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123 T Seeds, Family, Community, and Traditions The little pint jar is one of the last my mother canned. I can’t bring myself to eat them, so the jar sits on a shelf in my kitchen as a talisman. judith martin woodall The can house where my mother kept her freezer and her canned fruits and vegetables has only one small window and one electric light. It is mostly underground, so the temperature is fairly constant, and with the light oV, it is quite dark. There one can still Wnd on the shelves many quart jars of beans Mother canned as far back as the 1970s, still looking as though they were canned during the past summer. And until recently her freezer still contained bean seeds going all the way back to the mid-1970s. Traditions die slowly, and the canning traditions of the Southern Appalachians are still very much in evidence when one visits traditional gardeners. In the past few years, I have visited several people who grow large gardens during the summer and can several hundred quarts of beans to use themselves and to give to grown children and close relatives or to anyone else who stops by Seed Savers 124 and expresses an interest . Others store many bushels of potatoes to carry them through the winter and to give to family members and visitors, as well as to use as seed potatoes the coming spring. These traditions are also maintained in the homes of mountaineers three to Wve generations removed from their ancestral homes in the mountains. It seems that having beans growing in the garden, strung up for drying, or being canned on the stove keeps one’s mind on family long gone but, at the same time, ever present. A recent exchange of e-mails with Judith Martin Woodall of New York City makes the point: Dear Mr. Best. I was delighted to Wnd your website. Three of my grandparents and two of my great-grandparents moved from Knott County, Kentucky, to northern Wisconsin in 1920. They carried with them a number of bean types, but a fall bean variety were the ones we ate the most of. They called the dry beans “shucky,” not shelly beans. My mother and father carried on the tradition. I even grew them in a community garden here in New York. Alas, that land was built on in 2002, and since my mother passed away, the tradition of saving seeds from year to year has fallen by the way. My dad still has quite a lot of seed beans, and I have some from my NYC garden, but I fear they are too old and will not germinate. Bill Best. Photo by Irmgard Best [3.141.100.120] Project MUSE (2024-04-19 20:45 GMT) Seeds, Family, Community, and Traditions 125 In my return e-mail, I encouraged her to try to germinate her seeds and those of her father to keep the family bean going. I also asked that she elaborate on the migration process that she was a part of. Her reply came some time later, with an apology for taking so long to respond and explaining that she also was writing a book, about “the history of riding schools and leisure riding in New York City.” Woodall, a manager of the Claremont Riding Academy in New York, wrote the following in her e-mail response, which included pictures of the beans: Anyway, it belatedly occurred to me to take a couple of photos of the beans. The little pint jar is one of the last my mother canned. I can’t bring myself to eat them, so the jar sits on a shelf in my kitchen as a talisman. The coloring of the seed beans is somewhat distorted by the camera ’s Xash, but I think you’ll get the idea. My paternal grandparents were John David and Sally Ann Martin (née Jones), and my maternal grandmother was Bertha May Ball (née Fugate although my great-uncle spelled it Fuguitt, believing it to be of French origin—and therefore much more romantic). My Granny Ball married Herman Ball, the son of German immigrants to Wisconsin . The Kentucks moved from Knott County, Kentucky, in either late 1920 or 1921 to Florence County, Wisconsin, which is now part of the Nicolet-Chequamegon National Forest. Other families who came from Kentucky at that same time were the Ritchies, Gayhearts, McDaniels, Dobsons , Collins, Wells, and others...

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