Thunder rumbled and rain beat against the shuttered windows, but a fire crackled in the hearth and the broad-beamed kitchen table was set with a pot of butter beans, hot coffee, sweet cream butter, and now fresh corn bread. “What are you thinking, old one,” Thalia asked as she worked her ample rear end onto the bench seat opposite Hiram. “Oh, I’d like me some fresh-picked field corn, roasted and dipped in butter. Bite in and gnaw on the husk till the butter drip down my chin. Man oh man, what I wouldn’t give for that and a summer day.” “Well, buttermilk, corn bread, pork hock, and butter beans will have to do you,” Thalia flatly stated. “’Cause it’s a long, cold row to hoe till summertime.” Hiram opened his eyes, scooted up to the table, and smacked his lips in appreciation. Thalia had been in a sour mood for days now and he hoped to humor her. “If there’s anything better’n corn bread and butter beans, I haven’t seen it.” Virginia entered from the pantry.
