Images Revisited That Influence The Creative Process
As I grow older, I realize memories of my maternal grandmother, Floral Bell, have influenced my art and writing. Reflecting on her death in 1984, forty years ago, her gardening, faith, and resilience have resonated with me until this day. After her death, I painted a watercolor series on the memories of peas, picking, shelling, and processing to feed her family, even after her children left home. When she and my grandfather were alone, she continued her ritual of peas and cornbread for his dinner, which he ate with hot peppers and a glass of buttermilk; how vivid that simple meal is in my memory of her provision.
After her death, my mother modeled for me in photos and sketches in Grandma’s house as we documented her gardening, shelling, cooking conch peas in her large blue enameled pot, and then wrapping peas for the freezer. The watercolor that accompanies this blog was painted forty years ago.
In recent blogs and posts, I have shared memories of planting, shelling, and preserving conch peas. I grow them in my Wisconsin garden for the sake of nostalgia.
The subject of peas has shown up in my writing. For example, in Song of Jaybird, “Delia wrapped hoe-cakes in burlap for the men’s breakfast and scooped cowpeas into their cans for dinner. In another chapter, I wrote: “She bent over her large belly, weeding sweet potato mounds, rows of collards, and cowpeas, and straightened herself unable to see her feet.”
You might ask what a conch pea is. These small peas were brought to America from West Central Africa during the slave trade. Likhuui, its African name, was considered inferior food for the Southern aristocracy known as Planters. It was considered a ‘poor man's food and should only be fed to cattle. For Centuries, Likhuui had various names that defined these small creamy peas depending on the geographical area of the Southeast and the ethnicity of people who adopted these peas as a food source. They have been known as Field Peas, Cowpeas, Clear Eyes, Cream Peas, Zipper Creams, or, as in my family, Conch Peas. No matter the name, these pale green peas have sustained people, animals, and insects from generation to generation. As a crop cover, field peas add nitrogen to the soil, become a food source, and are composted to add to the garden next year. Outside of personal stories, the origin and usage of field peas are steeped in history.
In my September 9th blog, “Process of Crafting a Short Story Collection,” I shared that my uncle and I are collaborating on a collection of short stories. He and my mother have strong memories of the topic of Conch Peas. Based on their memory and mine, we wrote a story titled “All my sister’s love Peas.” We wrote: Years of Junes, our family picked and shelled conch peas when Mother gathered us under the shade of our front porch, “No shellin’, no eatin’,” Mother said. She meant it, too!
Memories, good or bad, become a part of who we are. I would love to hear about a memory that still resonates with you. Please feel free to leave your comments.
