When I woke up this morning, and realized it was Saturday, I began to think about a typical Saturday morning when I was young. We lived in the country, far, far away from the nearest town with a population of 747. Saturday was the day we went to town to buy groceries.
Well, I always liked to eat groceries, but buying them wasn’t the fun part of the day for me. The fun part of the day for me was going to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. It was always an adventure because I had a lot of cousins and some of them were bound to be there. We built a lot of playhouses beneath the big oak tree. Sometimes the boys would build tree houses. It depended on how many kids were around as to whether they invited us girls to climb up the rickety boards nailed to the tree to see how the world looked from on high.
I remember climbing the mulberry tree and eating berries until they made my stomach hurt. I always did like berries. Grandpa always knew where and when to pick wild berries. My grandma made delicious gooseberry pies out of the berries that Grandpa gathered. I’ve never known anyone else to make blackberry dumplings like my grandma did—big fluffy dumplings swimming in blackberries and their sweet juice.
My grandma and grandpa died in the early 1980s, but they live in my heart and in my dreams to this day. Sometimes on a Saturday morning I miss them so much. I would love to spend a Saturday with them and once again taste my grandma’s blackberry dumplings.
Copyright © October 2010 L. S. Fisher