Author Archives: William A. Balk, Jr.

“I remember crawling on the dirt, crawling because I am unable to stand unassisted. I am underneath a structure, in its shadow, while all around there is bright sunshine on weedy grass. I feel energized and curious, not fearful, perhaps even excited. I am determined to reach the far edge of the shadow cast by […]

“Christmas day, our mother began breathing uncomfortably, and that night we stayed up with her as her breathing became more and more labored. There has been virtually no possibility of her exposure to COVID-19, even through us, so that, perhaps oddly, wasn’t our concern. Rather, we’ve deduced that her heart valve problem has degenerated significantly […]

“Since the isolation protocols began, I’ve baked bread loaves; I’ve done a cheesecake for a friend; I’ve made Dutch Babies when I was feeling nostalgic for my Grandmother Balk’s breakfasts; and I have indulged my sinful obsession for scones. Now, any Southern baker is trained from birth in the making of a great scone—only, she […]

“I would often be left under the watchful care of the young dog, by now an adult but still unbred, while my parents and grandparents busied themselves with their responsibilities. Still unable to stand on my own, I would pull myself upright by grabbing hanks of Buppy’s lustrous coat, and she would stand firm and […]

“I spent half a day mixing that stuff up, getting the texture just right, getting it slightly moistened and evenly crumbly—perfect for all the new plants I’ve got to pot up and all those old ones that need a bigger pot. All that work, and some fool goes and moves it out here where it […]

“The great plant explorers of the 18th and 19th centuries found spectacular plants growing wild here in the coastal plain of the Carolinas and Georgia. Many of these plants were collected, studied, identified, and then promoted to gardeners in Europe. Then, no longer wildflowers and weeds, they were reimported to America as fashionable garden plants.”—William […]

“Repeatedly poring through Prospero’s introduced me to a far greater range of flavors and ingredients than I’d thought possible. To this day, whenever I come across the book’s recipe for Venetian Pastitsio, I salivate: it’s a huge pie, filled—like the proverbial kitchen sink—with chunks of game, pork, organ meats, fowl, and spiced with cinnamon and cloves, […]

“The ghosts of our predecessors here finally had begun—now that I was beginning to understand their language—to show themselves, to teach me what I had always missed about this mystical place. These ghosts had left their imprints in the very soil they had swept, and plowed, and planted, and I began to see their marks […]

“Ma Twiggs (was) absorbed in reading a seafaring adventure story as she walked to the summer bath house behind the big house, stepping into the bath, only to brush up against one of the watermelons left to cool in the bathwater. She is said to have leapt out of the bath and run, screaming, ‘Sea […]

“I tried to get her to talk a little about her past . . . although I swore I would never ask about any of the famous names linked to hers over the years in the press. She would always smile, perhaps touch my arm, and say, ‘But you haven’t finished telling me about your […]