Listen To Me Honey (8 page)

They walked across the yard to the
branch. Grandma said, “Ya best roll up yer pant legs and take off
your socks and shoes.”

As soon as Amanda did that, she
followed Tansy into the water. She sucked in her breath when the
water rushed around her bare feet. “This water is cold.”

“It is that all right. Wouldn't do the spring
house any good if it wasn't cold.” Grandma opened the door and
stepped inside. She placed the crock on a shelf attached along the
side the building and checked in a crock on the opposite shelf.
“Cream is risin' good. Tomorrow I'll show ya how to make
butter.”

Amanda opened her mouth to
speak.

Tansy was way ahead of her. “I
know. Ya don't know how, but ya will learn.”

Chapter Eight

The next morning, Tansy hustled
faster than usual in the kitchen. When she sat down to eat
breakfast with Art and Amanda, she said, “Art, can you bring the
crock on the back end of the west shelf up from the spring house
this morning? I'd go get it, but as soon as we get the kitchen
straightened up, I'm goin' to make this girl some
braids.”

So right after he milked, Art
brought in the crock from the spring house. Tansy was almost
finished with the second braid.

Amanda asked, “How do I look,
Grandpa?”

Art stood beside her and inspected
the back of her head. “Like an Indian.”

“Now
there, I'm done,” Tansy said. “Go look in the mirror and see what
ya think.”

Amanda hurried to her bedroom. She
called, “I like them, Grandma. I really like them.” She came back
to the kitchen, moving her head one way then the other to feel the
braids swing back and forth. “Thank you, Grandma. Wait until Willa
sees my braids.”

Tansy was skimming the heavy cream
off the top of the crock into two quart canning jars. “Y'all are
right welcome. Art, I'm done with the crock now.”

Art picked up the crock. “I'll take
it back.”

“Let's take the cream out on the porch in the fresh air. I
always like being outside as much as I can,” Tansy said.

Tansy sat in one of the old rockers
and Amanda on the edge of the porch so she could dangle her
legs.

Tansy said, “Now start shakin' the
jar up and down until ya see the cream thicken into
butter.”

While they shook the jars, Tansy
told Amanda about what it was like on the farm when Amanda's
father, Jeff, was growing up. The time past fast, and the butter
turned loose from the whey.

Tansy put a white rag over another jar and drained
off the butter fat into it. She dumped the butter into a bowl and
sprinkled in salt. “Amanda, get the butter dish out
of the icebox for
me.” Amanda set the glass, round dish beside her grandma. Tansy
plopped the fresh butter on it and rounded the butter with a spoon
and set the dome lid on the dish.

Tansy glanced at the clock. “I
cain't believe how early it is yet. We're doin' so good this
morning. How about we go to the pasture and pick
greens?”

“I'd like the walk in the pasture, but I
don't
know
what to pick.” Amanda admitted.

Tansy handed her an empty bread
sack. “I'll show ya.”

They passed a large pond. The cows
were standing on the low end drinking out of it.

“Does the lake have fish in it?” Amanda asked.

“It's just a pond. Lakes are bigger. Yip, bluegill and
bullheads are thick in there. Want to go fishin' some afternoon?”
Tansy asked.

Amanda kicked at a rock with the
toe of her tennis sneakers. “I've never been fishing.”

“Well, ya need to go just once to see if ya like fishin'.
It's good to try new experiences at least once.” Tansy
said

Amanda raised an
eyebrow.

Tansy picked up on her expression.
“Within reason that is. Skippin' school, gettin' tattoos, drinkin'
beer and gettin' kicked out of school ain't included.”

Amanda kicked at a rock. “Figures!
I just knew you'd bring that up.”

“Listen to me, Honey. None of those things are new
experiences now. You've tried them, got in trouble for them and
that's in the past. Ya got to be open for new experiences that
don't get ya into trouble.”

They stopped by some plants about
Amanda height. Grandma said the plants were polk.

