NEWS FROM THE HILLS
November spreads its brownness over our hills, muting the vivid fall colors and bringing an end to warm weather. We could feel the change last night, in the restless wind that brought the leaves down like the patter of rain, and see it in the clouds that drew dark fingers across the moon.
The trunks of the trees stand with brown, naked arms bared to the chilly wind, while brown heaps of dry, curling leaves are clustered at their feet. The wind whips through the golden-brown broom sage, waving the slender stalks in a merry, abandoned dance. Brown are the fields and meadows, while fallen leaves on the forest floor are browner still.
The magnificent oaks have come into their own. Mahogany and deep wine, they stand out in rich array amidst their more somber brothers. The greens of the hemlocks and scrub pines are clearly seen now, refreshing color against the background of brown.
This month is sometimes described as “bleak,” but I love it. November is lulling the land to rest, covering the ground with a blanket of brown leaves. Very soon the brown blanket will be covered with a counterpane of purest white, and the land will go to sleep until spring.
I love November when the brown turns to gray, with cold, gray rain slanting down from sullen, gray clouds. Wood smoke from neighboring chimneys spirals upward, more gray against a grayer sky, promising warmth and cheer within the dwelling.
This is the time for hearty soups and stews, bubbling and steaming on the back burner of the kitchen stove. How satisfying it is to come in out of the cold and rain, and open the door to be greeted with the heart-warming fragrance from a kettle of homemade vegetable soup.
November means many things to me. The cellar is stuffed with ripe apples, potatoes in the bin, orange pumpkins and Hubbard squash, and jars of home-canned vegetables. Churns of pickled corn and sauerkraut are stored in the corner, and the deep freezer is full to the brim with beef and pork.
This month is scented with the rich, cinnamony smell of apple pies, and pumpkin pies send forth their aroma of ginger and spices. With such a wealth of harvest’s riches, what better time to celebrate Thanksgiving?
It is my favorite holiday of the whole year. It is a warm family time, a time for remembering the blessings and good times of years past, and a time to weave present day memories. All too soon this Thanksgiving will be past, and the good times we have together will become our grandchildren’s old-time memories.
Thanksgiving always brings back memories of yesteryear, and loved ones who are now gone. In my mind I can see seven tow-haired children, seated around the handmade wooden table with the rough bench behind it. The table is covered in bright oilcloth, and straight-backed kitchen chairs are arranged on the other side and ends of the long table.
Mom, Daddy and Grandpa, with one of the older children, are seated on the chairs. The rest crowd behind the table on the bench, and once in awhile one of the younger ones on the end hits the floor with a thump—probably from a well-placed elbow.
It is an eager crowd awaiting Thanksgiving dinner. We usually had roast chicken, plump and brown from the oven. The mouth-watering fragrance of sage and onion dressing had us drooling. Mom had spent days baking, and a variety of pies were lined up on the enamel cabinet top. I can see the food now—mounds of mashed potatoes, giblet gravy, bowls of green beans, corn, and Daddy’s special salad
Mom’s hot rolls were light and fluffy, with real cow butter to go on them. There was cranberry sauce made with chunks of pineapple and orange peel, Jell-o with fresh fruit, and Mom’s special orange-coconut cake. We may have been too young to be properly thankful, but we certainly were stuffed.
The Lord blessed us so abundantly in those days, and He is blessing us still. I look around at the multitude of grandchildren, and great-grand children, and marvel at their health and good minds. It is amazing that in a family this large, the children are all healthy and normal. God has been so good to us!
Two new blessings were added to our family this year—both great-granddaughters. Adrianna was born on April 25 to Adrian and Megan Thompson, and is a plump, happy baby who loves everyone. She is just like Adrian—always smiling.
E-mail Alyce Faye Bragg at alycefaye@citlink.net or write to 2556 Summers Fork Road , Ovapa, WV 25150.
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