Memories From Anne - Picking Blackberries

I can remember where we grew up that there were lots of trees. At some point in time someone had harvested trees off of about an acre of ground and left a few trees laying on their sides. There were lots of animals that used these trees as a haven to raise their young.

But the best thing about those fallen trees were the blackberry briers that started to grow near and over the trees.

My brother, sister and I love blackberries. There is nothing that comes close to the flavor of a fat sun ripened blackberry. So, in blackberry season, we would take our small metal pails into the standing trees out to that back acre of cut and fallen trees to the blackberry patch that was growing there.

Our hands would become stained with the berries as we picked them; and of course our mouths did too. Because who could resist taking a taste of a few berries before putting a few into our pails.

Despite eating more than went into our pails, we did manage to take enough of the blackberries home for Ms Alberta to make a blackberry cobbler.

I sure would love to be able to eat one of those cobblers now; because despite having her recipe, my cobblers may be good but they can not rival the flavor of Ms Alberta's.

Ms Alberta's Blackberry Cobbler

Preheat oven to 350 degrees

Use a 13 X 9 X 2 inch deep baking dish or cake pan

1 stick butter or margarine

1 cup sugar

1 cup self rising flour

1 cup cleaned berries

1 cup milk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Melt butter or margarine in your 13 X 9 X 2 inch deep baking dish or pan.

In a saucepan, heat the sugar with the berries and milk; bring to a gentle boil for about ten minutes

Add flour and vanilla extract

Mix well and pour into baking dish

Bake until the top of your cobbler is a golden color; about forty five minutes

Enjoy by itself or with ice cream on top.

Thoughts From Anne - 13 January 2019

Harold Lee Thomas was born 4 August 1924. He was the oldest child of twelve born to Rachel Elizabeth Powers and Finley Thomas.

Harold quit school in the eighth grade to go to work in the coal mines to help support his family. At the age of seventeen he joined the Army and fought in World War II and in the Korean conflict.

He married Edith Alberta Shoupe 7 March 1946. They had four children; Alberta Ann, Harold Danny, Clara Jean and Sharon Gail.

Harold was a Jack of All Trades and never met a job that he could not do; nor a person that he did not like.

On 14 January 1968, at the age of forty one years of age, Harold had a massive blood clot to his heart. Harold's loving heart stopped beating forever on that day.

Harold was buried in New Highland Cemetery on 17 January 1968; Sharon Gail, who had died as a three month old infant, lay close by.

Harold died fifty one years ago on 14 January 1968. For me the time has been short, the grief still with me every day. He was a father who was always ready for a pillow fight, a water fight or just a joke on himself or someone else that he loved. I still miss my father.

1941

Thoughts From Anne - January 9, 2019

To me we are all in this world together. To me the world is a large body of water, or pond; and we are each a pebble that interacts and reacts to the other pebbles, and the world around us.

There are good people in our world; but this world that we live in now is so full of people who have no respect for themselves or for others.

There is no care or thought for what another person is going through; definitely no thought for how our actions and or words will impact another.

What we should all remember is that we are all like that tiny pebble thrown into a pond. That pebble can and will create ripples that will expand out across, and even deep underneath the surface of that pond.

What kind of pebble are you? Are you the pebble that creates a gentle motion of comfort? Or are you the pebble that creates a tide that sweeps away everything before it?

I want to be, and hope that I am; the pebble that sends a wave of comfort. I love my fellow mankind. I forgive those who do not give thought to what and how what they are doing is affecting others. I forgive those who have hurt me in the past, present or future.

Walk in beauty; treat the earth and your fellow mankind kindly.

Alberta Anne Thomas
January 9, 2019

1 January 2019 - Thoughts From Anne

We are going into the eighth year since Ms Alberta passed from this life to the next one.

They have been tumultuous years in so many ways. Passing of aunts, uncles, cousins and the continuing operations on my youngest daughter, as the doctors continue to try to stabilize her injured back and to try to alleviate her pain.

Ms Alberta's strength and determination show in my youngest child. Although she is in constant pain, she rarely complains and just keeps on keeping on, with a smile on her face.

I  would like to wish all who follow this blog the best that 2019 can offer.

