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Jane Y. Wilson, Author and Storyteller

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Jane Tales

Jane Tales

This collection of Short Stories coming in 2007

from Jane Tales
 
 

                         The Season of Miracles

 

 

 

     For many years, I was a single mother with two small boys and a daughter in college. I always dreaded winter and the Christmas season.

 

          Every year it was a struggle getting the money for wood and oil, let alone, Christmas presents. I turned the heat down at night, had everyone wear sweats and piled the beds high with quilts. In the morning, the heat was turned up to knock off the chill and back down it went. We prayed we wouldn’t run out of oil.

 

     I used a wood stove in hard times. Times when the snow would be heavy and deep and the electricity was off. We combed the woods by our house for bits of limbs, logs and pinecones. Sometimes, we picked up wood when the state was cutting right-of- ways. Other times, a friend would give me wood, or I would buy up a small stack at a good price.

 

     One day, I went home from work to find a load of wood in the yard. On top was a Christmas tree. Someone had given our family a wonderful gift.

 

      There was no way to know who our generous benefactor was. The boys and I put the tree in our woodshed, to await trimming on Saturday. Then we corded in the wood.

 

     The next day at the Western Steer, where I worked as a cook, my boss Ronnie Duckworth brought me a Christmas tree. He knew I had a tough time. He raised Christmas trees and thought that would be just the thing to give me. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings and tell him I already had a tree! So I took the tree home.

 

     When I arrived home, another beautiful tree sat on my front porch! I couldn’t guess who had delivered this one either. I had no way of telling whoever brought it I had two trees already.

    

   My daughter, Tammy, attended ASU at the time. She dropped by for a visit and do her laundry. I told her of the three trees. She lived in an apartment with a roommate, JoAnne Jenkins, and said she would love to have the smaller tree. They couldn’t afford to buy one. I watched her carry away the tree, delighted, saying they would make all the decorations.

 

     I couldn’t find out anything about the two trees that were left. I called around to my neighbors asking if anyone knew who could have given us the trees. One neighbor said he needed a tree and why not sell him one? I sold him one for twenty dollars. I was overjoyed for it was my year to have the neighborhood Christmas get together. Now I could have a grand ‘doo’.

 

     The night of the Christmas party I saw Tommy Lawrence stop and look at my tree, several times. As he was pulling on his coat to go home he went up to the tree again. He bent over and looked under the tree and then he stood on tiptoes and looked at the top.

 

     Tom came over to say good-by. “Jane, I was never going to say anything about the tree or the wood but I just have to know. How did that tree grow two feet after I cut it down?”

 

     I took his hand, looked him in the eye, “Tommy, all I can say, this is truly the season of miracles!”

 

                                                                                  


Jane Y. Wilson, Author and Storyteller
Mountain Born & Fed, an Appalachian Cookbook
Jane Tales, Appalachian stories
MeeMa's Memory Quilt, local history