Walnut Gathering at Etta, 100 Year Ago

Sometimes I realize with a jolt that those stories Mom told me about her childhood happened a century ago. That seems incredible because they are so real in my mind. I have never fully realized that Mom and Dad grew old and I cannot dwell too long on the fact that they are no longer with me. I re-read the stories of my mother’s childhood at Etta Bend and it seems just a breath, a step, a memory away. Come with me now as I go to Etta Bend and the walnut woods. Ma Latty is in the farmhouse stirring up biscuits for dinner. Pappy is in the fields, thinking about bringing his mules Barney and Jude to the barn and Alice, Susie, Georgia, and Henry are enjoying one of their favorite chores–gathering walnuts. The words are my mother’s, Susie Latty Day, from my book, The Heritage of Etta Bend.

Autumn, on our farm at Etta, had its special joys. East of the spring branch, maples blazed in gold and russet. Oaks wore yellow and brown. Walnut trees dropped their leaves, then shed their green-coated nuts onto the forest floor.

On Saturdays and after school each day, Henry, Georgia, Alice and I grabbed buckets and scurried through the woods to gather fallen walnuts. We filled our buckets, brought them back, and dumped them on a smooth place in the yard. Soon, a good-sized mound of nuts rose to show how hard we had worked.

Beating off the pulpy green hulls stained our hands. We tried wearing gloves to protect our hands, but they got in our way. So, we resigned ourselves to stains and used our bare hands. In fact, one of the signs of fall was the beautiful brown hands of most of the children at Etta School during wanut gathering season.

Mama sometimes put the strong color of walnut hulls to good use. If she wanted a dark-colored lining for a comforter or a not-so-special quilt, she used the green hulls as a dye. She tied them in an old pillow slip and put them in a kettle of water. After the hulls boiled a while, Mama had a kettle of brown dye. Then she boiled the quilt lining in the dye. The lining came out an even brown color.

We hulled the walnuts and spread them on the ground to dry. After they dried, the kernels were crisp and sweet. Next, we cracked the walnut shells. We gathered up a panful of nuts and carried them to the rock steps at the front porch. A good whack or two with a hammer broke the shells into two or more pieces.

After supper dishes were washed, our family liked to sit around the fireplace. While Mama pieced quilts and Papa read the weekly newspaper by the soft glow of a kerosene lamp, we girls and Henry picked the nutmeats from the cracked walnut shells. This took a long time, especially since so many of the tasty walnuts wound up in our mouths instead of the bowls.

We used horseshoe nails as picks. The head of the nail was flat and easy to hold. We threw the empty shells into the fireplace. The shells crackled and blazed with many colors and were fun to watch.

The reward for all the work was the walnut cake Mama baked. She also made molasses candy with nuts in it. Although it was difficult, Mama managed to save some of the nuts for holiday baking.

Many walnut trees grew on our farm, but no hickory trees grew there. We girls sometimes walked up the hill behind the house to hunt for hickory nuts. We weren’t lucky enough to find many. Squirrels and crows enjoyed hickory nuts too, and they usually got to them first.

Crisp leaves and autumn days bring memories of gathering walnuts–of scuffling through the woods with brother and sisters, of a warm fireplace and flickering lamplight. But what lingers best, after more than seventy years, is the warmth of times shared with loved ones.