Memories in Green
By James E. Gurley

(continued)

"We stayed here until my sister married in the spring of 1874. She left but I just couldn't leave. Things got mighty hard though. The next few years were very rough. There wasn't enough food and many people moved away looking for work. The South was ravaged by the war.

"In '76, the Centennial year, the same year that General Custer was killed, some of us tried planting Kudzu here as feed for the few animals that were left. Some people even tried to eat it, I hear. Mr. Kudzu seemed to love the South even more than Japan, where it came from. It grew everywhere, draping the trees and telegraph poles and hillsides. I loved the way it softened the ruins of the burned out farms and houses. Made them look, oh I don't know, kind of holy, maybe."

She tittered a little. "I guess I'm getting old and sentimental. I must apologize."

"I was almost 24 when the sheriff came with a group of Yankees with a piece of paper claiming they owned my land," she continued. "I chased them off with my father's old shotgun. It wasn't very ladylike I know, but they made me so angry.

"I didn't know what to do. I prayed to God. I prayed to Jesus. I even asked the Devil for help." She laughed. "One of them must have answered my prayers because the next morning the Kudzu started growing like all get out. I've seen it grow a foot a day, but now it was growing 10-20 feet a day! Within the week it had completely covered my little house. I never saw nor heard from the sheriff again."

She stifled a little sob. "I never saw nor heard from anyone again. Oh, I can't complain, mind you. The Kudzu seemed to protect me. I found tomatoes and corn and potatoes and even peanuts growing from it. I never wanted for food. But I was lonely. You're the first person I've talked to in over a hundred and twenty-three years."

She had been alone for 123 years! "I'll come and see you whenever I can," David said, trying to console her.

"I appreciate that, David. Mr. Kudzu seems taken with you. It won't let anyone else in though, as you know."

"You don't look 148 years old," David said.

"Why, thank you. Mr. Kudzu helps keep me alive. I guess it likes my company. I age slowly. I have my seasons, like all things."

David continued to visit Miss Thompson whenever he could throughout the summer and fall. He kept it a secret. He didn't even seem to notice when the other kids seemed to accept him and include him in their games. He was glad, but it just wasn't as important as his secret place.

He noticed that the house seemed more run down with each visit and Miss Thompson walked a bit more slowly lately. "It's just the seasons," she had said.

At Thanksgiving, David and his parents went away for three weeks. He missed his visits with Miss Thompson. She played games and told him stories and taught him things about the Civil War he had never seen in books. Most of all, she baked him cookies, just like Granny had. And she listened. She listened to him when he talked, no matter what he wanted to talk about. As soon as they got back from their trip, he ran straight out the back door.

To his horror, he saw the Great Kudzu Wall was gone! Only brown vines hung limply from the trees that had once been covered from top to bottom. Frantically, he ran down what once had been a path to the clearing.

The house was no longer there. There in the rubble he found a tiny blue plate. He carefully laid it on a pile of bricks. "Good bye, Miss Thompson," he said as he turned his back on the clearing and walked tearfully down the path.

His father was standing in the backyard.

"The Kudzu is gone!" he said to his father with tears in his eyes.

His father laughed. "You can't kill Kudzu. It died back because of the frost. Next spring, it will be back as green as ever and engulf my whole back yard. This used to be Thompson Farms, one of the first places in Georgia to grow Kudzu for erosion control. I bet they wish they hadn't started it now."

David had instantly cheered up at his father's words. That was what she had meant by seasons! She would be back, just like she had every spring since 1878. Kudzu had found a new home in the South and would not be defeated by man or nature. It was Eternal!

David smiled as he walked into the house. Maybe he just imagined the aroma of fresh baked cookies drifting from the woods and a soft voice calling, "Seasons, David. Everything has its seasons."