BLACKBERRY WINTER
1
It happens just about every year in the Appalachians…..that cold
snap with rain somewhere around the end of May through the first part of
June, when blackberries are in bloom. Picnics and barbecues, usually end
of school events, are cancelled. Thin summer clothes….prematurely
unpacked…are put aside for sweaters and jackets. Dormant stoves are
fired up with just a little heat to “knock the chill” from the room. Dusty
umbrellas are retrieved from car trunks. Mothers snap at children
underfoot, held captives by the cold and rain. Teachers rack their brains to
keep restless students under control as the countdown begins for the last
day of school. The calendar says spring but the blackberry winter intrudes
on its warmer cousin.
Her bare feet slapped the dirt path as she ran from the lurking haints
and wild animals. Hurry! Hurry! The rain was coming down harder soaking
through the thin organdy dress her Mama told her to save until the last day
of school. She asked her Mama how she come by that dress but she just
smiled and said “a good fairy brung it.” Her Granny’s house wasn’t far
just enough time between home and there to be eaten by a wild cat or
scared blind by a ghost. My Mama said if I wuz a good girl I wouldn’t
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(Blackberry Winter)
be afeared of my shader. I wonder why they tell them tales to little
kids? If I have children when I grow up they will just hear happy
stories.
Peggy Sue Price always walked in the middle of the path. The
frightened eight year old knew haints and wild animals lived in the trees just
the other side of the ditch. She sang as she went along--- sometimes it was
a church song to keep away the monsters----sometimes, little ditties learned
at school. She sang them all the way from her house to her Granny’s just in
case there were bears and mountain lions and ghosts to scare away. Peggy
didn’t know if her singing kept away snakes--they could be in the middle of
the road--if they wanted to be. She always looked down just to make sure.
Sometimes she told herself the story of “Little Red Riding Hood,” until she
came to the end--- the wolf ate Grandmother’s apple pies coolin’ on the
window sill instead of Red Riding Hood. Grandmother, madder’en a hornet
about them pies, took her broom and chased away that mean ole wolf.
She began to shiver as the cool spring rain soaked every thread in the
little white dress with the pink sash and a sad crushed rose covering a
safety pin fastener. She could hear her mother say, “Peggy Sue, you keep
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(Blackberry Winter)
this dress for the last day of school. You know how all them stuck-up girls
from over in town dress up. For the life of me, I cain’t see why. It’s
afreezin’ and arainin’ this time ever year. My Granny called it a blackberry
winter cause the blackberries are in bloom. Might as well plan to wear
your winter coat over that thin dress.” Peggy didn’t care. It was a pretty
dress. Maybe her Granny could iron the little rose to make it look nicer.
The way to Granny’s seemed longer today. Her feet made a squishing
sound as the mud oozed between her toes…… that’s good, maybe the noise
will keep away the haints and wild beasts. She remembered hearing her
Grandpa, he’s dead now, tell about how a black panther chased him right up
to the front door of his house. He always ended the story by saying “that ole
panther could’ve caught me iffen he had a mind to but he probably waren’t
hungry. You know, little girl, panthers kin jump near half a mile.” He
laughed but she wondered how far they could jump.
Peggy wished for the warmth of her Granny’s little log house. Her
feet were so cold they were numb. What if she slowed down and rested just
a little while? Without the sucking noise of her feet pulling from the muck
she could hear the sounds around her. A robin, sitting on a dogwood limb,
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(Blackberry Winter)
sang its spring melody. Wonder what robin’s are afraid of; she immediately
thought of her big yellow cat, Boo. He had made a few meals out of a robin
here and there. She scolded him but Mama said that were a cat’s nature.
Yeah, cats. Weren’t panthers and tigers and lions cats, too? Just the thought
made her go faster.
Granny wouldn’t be happy with her if she tracked mud into her
spotless house. Folks said that her floors were so clean you could eat off
‘em. Now who in this world would want to eat off the floor? I gotta find a
way to clean this dirt off or my Granny will make me stay outside with the
wild beasts.
Pulling her feet from the mud Peggy ran on down the path toward her
Granny’s. She heard it! Maybe it was a haint. Or a panther. The hair stood
up on her arms. A panther could probably jump as high as a house and far as
a half mile, so her grandpa said. No, it wasn’t a panther….it didn’t sound
like a cat. This was more like a wolf, or a dog. That was it…just a dog.
But then she remembered what Billy Freeman told the class about a pack
of wild dogs. They roamed the woods at night and sometimes they had
been seen slinking around the back of the school yard. They made their way
into old Mr. Brown’s chicken house, eatin most of his Rhode Island Reds.
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(Blackberry Winter)
Someone said they attacked a little girl on her way to school and iffen this
man hadn’t come along they would’ve et her up. Mama told me not to
believe everything Billy Freeman said. I wonder. He seemed pretty sure
about what he was sayin.’
The skinny, wisp of a girl was so tired she felt she couldn’t walk
another step. Dare she rest for just a minute? She stopped. Nothing . Not a
sound but a bird chirping. At that moment she wished she was a bird. Then
she would fly above the scary woods and flap her wings as if to say, catch
me if you can.
Footsteps! Running in the squishy mud! They were close behind her!
She tried to run but fell into the slippery ooze, falling forward, her face
making an imprint. Getting up took several attempts. She began to run as
fast as her legs would go…..just a little way to Granny’s porch. She felt a
hot breath on her neck… a few more steps to safety.
“Gran--ny,” the two syllables came out in a gulp. Falling against
the door her knee poked a hole in the rusty screen. Peggy lay there, too
exhausted to move; soaked through to the skin, covered in mud, she
sobbed in relief. She was safe. Suddenly, something wet licked her face.
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(Blackberry Winter)
“Granny!” Her scream brought a frail, stooped little old woman to
the door. The knot of salt and pepper hair atop her head bobbed as she
peered out.
“Git offen her, Max, you crazy dog! Now git on home, and stay there.
You skeert the daylights out of my girl.”
“Come on Peggy and git warshed up afore we eat a bite. Girl, you’re
a mess. That dress sure could use a warshin,’ too.
A faint smile appeared on the muddy face.
