The Middle of the Forest

Over the river and through the woods...." they sang as they rode down the narrow tree-lined road. Ann thought the song was made up about her own grandmother, who lived in a small farmhouse deep in the Texas piney-woods. Getting there seemed a dangerous trip for the four-year-old Ann. The deep-rutted dirt and sand road was slow-going and bumpy, and she was always glad to see the last turn onto the grassy lane that led to the house. It was already dark, and Granma and Granpa could see the car's lights even before it made that turn. And this time, they were not alone as they eagerly descended the porch steps and hurried to open the gate. Ann's Uncle John was already there to welcome the carload that included her parents and big brother Bill as well as her other uncles, Feagin, James, And Tom. The car was so crowded that Ann had made the whole trip sitting on someone's bony lap, so she was very ready to jump out and run straight for her Granpa's arms. Her great-granpa Hughes was a bit slow getting to the porch, but he lifted a shakey hand to Ann's head, and smiled at her warmly. He didn't say anything. He almost never did. She was so happy. The dark drive down the bumpy road was over, and everyone was happy and smiling.

They were all eager to get inside. The fire was blazing in the big double fireplace, and all sorts of wonderful smells were coming from the kitchen. The fresh pine tree was lit with tiny candles, sitting in candleholders clipped to the trees branches, and there were strings of popcorn and red berries swagged all around it. It was the most beautiful tree Ann had ever seen. She snuggled into her granpa's lap and he sang her to sleep with a Christmas lullaby.

She was up early the next morning. Granma always told her that her breakfast job was one of the most important. Granma would take hot black pans fom the oven of the big wood-burning stove, pans with a thick layer of melted butter in the bottom. It was Ann's job to take the freshly cut biscuits and carefully swirl them in the butter before turning them over and placing them in the pan. As each pan was filled, it went back into the oven, to come out again a few minutes later, it's biscuits now magically browned, risen, and light and fluffy. That morning, even before they were settled to a breakfast of biscuits, eggs, fresh bacon and ham from the smokehouse, and homemade fig preserves, a horn began honking from a good way down the old dirt road, so everybody jumped from the table, and got out to the porch just as another car came up the grassy lane. Uncle Grady, Granma's baby brother, his wife, Aunt Frankie, and their daughter Ann had arrived. Now there were two Anns. Little Ann thought her thirteen-year-old cousin was the most beautiful "woman" she had ever seen. She turned to her own mother and said, "When I'M thirteen years old, I'm going to get married!" She did not understand why everybody laughed.

By noon, they were joined by Uncle Buel and Aunt Maxine, and their daughter, Jerrie Sue, whose farm was just a bit further down the road. And by that time, the crowded kitchen was busy with the roasting of an enormous Tom turkey, stuffed with cornbread dressing that the women had spent the morning seasoning with dried herbs like sage and thyme. There were sweet potatoes baking, and Irish potatoes boiling on the stovetop to be mashed with fresh cream and butter, and a really big pot of winter collards, fresh from the garden. More sweet potatoes had gone into pies, and there were two of Ann's favorite buttermilk pies as well.

Eventually, they all sat down to the long, crowded table, and her grandfather turned deferentially to his father-in-law and said softly, "Mr. Hughes..." and Ann's great-grandfather's shaky southern voice said proudly as they all bowed their heads, "Gracious Lord, give us thankful hearts, for these blessings and all others....."