When I was, as Daddy would say, “knee high to a grasshopper,” I slept on a small cot jammed between my parent’s bed and a window because there were a total of ten of us and only three bedrooms in our home.   At the end of my bed was a small upright chiffonier which I thought contained all the secrets of the world. Whenever I would get a chance  -- like during the middle of the one of those “pre-air” days when it was like Daddy would say, “Too blessed hot to do anything else,” I would forage through the treasures stored in that old chest.  I loved to reminisce over and guess who was in all those old black and white photographs.  One of my favorite pictures was of a young, strapping Army boy with his loaded pack standing on a pair of skis in deep snow.   Becoming a ski trooper deployed in Italy in WW II had to be tough for my dad, a flatland S.C. boy, where snow is rarer than a cold day in July.  Until he got mad, Daddy was a quiet man, and he seldom talked about his war times.  However, I would listen wide-eyed when my brothers and sisters expounded about all the war memorabilia stored in that chest. The string of machine gun rounds ignited my imagination of how Daddy fought hard against Hitler’s and Mussolini’s armies.  The Italian and other foreign coins took me around the world in my dreams. The pump-up flashlight --- oh, it must have been dark during those long nights.  The fold-out camera brought Daddy’s war to me.  But I puzzled over the pen wrapped in electrical tape in the special heavy-duty pen case.  My siblings told me about when Daddy’s squad was in a real fight and the bullets were flying.  The bullet heading for my Dad’s heart hit and ricocheted off the pen in his shirt pocket.  This explained the other reinforced box in the chest which held my father’s Purple Heart.

            How ironic the pen being mightier than the bullet.  Daddy lived, and therefore so do I.    Even though I joke a lot, and hopefully it makes these articles interesting, I seriously share with you my love for plants, people, and the Pee Dee of South Carolina (my home). Both Mom and Dad are gone now, and, by the way, we have a copy of the snapshot of that Army boy proudly mounted on their tombstone.

During WWII people started planting Victory Gardens.  With today’s increased interest in vegetable gardening many have asked me if we are going back to the Victory Garden, and I hope so.  Those days were hard but experiencing some of the basics of life, like knowing what is required to produce our own food, may be what this country needs.

Clemson University Cooperative Extension Service offers its programs to people of all ages, regardless of race, color, sex, religion, national origin, disability, political beliefs, sexual orientation, marital or family status and is an equal opportunity employer.

   The more historic I get the more I love history.  I love old houses, old gardens (what we call yards in McBee) and old plants. This is why I am tickled to death ( I may need some Depends) that Kalmia Gardens and the historic Hart House c.1820 located at 1624 W. Carolina Ave. in Hartsville are having a Christmas open house on December 7th from 2 pm – 5 pm.  The house will be decorated in period style, and there will be light snacks, carolers, mule drawn carriage rides, and a visit from Ole St. Nick.  Along with the Hart House Tour, the Jacob Kelly House, and the Hart Cottage will be open and it is all free of charge. 

     All of this takes me back to my youth, and since I am a plant person I get lost in the exterior rather than the interior of old homes. My grandmother had a wonderful swept garden.  In the way of her day, no grass would be allowed to grow in her yard.  She would take a broom sedge broom and sweep it weekly to make sure no grass grew. My mother had grass in the yard, but both had the same wonderful tried and true plants that are still the foundations of southern gardens today.  With all the new types of plants and varieties on the market today, we have a tendency to forget these trustworthy plants that will withstand our abusive summers.   I lose myself in the Abelias, the Flowering Almonds, the Crinium lilies, the Camelias, the Pearlbush, the Judas Trees, the Flowering Quince, the Thrift, and the Wisterias. And who could forget the Azaleas, the Cherry Laurels, the Weigelas, the Spireas, and the different Magnolias.