May you live life to the fullest, with compassion and strength, to yourself and others.

God bless and keep you and yours.

Alberta Anne Thomas
Oldest Daughter of
Ms Alberta

Merry Christmas 2018

Christmas was Ms Alberta's favorite time of the year. At one time she had thirty two large totes of nothing but Christmas decorations; and that did not count the boxes of Mr and Mrs Claus and her collection of Christmas Bears.

Rest in peace - I know that you are celebrating Christmas in another way now, without all of the commercials going on to help everyone decide what gifts they are wanting to give.

The reason for the season is the celebration of the Lord, Jesus Christ.

A Little More Information About Ms Alberta

Ms Alberta was what some would call a Verbal Historian. She held a lot of history and folklore in her head and heart.

She very willingly shared this stored information with anyone that would stand still long enough to hear her words. If they listened hard enough they would hear not just the words but the wisdom to be learned from a life that was truly well lived.

I raise my hand and heart to that life - I will always miss her.

Memories From Ann: A Big Red Tomato

Memories From Ann: A Big Red Tomato

I must have been about five years old when we moved to East View, Kentucky. Ms Alberta and Dad had bought a pretty good sized farm with a large farm house situated on the front acre closest to the country road that the farm was located on.

When we first moved in there was no running water and no inside bath room. We had an outhouse; one of those with a crescent moon cut into the front door. It was a really special outhouse, because it was a two seated toilet, one of the first that I had ever seen.

We took our baths down over the hill where there was a fresh spring running into a rock walled bathtub. I’m not sure why the water was always warm, but it was. I’m sure it couldn’t have had a hot spring coming into it. So the only thing that I can figure out was the sun warmed the rocks, and the rocks warmed the water. But I really enjoyed that rock lined bathtub with the warm water in it. Especially nice because we didn’t have to clean the tub when we were finished with our baths; the naturally running water just ran over and down the side, pouring fresh spring water back into that tub.

Our nearest neighbor, Mrs. Yoder, lived about a mile down the road. Mrs. Yoder was a very nice, widow woman in her seventies. The first week we were living on the farm Mrs. Yoder walked that mile down the road to our house. Mrs. Yoder brought a fresh baked apple pie and vegetables she had raised in her garden.

Among those were bright red, sun ripened tomatoes. They were the best tomatoes that I had ever eaten my entire five years of living. Mrs. Yoder told us we could “come on down anytime” and get anything we wanted out of her vegetable garden. That was a statement that stayed in my mind.

One bright sunny day, I started thinking how good one of Mrs. Yoder’s sun ripened tomatoes would taste. So, salt shaker from the kitchen in hand I marched myself down to Mrs. Yoder’s kitchen door.

 I knocked on Mrs. Yoder’s door and when she opened her door I asked her if I could have one of her pretty red tomatoes.

Mrs. Yoder looked at me, and then behind, around, and down the road behind me.  Then Mrs. Yoder looked me square in the face and said, “Child, where’s your Mama?”

I looked into Mrs. Yoder’s kind watery blue eyes, and answered with a mumbled, “She’s at home ma’am.” Mrs. Yoder raised one eyebrow and frowned, “Child, you should not go wandering off on your own like this. Your Momma has had enough sadness with losing that baby sister of yours; when she can’t find you it will hurt her heart very sorely.”

Tears welled up into my eyes; I didn’t want my Momma to be sad. I just wanted a nice juicy tomato from Mrs. Yoder’s garden.

“Child, you can have a tomato; but you get to getting down that road to home just as fast as your legs can carry you. Understand me?” Mrs. Yoder handed me a great big tomato and I knew I would be eating it before I was out of Mrs. Yoder’s sight.

I was right about eating that tomato before I got home. I licked a place on the tomato added a little salt from the kitchen shaker, shut my eyes and just enjoyed. Unfortunately for me, that enjoyment lasted until I got within sight of our house where I could see Ms. Alberta standing out front with a baby in one hand and a switch in the other.

To this day I believe that delicious home grown, red, sun ripe tomato was worth the switching I got for leaving without saying anything to Momma. I’ve never tasted a tomato as good since.