Maybe it’s never been brought up in a blog before, but the house in which I live is named Hickory Shade.
The naming of a house is incredibly important to me. We endow a house with a name, a title, a meaning that transcends the wood and stone used to build it. A house with no name is simply just another building out there, faceless and soulless. But to give a house a name implies that it means something, that it is more than just the dwelling of the people who live there.
Our culture sees us overlooking small, interesting things that should make us smile and enjoy life more all the time. We can’t do a whole lot about it, to tell the truth- it’s just built into our worldview to not notice things.
So that being said, I wanted to establish a legacy, a legend, an identity, a history for my house. This is part of the myth-making meme in humans. Give something a story, and then suddenly it means something.
Which is more important: the rock that you found on the side of the road, or the rock in the shape of a moon that your grandfather found the same night that he met your grandmother and that stayed on their mantel their entire marriage?
My house sits beneath a pecan tree. A pecan tree, as I learned, is a kind of hickory tree. Thus, as the house sits in the shade of a hickory tree, it is known as Hickory Shade.
But even I forget sometimes that the house has its own name, is its own entity, and that whoever might inherit it after we’re long gone, too, will inherit the legacy of Hickory Shade.
Maybe a new legacy of cooking and good food can unfold now. Let’s hope so.