springvillealabama.org/     Downtown Springville, Alabama

Springville is a small rural town in St. Clair County, Alabama. Resting quietly in a bowl supplied by the Appalachian Mountain Range; it’s Chamber of Commerce boasts you will find economic prosperity, a relaxing atmosphere and community spirit.

But for me Springville was a place of refuge. Though I have not been back since the early 1980’s, memories of Springville and of my grandparents farm are still bold watercolors in the recesses of my mind.

Howard and Florence Morgan my maternal grandparents had a most unique farm. Several miles away from the tiny area known as downtown, and passed many fast running creeks with tall ancient trees, you came upon a strange house.

Howard and Florence Morgan.  Photo owned by PR Mace

Set back from the road was what would now be called a,” Vintage Silver Airstream Trailer“. Slowly they build a most unusual home around this strange foundation. Once completed it looked like any other new home built in the late 1960’s, but inside it was anything but normal.

  www.sweetgrasscounty.com/airstream.htm               A Silver Airstream Trailer

Using an open floor plan the two bedroom house had a large living room/dining room area which lead to a hall with a small guest room and large master bedroom. The kitchen, two bathrooms and informal dining area were in the trailer. The silver trailer was completely left intact with doors and windows and lovely cedar beams holding the ceiling.

Outside was a large open covered carport that doubled as a porch. The open backyard was a masterpiece of beauty with rolling pastures full of cows, a well stocked pond for fishing and the side of a mountain as a backdrop.

I spent many happy summers and weekends there with my grandparents, known to their grandchildren as Gango and Shorty. How these pet names came into existence is another long tale.

Summer days with Gango were full of chores that no one minded doing. Once a week we cleaned house and did laundry, we worked the garden, bottle fed calves, set on the porch to shell peas or snap green beans and there was always the walk across the street to the neighbors farm for watermelon.

Though retired from working for a dairy, Shorty, still traveled three days a week as a milk inspector. When he came home it was another type of fun. You never slept late if Shorty was home. He was in your face early to wake you up.

A pair of borrowed work boots and a ride on the back of his two-ton flat bed truck out to the pasture with hay was an adventure in it’s own right. I remember the wind blowing my long ponytail, the smell of fresh hay and the happy barks of their dog, Panda, as she raced across the pasture with us.