“These look familiar. Is this one of the plants I saw along
the road on the way to church?”

Tansy smiled. “It sure is. Only
smaller polk leaves are more tasty than the large ones.”

They picked the slick green leaves
and stuffed them in the bread sacks. When their sacks were full,
they took the greens back to the kitchen to wash.

Amanda sat at the table, watching.
Her right leg felt crawly. She rubbed it without looking under the
table. Suddenly, the other leg felt the same way. She scooted the
chair back and held her legs out. “Grandma, there's a lot of little
bugs crawling all over my legs.”

Tansy turned to look. “You've got a
bait of seed ticks. Get outside and brush them off, but get away
from the house to do it. I don't want them crawlin' back in
here.”

Tansy put the clean leaves in a
kettle and placed the kettle on the stove to boil, before she
checked on Amanda. “Y'all doin' all right, Amanda?”

Amanda was standing near the lilac
bush. “Yes, I think I got them off of me.”

When she came back inside, Tansy
warned, “Durin' the summer, the ticks hatch out and grow. They like
to attach themselves to any warm blooded human or animal. So best
look yerself over before ya go to bed.”

Right after lunch, Art said he was
going to go sit on the porch. On a hot day, it was better for a man
his age to wait out the hottest part of it he declared. Shade and a
cold drink was just the ticket to keeping cooler on a hot Arkansas
day.

When Tansy and Amanda were done in
the kitchen, Tansy said, “We might as well join yer grandpa on the
porch. I'll pour us a glass of ice tea to sip on.”

“I
can carry Grandpa's glass,” Amanda volunteered.

Art and Tansy rocked until they
fell asleep. Amanda was content to pat Jubel while her grandparents
dozed.

When Art woke up, Amanda asked,
“What can I do this afternoon?”

Art rubbed his chin. “Weell, I need
to mow the front yard, but I just haven't got to it. Ya want to
give that a try?”

“We
don't have a yard to mow around our high rise apartment. I don't
know anything about a lawn mower. They look dangerous to me,”
Amanda admitted.

“My
lawn mower is as safe as they get. Come to the tool shed with me,
and see what I mean,” Art said.

Amanda followed him, regretting
she'd brought it up. Her grandparents never seem to come up with
any fun things to do. They always thought of something that was
work.

Art pulled the mower out of the
tool shed. On the roller attached to the bottom of the handle was
the cutting blade.

“Where's the motor, Grandpa?”

“My
mower doesn't have one. I told ya it was safe, and the cheapest
mower a man can have. No gas to buy or belts. Good for exercising
since I have to walk behind it. Look. I'll show ya.” Art took off
across the yard. The mower reel made a noisy click clack. Art
stopped. “Now, Mandie, ya take a turn and see if ya can handle the
mower.”

Grandpa almost sounded as if Amanda
couldn't make the mower work. She'd show him. She took off at a
fast walk, pushing the mower. Around and around the yard, she mowed
until she'd cut the whole front lawn.

Art sat down on the porch with his
legs stretched out. “Mandie sure is a go getter since she's been
here, ain't she?”

“It
might be a bit too hot out there fer her to be mowin' lawn,”
worried Tansy.

“Might be but if she cain't do it, reckon she'll stop,” Art
said. “Ya feelin' better about havin' that girl stay with
us.”

“Reckon a mite. I keep waitin' for her to explode when I
tell her how it was, or ask her to do something she's never done
before,” Tansy said.

“That's not goin' to happen. That girl's even tempered like
her daddy. She's goin' to be all right. Reckon ya could give her
the benefit of the doubt? Maybe treat her like a little girl just
visitin' her grandparents fer awhile?” Art said.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Ya
know the old sayin'. Ya get more flies with honey than vinegar,”
Art said.

“Except that ain't flies usin' the mower. It's a little
girl that's lost her way and needs to figure out the right path to
get on.” Tansy stopped rocking. She straightened her back and
stared at Art. “Ya think I've been too hard on her.”

