Over the River and through the Woods
Note: This post was originally published on my author blog on 25 November 2015. When I was a kid, Thanksgiving meant days spent at my maternal grandmother’s house helping prepare for the upcoming feast. It was prefaced by a long, summer growing season, canning homegrown vegetables outside in a huge cauldron propped over a wood fire, and slaughtering a pig MawMaw raised for sausage, hams, and bacon, cured by her own hands. There’s nothing like canned sausage reheated and served…