Planting Seeds

Now seeds are just dimes to the man in the store
And the dimes are the things that he needs,
And I've been to buy them in seasons before
But have thought of them merely as seeds;
But it flashed through my mind as I took them this time,
"You purchased a miracle here for a dime."

- Edgar A. Guest, A Package of Seeds

My Dad loved to grow things.

He loved to plant and watch things grow from tiny seeds.
He planted a garden each and every spring. I walked behind him as he laid out the rows, always straight, amazingly straight. We planted sweet potato slips in the silky powdery loam in the garden beside my grandparent’s house one year. We worked nearly all day, preparing the soil and carefully placing the tender slips. I remember my toes were blackened with the soil of countless trips up and down those rows.

Not to mention the granny necklaces that were forming, ring after ring, on my neck. I was a kid and dirt did not matter much. Strangely enough, I still do not mind it. I would happily shuck my nice “work” high heeled shoes and nylons for an afternoon in the soft, cool , earth of a newly plowed garden.

My Dad passed that love on to me and I am so grateful.

I get this hankering to plant some seeds and start digging when the weather begins to turn warmer. The smell inside of my little greenhouse is like a tonic to me. I breathe deep, filling my lungs upon entering it. The smell of the earth is so satisfying to me.

Russ’ son, Chance, once got a Christmas present from his Dad that really wasn't what he wanted, but the gift was filled with love from his father. I was trying to explain that his Dad meant well with the gift, and I asked Chance , “Well, take me for instance, now what in the world would you give me, that you are absolutely sure I would want?”. Chance answered me without skipping a beat, “Why of course, I would get you some SEEDS!”

Out of the mouth of a babe….that realization struck me soundly.. He was so RIGHT! Seeds are perfect for me. Perfect for me and my Dad. Dad would pull up something interesting or find a nice plant at an abandoned house, left on a windowsill and to me, it would promptly come. Pieces of cactus’ or a cutting, whatever it was, it was welcome, and Dad knew that.

That is why the Maypops are so special to me. Maypops and the story that Dad taught me.
We would scour the ditches at our river cabin for those wonderful smelling flowers. Always bringing a smile to my Dad’s face, I would come clutching one in my small chubby fist. Holding it up for Daddy to see.

I planted my garden this spring, scaled back from the garden’s of yesteryear, but special to me, just the same.
George, My Dad in law, (my other Dad) loved to garden too, and we planted way too many tomato plants each and every year. But it was so much fun. Something we did together. Every year I would watch with anticipation , that first red, ripe, tomato and every year it would simply disappear one day while I was not looking.
George got it . And that was fine.. It still makes me smile to think of it. Grin. Tomato snitcher right in my own back yard. Grin.

I grow things out of love. Love that was instilled in me from the time I could walk.
That love was shown to me as I walked behind the plow, dropping the seeds into the soft earth, with tiny fingers, carefully counting out how many.

I can still hear Dad whistling as he went along the rows.

That love was shown to me as I watched my Dad take the fresh vegetables around to our neighbors , those unable to garden themselves. I watched, and I learned, and I grew.

I grow things, and as I grow things, I grow myself, just a little.

Thanks, Dad.





When I see that first, tiny, curled up, pale green, wisp
of a sprout poking up between a couple of grains of
soil , I hear God speaking.



He who plants a seed,
Beneath the sod;
And waits to see -
Believes in God.

- Author Unknown

Great Aunt Buna ~ The Last Cedar Tree

We lost our sweet Great Aunt Buna on May 12, 2010. Just shy of her 100th birthday.
The last sibling of my grandmother, Maude Rose Hull Arrowood. May the angels wing you safely home, we will miss you dearly.





On the 1930 Census, Walter D. Moody and Buna Magnolia Hull Moody are married, ages 21 and 19, living in the Gastonia Township, Gaston County, North Carolina.




A young married couple, in love and just starting out in their life together.



