I often mention things my granddaughters do that remind me of their fathers doing the same thing when they were little boys. This photo Jeremy sent me of Jordann tackling a bowl of watermelon slices almost as big as she is takes me back to days when our boys would ask if we could "cut this watermelon" as they rolled it across the kitchen floor. As they stood digging with forks into the heart of a watermelon half, juice sparkling on their chins, they had the same happy smile as this one. Sometimes we took the melons outside on the porch and enjoyed the cool sweetness that seems part of hot Texas summers. Then they would have a seed spitting contest!
Going back to the 40's and 50's, I think of all the watermelons grown by my grandfathers or the farmers on nearby farms. The vines sprawled out in sandy fields, where melons swelled and grew juicy, and melons were harvested, piled into the beds of pickup trucks and taken to town or roadside to sell. I grew up thinking the heart of the melon was for us to eat, sprinkled with a little salt. The rest of the melon and its rind could be thrown acorss the fence for the cows to enjoy. How different that image is from the dear prices we pay for a single melon today!
Bon Appetit, Jordann!
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