My Grandma's Figs

As I was harvesting this years abundant supply of figs, I couldn't help remembering my Grandmother.
We lived in the country and Grandma lived in town, so right off the bat it was exciting just to go to town to visit. I spent a good portion of my first ten years there. For someone growing up in the pre television days it was some kind of an exciting place.
She had a corner lot and at the time , it seemed huge. She had a large garden and allowed me to help at pulling weeds and picking what ever was ready to be eaten. She always had a lot of cucumbers that graced salads or ended up as the best pickles in the world. Mustang grapes grew on the fence that lined the alley so she always had a good supply of grape jelly that went so well on her homemade bread. There were always at least a dozen fat hens that roamed the yard and if the table scraps didn't satisfy them, they had to supplement their diet with bugs. She never had to call an exterminator.
I couldn't have had anymore fun looking for gold than the eggs that the fat hens would hide all over the place. On numerous occasions, I got chased by a hen half my size, when she caught me stealing her eggs. Next to the old wash house was a cast iron boiler that sat up on one end. My Grandfather had procured it when one of the old cotton seed oil mills had closed down. In my memory it was at least fifty feet tall. It actually was probably about fifteen. The gutter from the house drained into it and it stored Grandma's prized rain water .
My sisters used to go to town to wash their hair in the miraculous water.
The wash house held a wood fired kettle where she made her own lye soap, and boiled water for her wringer washer. I loved it when she let me run the clothes through the ringer.
Her most prized plants in her garden were her figs. Over they years, the fig trees had slowly advanced to cover a good portion of her yard. She waged a never end war against the uninvited birds and squirrels that were hell bent on plundering figs. I helped her many times tie tin can lids on the branches. It was supposed to ward off uninvited guest.
I grew up and moved away. Grandma's health deteriorated to the point that she could no longer tend to her yard. Six foot weeds took over the area that her hens had once kept clean. The birds and squirrels had their way with the figs. When she passed away, her house was sold and moved away. A bull dozer came in and cleared off the lot and removed everything that had defined her life. A new home was built on the lot. I drove by years later and Mustang grapes were still growing on the alley fence.
©2013