Biscuits and house shoes.

Southerners are a traditional people. We take great pride in continuing our traditions and carefully unpacking them in front or our children.
I was probably eight or so when I began standing close in the kitchen when mama cooked. I was fascinated by the things she whipped up. One of my favorites were her biscuits. My mother could whip up a iron skillet of biscuits in less time than it took to butter toast. It was like magic. She had this huge iron skillet daddy made (compliments of Hayes aircraft.) Daddy came home with several prototypes he made until he got it just right. Mama would cook in each one and tell him what needed adjusting- whether it was size, weight, everything browned too quick or too slow. I know he made several because a couple ended up out back behind the shed. When he finally got it right, she loved it. Most of the times she pinched off  "cat head" biscuits but sometime I cut them with a jelly jar. The smell of fresh biscuits permeated the entire house. She would often have a jar of plum jelly from my Aunt Jim and my brothers would get out syrup and butter for theirs. Those biscuits were a feast. I make mine quite the same these days. High and light.

You would be hard pressed to find a southern girl who wasn't trained well by a mother or grandmother and well steeped in tradition and hospitality. Recipes and traditions always make me think of my mother. A woman who grew up during the depression and had very little in the way of material things, her own mother died when she was only five. However, she mothered very well. She had aunts and other strong women, who stood in the gap to make sure she and her older sister grew and learned well.
She was also quirky, intentional and created traditions of her own. One of those would be her house shoes. In other regions of the country they may be called "slippers" or "scuffs" but in rural central Alabama where the summers were stifling and winters cold, they are house shoes.
I can remember summer days seeing three or four pair of freshly cleaned house shoes hanging on the line drying in the sun. As a child they were often a necessity as the house could get drafty in the winter and she wanted to be sure our feet stayed warm. Later on, also for comfort at the end of a long day. Mama would come in from work and slip her heels off and ask me to fetch her a pair of house shoes, fresh off the line. When she slide her feet in this signified indeed she was home. She wore them for a few minutes with her hosed feet as she either started or finished dinner. Later she would emerge from the bathroom with a fresh scrubbed face after her bath, donning her house shoes. She bought extras in varying sizes when on sale, she mended them sometime to get just a little more wear out of them. Sometime after a long shopping day she would pull a pair out from under the seat in the car, slip off her shoes and wear them home. 

I am like my mother in many ways. I slip my shoes off when I walk in the door, slide into a fresh pair of house shoes & make a fresh glass of iced tea. It signifies love and hospitality my mother shared all my life. Sliding into those little pillows of fresh, clean terry cloth felt amazing then and it still does. She kept 3-5 pair on hand in case someone else needed a pair. If you came by to sit a while and talk, she was likely going to force a pair into your hand. No need to resist, she was pretty persistent and very opinionated on the virtue of house shoes. 

She would always ask, "doesn't that feel much better than shoes?"
When in the hospital on several different occasions mama would bring house shoes for me, freshly washed of course, smelling of sunshine. She would pull them out of her purse and lay them by the bed. 
I would say one of my mamas spirituals gifts was hospitality. She wanted everyone to feel comfortable, she thought it would help an awkward or painful stay in the hospital, or give you a respite when you were mentally or physically tired, she was probably right.

As her dementia worsened and she spent more time at her children's homes, I always made sure after her shower she had a fresh pair of house shoes. I helped her prepare for bed and placed clean house shoes on her feet. She always carried on about how heavenly they felt. 

It's those old traditions she created for us, that I miss the most when I think of her. 
I guess there will be a hot pan of biscuits for breakfast in the morning to accompany the pillows of sunshine on my feet. 
Thank you mama.