Above all, I long to leave my children a godly legacy; to have them think of verses of scripture and remember me teaching them about it, to have them repeat my salvation testimony as well as their own to their children. And I have those memories from family members that have gone on to their heavenly home. I also have the very healthy legacy of learning to garden alongside my grandparents.

Learning how to raise fresh, healthy food; to pull from the dark soil food for the winter, this is the healthy legacy they have left for me.

Today I’ve worked out my tater patch and that chore always reminds me of my Grandpa Livesay. Now, I’ve talked about Grandpa many times in The Stories – I just learned so much from him that his wisdom comes thru on countless subjects. But taters were his specialty – well, that and fattening hogs, we’ll have to talk about the hogs another time.

Raised in the leanest years and hardest of situations, Grandpa no doubt learned early what would and would not work on potatoes. He would have followed his mother’s tracks through the garden as soon as he could walk – and get away from the oversight of his older sisters. Here on the mountain, that generation felt that a good crop of potatoes guaranteed a good winter. In fact, many a’ mountain family wintered on corn pone and Arsh’taters. Perhaps it was their Scots-Irish roots, perhaps it was the best crop for our thin, mountain soil. Certainly, the ease of keeping potatoes and corn lent those crops to the early years on the mountain. Kept cool and dry, potatoes will feed you from late summer till late spring. And hard dried corn will keep nearly indefinitely if you can keep bugs and water away from it.

A pretty garden is a source of pride, and I confess as I hoe and pray over my own little plants I’m having to regularly remind myself that while I can plant and I can water, God must give the increase. (Yes, I realize the Apostle Paul spoke of spiritual fruit in 1 Corinthians 3:6, but I’m claiming that promise on the whole of life and I don’t think I’m out of place doing so!)

You’ll be hearing a lot in the coming weeks and months about my Great-Great Grandmother’s diary. She made many entries about what the garden produced, how much her daughters canned and preserved. It’s startling, really to read those numbers. Then there is the statement that her husband is just like his mother, he just walks through the garden and it grows! Ah, to have inherited that trait.