“The best- laid plans of mice and men / Go oft awry” .. Robert Burns , To a Mouse
When our son Harry bought a farm in Rockbridge County last September, he was already anticipating hosting our family Christmas dinner. Harry lives and works in New York City, but hopes to retire there in several years. In the meantime, he comes as often as possible for a weekend respite from the bustle of city life.
He intended to drive down several days before Christmas, cut one of the cedar trees to decorate, and with my assistance cook a feast for the family on Christmas Day. But his daughter could not arrive in New York from San Francisco until the evening of the 23rd, which meant he could not drive to Virginia until Christmas Eve. And that would not allow time for the preparation of many of the traditional dishes.
So I volunteered to prepare them ahead of time. I thawed the turkey, cooked the cranberries, made Italian bread, coconut pies, cookies and custard. We would cook the potatoes and macaroni and cheese and kale while the turkey was roasting. By Christmas Eve everything was ready.
Then the weather report called for ice after midnight and during the early hours of Christmas Day. I pictured the narrow, winding road, shaded by trees on either side, which stretched for thirteen miles from the highway to the farm. By mutual agreement, we postponed the dinner one day.
On the day after Christmas, my husband Harry and I packed the car early and headed up I-81. The roads were clear – even the road with the twists and turns had no icy patches, and we made good time. Until we reached the driveway that led up the hill to the farm house.
“I thought he said it was ploughed,” Harry said.
I tried several times but made no headway up the incline. Harry took the wheel, but without success. Then the Honda began to slide backward to the left, barely missed a tree, and stuck in the mud beside the driveway. It wouldn’t budge.
We trudged through the snow up the hill to the house, without the protection of boots. When we told our son what happened, he asked, “Why didn’t you come up the back way? That drive is shorter and we had it cleared.”
“We didn’t know there was a second entrance.”
“Oh, I thought I told you…”
We drove in his car down that cleared driveway to attempt to free the Honda. No luck.
“I’ll have to use the tractor,” he said.
The tractor came with the farm, but he had never driven it. I shuddered to think of it, but helped my grandson Byron transfer all the food and gifts to the other car, and retreated to the kitchen to cook. Let the men worry about the car, I thought.
I had enough to worry about trying to decide how to set the convection oven! But with Cynthia’s help, the big bird was soon roasting. Fortunately, my son proved to be a competent tractor operator and my car, unharmed, was soon parked beside the house.
The table was set with the china and silver Harry had purchased while he worked in Germany. Cynthia, son Harry and I prepared the vegetables – except I had forgotten the kale.
“No problem, I’ll call John and ask him to get some at WalMart on his way.”
Brother John, his wife and children had gone to Williamsburg for Christmas dinner with his wife’s family. John is a doctor and had to return to work on Monday. His family wanted to stay longer, so they took two cars. Since our dinner was rescheduled, he was able to join us after all. He was already in Charlottesville and agreed to bring the kale. Fortunately, it was one of those pre-washed packages and was ready on time.
My two coconut pies were still sitting in the refrigerator in Roanoke, so we finished the meal with cookies and custard.
We opened our gifts and everyone was happy — even without a Christmas tree.
Harry forgot he didn’t have a saw.
By Mary Jo Shannon [email protected]