Bratwurst. Chorizo. And Kielbasa. They are sausages. Oh, let’s not forget the Southern patty.

I love all sausages. I have since I was a kid.

However, I never thought about burying a sausage before my wedding day.

But a bit of history on sausage-making

The old home had a smokehouse with a whiskey still underneath. Smoke from the house camouflaged the still’s smells.

There, of course, was a two-seater outhouse with the needed collection of Sear’s toilet paper.

A stable for Sally the mule and her companion, Jake, the donkey.

A barn for hay and a silo for corn, and a tool shed filled with everything but tools and stuffed with anything you might just need in the future. You never know, Papaw believed.

The hog pen was down the road and downwind most of the time.

Papaw, the family elders, and our neighbors did the butchering. Trust me, you don’t want to see how sausage is made.

Having worked with politicians in my day, I can say that the process is the same as creating a piece of typically needless legislation.

The kids hand-grounded the various meat parts while the grownups smoked and tasted some of the latest tonic, caught up on the latest news, and predicted the next day’s weather,

Of course, the kids also helped with the hog neutralizing. Adults relegated us to scrapping the skin.

They cut up chops, hams, shoulders, loins, ribs, and feet. All parts got used except for the proverbial squeal. Never could figure out how to can it.

Some of the elders in the group canned and pickled meat. Papaw smoked his.

The sight of and the thought of eating pickled pig’s feet still make me shake my head. I saw some in East Tennessee last time I went off-road at a little country store.

The price of the feet sitting on the counter next to the vapes has gone up at Hank’s Stop and Save and Filler-Up Station near Oneida, Tennessee.

Fifty cents a piece for the delicacy my Mom so enjoyed.

But I digress from my story.

You see, brides are burying sausage the night before their weddings. Keep your mind clean now.

According to TikTok and Instagram stories, brides bury their protein to thwart rain on their wedding day in the United Kingdom. And they say it works.

Well, personally, I vote for using the pig’s feet.

Sorry, Mom.