Guest Author is my Daddy, written Dec 21, 1997 (submitted by my big sis)
The first time I saw Grannie’s kitchen, there was a fire in the black cook stove and something was boiling in a pot. As far as I remember, there was little furniture in the kitchen, just a stove and a cupboard, but the room it was in had six or seven chairs, a table, a bench and deer heads all over the wall. They were in the same room, but the kitchen was just the stove and the cupboard. And, oh yes, a dishpan on a low bench with a water bucket. And most important of all there was my grandmother. She was the same size as the stove and warm and had lots of hugging room and she cooked peedoes on top of the stove. They were sort of a batter bread with maybe some cornmeal in them and you ate them hot with some butter and also sugar.
The real part of the kitchen though was Grannie. She was a cook stove walking around and she made peedoes and we ate them like kittens waiting for a bowl of milk.
There was a well on the back porch, through the kitchen door. A bucket and rope were by the well, and the water was so clear you could hardly see it. When Grannie walked out on the porch to get water, it became part of the kitchen, too.
One time I saw a dead gopher in the well. He was not part of the kitchen and no one cooked him.
