Smith’s Grocery, Elliott County, Kentucky

Despite my rural background, I did not grow up frequenting small country stores. While I slam the brakes now to photograph any and all that I pass in Kentucky, the grocery store of my childhood was…Kroger. Once or twice, I vaguely remember accompanying my grandmother to Toy’s Grocery in downtown Mt. Sterling, but I am afraid the highlight of that journey was the fact that she let me stand up on the back seat of her Buick as we drove from North Maysville Street to East Main Street.  (I was holding onto the back of the front seat at the time, and she did drive sedately. Of course, it goes without saying that I would never let my children do that!)

But despite being shaped by the chain grocery store, I hanker for the experience of the country store.

Smith’s Grocery Store, side elevation and façade.

I found myself in northeast Elliott County, Kentucky, in February of this year, right before a winter storm dumped snow and ice upon the Bluegrass. While the skies promised ill weather, the lack of tree cover let me see for what seemed like miles. But the small front gable structure that made me stop (yes, in the middle of the road) wasn’t tucked up a winding hollow, but rather perched right by the road.

Façade of Smith’s Grocery.

Country stores are often located at the intersection of roads, or near other remnants of a crossroads community. Smith’s Grocery, its tidy board and batten cladding firmly in place, can claim no (immediately visible) neighbors now.

Section of the 1950 USGS topographic quadrangle map of Bruin, Kentucky, showing the approximate location of the store.

Historically, though, I imagine it was part of the larger community of Grundy, as it sat almost halfway between the Grundy School and the Grundy Church. The first Grundy School was a one-room log building constructed in 1872. Two later versions replaced it, in 1895, and again in 1924. The school closed in 1968, and I sadly spied no sign of it during my travels.

Even the sign remains high in the gable.

Smith’s Grocery is small compared to many country stores I’ve seen, with a narrow façade composed of a central door flanked by a window on either side. There is no porch, as is common on the type, but a small shed addition extends to one side.

The building balances on piers, teetering towers of brick and concrete block, and a small metal flue extends through the roof. This flue likely vented a pot bellied stove that sat out in the middle of the floor, toward the rear of the store.

Façade and north elevation of the store .

I wonder when folks last gathered inside Smith’s Grocery, stocking up on some household goods or catching up on gossip. Did they talk about the weather, casting anxious looks at the sky? Or did they enjoy the shade cast by the trees on the hillside behind the store?

There might not have been the aisles and aisles of choices presented by today’s supermarkets, but that’s not always the luxury it’s made out to be – for what I think I crave is the feeling of community these country stores represent. A sense of community and connection that is even more distant in my on-going Pandemic lifestyle.