When Mel and I were newlyweds,
we lived in Cleburne and rented a garage apartment from Mrs. Trudy Epperson. We called her
Granny Epperson, because she was like a grandmother to us.
Once, Granny got a hankering for some wild grape jelly, so Mel picked a
bunch and insisted I go over to help, so I’d know how to make it.
Granny was an excellent cook and she had a really nice, roomy kitchen
for such projects. While we were waiting for the grapes to come to a boil, she began
chuckling.
"Making this grape jelly sure does bring back memories," she
said, more laughter erupting.
Her brows wiggled like furry caterpillars as she began her tale.
"Mama had made wild grape jelly. She heaped up the skins and seeds
and left them setting on the stove. The next morning, she asked me to take the grape skins
and seeds and pitch them over the fence. Mama always insisted on throwing potato peelings,
apple cores—leftovers of all kinds—out for God’s creatures.
"Well, I did," she continued. "About noon, my brother
came running in and announced that the geese were acting very strange. We all went outside
to see for ourselves. Those geese were acting funny all right. Some were staggering.
Others had the hiccups," she said, reaching for the sugar canister and adding
generous heaps to the pot. "All of a sudden, the geese just keeled over. Mama started
hollering, ‘My geese! My poor darlings!’ Within minutes, the entire gaggle of
geese lay lifeless in the back yard."
"Oh my," I exclaimed. "What happened next?"
"Well, Mama instructed us kids to pluck all the feathers and down
off the geese," she recalled, explaining, "back then, we always stuffed pillows
and mattresses with feathers and comforters with down. So, we picked those limp birds
abolutely clean, put them in a wagon, and Brother hauled them down to the creek and dumped
them out."
"What a terrible waste," I commented.
Granny paused to sample the syrupy, purple liquid we were brewing and
grinned.
"That’s not the end of the story. Just before sundown, we
heard a terrible commotion outside. We all took off running to see what it was and of all
things, it was those goofy geese!" she howled. "It was the funniest sight
you’ve ever seen, those naked birds waddling up the hill toward the house, squawking
and gawking at one another!
"We finally decided those skins and seeds had fermented from
setting on the stove all night and from the hot sun the next day. Those silly geese were
drunk as skunks. When they passed out, we thought they were dead!" she said, cracking
up one more time.
We quickly placed sterile lids and rings on each filled jar.
"Did they get their feathers back?"
"Finally, but they were sure a funny looking lot until they
did," Granny snorted, wiping away tears. "They almost looked embarrassed. And we
had to pen them up during the heat of the day so they wouldn’t get sunburned!"
