For a Time and a Time

For a Time and a Time by Betty Stuart Baird Old Granny Crider came silently out through the screen door and sat in a big rocking chair on the porch. She wore a faded calico dress, a white apron, and a bonnet. A plaid shawl covered her thin shoulders and she pulled it a little tighter as she settled into the chair. Heavy fog swirled in the narrow valley this morning , but the smell of the herb farm was still evident. She sniffed the damp air and smiled as she filled her clay pipe with the crumbled tobacco she kept in her apron pocket. "Herb farmin'," she said to herself. "Wonder why we never thought of that a long time ago? Why, Anna can make more money in one summer than me and Cliff made in a lifetime. We worked from daylight 'till dark and barely kept body and soul together. And Anna's got all them purty flowers too." Granny rocked slowly and thought about the years. "It's been a time and a time since Clifford and me built this cabin," she 12 said. The mountain farm was rocky and steep, except for the five acres that lay along the banks of the Elk River. Granny loved the wild river and this little piece of land. She had spent all her good days in the log house. The time before she met Clifford didn't count. This was her family home for all time . . . her place. "I wish Julia would come to see me this mornin'," she said, looking toward the house where Anna and Hugh McAllister lived. "She'll tell me what's goin' on." A stranger was here yesterday, after Hugh had gone to work and Anna had taken Julia to school. He had just walked in as if he owned the place, started taking measurements of Granny's big stone chimney, and writing down the numbers on a tablet. He ignored Granny completely, but she didn't care. She was used to being ignored. Nobody paid much attention to her any more, except Julia. The children had always come here to play. Granny saw Anna at the corncrib, now called a potting shed, and Hugh was getting the noisy red tiller out of the stall where Clifford had kept the mule. She thought of the old days, when she and Clifford raised a corn patch out back of the house. Hugh had planted it in English Lavender. Beautiful blue flowers bloomed where the corn blades had whispered in the summer breezes. The potato patch was now filled with thyme and savory, and hummingbirds darted about in the bee balm that bordered the lane. They had left the dill growing where Granny had planted it, by the well. There was lemon verbena and all kinds of mint, and flowers that Anna would cut at the proper time for drying. The special drying room was in the corner of the old log barn where the cow stalls used to be. Yes, the farm had changed, but it was still the same, somehow . Maybe it was because Anna and Hugh loved the land as she and Cliff had. She puffed her pipe, rocked patiently , and waited for little Julia. A flock of noisy crows flapped lazily up the valley and the sun burned away the last of the morning fog. "Is this where you want to put the new bed of straw flowers, Anna?" Hugh asked. He was right in front of the porch, so close that Granny could have touched his sleeve, but she just sat quietly and listened. ' Yes, but be sure to leave room for the flagstone path to the gate. We'll need to till up a place for more sage, too. How about a bed of chives, right over there? They have such pretty flowers," Anna said, brushing the loose soil from her sweatshirt. "Fred will have the fence rails split by Friday. When is Eb Herndon coming back with the estimate?" "This afternoon. Said he'd have a ballpark figure on it, so we could decide ," she said. "Be sure he understands exactly what you want, Anna. Some contractors want to do...