family Italian restaurant, Pete and Sam's. My dad and his Italian side of the family has known their family for many years. Sam bickers with his sister who takes phone orders so much you'd mistake them as a married couple. The photo above shows my great uncle Joe with Mike Tyson.

Shelby Farms is a beautiful conservancy near the Wolf River. Part of the park is reserved for agriculture which is sold at their farmers market. I grew up riding my mountain bike on the trails, walking next to the lakes, buffalo and horses.

TALLBOTTON

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Just this past month, we got to spend another adventurous weekend in the outdoors. This time we went to Tallbotton, GA. The TN farm is where Ryan's mom grew up and Tallbotton in Middle GA is where Ryan's dad grew up.

It's a small town amongst other small towns with beautiful antebellum homes and town squares dating back before the civil war and where cellphones have zero signal.

The shabin was built by Ryan, his dad and brother as a hunting lodge. It is basic at best. A small kitchen, small "bathroom" and larger room which houses several beds. The shabin is tucked away at the back of the 350 acre wooded farm. The only way to get back to the shabin is by truck or four wheeler because of the rough tree lined dirt road.

It's like stepping back in time. There is no electricity, no running water which means no toilet (hence why bathroom is in quotes). Ryan's dad was kind enough to accommodate us women with a camping toilet and a generator for lights.

I used to be a camping snob- working out in Colorado, making fun of people who brought pillows and air mattresses on camping trips. Now, that has changed.

I have never been so excited to have a little plastic camping toilet with the blue airplane bathroom flushing liquid. I washed my face in a metal dish with bottled water and felt a little closer to how my southern ancestors have roughed it.

The GA farm consists of the original house my father-law was raised in which is now falling apart and the remnants of it have been ransacked. Some old relics of cars and barns and the shabin.

Ryan's dad enjoyed driving me around town past the churches and houses sharing old folklore past down for generations, an old lady believed to be a witch that put a curse on a well and the healing snake stone given by the Indians that cured many illnesses.

The church he grew up going to was a Baptist church and was also shared by the Methodists across the street. They would all go to Sunday school in the Methodist church and then walk across the street to the Baptist church for the service.

Another church we visited was set way, way, and I mean way far down a bumpy dirt road. They have recently upgraded to a generator so they can have electricity on Sundays and a port-a-potty instead of an outhouse. They'd give you lots of excuses to skip church on Sunday.

The church grave site was really interesting. From years of plastic flowers discarded in the woods to poor families' tombstones engraved by hand. My favorite is "Willie Dide".

We had a great time riding on the four wheeler exploring all the parts of the wooded farm. The family grave site, now overgrown with weeds and fire ant hills, dates back to the early 1800s.

Somewhere in the grave site lies a mummy an uncle brought back as a souvenir in the early 20th century. It was neat to see old Ruff and wife, Fannie's marker, short for his full name, James Wiley Taylor Ruff and Ready Clay Perryman Jones. That was his real full name.

SOUTHERN SKIES

We had new adventures this weekend at my father-in-law's family farm in Talbotton, Georgia. I'll add pictures with stories of the farm's history soon. For now enjoy the southern skies.

San Fran

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Chinatown

Cute Chinese people

City Sights

Crazy Hippies

Muir Woods & Napa Valley

Pacific Coast

This photo of the Fish and Chips under the Red Umbrellas is a bitter sweet photo. I got the call from my mom July 21st, overlooking the ocean that my brother was in the ER and might not make it. I am so thankful for how far God has brought him.