I would like to introduce you to one of my favorite, favorite people on earth – my Nanny. No, I didn’t have a “nanny” growing up, boy I can see my mama cackling like a hyena over that thought, but I did have a grandmother, my dad’s mother, that we called Nanny.
She’s 75, country as they come, never dyed that silver hair of hers a day in her life, a little cooky sometimes, a bookworm, a cook, a follower of Jesus, a hard-workin’ woman and without an ounce of pretense in her whole body.
I got to see her on Saturday while I was down in Waurika visiting my parents. She called on Friday to let me know that she’d be making peach cobbler Saturday morning – Oh how she knows me! She arrived Saturday, planting an exuberant kiss on my cheek and smothering me with a giant hug. I really think Nanny smells just like she did when I was a kid, like soap and a hint of something floral – and often times like whatever she was whipping up in the kitchen that day. Oh did I mention that she also brough homemade biscuits, honey-butter, apricot and peach preserves? Lord, have mercy!
So, it’s raining of course. Oklahoma has somehow turned into the Amazon this summer. Seriously, wet and hot. Gross. Saturday morning it just kept coming down, but Nanny had an agenda. “We have to pick some peaches for the cobbler ya’ll!” My mom and dad have about four very productive peach trees on their place. This picking peaches idea sounds all good and fine, except that it was raining and there is a sizeable downhill trot to the peach trees. Did I mention the unceasing rain?
Jonah and his cousin were extremely excited to pick peaches with Nanny – I know my friend Paula C would have been loving this, it was straight out of Little House on the Prarie! My mom, however, stepped in and said, “Uh, no Betty. There is no way you are going to go down that hill in the rain to pick peaches.” My Nanny got that “look” on her face. That “don’t you tell me what I can and cannot do you whippersnapper!” look. She said, “Oh yes I am.” To which my mom replied, “I’ll tell Bobby!” (that’s my dad) To which my Nanny retorted, “You shut up now you tatteltail!”
My sister and I were in stitches! Long story short, Nanny and the boys (ages 5 and 7) did trot down the hill and gathered a mess of peaches – in the rain. They all came back in one, wet piece and very pleased with themselves.
And the cobbler? Divine!
Nanny, I love you, you crazy thing!