My lovely Aunt way down in Albam has started taking the most whimsical photos of humming birds. I really enjoy looking at these photos and I thought that it may be fun to share them with all of you out there in the land of Blog. My aunt and I had a little unblissful tiff and I can swear I heard a little of my grandmother echo in her voice and in the words that she later wrote to me. I discover that we all come by our spirits honestly all six of us girls who are her daughters, granddaughters and now great granddaughter. We are who we are because she lived, breathed, raised us and then said goodbye. My aunt has done the best job I have ever seen since her passing the share a passion of hers with us , hummingbirds. Each and every time I see a humming bird or anything to do with a humming bird I am reminded of her. I saw one in Anthropolgie the other day and instantly thought of her. I give my Aunt all the credit for taking these wonderful photos to remind us of our wonderful mother and grandmother. Thank you Aunt Brenda !
The old faded humming bird feeder belonged to one of the most interesting , spunky, exciting women I have ever know my grandmother. No question that I got the majority of my spunk, sass and pizazz from walking in her lovely path. My grandmother was not only beautiful she was fabulously exciting and had a keen sense of adventure. I learned my excellent skills of yard sailing from her, we would spend so many Saturdays put searching and just like me she would cause an accident to read the sign! The art of cooking terrific Southern food including fired shrimp, fried chicken, chicken and dumplings, corn bread, lima beans and good old southern iced tea were all taught to me homegrown in her bright green kitchen. I would die to show you a picture of the wall paper in the old laundry room that would marvel any paper that Anthropolgie or any other store claiming vintage carries.
I will never forget the thunder storm that arrived the morning of her death it was a typical Alabama thunder storm but I knew that she had always hated storms and that it was likely her time to say goodbye. I do not want to go into the details of her illness because this is not who she was and certainly not who she would want to be remembered as.
Who she was she was Vivian , she was the girl from the cotton mill who made dresses out of flower sacks and only owned one doll a nurse that her little sister destroyed while trying to bathe. She grew up around the time of the great depression but as the country singer put it in Alabama wording they were likely to poor to care. She learned to write well and she learned to read brilliantly. In second grade she started a pen pal ship with another girl in the Isle of Man, England. She was able to meet her friend of 50 years shortly before her death.
She was the crazy old woman the fed the alligator that the even crazier old man down the river shot with a shot gun and blew off half his face. She called him Bubba and loved him because he was a real survivor she fed him chicken necks everyday on boat hook from my grandfather’s boat yard for over a year.
She was the woman who would get angry and scare you to death then the same woman who would cuddle you late into the night and listen to the happening of the little city of Mobile on a bear cat scanner. She wrote her thoughts in a small book with Chinese tapestry coverings.
She lost her only son twice once when she gave him up for adoption when he was born and the second time when he was tragically killed at age 19 on a motor cycle.She was the woman who raised me as her own and until now age 36 I had no idea how many crosses she had to bear and how many hurdles she had to jump. She did it all with grace and never lost her beauty or her sense of splendid wonder for the world , nature, family and writing. It is uncanny how these photos reminded me of her and how much I miss her ! xoxoxo , Jen