This picture makes me smile. I found it on one of the Facebook pages I follow about Appalachian life. I remember in the days before Grandma had indoor plumbing, she would fill a canner full of spring water, heat it up on the kitchen stove, and fix a bath for my brother and I when we stayed with her. In the winter, the old galvanized tub was brought into the kitchen so we wouldn’t catch a chill. And in the summer, we bathed on the back porch. It was a great way to cool off and prepare us for a night of blissful slumber. I would pad up the staircase with bare feet, dressed in a clean cotton nightgown, and Mom would tuck us into bed…one on each side of her. I would drift off to the sounds of the night…a screech owl, katydids, crickets, and the sound of the creek bubbling over the rocks just at the side of the house.

When Daughter #1 was little, I felt I was ever so much more sophisticated than my countrified counterparts and bathed my daughter in the indoor bath…you know, like civilized people. But, by the time Daughter #2 came around, I started to appreciate and embrace my Allegheny roots. By this time, my daughter was big enough she couldn’t fit in the old galvanized tub so we took things a step further. It was always August when we went to WV for a visit and it was hotter than blue blazes so we took what my daughter called “moon baths”. We waited till dark, went outside, and stripped down to our “all-together” as my mama used to call it. Then we washed from a bucket of sudsy water and poured buckets of cool rainwater over us to rinse. It was heavenly.

In 2004, my mom died after a brief illness and I went home to take care of her estate. I was there for several months to clean out the house and remodel it as best I could to sell it. During that time, Daughter #1 brought Big to West Virginia for a visit. When we went to the farm, I pulled out the same old galvanized wash tub and drew a bath for my granddaughter on the back porch. This picture made me smile at all the memories that came back to me. I sent it to Big yesterday (who will be 16 in February) and told her the story of the old tub. My Colorado peeps are pretty well gentrified so she was astonished at such a primitive upbringing I had.

There aren’t many opportunities to walk down memory lane with my kids and grandkids. They live busy lives and don’t get here often so I take time when I can to share the past with them. I think it’s important for them to know their roots go deeper than the Rocky Mountains. Their past stretches back to the ancient Appalachian Mountains…to a place time forgot…on a little old porch of a little old house in a holler in the hills.

❤️

“Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him.”

Psalms 127:3 NIV