Even on a lazy Saturday morning when the rains fell and the sky was dreary and gray, it wasn’t long before everyone at Grandma and Grandpa’s house was awake. It started with the chickens in the coop. They cawed and called, eager to wake anything and everything within earshot of their “cock-a-doodle-doos”.
It stirred Chelsea and Grandma Georgina from their sleep first. Grandma was up in a shot. Chelsea, who was a bit more tired, pulled the pillow tightly over her head. It did not help much, so she joined Grandma in the kitchen.
“I would’ve figured you’d be the last out of bed.”
“The roosters and hens got me up.”
Grandma laughed, “yes, they do that to me, too.”
Chelsea pulled the stool into position next to Grandma Georgina and stood upon it.
“What are we having for breakfast?”
“I’m not sure,” replied Grandma, “what would you like?”
“How about some Corned Beef Hash?”
“I suppose that would be a good start to a long day,” said Grandma, “but first you and I might need to fetch the necessary things from the garden.”
“Like?”
“Like eggs and potatoes and green onions…and maybe some fresh milk, too.”
“That sure seems like a lot.”
“I think we’ll be able to manage.”
Grandma Georgina grabbed a wooden crate and placed a piece of cheesecloth and an empty milk bottle inside.
“What is the cheesecloth for? Are we getting cheese, too?”
“We’ll use it to keep the eggs safe.”
Chelsea and Grandma Georgina put on their puddle-jumpers and headed to the barn first.
Connor and all the cows joined Grandma Georgina just outside the barn. She went to the barn and grabbed a bag of hayseed and filled the feed troughs. Connor waited as the cows filled their tummies to start the day.
The chickens clucked as Chelsea and her Grandma moved past the chicken coop. Grnadma fished her hend under each nest, collecting freshly laid eggs. She packed them in a handful of hay and placed it to one side of her crate.
“What now?” asked Chelsea.
“Let’s find a cow for milking.”
Grandma placed the crate atop a seed bag and went out to the feed trough.
“Come on, Minnie,” she said to one of her favorite Kerry cows. Chelsea held the reins as she led Minnie into the barn.
“I think I’ll hook her up this morning.”
Grandma grabbed the milking machine and attached the pumps to each of Minnie’s teats. Then, she turned on the machine and let it do its work.
“Doesn’t that hurt her?” asked Chelsea.
Grandma shook her head, “It’s made especially for milking cows. It’s probably easier than milking her by hand – and certainly faster.”
When the machine was finished, Grandma Georgina filled the milk jug as Chelsea returned Minnie to the pasture. Then, Chelsea and her Grandma headed for the garden.
They picked a handful of green onions before heading to the potato patch. A pile of hay and newspaper clippings covered two large rectangular mounds of dirt.
“Take one of these,” said Grandma as she handed a hand shovel to Chelsea. The two women dug through the soil, churning up large brown potatoes.
“Look at all these potatoes hiding under the ground!” exclaimed Chelsea.
“Luckily, we only need a half-dozen or so,” said Grandma as she finished loading the wooden crate with barnyard goodies. Then, she and Chelsea headed back to the house, where everyone was stirring inside.
“Korrit, would you like to help us with breakfast?”
“Sure thing, Grandma.”
“Rinse these potatoes for me so I can chop them into little cubes.”
“I can cut them for you,” said Chelsea.
“They’re a little tough. I’ll let you help Korrit chop the green onions instead.”
While Chelsea helped Korrit, Grandma tended to the potatoes. As soon as she finished, she tossed the cubes into the skillet and fried them with generous helpings of butter and salt. Just then, Grandpa Jack rumbled down the steps.
“So that’s what woke me from sleep!” He leaned over the stove, letting the fresh aroma of hash browns drift towards his face as he inhaled deeply. Grandma Georgina pushed a shoulder into his chest, moving him out of her kitchen.
“You’ll get yours soon enough.”
“But potatoes are the staff of life. What good Irishman could resist their heavenly smell?”
“Take a seat, dearest Jack.”
Grandpa Jack did as told, but not before starting into another of his infamous tales.
“Every time an Irish man…or woman….takes a bite of potatoes, he or she gets a taste of Ireland.”
“What do you mean?”
“Potatoes are the oldest and most important crop in Ireland. In fact, that’s how I put your mother through college.”
“That and a lot of hard work on the farm,” said Mrs. Cahill, “Your grandfather always said that if all else failed, I could still put on my puddle-jumpers and work in the garden.”
“That’s not necessarily true,” said Mr. Cahill, “there was a time when even potato farmers had to find other solutions.”
“Ah,” said Grandpa, “the great hunger.”
“What’s the great hunger?” asked Korrit.
“In the mid-1800s, most of Ireland was owned by only a few people. These people were called landlords. The landlords owned vast tracts of land, which they used as giant farms called plantations. They hired farmers to work in their fields. In exchange, the farmers used their profits to pay rent to the landlords. Many families used a year’s worth of potato crops as a year’s worth of food.
In 1845, a great disease called “late potato blight” spread throughout all of Ireland’s potato crops, killing most of the potatoes. The farmers couldn’t afford to buy new seeds to plant other crops, so they starved.”
“What did they do?”
“When the farmers couldn’t pay their rents, the landlords made them leave. Almost one out of three families got on ships and emigrated to America or other parts of Europe.”
“Don’t you mean immigrated?” asked Korrit.
Grandpa shook his head.
“Emigrants are people who leave their home country for another place, like going from Ireland to America or Europe. An immigrant is someone who arrives into a country.”
Korrit pinched her lower lip under her upper lip as she gave it a deep thought.
“Why aren’t the potatoes we’re eating now diseased?”
“The great famine happened over 150 years ago. Even the worst diseases cure themselves over a long period of time. When the diseases vanished, farmers began to reclaim the land. They took moss and kelp from the sea and mixed it with the soil. The nutrients from the sea grasses helped feed the soil. Meter by meter, farmers reclaimed the land.”
As everyone ate their corned beef hash, there was a lot to think about – from landlords and tenants to potatoes and famine to seaweed and reclaiming the land.
After a hearty breakfast, everyone said his and her good-byes and the Cahills were on their way home. Korrit peered out the window of the SUV as Chelsea leaned against her.
“What ‘cha thinkin’?” Chelsea asked Korrit.
“I’m thinking about all these farms. I wonder what the land looked like back then.”
“Yea,” said Chelsea, “me, too. Do you think everything was dirt-colored?”
“I’m not sure,” said Korrit, “but I’d like to find out.”
“Me, too,” said Chelsea. As Korrit continued her daydream, Chelsea found herself lulled to sleep by the gentle humming of the tires on the long country roads and the warmth of Korrit’s shoulder.
In the placid silence, Korrit and Meg and Sally all found their way to sleep, too.
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