Granny Sue’s Front Porch – Stone Soup

by Susanna Holstein

The weather has been perfect-for soup, that is. Recently I put a few bags of vegetables from the freezer into my soup pot, added venison, spices and herbs, and ended up with a delicious soup. Six quarts went back in the freezer for future quick suppers.

I inspired myself. Next into the kettle was a medley of dried beans and a big ham bone. Another six quarts of bean soup went into the freezer, ready use anytime we need them.

Making soup is a relaxing and introspective process. I recalled the summer’s garden with its overflow of squash, tomatoes and potatoes-all now in the soup. The bean soup called to mind my first attempt when I was nineteen and the young mother of two little babies. I was so proud of my accomplishment. Now, some forty years later, I make soup by guess and estimate, adding what I think might be good, using up leftovers and never able to duplicate the result in the future.

There is a sense of righteousness about soup. It’s a form of recycling, isn’t it? Soup uses the “small bits,” as my mother called it, the ends of things that might otherwise go to waste. This year we had good luck growing carrots, celery and onions, and all are cut up and in the freezer, perfect for winter soups. So my kettle of goodness includes little from the grocery store. That’s righteous!

As a storyteller, I put together stories in the same way I make soup. I hear something from one person, read an interesting piece somewhere else, find a folkloric reference in another place, and eventually the saved pieces come together into a story. Sometimes I feel like I am saving a story from being lost forever when I dig it out of the dust of a forgotten book to recycle into life. Reviving a story is just as satisfying as making soup.

Talking about soup and storytelling reminds me of a favorite story, one that taught recycling, frugality and working together long before these became buzzwords. It’s  called “Stone Soup.” Here is a short version of the tale, which originated in central Europe.

A soldier was making his way home. He stopped at a house in a village to ask for food, but the householder said, “I have nothing to spare.” The soldier replied, “I will make stone soup, then.” The soldier built a fire and filled his kettle with water. As he waited for the water to boil, he selected a rock, washed it and added it to the kettle. The householder watched with interest. A passerby asked, “What is he doing?” “He’s making stone soup,” was the reply. More people came and stopped to watch. The soldier tasted his soup, adding salt and pepper from his pack. “How does it taste?” someone asked. “Well, quite good, but it would be much better with the addition of a carrot or two. “I have some carrots!” a woman said. She ran home to get them, and gave the carrots to the soldier who cut them up and added them to the pot. “A bit of potato would be most excellent,” the soldier commented when he tasted the soup again. A man went home and brought potatoes, which were added to the soup.

And so it went. Each time the soldier named an ingredient, someone happened to have a bit of it at home. In time a delicious smell filled the air, and when the soldier proclaimed it done, there was enough for everyone to have a bowl. “Imagine!” they said. “Such tasty soup, and made with a stone!”

Like the soldier’s soup, so Two-Lane Livin’ is the work of many contributing the ingredients to make a rich mix of reading and pleasure. And like the soup, so are the lives of those of us who choose to live in the country-often making something from nothing, improvising, creating, working together and always in the end, sharing what we have with others.

Care for some soup?

Susanna “Granny Sue” Holstein lives in Jackson County. A librarian and professional storyteller, she has several published works, including  books and a CD,  available on the Internet at grannysu.blogspot.com.