My grandmother had a deep appreciation for water, and I developed many of my attitudes about it from her.
What do I mean, appreciation? For water?
Nana was born in 1889, and having water in the house during much of her life wasn’t a given. Today, with modern plumbing and municipal investment, water just magically appears with the flick of a wrist. But in her lifetime, country homes had to be located near water, whether it be a creek, river, or natural spring. Born in the Reems Creek community of north Buncombe County, North Carolina, Nana’s family probably accessed daily water either from Ox Creek or Reems Creek, waterways that flowed down from the Craggy Pinnacle watershed towards the French Broad River.
Modern travelers taking the Blue Ridge Parkway north from Asheville can pause at the Craggy Gardens Visitor’s Center for a breathtaking view, to the west, of the valley of Nana’s birth. The water of her childhood, what she drank, bathed in, and used for cooking all fell as rain in the basin below that overlook. Turn around and look east toward Swannanoa. The water of her adult life fell on that side of the mountain range, flowing towards the Swannanoa River, via Bull Creek or Grassy Branch, near her home in the Riceville community.
Late in the 19th century and well into the 20th century, mountain households relied on brute muscle to get water inside for cooking, drinking or bathing. Laundry was generally done in the yard, with water carried in and then heated by a small fire.
Even if a household had a nearby spring, the task of bringing that water inside was a daily chore. Nana’s tales of accessing water at her adult home were frequent. Ernest, my grandfather, dug a shallow well in the backyard at some point—it was filled in by the time I came along in the 1960s—but the stories I heard about the years from about 1912 through the 1930s were about how water was hauled every day from a spring located over the hill near Ernest’s sister’s log cabin.
Aunt Doesh—short for Theodosia—and Uncle Sam also probably used that same spring. Nana said over the years they had built a stone-edged pool, and cold-water storage for things that needed refrigeration.
It sounded like a good 1,000 foot walk to the spring with two buckets. Nana told me they used a yoke across the shoulders to carry two buckets full, and someone made the trip each morning and then again later in the day.
Nana said it wasn’t unusual for her to make that walk, though as her two sons got older they took over such chores.
Born in 1914 and 1916, Ellis and Billy both were whip smart, and by age 10 both apparently were driving the farm truck. Family lore says they rigged up a large tank on the back of the truck and began driving over to the spring to fetch large quantities of water, negating the need to troop over on foot to yoke back 10 gallons at a time.
These two boys grew up to be airplane mechanics in World War II. The Army must have tested them and realized their mechanical minds were best put to use maintaining and rebuilding the fleet of bombers, like the B-24 flown by my father. My uncles were mechanics all their lives, doing almost all their own auto engine work. Ellis also worked as a mechanic at a local shop and then for the government, helping to maintain the truck fleet at the Veteran’s Hospital at Oteen.
In later years, Nana got ‘city water’ from the Asheville municipal system, but the habits learned from harder days stayed with her. She always kept a pitcher of water chilled in the refrigerator. Ask for a drink on a hot day and that was the only option; she kept no sodas or fruity drinks. But, oh, it was delicious and satisfying after raking leaves or splitting firewood.
Nana also always kept a dish pan in the kitchen sink. She’d keep a few inches of fresh soapy water in the pan, and each dish was washed as it was used, rinsed, then placed in a dish drainer on the drainboard. That way dirty dishes were dealt with quickly.
While loading the dishwasher, I often remember Nana’s water stories. I still drink from the garden hose while out working in the yard on a hot summer day, wishing she’d walk up to ask if I wanted a glass of chilled refrigerator water.
—Jonathan Austin