Brief Beeville Blog
In a previous blog I wrote about my father's feed store but I forgot something so here it is.
The feed store was the kind of place where farmers and ranchers liked to gather, sit and shoot the breeze around the old wood stove that squatted in the middle of the main room. Daddy got there about 7:00 every morning, lit the fire and put a pot of coffee on for himself and any customers. (The reason I am now remembering this is because I just cleaned out my coffee pot and the filter.) Daddy used the same coffee grounds all day long, I guess he figured that if they were good once, they'd be good again. It was percolated coffee so it just kept going through the grounds over and over. They drank their coffee black, and believe me, black it was! No sugar, no cream, just "make-your-hair-stand-up" coffee. But I'm pretty sure that the tales told around that stove took their minds off the taste. To this day, I still cannot drink a cup of coffee all the way to the bottom. Those grounds permanently threw me off.
The conversation was usually about cattle, weather (too much or not enough rain), cost of feed, good crops or bad, government controls, or some other mighty important subject. And that was all discussed and cussed til there wasn't any more to say about any of it. There were no heated arguments that I ever heard but of course I wasn't privy to all being said.
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The feed store was the kind of place where farmers and ranchers liked to gather, sit and shoot the breeze around the old wood stove that squatted in the middle of the main room. Daddy got there about 7:00 every morning, lit the fire and put a pot of coffee on for himself and any customers. (The reason I am now remembering this is because I just cleaned out my coffee pot and the filter.) Daddy used the same coffee grounds all day long, I guess he figured that if they were good once, they'd be good again. It was percolated coffee so it just kept going through the grounds over and over. They drank their coffee black, and believe me, black it was! No sugar, no cream, just "make-your-hair-stand-up" coffee. But I'm pretty sure that the tales told around that stove took their minds off the taste. To this day, I still cannot drink a cup of coffee all the way to the bottom. Those grounds permanently threw me off.
The conversation was usually about cattle, weather (too much or not enough rain), cost of feed, good crops or bad, government controls, or some other mighty important subject. And that was all discussed and cussed til there wasn't any more to say about any of it. There were no heated arguments that I ever heard but of course I wasn't privy to all being said.
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