Buna's parents, Elias Burton Hull and Virginia “Vergie” Belzonie Dellinger Hull, had a total of seven children that were documented, and out of that seven ,only four made it to adulthood. I am sure these losses were heart breaking ones.
　
Luther Houston Hull, Born February 15, 1906.



Luther Hull and Flossie Lynch Hull ~

Luther married Flossie Lynch. Together they had at least two sons.

Luther died May 13, 1996 and Flossie passed away on August 10, 1987.
They are both buried near Luther’s parents in Bethel Baptist Church Cemetery in Lincolnton.


Next born to this couple was a set of twins, Maude Rose and Audie, a boy.

Sadly Audie died at birth or very near after. Maude mourned the loss of her baby brother, her whole life.

Maude and Audie were born May 27, 1908.

Buna Magnolia Hull was born next, on Nov 10, 1910. She married Walter Dorson Moody. Together they had a house full of kids. Two sons and four daughters.

She had 22 grandchildren, 53 great grandchildren and 27 great-great grandchildren. Blessed with a full life and a long one, she went on to her reward.

We have lost the final “cedar tree”, but heaven has gained an sweet angel.
Imagine all the changes and wonders she saw during her long life.

Walt died on August 12, 1987 and is buried at Hillcrest Gardens Cemetery, in Mt. Holly, N.C. , as will be our Buna.

Records indicate there was another girl born to this couple on April 17, 1914. I have not found a death certificate for her, but there may not be one in existence. Death certificates did not start until the year 1914 in North Carolina. Until then I do not have a name for Baby Girl Hull.

Ollie Mae Hull was born on June 26, 1915. She married William Miller Smith on January 01, 1934. William Miller died on September 19, 1937 and they are both buried in Hollywood Cemetery in Gastonia, N.C.

Lastly, there was another girl born to this couple. I only recently found the information about her. Another Audie.

Little Audie D. Hull was born on May 27, 1918. May 27, Maude’s birthday. No doubt named after her baby brother that passed. Sadly little girl Audie also passed away, at the age of 7 months and 16 days, on January 12, 1919. She died from Bronchial Pneumonia. She is buried at Bethel Baptist in Lincolnton, N.C. with her parents.

Great Aunt Buna was pretty and petite, and she also was the smallest cedar tree in the ‘three sister trees‘. Those trees that stood behind my grandmother’s house, over time, came to symbolize her sisters and herself, to my grandmother. Her way of staying close to her sisters, I believe.

All three, standing tall, together.
Now they are all in heaven, together once again, standing side by side.







What a joyful reunion that must have been!

Ollie, Mother Virgie, Buna and Maude.

" God shall wipe all tears from their eyes: and there shall be no more death, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain; for the former things are passed away." ~ Revelation 21 : 4

Three Cedar Trees ~ Ollie Hull Smith

Behind my grandparent’s home were three cedar trees, growing in a row.

I watched them grow over the years, always remembering what my grandmother told me about those trees.

Maude told me that the trees were her and her sisters. They had slowly become to symbolize her relationships with her sisters, I think. It was her way of keeping her sisters close to her side.

Each standing tall, side by side, weathering the storms of life.




The first one on the end, was tall and slim, towering above the other two. Proper and standing tall.

This tree was Ollie.

The next one was smaller, petite in stature. Perfect, but small.

That one was Buna.

The last one was rounder, more “fat” that the other two trees.

Grandma told me that this tree, was her. She would smile and chuckle a bit over the 'fat' part.

Maude Rose Hull Arrowood, my precious grandmother.

Those trees stood side by side for a number of years, watching the seasons come and go.

Winter’s harsh winds would blow, followed by the sweetness of spring. The seasons came and went, and so the years passed by. Those trees stood, sturdy, resilient, and side by side.

As the years passed, I would always check the trees, just to see how they were doing.
My grandmother was a "one of a kind" and I pray that she left just a tad of herself in me.

