Tips from the Garden Lady
by Mary McNair, Gardens Editor

          Now that my irises are blooming and this year’s crops of turnip greens and tomatoes are well under way, it’s time to reflect on the goodness our gardens bring us each year by enjoying a few sprigs of delicious mint.
          I mean, of course, smashed up mint that you use for making a mint julep. And I mean to reflect on the gardens by actually drinking a mint julep, you understand. Actually, several.
          Now, a lot of well-meaning people will try to tell you the only way to make a “proper” mint julep is the way they make it at a horse race in Kentucky but this is ridiculous. Make it however you feel like making it. Some folks ask me if you need special silver julep cups. Well, my goodness! If you have silver cups, I don’t care what you do with them. I think a really good mint julep is as much at home in a fruit jar as it is in a special silver julep cup and if you never get within a hundred miles of Kentucky, you can still make a good mint julep in an iced tea glass.
          I remember my late husband, Howell, siting in our swing in the backyard, drinking mint juleps (socially of course) from his World War Two canteen cup that he brought back from Italy. It got to the point that all our friends wanted their drinks out of canteen cups, too, whenever they were over to the house. So Howell ran down to the War Surplus store and bought a bunch of canteens with the cups.
          Mint is one of those herbs that never needs attention. Well, almost never. You have to really chop hell out of it if you have any growing under the faucet out back like I do.
          By the way, did you know that the English make fun of us for dropping the ‘H’ when we say “herb”? But, to tell the truth, I make fun of the English for being so inconsistent that they will say “to-MAH-toe” and “Nica-RAG-you-ah” in the same sentence.
          Isn’t that just like the English?
          Oh, well, Cheers!

Is it okay to be moderately excessive?

Fracas Interrupts Nine-Ball
Playoffs at Squirrely’s Pub

          Freddy Hewett, from Clover Lake, aced the final game against last years champion, Lorton Worley, of Earnest, at Squirrely’s Saturday afternoon, but not before sheriffs deputies were able to break up a fight.
          “I guess you could say the fight just made it more exciting,” he said.
          The trouble started when Worley’s girlfriend, Louise Clements, spewed a freshly opened bottle of beer into the face of Hewett’s date, Darlene Pritchard, who had refered to Worley as “wormy”.
          Deputies removed both women and the tournament resumed.
          Charges are pending.
          Hewett won a new pool cue from Mitchell’s Fertilizer & Hardware store. Observers said he also won an unknown amount of cash.

 

Fresh Ground Coffee & Chicory Rich, delicious, Louisiana style southonaplate.com

Clubs in Earnest Hold Meetings
by Ann-Marie Steadman, Goings-On Editor

          This has been a week full of activities for clubs here in Earnest and although the Charity Ball Committee did meet, we won’t tell about it because the ball isn’t until October or November.
          The Plantary Plotters, our science-minded astronomy club, met atop Baldy Rock mountain Saturday evening. Ricky Threlkeld was hoping to use his brand new 8-inch telescope to track the transit of Saturn but it rained cats and dogs, as you know, so there was no view of the sky at all. However, club president, Clay Knowles, said the evening was not a total loss because members were able to focus their instruments on a group of nudists up from Florida for a camp meeting in the valley.
          “I think the boys had a good time and didn’t seem to mind getting soaked,” he said.

          Tuesday saw a lively luncheon in the shady courtyard of Virginia Richard’s Tea Room, as the Earnest Garden Club held its summer planning meeting. Club President, Betty Claude Coates, said that, despite some contentiousness, the meeting was an overall success.
          “I regret,” she said, “that certain parties who shall go unnamed, chose this lovely occasion to bring up the subject of eliminating the gardenia as the city shrub of Earnest. It’s been the city shrub of Earnest for a gazillion years and Martha Wilkes ought to know that.”
          Members in favor of keeping the gardenia as the city shrub won out over those favoring the azalea by three votes.
          Mary Margaret Hawkins, club secretary, said that the wine served this year was the best ever.
          “Quite potent,” she told me.
          “Frankly I became a little bit lightheaded and I think Betty Claude actually got snockered. I was fearful she might take a swing at Martha Wilkes, whose name I won’t reveal for publication, but she was able to use her charm to calm her down.”
          Members dined on cucumber finger sandwiches, light green salad, iced watermellon and lemon sorbet before wading into a buffet of fried crab cakes, beef Wellington, spaghetti with hot sausage, cheese grits, oyster pudding, barbecue ribs and pecan pie.

