Aunt Polly's Potato Soup

A treasured family tradition plays out through love and preparations for Sunday supper.

Aunt Polly's Potato Soup

Written By PJ Finnegan-Acker

Copyright © 2015 PJ Finnegan-Acker

My Aunt Polly loves her garden. In fact, she is one of the most faithful gardners I've ever met. 

Upon meeting my wonderful aunt, one might see a pleasant, slightly plump and somewhat shy woman in her early sixties, with a somewhat timid smile. You'd take notice of her snow-white hair, the bulk of which would be tied in a loose bun at the back of her neck, and how it appears to halo around her head in soft, wispy curls. Her gentle, heart-shaped face, would showcase two beautiful, bright blue eyes that would shine out at you, glowing with sincerity and innocence. 

And, gradually, clues would begin to accumulate, and the realization would dawn that mentally, developmentally, my Aunt Polly would be much closer to, perhaps, age seven, than age sixty.   

As is our tradition on most Saturday mornings, the women in my small family gather in the kitchen. Whether in bare feet through dew in the springtime or in boots over a white blanket of winter snow, Momma, Aunt Polly and I would embark on our weekly quest. 

With me leading our tiny parade, we would march out the back door, Aunt Polly following in the middle with a glorious smile lighting her sweet face, launching her favorite yellow umbrella high over our heads in one hand and a straw basket in the other. With Momma bringing up the rear, we would process in typical parade fashion, making our way down the gravel path toward the weathered fence that surrounds the garden.

If it were the right season, wildflower watchers line either side, cheering our little procession onward as we make our way along the familiar route. Often soft humming would rise and spread infectiously adding a bit of pomp and circumstance to the occasion until we were all marching and humming along quite nicely. 

The sounds of the creaky, wooden gate opening and closing would announce our arrival, as we entered the garden proper.

With eyes wide and shining, Aunt Polly would extend her basket in child-like anticipation. Bending to the garden bed, I'd carefully brush away loose dirt to reveal the six perfect potatoes that Momma and I had placed there by starlight the night before. 

As each one of the treasures are placed carefully into the waiting basket, the successful excavation would frequently be attended by delighted 'Ohhhs' and 'Oooos.' After being properly covered with the special blue gingham cup towel, kept just for this occasion, we would return by the same route from which we entered, chins held high.

With the pride that only comes from a job well-done and the satisfaction from a sense of self-sufficiency, Aunt Polly, Momma and I together prepare our Sunday meal. After offering thanks to Mother Earth for her bountiful provision, we savor the most wonderful ever, home-grown potato soup… once again.

Author's Note

Staying consistent in POV and person is a primary concern at this time. As well as anything amiss that any reader sees and cares to comment on is always gratefully received.

Reviews

[Justin Robben]

I agree with Sam below. Some of the strength of this piece (apart from your deft hand, that is) is the simplicity of the 'story'. Real people doing real things. And thankfully (daringly!) making them 'bigger' than they are.

Dare I say, I almost felt a part of the broader family, perhaps one of the attendees watching the weekly ritual.
A real pleasure. You capture the 'feel' of things so well.

Thank you for sharing. You have yet to disappoint. I rather expect you not to...

[Sandy Miller]

I enjoyed this story and found it delightful. It reminded me very much of a trip to my grandmother's farm as a child where we all tended the garden. In that rural setting life really is all about sipping iced tea on the front porch and bringing in the gardens. Had a nice family touch to it. The only issue that I had was that I was left wondering what the soup tasted like, although I am sure that it was country perfect.

[Marie]

You kept to POV consistently here. In fact, it's more a narration than a story, but quite charming.

[PJ Acker]

Thanks for your time reading and reviewing, Marie. Maybe I'm learning... ;) POV isn't an easy thing, at least it's been a slippery little thing for me to harness.

[Barry Acker]

Nice work Peggy. Loved the description of creaky fence gate announcing the arrival of the troop

[PJ Acker]

Thanks, Babe!

[Robert Parlange]

Enjoyed this story. Good work on the descriptions. Lots of colors and textures. It transports the reader into the story.

Great effort.

[PJ Acker]

Thanks Robert. I appreciate your time reading and reviewing this piece.

[Samuel Dickens]

Outstanding! With this wonderful work, you really shine. Part of my delight is the kind of story it is--a simple tale about real people living good lives. You've a few unneeded commas and an error here--"Aunt Polly would extends her basket..." Nice work, PJ. Really nice.

[PJ Acker]

Thanks for the the 'catch' Sam and for the kind words. I enjoyed writing this piece.