Hello. My name is Donna Arnett Donner-Palandro
I am 3rd generation Floridian and of a family of southern-style, self-surviving farmers turned landscape gardeners. The gardening ranged from corn, green beans, to day lilies and croutons. Whatever the plant – that member of the family was passionate about it (starting with grandma) you needed to join in – even if it were for just for the moment on the Sunday yard tour. As a small girl, family dinners were always on Sundays. All the women would be in the kitchen preparing the meal and men would be on the front porch, in rocking chairs, conversing about the latest construction, latest news and/or smoking the flavor of the day – meaning whatever cigar came their way. I remember as a child that they really stunk. My sister, Susan and I would be outside looking for marbles (grandparents would hide outside), chasing fireflies or driving our Barbie and Ken in their car down their dirt driveway.
Once the dinner was served and over (which always seem to include an overdone-cooked 8 times over – pot roast) the women usually went to the kitchen – the men resumed their position to the front porch. Once the kitchen was cleaned and everything put away like it never happened – It was time…..Time for the yard tour. Everyone would grab a glass of ice tea and Grandma would discuss the latest plants that she was able to swap out with the neighbors or show off what was coming up from seed. Granddaddy got to explain why he created a certain flower bed and why. The beds seem to change quite often.
It is funny, out in the yard one day, Michael said to me (about a year or two into or relationship)” This isn’t the living room, are you sure this is how you want it”. I guess it is my genes and upbringing. I would answer “Yes, this is how I want it - this time”.
Today the yard looks great but you never know what another thought will bring.
Well, for instance, as of today, I now have a small front porch – it will do until I can have the other one my mind has come up with - one with several Rocking chairs and a couple of ashtrays for the cigar butts.
Thank goodness Michael, friends and neighbors smoke great smellin’ cigars. I’ve learned through the years – it wasn’t necessarily the smoke that counted - it was the comradery.
Oh, and the other thing - in my generation, the cooking is shared. Michael does the meats and I prepare the other. He plays with fires, I do the fluff and yes – we do share in the clean-up. What a wonderful world this is!
Donna
- S. I like my steak medium rare……………unlike my kinfolk
Some change is necessity.
