I had an hermetically sealed youth on a dirt road in Southwest
Alabama that cut through a land grant of 40 acres bequeathed by a
relative circa 1835. Its horizon was the moon and its mornings were
slices of light topping loblolly pines with new days holding
adventure. My parents, Helen and Willard Harris, let me open gates
in pastures not plowed or planted. They let me eat whatever landed
in my hands as I stretched them to the sky. You can have some of
this manna. I was always blessed just a bit more than I needed. My
"eyes were bigger than my stomach," my Mama would scold, or my
Daddy would say, "No one needs a third piece of pie." Here's my
Mama's lemon ice box pie with tiny golden beads of sugar on the
meringue, shining like baby suns. You can have the last piece; I
don't need it. I'm full. And so I write these remembrances, not
editing myself. This hodgepogeny of stories is a conversation with
myself. It's a pleasure to have you in the room listening.
General
Is the information for this product incomplete, wrong or inappropriate?
Let us know about it.
Does this product have an incorrect or missing image?
Send us a new image.
Is this product missing categories?
Add more categories.
Review This Product
No reviews yet - be the first to create one!
Welcome to Loot.co.za!
Sign in / Register |Wishlists & Gift Vouchers |Help | Advanced search