   However, I cannot forget our old simple wood-frame farm house.  Of course it had a screened-in porch where I shucked many an ear of sweetcorn, the old reel type washing machine was worn out, and I got scolded many times for running back and forth out the screened door letting hoards of flies into the house.  Next, came our kitchen with its red hot wood heater, single row of cabinets filled with all it takes to feed eight kids, and a small kitchen cabinet filled with leftover mama’s biscuits.  And mama with her sweet smile standing next to her stove where it seemed she always stood trying to feed all us kids.  Next, came our dining room with it small rectangular table not quite large enough for all us kids, maybe that is why my brother Wayne ate in the kitchen or was it to be closer to the food, with all eight of us competing for each morsel.  Here I learned that if you did not like something someone else did and you would be left out. 

   Next, came our den again with its red hot wood heater, couch, straight back wood chair stole from the dining room, and our greatest prize our  black and white TV tuned to wrestling, the Red Skelton Show, the Ed Sullivan Show, Mission Impossible, the Authur Smith Show, and any time possible the Billy Graham Crusade.  Finally, with no insulation our three cold bedroom where all attached to the den.  I remember the time when the Mason jar, my sister filled with hot water heated on the wood heaters to keep her feet warm at night, froze the next day while we were at school. 

Clemson University Cooperative Extension Service offers its programs to people of all ages, regardless of race, color, sex, religion, national origin, disability, political beliefs, sexual orientation, marital or family status and is an equal opportunity employer.  If you enjoy gardening and using flowers and plants in decorations, please watch Down Home with Tony and Amanda on Thursday nights at 8:00 pm on the SC Channel (ETV's digital station). If you don't get that channel, you can go to www.mig.org, select streaming video, and scroll down to where our shows are archived.

   Many folks think no-till means no work. On the contrary ("My Dear Watson"), sometimes it means more work. In an earlier article, I told y'all about my no-till gardening experiment; it worked wonderfully.
   Mulching with newspapers and leaves was a big job, but it reduced my weeding and'irrigation needs without lowering my yields.

   In fact, I am still feeding the entire neighborhOod okra, and after a brief break in production because of the summer heat, my early springplanted tomato plants are still producing.
   No-till is part of what scientists call sustainable production, which is a part of this so-called radical new concept of "going green" that I investigated and gave a talk on at a recent garden club meeting.
   Again, on the contrary, going green is nothing . new or radical. It is exactly what my mama and daddy taught me growing up as a poor, barefoot farm boy in McBee. Never waste, use what you have, reuse what you can, never throw anything away that can be used by you or someone else, and if possible, develop ways for accomplishing things without buying anything. In fact, I thought these were the principles everyone wastaught.and lived by until I moved away from the farm.

   The bottom-line is city folks are very wasteful. I guess some city folks have too much, are too spoiled and are too blessed. What gets to me is that because . those urbanites came up with this term going green, they think they are a little better than the farm folks who have been doing it forever.
   City folks are a little sn:obby with their hybrids, but it will never out do what us farm folks do: Don't go anywhere; just stay on the farm and work. You sure don't burn much gasoline that way.

   It tickles me that for years countryfolks wanted to get to the city, and now the city folks wantto get to the couptry and tell the country folks how to be country It reminds me of a book I read in my youth, "The'Country Mouse and the City Mouse." The bottom-line, however, is that we all need to work together to conserve, reuse, and not waste.
   If you cannot grow it yourself, buying Certified South Carolina Grown is an excellent way to get the best produce from local growers that has not been shipped long distances. This is as easy as looking for the Certified South Carolina Grown signs and stickers. Remember, buy South Carolina - nothing's fresher, nothing's finer.
    Clemson University Cooperative Extension Service offers its programs to people of all ages, regardless of race, color, sex, religion, national origin, disability, political beliefs, sexual orientation, marital or family status and is an equal opportunity employer.  If you enjoy gardening and using flowers and plants in decorations, please watch Down Home with Tony and Amanda on Thursday nights at 8:00 pm on the SC Channel (ETV's digital station). If you don't get that channel, you can go to www.mig.org, select streaming video, and scroll down to where our shows are archived.