Truly Thankful: My Grandmother was an URBAN HOMESTEADER!

My Grandmother, Ollie Henrietta Jones, was an urban homesteader. She taught me most of what I know about urban homesteading. Without her skill, knowledge, and wisdom, I would not be an urban homesteader now, nor would I be able to teach and guide my children into the urban homesteading lifestyle now.

Even now, I can smell the apples she had stored in the mud room when she lived on 11th Street between, Laura and Silver streets. I can remember her telling me about her own life as a young girl in Georgia and watching her mother, aunts, and grandmother, creating soap from essentially nothing, along with sewing all their own clothes, gardening to produce all their own fruits and vegetables, and so much more.

I can, in my mind, see her in her urban homestead setting that she had at 189 Cottage Avenue. I can see her hanging out the freshly washed sheets, towels, and clothing. I can remember hearing the first cracks of thunder and the screams to get the wash off the line before the rain came followed by the mad scramble to follow that direction. As a family we accomplished the deed in record and perfect time because everything would be the slightest bit damp and therefore much more easy to iron. Ironing was my chore!

I can see the garden patches she tended so lovingly all my life. I can smell the sweet pea flowers she would plant along the fence. There would be tomato plants, turnips, onions, and corn. My own urban homestead today has so much more in it than hers did. But then I have nearly two acres of land and I think she only had half an acre. On the other hand, she had a pecan tree that was more than 100 years old, had survived Hurricane Dora, and produced the sweetest and most delicious pecans imaginable.

I've patterned my own urban homestead after her urban homestead in little patches of this and that coming together in a harmonious quilt of what I have always considered a perfect life. We grow corn and greens on our urban homestead. We grow peas and beans on our urban homestead. We grow flowers and herbs on our urban homestead. Our neighbors are urban homesteaders as well and we all come together through happy times, sad times, and even scary times.

This weekend was one of those scary times. Saturday was a ferociously windy day. The grass is winter dry and there was not a whisper of moisture in the panting breaths of wind that swept our land and the land around us. There were more than 30 fires in our area, 4 of them hitting the resources of the local volunteer firemen in the Haws Run, Southwest, and 9 Mile VFD.

Being an urban homesteader means that you don't need to buy a whole lot from a store, but we do need some things and we buy those things once a month with the goal being to keep driving to a minimum. We really can't afford the gas!

I brought home a special treat, Wendy's fast food. My family and I were eating when there was a loud knocking at the back door. The kids went running to see what was going on. They were loud and excited as they always are when we have company. I just sat and relaxed until I heard the word "FIRE". I turned and saw that our shed, the lifeblood of our little urban homestead heaven was shooting flames through the roof.

"Lord GOD," my mind called out, "take me and guide me in what I need to do." It wasn't easy to focus at first. Mike moved the car that was between the house and the shed. After he did that, the 3 propane tanks stored near the door of the shed started blowing flame like giant welding torches. At first I was afraid that they would explode and I started to be afraid. I caught myself though, rebuked the thought and moved to get the boys out of the house.

By this time my oldest was beginning to panic. I could see mounting panic in my husband as well. My youngest was calmer but still confused and worried. I knew only one way to overcome the situation and guarantee that we would not make things worse by doing something stupid and that was to pray.

We came together on the lawn near the "Tree of Unknown Species" and I said, "On your knees, we need to pray." They resisted. I repeated, "On your knees, now, we need to pray!" I pulled on their hands and Mike and the youngest came down. The oldest was still hopping around with increasing agitation, openly weeping by this time. I gave his arm a firm tug and repeated, "NOW!" and he joined the circle.

We prayed, short, sweet, and to the point. When we got up, we were better able to focus on which actions needed to be taken most immediately. We got our dog out of his kennel, about 200' from the fire. We let the chickens out of their coops so they could move off to safety. Michael moved his largest riding mower with his log splitter attached to the front of the house. Then, we focused on getting water on the roof of the house.

We were still waiting for the fire department to show up and that was stretching our nerves but we also knew that they were stretched with other fires around the area. The siding on the back of our house started to melt. The flames licked their way across the parched and brittle grass towards the chicken coops. It left a path of 10' or more around the dog kennel. On it surged leaving a 5' margin around the chicken coops. PRAISE GOD ON HIGH!

Now the flames fanned out with some continuing in haste towards the forest and down to the creek and others dancing towards the wood pile. The last of the wood that we anticipate needing for the winter cold, but still needed. The eager tongues reached out to taste a few scraps at the edge of the area used to cut and split huge trunks into fireplace sized chunks and then, as though disgusted with the flavor, moved on towards the road.

By now the fire department responders had arrived and without hesitation they quenched the flames in record time. They subdued the dancing demons. They conquered the languishing wisps of smoke and steam. They dissipated the roar into the soft and gentle crackling of substance surrendered to it's chemical origins.

Our little urban homestead is again, safe, and reasonably intact. The insurance has to be dealt with, replacing the things that were destroyed, and of course the clean up. None of which is as overwhelming and disconcerting as the event necessitating the activity.

For all we have, I am TRULY THANKFUL!