Beech Tree News Network

One of my fondest Christmas memories was writing Santa Claus and then hanging our letters on the nail on the wall of the back porch. I was always amazed that Santa came in early December to pick up our letters so that he would know what to get us for Christmas.
Another favorite was our annual trek over the farm to pick the right Christmas tree. The walk to Guffey’s field was a long one but we didn’t care. Many cedar trees grew in the field that was also covered with broom sage. I can still see the field in my mind today. Charlotte, Lavern and I always wanted the tallest tree we could get and one that was really filled out with no scraggly holes. After searching till we found the perfect tree, it was chopped down and we would drag it home.
Decorating the tree was great! We had ornaments that had been handed down to us by different family members. In the early years we had no lights but the garland, ornaments and icicles captured the light from the fireplace and our tree glowed. We didn’t just decorate it once, sometimes we took the ornaments off and redecorated it again just for fun! The smell of the cedar filled the house – why is it that bringing something as simple as a tree into a house gives kids such a thrill? (And adults too, because I still can’t wait to put my tree up each year.)
We seemed to always have snow in December in Kentucky. Sleigh riding, walking on the frozen lake, building snowmen, and making snow cream always helped pass the days till December 25 arrived. When we were chilled to the bone we would come in the house, hang our wet clothes by the fireplace and then pile in the middle of the bed for a long game of Monopoly. Sibling rivalry is really at its best in a good game of Monopoly!
Holiday sweets and treats create wonderful memories. Snow cream was the best! Just be sure you start with clean snow before adding sugar, eggs, milk and vanilla. Mama also made peanut brittle, popcorn balls with molasses, pulled taffy, jam cakes, fresh coconut cakes, and pumpkin, mincemeat and pecan pies during the Christmas season. But boiled custard was my favorite! We never could wait until it cooled before we had our first cup. Making good boiled custard is an art, I never knew how hard it was to make until I had a family of my own. Now I usually settle for the “easy” recipe, but memories of the taste of the “slow cooked” recipe remain.
When I was in fourth grade I bought my first copy of “The Night before Christmas”. I could almost recite it from memory because I read it so often. The pictures were beautiful and the words delightful to every child. On Christmas Eve I felt like I should be “nestled all snug in my bed” by 6:00 p.m. just so I could pass the night away. But sleep never came easy. The Christmas tree stood in our living room which also doubled as our bedroom in the winter months. Santa never woke me however. By 3:30 or 4:00 a.m. we would be awake. Words could never express the feelings of looking under that tree on Christmas morning. Our gifts were never wrapped, just looked like Santa took them right out of his bag and left them.
Some of my favorite Christmas gifts were the beautiful dolls my sisters and I received when I was three, our only gifts preserved in a picture taken at Uncle Orville’s house. Mine had auburn red hair, Lavern’s had blonde hair and of course Charlotte’s had brown hair. I loved stuffed animals as much as dolls so the panda bear and Lassie dog were special. The beauty parlor doll was unique. And even though we had no brothers, my sisters and I enjoyed a BB gun and an archery set one year. The new sled was swift and sleek. The hike up the hill in front of our house was soon forgotten as you swerved down and around the curves of a winter wonderland.
Collecting Christmas books is now a tradition for me. After reading about the Christmases Past of pioneers and poets this year I reflected upon my own memories as a child. What fun it would be to return to Kentucky and smell the cedar trees and feel the snow on my face as I walk through the woods on the farm where limbs are covered with snow and memories linger.
Mabel Romans Boone, December 1997, The Colony, Texas