My grandmother passed in March of 1982.

Another sister has been laid to rest today. We mourn her loss.

She was another "one of a kind" lady.

Great Aunt Ollie has gone on to her rewards and resides now, among the angels in heaven.

She remained always, prim and proper as a lady should be, always such in the eyes of my grandmother. She adored her sisters.




She leaves behind a family that loves her dearly and will surely miss her.

The end of an era comes with the passing of our grandparents.

The world simply moves on.


Ollie married a young fellow named William Miller Smith on January 1, 1934.

William Miller Smith’s father was Edgar Birch Smith, born 1888, and his mother was Mary Pearl Suggs, born in 1887. They were all born in Rutherford County, North Carolina.

The 1930 census shows the Smith family living in Gastonia.

Edgar is 43 years old, Mary Pearl is 42, brother Walton is 18, and Miller is shown as age 16.

Edgar was a Barber by trade.

William Miller and Ollie Hull had two sons, Doug and Dave.

William Miller was injured in a automobile accident on September the 17th, 1937. He lingered for two days and sadly, finally succumbed to cerebral bleeding on Sept. 19, 1937.

He is buried with the other family members in Hollywood Cemetery, Gastonia.

Ollie was left alone to raise her two boys. She did a mighty fine job.

She was a sturdy woman with a strong will, no doubt, to raise those kids in the 1930’s, alone.
She was quick with a broad smile and enjoyed life to the fullest.

She lived a long, happy life and now she is in heaven greeting all those that went before her.

I am sad at her passing, but I am reminded of those cedar trees and now two of them are standing side by side once again. That makes me smile.

We will all meet up again, one day, and stand there in the shade of those sweet smelling cedars in heaven.


Rest in peace, Dear Aunt Ollie. We will miss you.

Civil War Soldier Wesley Arrowood ~

John Arrowood and Frances Fannia Barrett lost a child in April of 1864.

John himself would also die in July of that same year. Fanny suffered tremendous pain over these losses,
no doubt.

John passed on July 24, 1864, while residing on Rock Creek, in Magnetic City, Mitchell County, North Carolina.

Their son, Wesley died, most likely, in a makeshift hospital, not far from the battle.

He died nearly 16 days after suffering his wounds, no doubt in much pain.

He was born on July 01, 1844, the next to the youngest child born to this couple.

He was nearly eight years younger than his brother, Samuel.

Wesley mustered in to Company C, of the 13th Tennessee Calvary Regiment. This regiment formed on October 1, 1863. Six months later Wesley was killed from wounds he sustained in his first major battle of the Civil War. The first battle fought by this regiment was on April 12, 1864. Wesley died on April 28, 1864.

I located his grave at the Nashville National Cemetery, in Tennessee. He is buried in Plot: J, 14087. His marker is surrounded by a sea of others that gave their all for their country. True heros, without a doubt.

Wesley was only nineteen years old. Imagine seeing your young son, go off to war, never knowing if you would see him again. I wonder if she ever able to go to his gravesite?

Fanny herself passed eight years later, on October 01, 1872. She is buried in Happy Valley, Tennessee at the tiny Boone Cemetery.

She rests up on the side of the mountain, overlooking a beautiful vista, the valley below her. The wind blows through the trees gently and the birds sing overhead. My mind takes me there ever so often, it is a treasured memory.

I cannot imagine a more peaceful resting place, than the one in Happy Valley.

Buried in Hard Scrabble Earth~

My Dad saw his older brother buried in the year 1963.

He was killed in an accident on a oil rig in New Mexico.

The loss of his beloved brother was hard on my Dad.

The years kept coming and Dad raised his family. He suffered losses through the years, as we all do. He lived as best he could. He lost his son at the tender age of 18. He lost his parents. He then saw a son in law buried, at the age of 31. Even after all this, the human spirit somehow endures. We learn to cope and get on with life.

