Spring
| Summer | Fall | Winter
Fall
Over on the Philippi hill the men were beginning
to cut the cane. Miss Cynthia called to ask Mama and Aunt Merica
if they would like to come help stir molasses. They were always
glad to go. The women talked and talked, the night was pleasantly
cold, the fire under the big vat lit the surroundings and outlined
the old horse plodding his way round and round, harnessed to the
long tongue from the crusher into which the cane was fed. The
green juice in the big vat over a blazing fire, gradually turned
cream then tan then brown and finally as the night ware on, the
ladles were harder to push through the mass. About this time,
and after several tasting tests, someone declared it molasses.
After the gallon tins were filled and set aside, we all took our
long handled, wooden ladles and began stirring another vat of
green liquid. It was exciting to stay up so late.
The ladle we used was our applebutter ladle. The
blade was fully six inches wide and the handle six feet long.
Each fall Mama and Aunt Merica peeled and cut pan after pan of
apples from one certain tree, dumped the apples and sugar into
the brass applebutter kettle sitting in the washtub's rack out
over a fire and stirred and stirred until at a certain point cinnamon
flavoring was added and soon after the batch became delicious
applebutter. Sometimes it was stored without processing and afterwards
Aunt Merica lifted the sheet of blue mold from the top, removed
a thin lawyer of applebutter and declared it alright. Any mold
on jelly and marmalade was carefully removed, too. Sugar products
were different from the other things.
Mama and Aunt Merica's garden work was ending. Sewing,
raking the leaves in the yard, digging the dahlia bulbs, bringing
in the house flowers, sunning any quilts that got missed in the
spring, collecting old quilts to have ready to cover the potatoes
in the cellar or even the car engine on the coldest of winter
nights, and piling leaves on the perennial beds drew the months
of hard outdoor work to a close. Soon even the slopping of the
hogs would end.
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