Art rubbed his chin. “Weell, it's
just something to think about.”

“What gave ya that idea?” Tansy demanded.

“It
weren't my idea. Mandie thinks so,” Art said quietly.”She thinks ya
might not like her.”

“That ain't so atall.” She smoothed down her apron as she
thought. “I reckon I'll see what I can do to set her
straight.”

“Good gal,” Art complimented.

Tansy narrowed her eyes at him and
grunted.

Amanda mowed close to the porch.
She stopped and wiped the sweat from her face with her tee shirt
tail. “Can I have another glass of ice tea? I'm warm.”

Tansy said, “Sure, Honey, go he'p
yerself. Sit down and cool off for awhile. If ya aren't done yet,
ya might grab yer hat.”

Later that afternoon, all three of
them were sitting on the porch. Art stretched and said,
“Weell.”

Amanda had been around long enough
to know that meant her grandpa was thinking about milking. She got
up from the edge of the porch and went inside. She came back out
with two milk buckets and handed one to Art.

Art gave her a big grin. “Ya must
be a mind reader. I was fixin' to milk. Y'all gonna
he'p?”

Amanda nodded. “Yip, and I want
Eleanor this time.”

Art slanted his head to the side.
“How come?”

“I
noticed she didn't whop you with her tail. I think I'll like her
better than Maybelle,” Amanda said truthfully.

“Suit yerself. Let's go.” Art walked toward the barn and
looked past it to the pasture. “How do ya like that? Those two lazy
cows haven't even started fer the house. They're standin' in the
low end of the pond, coolin' off.”

“I'll go get them for you if you want,” Amanda
offered.

“Go
for it, but don't run them. It's too hot. Just bring them back nice
and easy. I'll get our bucket of wash water and pour the feed in
the troughs so I'm ready when ya get here,” Art said.

Amanda went through the barn and
out the back door. She trotted across the pasture to the low end of
the pond, calling, “Come on, Maybelle. Come on,
Eleanor.”

The cows perked up and waded to the
pond bank. They turned Amanda's direction and moseyed to meet her.
They knew what she wanted them to do.

Amanda got behind the cows and
talked to them as they ambled along. They had a cow path made to
the barn. Amanda found it interesting that the cows walked in a
line, staying on their path.

When the cows walked through a
patch of weeds Amanda did, too. Suddenly, her legs stung like they
were on fire. Amanda glanced at the angry welts from the edge of
her blue jean shorts down to her tennis shoes. She groaned and
wished she'd worn jeans to do chores.

She tried rubbing the welts, but
they hurt worse. Nothing to do but wait until she got back to the
barn and found out what to do. Grandpa would know.

Amanda edged around the cows and
slipped in the back barn door. “Grandpa, you have to help me.” She
hopped up and down in place. The pain made tears run down her
face.

Art rushed to her. “What
happened?”

“The
cows went through a weed patch so I followed them, and now my legs
sting something awful. Look how red they are.”

“Oh,
Mandie, y'all walked in the stingin' weed patch.”

“From the way my legs feel, I'd say that's right,” Amanda
said, sniffling. “What can I do to make it quit
hurting?”

Art scratched the side of his head.
“Let me see. Best I remember when this happened, the old timers
spread cow manure all over the spots that sting.”

Amanda quit crying. “You're
joking!”

“No,
best get outside and see if Maybelle and Eleanor have left a fresh
pile. That's the best. It's warm and fresh enough to spread
easy.”

Amanda hurried to the
door.

“Let
the cows in, and I'll start on them. Ya don't look in any shape to
milk tonight anyway,” Art said.

Amanda opened the door, stepped
aside while the cows entered and went back outside. Sure enough,
where the cows waited anxiously to get let into the barn, they
splatted two fresh piles.

This wasn't going to be pleasant,
but Amanda was desperate. She'd just about do anything to get rid
of the stinging pain.