The Bottom Place
Stories of Life on a Rural Mississippi Farm in the 1920s
by
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HARVESTING PLUMS
Grayson had gotten up very early while the fog was still thick, hovering near the ground before the sun was up, to hurry down to the plum trees at the edge of the Bottom Place. It wasn't what he had to do. It was what he wanted to do.
He wanted to be the first youngun there because whoever was first got to eat all the juicy apricot plums right off the tree. The green ones would surely make your stomach ache and Mama always kept caster oil for that purpose. Sometimes, green ones were the only ones left after all the other younguns helped themselves. Only Lady likes to eat them that way with salt, or so she said. That's why he was up so early. No one had been down there in three days, he knew, 'cause Papa had kept them busy in the fields.
Being afraid of the dark had hampered his going somewhat, but now he sneaked toward the trees with his straw hat in his hand ready to fill it to the brim. Just as he neared the grove he could hear a chomping sound. That made his heart beat faster, but he soon realized that someone must have beaten him to the tree. Drats! Somebody had gotten up earlier than he had! But which one could it have been? He went nearer so he could surely get some of the plums that were left. Who should be enjoying the fruit but Wee-Gurl herself!
Grayson watched her as she backed her rump up next to the tree and gave it three hard bumps. Plums fell everywhere. She calmly proceeded to march around the base of the tree, picking up the delectable fruit with her snout and chomping down on her favorite treat.
She grunted twice and twitched her tail as she saw Grayson nearing the trees as if to say,"Come and join me!"
You, pig!" Grayson shouted as he ran toward the family pet. He lost his madness when he saw the fruit all spread out on the ground. It was hard to be angry with Wee-Gurl for very long. She almost had a smile as she looked at him while chewing, letting the juice flow from the corners of her mouth. She was more willing to share than Grayson would have been, it seemed.
Grayson couldn't tarry. He ate all he could hold, and then held all he could in his hat to carry with him. Getting up early had been worth all the trouble this time. What is it they say- 'the early bird gets the worm'? Or should we say 'plum'? Yeah, how sweet it is.
Before long he was hopping terrace rows to get to the fields to scrap that marvelous stuff they call cotton. Wee-Gurl was right on his heels. Both of them were feeling full and content. Grayson stopped a moment to scratch her behind the ears, "Yeah, you smart pig, a bountiful harvest, I would say. A right bountiful harvest."
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About the Book
The stories in this book take place in the 1920s, during the childhood of the eldest five of the nine siblings as they remembered them and then retold to the grandchildren as the author remembers them. Some were softened as the aunts and uncles related the tales, and occasionally they became somewhat different for the younger generation. Nonetheless, the stories are a part of Jean Sauls’s history. This is a book for people who also remember that time and for children who never knew such a history existed.
About the Author
The author graduated high school from Lumberton, Mississippi; finished a BS degree in education at Mississippi College; and earned a MS from the University of Southern Mississippi with an emphasis in reading. Jean has two grown children, Jeffrey and Daphne, and one granddaughter, Presley. The author taught school for thirty-five years in Louisiana, Georgia, Minnesota, Illinois, and Mississippi, the last for the past nineteen years. For the past twenty-five years, Jean has lived in Columbia, Mississippi, with her husband, Bobby. She is the pianist for East Columbia Baptist Church, teaches an adult ladies’ Sunday school class, and plays in the handbell choir.