Monday, November 30, 2020

Day 30 of NaBloPoMo: Mission accomplished again.

 Well, this is it. I've met my self-imposed goal of posting some kind of little blog every day of the month of November.  

I'm proud of myself for doing it every day, although much of my content was trivial.  Some days, I just didn't have much mental energy left for writing.  

However, there was a couple of days I got just a wee bit inspired and tapped out a thing or two worth reading.  Usually, I don't have any idea what I'm going to write when I sit down to do it.  I just start pecking, and "inspiration" follows. 

Which is a great lesson for writers. The only way to do it is to do it. Just write something.  Then the ideas will flow.  Don't wait for them to flow first, because they probably won't.  

You can always go back and shape up your writing...rearrange paragraphs or sentences, cut some out, play with your leading paragraphs.  

Re-writing is everything.  At least it is for me, except when I'm popping off blog posts, then I'm just'a ramblin'.  

 ****

The  weather outside is frightful tonight.  Yesterday we were running around in our shirtsleeves; today we've had rain and snow.  

Makes me glad of all the decorating and light stringing I did over the weekend.  I'm thankful for the extra light and color, which counteracts the dark and cold.  

Have you noticed how welcoming light is in the winter?  I don't mind sitting outside in the dark in the balmy summer air, but dark in wintertime makes the cold feel colder, don't you think?  

Some of the good citizens of Ravenna did their part to dispel the darkness.  They went to a lot of trouble decorating the little park up there. It looks so bright and festive!  I sure appreciate their efforts, and I'll bet some wide-eyed kiddos do too.  

This picture doesn't do it any justice at all.  

Thanks for reading, folks!  Hopefully it won't be next November before you hear from me again.  

Sunday, November 29, 2020

Day: 29 Thankful some more.

My goodness. Where has this holiday weekend gone? The month of November? 

Time flies when you are having fun, I guess. Or not. It flies anyway! 

We had yet another socially distanced thanksgiving gathering today. Thank goodness for mild weather, so we could be outside. 

The kids, of course, didn’t care about eating. There were puppies on Granny Grethel and Papa Venice’s place... and chickens... and horses! 

They had a big ol time playing outside all afternoon. 

A couple of months ago, Clay was still in the hospital and getting antsy when he saw a pic of Oaklee with one of Papa Venice’s beagle pups. 

He got pretty upset because he was missing out. Well, he made up for it today! He wanted us to shut him up in the pen with them, and he played his little heart out. 

Kids will pick critters and the outdoors over toys just about any day seems to me. Free entertainment! 


The young’uns had a good time playing in the nativity at Aunt Peggy’s too. 


Saturday, November 28, 2020

Day 28: Serving up the leftovers

Day three of feasting and decorating is winding down. 

We’ve been eating leftovers, but I like Thanksgiving leftovers almost as much as the original meal. 

Today I made a chowder with chopped ham, leftover corn and potatoes. I chopped some onions, carrots, celery and garlic and sautéed that in olive oil, then added the mixture to the cubed potatoes I had boiled. I threw in the ham and corn, and added a splash of heavy cream and brought it to a simmer. 

The soup was really good with a little shredded cheddar on top, and a hot crispy hoecake on the side. 

Got the side porch looking Christmas-y!

I was determined to get my last two trees up today so I can have at least one day of rest out of the long weekend! 

I did the smaller one by myself, and with the help of the hubby, we got the big tree up and I decorated it. 

Just a few more details to attend to, and I’ll be done with decorating this old farmhouse for Christmas. Whew! 

Friday, November 27, 2020

Day 27: Someone barfed pillows all over the place



Today has been the prettiest day for doing anything outside, including decorating for Christmas. 

It’s usually not this warm and bright in late November, so I took a little extra time to drag boxes of decor out that I hadn’t for a while. I poked around in them and came across stuff I hadn’t seen in years—a real trip down memory lane. 

Some of it had me scratching my head. Why was I holding onto that? 

I don’t really remember buying a lot of decorations at any one time, but because I rarely get rid of any of them I have accumulated a lot over the decades. 

Such as this pile of Christmas pillows. I dumped them all together before deciding how to divvy them out for each porch and room. 

I’ve already decorated more than I have for several years. I found myself wondering why, because it’s not a good time to have company.

 I guess I’ll just do it for me, for us, to knock back some of winter’s darkness and create some Christmas cheer. 

Thursday, November 26, 2020

Day 26: Not our typical Thanksgiving

 

About the only thing typical about Thanksgiving at our house this year was the kushaw pie. 

Except I usually eat it at Mom’s, and she’s the one who usually makes it. 

We stayed home and worked on decking the halls today, tho. My only nod to our traditional feast was the pies...we ate leftover baked ham...no turkey! I think that was a first. 

Instead of cooking, we drug decorations out of storage. 

We got most of the outdoor lights up, and I hope to get the big tree up tomorrow. 

Although the day was different, it was a good one! I hope yours was too. 


Wednesday, November 25, 2020

Day 25: Time to cuddle up, cozy down

I took down some of my fall decorations this morning, before the rain and blustery wind drove me inside. 

It seems a little premature with Thanksgiving not yet here, but I have enjoyed them since mid September. 

The forecast is calling for a few more days of fair weather, so I figure I’d better transition from fall to Christmas decor before it’s turns cold...which is supposed to happen next week!

Eek! 

I’m so excited at the prospect of snow with the Christmas decorations up. Bright color, twinkling lights, Christmas cheer. 

I’m planning to listen to All the Christmas music and watch All the sappy Christmas movies and eat All the Christmas treats and drink All the hot cozy teas. 

I’m ready to hibernate. The news is scary and depressing, Facebook has too much hostility, and I want to cozy down. Cuddle up too, maybe. 

