Even since the sulfate of ammonia was mixed with the cement, in place of sand, to make a platform for Winnie-Lucie, we have been thinking or one of the priceless lines in Will Percy's " Lanterns on the Levee".
It was in his chapter on Mr. Bass, and Will was remarking that he should not have been surprised, not even a tiny bit, to see grass growing out of Mr. Bass's ears. This, of course, was a tribute to the Bass ability to make things grow.
The same thing goes for the marble statue which is destined to preside over the pool in Louise Crump's backyard. With all the full-strength nitrogen that is trapped in that concrete base, we shall nut be surprised to see Winnie-Lucie standing up to her ears in grass, and soon.
If "Prep" O'Neal knew about the recent goings-on, he would probably come over here to see for himself. For Prep, was one of the first country agents to be employed by Washington County, and this at a time when Delta farmers were just beginning to use commercial fertilizer. (Circa 1922-1923). And Mr. O'Neal insisted that you could rub a little spot on the concrete sidewalk with nitrate of soda, then sprinkle garden seed there, then, come back in two weeks and gather such vegetables as you might need for dinner.
We might add that one of the duties of the county agent, in Prep's day, was booking carloads of nitrates, on a cooperative basis, for farmers and planters. About the only way you could buy the stuff was through one of these pool cars, as Greenville merchants and wholesale houses did not stock it when the demand was sketchy at best. Folks still thought the Delta's sock-pile of essential plant-food elements was boundless in 1923. And Eddie Robinson, who owned and operated Fall Back (and drove a yellow Mercer automobile which the tenants called "do commercial appeal"), was thought by many to have something when he remarked, quote: —
“Why spend money for nitrate of soda? If it rains, you don't need the soda and, if it doesn't rain, the soda wont do you any good.
Who remembers the large Veedol oil sign, which used to sit to the east of the original nine-foot concrete road leading northward from Greenville?
This sign was located rather close to the present site of the Sombrero Night Club, close by the intersection of the Airbase Road and Number One Highway. It was all wood and is bound to have been securely anchored because it withstood the headlong rushes of the 1927 floodwater for nearly three months, and was still upright when the water went down.
About a year after the flood, the old sign fell and by that time. Old Stuff had acquired title to the land it was built upon. It lay there by the grass and weeds for another year, while being hauled away, plank by plank, by folks who needed kindling wood. Finally, there was nothing left of the signboard but the lattice work which had formed a decorative trimming along the base of the same. So we gathered up this lattice and took it home to Peacedale. It attracted Mother's eye and her artistic senses immediately, and she said she would have it attached to the top of the henyard fence. She assigned this task to a man named "Bunk" White who did occasional odd jobs about the place for her.
“Bunk", said Mother, "I want you to nail the lattice that Mister Brodie gave me to the top of Mr. Crump's henyard fence."
And Bunk replied "Yes ma'am,” so Mother turned her mind to other things.
Now it so happened that there was an old ladder lying in the backyard, propped horizontal-like along the base of the backyard fence. It was a thoroughly dilapidated ladder, rolled out then patched in places, rungs gone here and there or hanging by one nail from but one of the two-by-four uprights. And that old ramshacklly ladder, of course, was what Bunk nailed to the top of Old Miss's henyard fence.
"Lattice" sounded like "ladder" to Bunk and he had added accordingly. At Mother's second instruction, given when she glimpsed the mistaken monstrosity, Bunk replaced the ladder with the lattice, and all was well. Mother had a good story too to tell her church circle the following Monday, and Miss Innes Gamble took it home to Dr. Hugh, who chuckled so heartily that he requested a retelling of the tale, nearly every evening before he went to sleep.
And now, as we stir ammonium sulfate into cement in place of sand, and wait for the grass to grow, there's another bedtime story for Doctor Hugh. We are only sorry that his beloved Innes isn't here to tell it to him.
-BC.