Dad was not one to go to the doctor and when he realized it was time to go, it was quite a shock for all of us.

He had some health issues that had worsened over time, and he was put in the hospital for a heart bypass. He had apparently suffered a heart attack but did not tell anyone, some years past.

During the recovery, after the bypass, he would lie in the darkness of the ICU room and think.

I stayed with him, sitting quiet alongside him in the shadowy room.

He turned to me and said into the darkness, “I want to go see Ray, one more time, before I die“.

Startled that he was still awake, I said, “Okay, Dad”. “You get better and get your strength back, and we will do just that“.

He got most of his strength back. He was still somewhat unsteady on his feet , but the diagnosis of lymphatic cancer was still to come. Yet another blow awaited him.

I told him our departure date, plane tickets were bought.

We left out of Charlotte Douglas Airport and we were on our way to see Ray.

Ray was buried in sandy, ‘cleachy’ ground outside of Hobbs, New Mexico. Dad attended that funeral before my birth. The grief of losing his brother stayed with him for the rest of his life. A soulful look would come into his eyes whenever he recalled Ray. Losing your brother like that was hard.

The cemetery, back in the time of the funeral, was in a barren field.

No grass, no trees. Forsaken, or so it seemed to Dad.

He would lie awake at night, he told me, and think about putting his brother in that rocky, sandy ground. Saddened, he felt like he had not done the proper thing for his brother.
It bothered him tremendously to think about that.

He recalled that it was an open field, with 'hard scrabble' earth. There was a barbed wire fence near it and someone had shot a coyote and hung the carcass on that barbed wire. Those were the things he remembered about the funeral. The funeral procession passing by that coyote hanging on the fence had to be a sad sight.

Unpleasant memories surrounded by grief. Compounded by years of thinking about it.

Dad was easily confused and disoriented somewhat, at this point.

He allowed me to guide his way this time.

I steered him along in the airport, toward the right gate, taking the hand of the man that once lead the way for me.

He never questioned my direction, but quietly submitted, his own child, now leading him.

Funny how life sometimes does a full 180 degrees, and the parent becomes the child.
I was just about as uncomfortable about that as he was.. But we made it okay.

I gently reminded him that he had lead the way for quite awhile, but he could rest now and not have to worry over the directions now, I was here.

We landed in Lubbock and rented a car for the rest of the trip into New Mexico.


Dad slept on and off during the ride, he was easily tired. I relied on my maps to guide me.
Keeping the radio low, as to not awaken Dad.

We stopped for gas and to eat, at a roadside café.

The road maps were consistent , thankfully, and we arrived without a hitch.

We made our way to Dad's nieces' house in Hobbs.

There were hugs, smiles and lots of joy to see her and her family.


Dad was in a lot of pain, but he refused to let that damper his spirits at being there.

He delighted in being able to see and spend time, with his brother's wife and family.

We all went out to the cemetery together.

Tears came to Dad’s eyes when he saw the Prairie Haven Cemetery.
He could barely keep his emotions in check.

Gone is the barbed wire fence.

Gone is the hard scrabble, barren earth.

Now the cemetery is a place of beauty. Green , lush, grass carpets the cemetery.

Ray lies under the shade of a nearby tree.

Dad exclaimed…”Oh my, it's..... beautiful”!. “This is just nothing like I remembered!”


Quest completed.

Success. I smile when I think of it.

Ray was laid to rest in a beautiful place. Dad could put that hard memory to rest, finally.

I pray that brought him peace, in his quiet moments, over the rest of the time he had here.
I am thankful for being able to do that for my Dad. We had just over a year more together.

May there be beautiful , tree lined, streets with lots of green grass in heaven.
May they stroll beside one another and talk for hours. Catching up, as brothers do.
May the sun shine softly on their shoulders as they walk.

Hopefully, one day, I will be allowed to join up with them.
Maybe tag along behind them....

Rest in peace, Ray.
Rest in peace, Dad.