Anyone from Tennessee knows about blackberry, dogwood, and red bud winter. These words describe the transition from one season to another, particularly the transition from winter to spring which details the ebb and flow from warm to cold, cold to warm, and finally to completely warm. It often takes a month or more to make this transition and during this time there is a great deal of complaining and dialogue about the process. In reality the same transition happens in the fall season, but interestingly, there are no names given to the fall process, or if there were, we did not use them in East Tennessee.
Like all their neighbors Mama and Aunt Ruby could have an hour conversation on any given day related to these 'winters'. These conversations usually began with Aunt Ruby's first of her three or more daily visits to our house. Living across the road from each other on State Route 33 these two women had constant contact and worked together daily to get their farming done. Aunt Ruby would come flying in the back door her dress flapping in the cold wind saying, "Well it's blackberry winter alright cause I saw some blooms on the blackberry vines along the creek bank." Mama would respond with, "Yep, I think it is and what are you doing out in this air with nothing on but your petticoat and dress?" Aunt Ruby, not bothering to answer the question, just went on with her description of the cold wind and how she hoped this would not be a long winter spell.
Its now 55 years later and I find myself in Middle TN hearing many of the same comments about the winters of spring. The only thing that is different is this current generation does not know the exact definitions of each winter. Now the conversation begins with, "Is this another winter and how much longer will this last?" And most of these women are dressed in skimpy, too early for the season, dresses or summer shorts and tops that are flapping in the wind.
Lately I have come to believe these winters are a great metaphor for adaptions to life changes. Often the life span is broken into the spring (youth), summer (young adulthood), fall (middle adulthood), and winter (late adulthood). These transition phases of human life are recognized and referenced as moving into a new season, but how many of us stop to consider the 'winters' process of our transitions? Do we see that going to a new phase of life has many cold spells or rude awakenings about our inability to do things. We also experience warm spells when things go better than expected and we begin to believe we really won't have to change. Do we acknowledge that we are in a new phase of life and realize that the choices we make about the upcoming phase have an enormous impact on how the transition turns out?
The cold winds and rainy spells tell us that change is coming and we frequently find ourselves under or over dressed in our clothes from the former or upcoming season. We can be overdressed or under-dressed for any new life season if we fail to acknowledge life changes, if we insist that no changes are needed, if we fail to see that different clothing is required for this new season.
What new seasons are you entering and what winters of spring or fall are you trying to endure? Are you making appropriate changes?
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Sexuality According to Mama
The Smokey Mountains are at their finest in the Spring. Everything is new, alive, vibrant, and sensual. Trees and wild flowers are blooming; ferns unfurl their new leaves, and in the animal world almost everything is mating or birthing.
Spring was calving season on our farm. We tried to arrange birthing of calves in the spring so the calves could have time to mature enough for the fall cattle market, therefore, most of our calves arrived in late February to early April. Within 21 days after giving birth the cow begins another 'heat' cycle which, if successful, assured a new calf would be born the next year. If mating was not successful this first heat period you had to wait for next month's heat cycle.
Many farmers in our area did not have a bull and they relied on the services of other bulls in the community. We always had a registered bull, one with pedigree papers, to service our cows and the cows of the farmers without bulls. This service required that the farmer bring his cow to us for this service. The farmer tied a rope around the head of his cow and walked her to our farm. He knocked on our back door, asked for my father who then walked with the farmer to the pasture field where our bull 'serviced' the cow.
This process was never described to me fully. Mama basically dodged my direct question about why the farmers brought their cows to our house for a few hours and then took them home with statements like, "The cow just wants to share some of our grass" or "The cow needs to be 'serviced' without explaining what it meant. I was told to come inside to play if the cows were nearby and when I asked why, Mama just ignored the question. Most of the time I did what I was told, and if Mama was busy, I sneaked out the front door to see what I could see in the pasture. I don't think she ever caught me; if she did, I never knew it. Thirty minutes later I saw the farmer leading his cow back home.
