| OCR Text |
Show Fepper:rint Monaa; in my skirt. I carried those weeds clear out of the east hills, all the way to our kitchen. My ma told me dandelions wouldn't make jam, at least jam that was eatable. I cried for hours. Partly because I couldn't make dandelion jam and partly because my legs hurt so bad from all of that walking. To this day I've never made dandelion jam. I think that's about the only kind of jam I haven't though." I looked at Grandma's gray-peppered hair and at her network of wrinkles. Even then it was easy to picture her as a mischievous child. Liberated women were unheard of in those days, but I'll bet little Ruby gave everyone a piece of her mind, whether it was ladylike or not. I could almost feel her disappointment when she couldn't make dandelion jam. "Didn't you ever try? I mean after you were old enough to do what you wanted. Your ma couldn't stop you then." Andrea twisted one of her short curls. I could tell she was debating wheter or not to have another piece of bread. "I never tried. I guess I knew she was right when I got old enough to do my own jam making." "But if you never tried, how do you know it won't work?" I was getting excited now. We might invent a new jam flavor and become famous. I wouldn't have to rely on Uncle William's name like so many others were. Grandma Ruby laughed one of her deep rolling laughs. Her large stomach shook uncontrollably. She reminded me of the way I'd imagined Santa Claus to laugh when I was a kid. She really did shake like a "bowl full c£ jelly", or dandelion jam. "I know because my ma was right. Dandelions are bitter weeds. They aren't sweet like fruit, because they're not fruit." She laughed again. |
