mony and equilibrium among humans must surely contribute to equable
and reciprocal relations between humans and the rest of nature. I think—
noting well her failings—that Marjorie represents perhaps the best of her
contemporary white Americans, especially southerners. What she and Zora
shared seems more important than Marjorie’s ugly lapses of ideology and
friendship. They were both so passionately engaged (as Zora acknowledged
after readingCross Creek) with other people and with plants and animals.
They were both generous, optimistic voluptuaries who wished that all God’s
children might be as fat as happy as they. One longs to know much more
of their companionship. What did Marjorie and Zora talk about all day at
Cross Creek? (And was Zora drinking liquor?) Oh, for a taped recording of
their intensely languid exchanges. (And what if someone had audiotaped
Zora and Langston Hughes during their long road trip?) Still, one may well
imagine Zora and Marjorie on the Cross Creek porch, looking at each other
and, before and below their rockers, many ducks; Marjorie’s beloved Jersey
cow, Dora; a dog or two; perhaps a caged raccoon; a few orange trees; flower-
ing vines; roses; and a vegetable garden. Idella or a hired man apparently
did most of the pruning, weeding, picking, and feeding and milking of the
animals. Marjorie worked, too, when she was home. Principally, though,
she was designer and boss of her self-provisioning and outdoor ornamen-
tation, and she was a confident, even adventurous cook. It is likely that she,
rather than Idella, did most or all of the food preparation during Zora’s visit.
‘‘Our Daily Bread,’’ theCross Creekchapter about gardening, foraging,
hunting, and cooking, is the longest in the book and a delight to re-
read again and again. ‘‘Cookery is my one vanity,’’ she wrote, ‘‘and I am a
slave to any guest who praises my culinary art.’’ Her ‘‘literary ability,’’ she
averred, ‘‘may safely be questioned as harshly as one wills, but indiffer-
ence to my table puts me in a rage.’’^30 As a girl and a young woman she
had tried with little success to emulate her mother and grandmother in
their kitchens. Then, probably while in upstate New York, before her mi-
gration to Florida, she read a book (Fannie Farmer’s) and melded, finally,
printed instruction, common sense, and talent with memory. In northern
Florida, Marjorie found not only new ingredients but variety and freshness
undreamed of, and however immodestly, by she could anoint herself a
magician. She would consider anything. Rattlesnake, for instance, she tried
and dismissed as not terribly good, citing William Bartram for authoritative
backup. Steaks of alligator tail, on the other hand, she found delightful, in-
structing readers ofCross Creek Cookery(on page ) to ‘‘cut strips length-
wise...four inches long and two inches wide, or cut cross-sections between