Grandmas Root Cellar

Grandma’s Root Cellar

  A walk along the west side of grandma’s old two story clapboard house was an interesting one. A rusty 55 gallon barrel sat under the gutter collecting rain water. A screen lay across the top to keep mosquitoes and young boys like myself out of it. “If I catch you messing with that rain barrel boy, I’ll skin you alive” grandma would always say when I got to close to it. That was in 1956 and 48 years later, I can still picture her standing there with her hands on her hips staring at me with that stern look on her face. Grandma was a very loving woman but very strict. She told you to do something once and only once. I think that’s why so many people loved and respected her.

 A few feet past the rain barrel was her prized procession, the herb garden. It ran right next to the house for probably ten feet or so. She grew herbs for just about anything that ailed you. There was some mint growing in the garden that was just fantastic in her tea. If you were real lucky, there might be a couple of apple pies cooling in the window above the herbs. The combined smells were mighty pleasing to the old nose.

  Next in line was the old well with its little roof and winch that a person would crank on to raise a bucket of the coldest, sweetest tasting water I ever drank. I’m 54 years old now and can remember that the dipper we used to get the water out of the bucket was white with blue trim and made out of metal.

  The last thing on that side of the house was two huge lilac bushes. Years before, grandma was smart enough to make sure she planted them right outside her bedroom window so she could smell the wonderful scent of their blooms in the spring. An added bonus was the little jenny wren houses hanging among the branches of the lilacs. It’s pretty tough to beat lying in bed on a Sunday morning smelling lilacs in your bedroom while listening to wrens sing.

   A second rain barrel led the way to the back yard. The water it stored was used exclusively for washing our hair. The first barrel was used for watering the herbs only.

The backyard was as big as four football fields and as pretty as a picture. A vegetable garden stretched for at least a hundred feet in each direction. A home made scarecrow guarded each end of it. Scarecrows that were only five feet tall but looked at least ten feet tall to a six year old boy that had to walk past them in the dark to the outhouse. The outhouse had your typical two seats with the little half moon on the door. Beyond the out house stood the heavily wooded John Brown hills. They were an excellent place to hunt for morel mushrooms in the spring.

   The back of the house had several big wash tubs hanging on nails along with axes and hammers. An old hand operated cultivator for the garden leaned against a stump. I once saw grandpa use an axe to cut the head off a chicken on that same stump. I’ll never forget that as long as I live. That scared me half to death. A big wooden table that always stayed outside next to the garden was used to clean anything from squirrels to big catfish. There was a small pump next to it that was situated so that the water would run across the table when pumped by hand. That’s a pretty nice setup for the 1950s now that I think about it.

   The east side of the house was home to just one thing and that was the root cellar which was my favorite thing in the entire yard. Other than the heavy oak door, the impressive structure was made of limestone rock. Most of it was under ground with maybe five feet above ground. Several feet of dirt covered it and a small vent pipe rose out of the back part for a couple of additional feet. This was an excellent vantage point to have when my cousins and I had dirt clod fights. The door was always kept locked and only grandma had the key. I remember the first time I got to go inside the cellar.

   “Grab as many of those mason jars as you can boy and come with me” grandma said as she fished around in her huge apron pockets for the key. The old door creaked and moaned as she lifted and latched it to a steel eyelet. We descended at least ten steps and came to another door just as big as the first. I was a little nervous yet very curious to see what was in this secret place in the ground. As the door was pushed open a blast of cool air hit me followed by a strange musty smell. It was as dark as a cave inside. I heard the sound of a match being lit and could then vaguely make out what looked like shelves. Grandma use the match to light kerosene lanterns hanging at opposite ends of the room.

    I could see very well now. I was told to shut the door so the cold air wouldn’t escape. I was right about the shelves. They ran along all four walls from the floor to the ceiling.  The room was probably 10 feet wide and 20 feet long. There were a couple of old chairs and a great many baskets of potatoes and apples in the middle of the floor. A half a dozen or more bags hung from the ceiling with so many onions in them, it looked like they would burst. The shelves were filled with roll after roll of brightly colored mason jars filled with just about every vegetable and fruit known to man. Most of it came from grandma’s garden. I asked her why she kept all this food in the cellar and she told me that it had to last them the entire winter and the cool air would help it do just that.

    The sun nearly blinded me when we climbed back out of the cellar. I’d completely forgotten how hot and humid it was outside. As grandma and I walked hand in hand back to the front of the house to get some pie and tea, I could see grandpa building another wooden boat in his boat house. Seems like he was always either there or in the smoke house but that’s another story for another time.