"Aye, law, what a gaum those renters have made of Lulie's house. I wonder she don't rise up outen her grave and come make them clean up that nasty front porch. You remember how nice she kept her place -- flowers in pots all in a line, the rocking chairs painted yaller, and the floor just as clean . . . Hit make me wonder what we're coming to. . ."
"Now you likely know more about it than me, but I wouldn't try to drive through that gaum -- you'll likely git stuck."
"I never heard that word 'gaum,' Miss Birdie. I guess it means a big mess, right?"
My neighbor pondered, frowning slightly. "Well, maybe so. But when I told you to go pick you a mess of beans from the garden, what I meant was for you to git enough for your dinner. Gaum is something that's all tore up."
I cringed. Where I come from, 'mess' can also mean 'a whole lot' -- as in 'You're in a mess of trouble."
So I had picked a whole lot of beans -- several times what Miss Birdie considered a mess, no doubt.
Ay, law, what a gaum!