After the bread cooled sufficiently, I took several of the golden brown loaves from the rack and placed them in a basket along with some homemade jam. I donned my heavy sweatshirt, hung the basket on my arm and headed off through the forest to Grandmother’s house.
As I walked along the path through the woods I spied what I thought was a large dog, darting among the trees.
I whistled softly and snapped my fingers. “Here boy”, I called. “Come here little doggie.”
Suddenly, a large animal with sharp, white fangs stepped from behind a tree and blocked my path. He crossed his paws over his chest and his voice was harsh and angry when he spoke, causing me to drop my basket.
“My name is B.B. Wolf. Where are you going and what’s in the basket?”
“Uh…I am taking some of my homemade bread to my grandmother who lives in the little cottage at the edge of the forest,” I explained, trying to ignore his bad manners. “Would you care for a loaf?”
The beast flipped his cigarette butt into the bushes. “No thank you. It gives me gas,” he said. “And for future references, I am a wolf. I don’t like it when people treat me like a dog.”
“Sorry about that, B…er…Mister Wolf,” I apologized, as I retrieved the basket. “It was a pleasure to meet you but I must be on my way now.”
“The pleasure was all yours,” he said, smiling sarcastically. Suddenly he reached out and rubbed a paw along the sleeve of my sweat shirt.
“Nice hoodie. Ralph Lauren?”
“Hollister,” I snapped.
I walked away leaving him standing in the path in all his rudeness.
Soon I arrived at Grandmother’s house and knocked on the door. When no one answered, I lifted the latch and went in. She was lying in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin.
“Good morning, Grandmother,” I greeted her.
“What are you doing here so early in the morning?” she asked.
I pulled up a chair next to her bed and sat down.
She opened one eye and growled at me. “Couldn’t you have waited until later? Like maybe after lunch, or at the least until the sun was up?”
I picked up her glasses from where they lay atop an opened book on the night table.
“Grandmother, what big eyes you have,” I said, marveling at the thick plate glass lens in the heavy frames. The things must weigh five pounds. I wondered to myself how her tiny nose held them up.
“So? I’m 97 and blind as a bat,” she said. “Now give me my glasses before you break them.”
I handed the ginormous glasses to her, and she perched them on the bridge of her nose.
“Grandmother, what big teeth you have!” I exclaimed, pointing to the the bedside table where the teeth sat grinning at me from inside a green plastic cup.
“Okay. Enough with the eyes and the teeth. What do you want and why did you wake me up at this ghastly hour?”
By that time, Grandmother was sitting on the edge of her bed. She peered at me through the the semi-darkness. “Why are you all bundled up in that big red hoodie,” she asked. “It’s the middle of July and it’s probably 90 degrees outside. You look ridiculous, like a giant red tomato!”
“Oh, this.” I laughed, feeling a little self conscious. “I just wanted to wear it because I walked through the woods to bring you a basket of goodies. I baked homemade bread this morning and I brought some for you.”
“Oh no, not that awful bread again. I hate that stuff. It gives me gas. I threw out the last loaf you brought and the animals ate it. You should really think about cutting back on the baking soda.”
She removed her glasses and lay back on the pillows once more. “Run along now Dear, take the bread with you and let an old lady get her beauty sleep.”
“Okay,” I agreed, standing up. “I’ll be back to visit again tomorrow.”
“Yada, Yada Yada. Whatever,” she grumbled, pulling the covers up around her ears once again.
I picked up the basket of bread and jam and let myself out. As I walked through the woods toward home, I kept trying to think of someone to whom I could give the bread. Perhaps I could donate it to the school. Maybe the church’s soup kitchen might want it.
Fortunately I came upon some wood cutters in the forest and I offered the basket of goodies to them. They were delighted with the bread and jam.
They stopped work immediately and sat down to eat the bread with gusto. Well, actually they didn't have any gusto on hand so they ate it with the jam, but they did so with relish. No, they didn't have any relish either but...well... anyway....
As I neared my front door I heard their chainsaws start up once again. I smiled to myself, happy that the bread wasn’t wasted and the woodcutters had been fed.
But was it really their chainsaws I heard? Perhaps the bread had given the
woodcutters gas as well. We’ll probably never know.
Perhaps next time I’ll try to use less baking soda.
