Manuscripts/Mixed Material [Three Generations]
It is 10 o'clock and I am rather surprised to see Mrs. Irvington, broom in hand, sweeping away the small branches, fallen leaves and strands of Spanish moss from the walk and garage door so early in the morning.
“If you don't mind, we'll just go in through the kitchen. It's more convenient.” This seemed a practical idea, since we were now in the garage, and there was no reason for journeying up through the yard to make a formal entrance through the front door.
Up a few wooden steps and we are in the kitchen, a room twenty-five feet square, in the southwest corner of which is a modern oil-burning furnace, automatically clicking and registered the delightful warmth that [pervades?] the interior on this February morning, a little chilly even for Florida. This feature, of course, is an important part of the rejuvenation of the old place.
“You know it has been raining, but the sun is so bright this morning, I just had to get out of doors, besides old Janie who lives a mile to the East of Ridgewood Road is not able to come help me today. She has not been well for some time - you know I brought her down from Georgia when I was married, now nearly twenty years ago. By the way, her grandfather and grandmother were were some of the old family slaves. So the sweeping of the driveway gave me an excuse to get out. In the meantime, my sink full of dishes just stands. But I'll have to wash some more later on, so I'll just get them all done up at one time.”