My Texas Kitchen

Down on Hornsby Bend - Part 1

It’s 1970, we are fixing sack lunches for our road trip to Austin, Texas. Loading up in our family station wagon with a quilt spread out in the back for the three Apple girls. On the road, we play car bingo, sing songs, take naps, and have a few fights. Boots is driving and Billie is reading a road map. The road trip should take about six hours. There are a few detours with five and dime stores, an antique shop and a wrong turn. We get back on track with directions from a clerk at a gas station. At last, we turn into Hornsby Bend’s dirt road that leads up to Aunt Kate’s, big white farmhouse. Aunt Kate is my maternal grandmother’s sister.

Chickens scatter. Cousins come pouring out of the house. There’s lots of hugging and laughing as aunts and uncles gather around to welcome us.

Aunts serve fried chicken and gravy, home grown vegetables, and Birdie’s rolls for dinner. It’s delicious. The adults settle onto the wraparound screen porch. They visit and tell family tales. We’ve heard the most famous one, a legendary Texas ghost tale a thousand times. We listen once more.

We catch June bugs on the screen porch. We sneak outside. We play hide and seek until the fireflies come out.

It’s bedtime. Aunt Pearl, shows us to the loft upstairs. Rows of twin beds covered with homemade quilts line the walls. She tucks us in. We feel loved as we drift off to sleep.

Boots and Bille are on the sleeping porch. This is a coveted spot with a Texas breeze and a full view of the sunrise.