Showing posts from February, 2016

Ma's Apron

Ma's Apron
Ma Ledford always wore an apron. She churned butter, gathered apples and baked bread wearing
her white starched apron. Ma hoed her garden in her one-pieced apron
and used it as a basket to carry okra, corn, and tomatoes into the kitchen.
She built fires in the woodstove smearing soot on the White Lily apron. When Granddaddy Bob went to market,
she changed into a fresh lye-washed apron.  She felt undressed without it.
She used her apron as a fan to chase flies away from the dining room table.
I can still see Ma, plain and practical wearing her flour sack apron.
--Brenda Kay Ledford
This poem appeared in Farming Magazine, Winter 2015