The birthing of calves was very common in the spring. Mama watched each cow carefully and seemed to know when the new calf would arrive. She watched to see when the cow left the herd and headed for the woods. Cows give birth away from the herd. Often Mama would say, "We need to go look for Big Red or Gernz, common names for our cows, because she may be having her calf." We walked into the hidden spaces of our pasture fields where we often spotted a cow lying down. Once she was spotted by Mama, I was told to stay behind while she went to check on the cow. Doing as I was told I was always curious about what was happening up ahead that I was not allowed to see. Mama checked things out and walked back to where I was giving me a report on the cow with one of two sentences. "She seems to be doing just fine so we can head back to the house", or "I think she is having trouble. We need to get hold of your Daddy, the vet, or a neighbor to come and help." This last explanation had a sense of urgency about it and Mama looked worried.
I always wanted to know more, always had questions, and I wanted to see a calf born. I thought that would be a very special event to witness. But, Mama never seemed to be interested in telling me anything or allowing me to see more, and I did not ask. However, I did know that these types of things were explained to boys and often boys came with their dads to view the process when the cow was serviced by our bull. I never understood this difference. To this day sixty years later I have never seen a calf born.
Looking back on these events I wish Mama had been honest about all sorts of sexual matters. It was the one topic she never could address. I understand that things were different in her time and she was only doing what she thought was best. Many years later I asked her why she was never comfortable talking about sex and she said, "I knew you would find out on your own anyway!" While this is a true statement, I believed then and now that she missed a great opportunity to share one of life's greatest pieces of information. How I wish she could have been comfortable with the topic. The best part is I did not repeat this behavior with my own children. Of course, things changed with my generation and they should have changed.
Spring was calving season on our farm. We tried to arrange birthing of calves in the spring so the calves could have time to mature enough for the fall cattle market, therefore, most of our calves arrived in late February to early April. Within 21 days after giving birth the cow begins another 'heat' cycle which, if successful, assured a new calf would be born the next year. If mating was not successful this first heat period you had to wait for next month's heat cycle.
Many farmers in our area did not have a bull and they relied on the services of other bulls in the community. We always had a registered bull, one with pedigree papers, to service our cows and the cows of the farmers without bulls. This service required that the farmer bring his cow to us for this service. The farmer tied a rope around the head of his cow and walked her to our farm. He knocked on our back door, asked for my father who then walked with the farmer to the pasture field where our bull 'serviced' the cow.
This process was never described to me fully. Mama basically dodged my direct question about why the farmers brought their cows to our house for a few hours and then took them home with statements like, "The cow just wants to share some of our grass" or "The cow needs to be 'serviced' without explaining what it meant. I was told to come inside to play if the cows were nearby and when I asked why, Mama just ignored the question. Most of the time I did what I was told, and if Mama was busy, I sneaked out the front door to see what I could see in the pasture. I don't think she ever caught me; if she did, I never knew it. Thirty minutes later I saw the farmer leading his cow back home.
The birthing of calves was very common in the spring. Mama watched each cow carefully and seemed to know when the new calf would arrive. She watched to see when the cow left the herd and headed for the woods. Cows give birth away from the herd. Often Mama would say, "We need to go look for Big Red or Gernz, common names for our cows, because she may be having her calf." We walked into the hidden spaces of our pasture fields where we often spotted a cow lying down. Once she was spotted by Mama, I was told to stay behind while she went to check on the cow. Doing as I was told I was always curious about what was happening up ahead that I was not allowed to see. Mama checked things out and walked back to where I was giving me a report on the cow with one of two sentences. "She seems to be doing just fine so we can head back to the house", or "I think she is having trouble. We need to get hold of your Daddy, the vet, or a neighbor to come and help." This last explanation had a sense of urgency about it and Mama looked worried.
I always wanted to know more, always had questions, and I wanted to see a calf born. I thought that would be a very special event to witness. But, Mama never seemed to be interested in telling me anything or allowing me to see more, and I did not ask. However, I did know that these types of things were explained to boys and often boys came with their dads to view the process when the cow was serviced by our bull. I never understood this difference. To this day sixty years later I have never seen a calf born.
Looking back on these events I wish Mama had been honest about all sorts of sexual matters. It was the one topic she never could address. I understand that things were different in her time and she was only doing what she thought was best. Many years later I asked her why she was never comfortable talking about sex and she said, "I knew you would find out on your own anyway!" While this is a true statement, I believed then and now that she missed a great opportunity to share one of life's greatest pieces of information. How I wish she could have been comfortable with the topic. The best part is I did not repeat this behavior with my own children. Of course, things changed with my generation and they should have changed.
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