Were the Documentaries Wrong!

Earnest tourists, Melvin Burkhalter and his wife, June, were able to fit razor blades and even sheets of paper between the ancient stones laid by the Incas at Machu Pichu, when they were there on vacation last month.
 

Earnest Theater Group to
Present Arsenic & Old Lace
by Ann-Marie Steadman, Goings-On Editor

         Starting next Friday night on stage at the Earnest High School, will be some of our best local actors and actresses in the feature three-act play, “Arsenic and Old Lace”, a long running hit on Broadway, later made into a movie starring Cary Grant.
         The lead pirate will be played by Joe Crumly, who has grown a beard just for the occasion, and our damsel in distress is none other than Rosemary Tyler, who starred in last year’s production of “Our Town.”
         The role of British naval Hero, Lord Wilson, goes to Bob Purdy, who has taken voice coaching in Atlanta to learn the English accent.
         Directing the play will be Martin Dawson Bilger, who has directed numerous plays in other cities and had small parts in “Lethal Weapon III” and “Son of Garbage Monster.”
         “I see this play as one of the defining moments in stage history,” he told me, “it’s a classic wartime drama, a sort of blend of “War and Peace” and “The Three Musketeers”, with shades of “Guadalcanal” and “The Iceman Cometh” thrown in.”
         Tickets go on sale Monday at Mitchell’s Fertilizer & Hardware.

Camping Out
with the Ancients

          Uncle Fletcher won’t say exactly how old he is. I don’t think he is being coy. I think he doesn’t know. For the last two years he has celebrated his birthday in both May and October, claiming it’s one or the other. That is called hedging. We go along with it, not to “humor” him but because his birthday parties are somewhat off the charts and his having two in a year is not objectionable, whereas if you or I tried that it would be.
          The point is, he is old.
          A couple of Fridays ago, Doc Floyd invited me to join him and Uncle Fletcher on a campout on Howell Mountain. I was not in the mood for roughing it but thought it best to go along in case the old fellows needed help.

So how far is it to the top?

          It turns out they didn’t need any. If help had been available, I was the one who ought to have got it, having been elected to the office of expedition pack mule.
          By the time we got to the crest of the ridge, I wanted a hot shower, a change of clothes and a few drinks at the bar before supper but the only refreshment available was a swig of sour mash from Doc’s flask and a “chaw” of Uncle Fletcher’s homemade deer meat jerky.
          In addition to pack mule, I was appointed camp cook. While they were at it, they made me bartender as well. The reasons for my “invitation” were becoming more obvious, when I was asked to clean up after our campfire supper.
          “Listen, gentlemen,” I said, “it’s one thing to impose on a friendship with odd chores every now and then but outright slavery is a bit much.”
          “My my,” Uncle Fletcher responded, “can’t you keep the pace with us oldies? And, while you’re up how about another whiskey and coke.”
          “Make mine with ginger ale,” said Doc, “and not as much ice this time.”
          We stayed up late, sitting around the red and orange coals of the fire, hearing the quiet hiss of the occasional piece of green wood. If you went beyond the glow of the fire and out to a spot clear of trees, you could see the stars so clearly that they seemed to have colors.
          “What’s that one over there,” Uncle Fletcher asked, pointing with his pipe.
          “It’s the Dipper,” I told him. “And there’s the North Star and just below that is Cassopeia.”
          Doc showed us how to find the Andromeda Galaxy by using Cassiopeia as a reference but I can’t remember now exactly how he did it.

Campfire smoke...good for your health

          The waning moon was partly occluded by the leaves of the trees. It looked like a yellow cat’s eye, half-closed, coming up over the mountain.
          “If my wife was here, she’d be watching TV,” said Doc.
“Your wife passed away nineteen years ago,” Uncle Fletcher said.
          “Yep,” said Doc. “I told her she was gonna kill herself watching TV and she finally did. Damn near killed me with it, too.”
          The best thing about camping in the woods, aside from the smell of the campfire, the night sounds of crickets and owls and the great tastes of potatoes and steaks cooked over coals, is the chance to swap stories with your buddies and recharge old friendships. And find Andromeda.
          I got up shortly before sunrise but the boys were ahead of me and already had the coffee on.
          “Here’s a big old mug for you, “ Doc said, leaning towards me with a big grin..
          “And what are you going to do after you cook some eggs and wash the dishes and roll up the tent and get everything packed, ol’ timer?” he asked.
          “Grow old gracefully,” I told him.