A stake of holly pierced through a slab of hot, succulent barbequed plump pork ribs. Bashful baked potato with dour sour cream, butter from Aunt Bessie and sharp as a tack, always better with cheddar cheese, lightly sprinkled on top, like a fine mist of first winters snow. Green pastures in a not so silent night beans, concocted with golden brown sugary delight, a bit of merry butter with a pinch of salt from a forest dwellar.