By Elece Hollis

Mama loaded the box with crisp fried chicken, each piece wrapped in a slice of buttered white bread. She filled a gallon Mason jar with fresh icy milk and wedged the bean pot and jars of pickles and potato salad in with towels to hold them upright. Another box was taped closed and set atop' some goodie, we knew. But what?

We piled into the station wagon and rolled off for another all day picnic at the tree farm. Dad would make an inspection walking through his stands of hardwoods and he had Christmas trees to prune. The visiting preacher from Texas went along to enjoy a leisurely day under Michigan's bright blue sky.

We drove up to our favorite spot where we picked morels and the triliums bloomed in the spring. Dad spread quilts while Mama spread the feast. Everyone ate with gusto and washed the food down with cold milk. Mama opened the dessert box to reveal rows of ice cream cones. She had made chocolate pudding and poured it into the cones and topped each with a toasted meringue swirl.

Little brother and I ate ours and as the grownups laughed and talked--sharing Texas memories, we slipped off to play, sneaking another pudding cup each for good measure. We built a fort of fallen branches and festooned it with fern fans. It made a delicious green shade over a soft pine needle floor.

Soon we tired of our play and went back to the others. We found there were a few more pudding cups left so we helped ourselves to another. We were just finishing those off when the preacher turned from the box on the wagon's tailgate and exclaimed with a deep sigh; "Those puddin's is all gone! I was so lookin' forward to eatin' me one of those. Why, I could jest bawl!"

Kent and I ducked out of sight down the trail to our fort while Mama apologized for her greedy children.

"I could jest bawl" became a favorite line at our house whenever the desserts ran low. I know our renditions of the preacher's sweet southern drawl were exaggerated, but years later it still never fails to make us laugh at the memory.

Elece Hollis is a stay-at-home mother of seven and was raised in North Michigan with her eight siblings. She now loves her home state of Oklahoma. Elece is a member of the Christian Writers' Guild.