IN THE HILL country of north Mississippi, there is a little yellow house at the very top of one of those hills that rises steadily from the highway over a mile away. Built by old Mr. Will Pickens over a century ago, it is known by the elderly citizens of our county as, well, “the old Will Pickens place.” Go figure. His daughter kept the property throughout her life, always dreaming of moving back home some day. But we believe she was keeping it all those years just for us, waiting for us to meet, start our love story, and move in.
After all, we’d need a place to live and laugh and labor while raising six young’ns: three girls, three boys. And they’d need a hill to roll down in summer, and sled down when it snows. They’d need the shade of a giant pecan tree to sit under for shucking corn and shelling peas, or passing some time on a tire swing. We’d need plenty of fireflies on a summer evening so the kids could run around and catch them for their jars. And there would need to be a pear tree in the backyard for Mr. Green to sit under with suitors who would eventually come asking for a daughter’s hand in marriage.
All in all, Eddings Hill has served quite nicely for the raising of a family, thirty years and counting. As the sentimental old poet observed, “It takes a heap o’ livin’ to make a house a home.”