There could be a glitch in my plans though. Well, there could be more than one, but the one I’m thinking of is my half grown black cat, who has already been shaking the flock off my new flocked dollar store tree that I have not yet decorated. 

 
Jo gets wild at times. This could be a deterrent to my cozy. I may have to throw her out. 


Look at her, acting all calm and innocent.  And looking cozy.

Tuesday, November 24, 2020

Day 24: Throwback Tuesday


My landscape photos are so monochromatic lately, beautiful in a muted way, but I’m beginning to miss all the color of summer already.  This beauty bloomed only a few short weeks ago.  

We had fresh cauliflower from the high tunnel tonight...so mild and sweet!  

We also had fried green tomatoes for supper.  They were grown in the high tunnel too. It definitely extends the season. 

While I enjoy the restful quiet evenings at home, my thoughts are already turning to what to grow next year. 

Which reminds me! I bought 50 daffodil bulbs at Rural King last weekend that I need to get in the ground. 

I love that a plain old brown bulb can produce such beautiful bright blooms. That’s one more thing to anticipate about spring! 

Monday, November 23, 2020

Day 23: Light play

It’s been a busy busy Monday with an early deadline. 
On my busiest days at the office, I’m sitting on my butt all day, hunched over the keyboard and growing stiffer by the minute by afternoon. It wears me out.
I needed a good jaunt around the pasture when I got home to feel rested and energized. 
Funny how that works, isn’t it!  
During my half hour walk, the sky changed quickly as the sun went sliding over the horizon. 
I photograph this view frequently, but I don’t think it ever looks the same, always changing in the light. 
Always beautiful. 






 

Sunday, November 22, 2020

Day 22: In Your light we see light


 I love the nature imagery in David’s psalms. This passage is particularly beautiful. 

Psalm 36: 5-9.   “Your mercy, O Lord, is in the heavens,  And Your faithfulness reaches to the clouds; Your righteousness is like the great mountains; your judgements are a great deep; O lord, you preserve man and beast. 

How precious is your lovingkindness, Oh God! Therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of your wings. They are abundantly satisfied with the fullness of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your pleasures. For with You is the fountain of life; in Your light we see light.”

Saturday, November 21, 2020

Day 21: Thankful for my parents

 


Don’t know how my parents would feel about being the subject of a social media post, but I sure am thankful for them. 

They’ve worked so hard and sacrificed a lot for their family, and they are about as decent a folk as you could find anywhere. Yes, I am biased, but I am telling you the God’s honest truth. 

They were sharing stories with our girls today about how they took off in Dad’s 1940 Buick to Jellico, Tenn. to get married, and went to the Grand Old Opry while on their honeymoon. 

I always remembered Mom telling about them eating liver and onions the night they got married. 

Must have fortified them pretty good; I was born less than ten months later. 

Dad had been in the service for a couple of years, and Mom said Dad was different when he came back. For one thing, he’d picked up a bit of a German accent. 

After he got back, they got tired of courting, Mom said, and decided to get married. 

Their first winter together, it got 24 below zero. They were living in a small apartment in Richmond. 

A few months later, they moved to a little house on Sand Hill, and I was born while they lived there. 

Then they moved to the family farm on Station Camp, where they had four more young’uns, and they’ve lived there ever since.

My parents are growing older, and it’s interesting to hear them talk about their younger days. I’ll bet they never imagined then what a big family they would have and how entertained their granddaughters would be by their story!


Friday, November 20, 2020

Day 20: The comfort of routines

 I was never a big fan of Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood when I was a kid. 

I thought the whole show was rather dull. I much preferred to watch Little Joe, Hoss, and Adam Cartwright on the Ponderosa. 

I did find it oddly comforting to watch Mr. Rogers come in and hang up his sweater each afternoon. 

I kind of have that same feeling when I get home from work, change into old clothes or at least muck boots, then head out for a walk and to open the gate for Robin as he sets out a couple of rolls of hay for the cattle and our donkeys. 

We barely have time to do that these short days before it gets dark. Then it’s time to go inside, fix supper, wash the dishes, crash on the couch and read or watch tv. 

If I’m feeling motivated, I’ll do a few other chores, but once it’s dark, it’s kinda hard to feel motivated. 

Anyway, routines are comforting. They hold us together when things are falling apart. 

I think that is one reason there is so much anxiety and depression since the pandemic began. 

For many, familiar routines no longer exist, and there isn’t much structure to their days. 

It’s difficult when you have young kids at home too, to create  routine and structure, because their wants and needs keep us spinning like a top. 

I struggled with anxiety and depression when I was in my twenties and thirties. 

The book of psalms, prayer and a few books that I stumbled onto helped me keep from drowning in it. 

One book that really helped me doesn’t exactly sound like a mental health book, and it wasn’t necessarily intended to be. 

The book is called Sink Reflections, and the author is the Fly Lady. The book was about organizing and keeping a clean house. 

I don’t remember the Fly Lady’s real name, and I don’t even remember many of her cleaning tips. I do remember that she said she once struggled a lot with depression and the subsequent lack of motivation.

In the book she detailed Baby Steps to getting things done even when you don’t have motivation. 

  Some of the first steps she said that are important to take are to always shine your sink before bed, so that you start the next day with a clean shiny sink.

She also said it is important to get dressed and put on real shoes each morning, even if you are a mom at home or are work from home. 

She recommended establishing a morning routine, and a bedtime routine. 

All excellent pointers to keep us going when we don’t feel like getting off our, umm, asses. 

Greetings from Dolly, Patsy, Ollie and Stevie. And Honey! 

It’s amazing how feelings of lethargy can morph into a surprising amount of energy just by forcing ourselves to take a few baby steps. 

Try it and see for yourself! 




Thursday, November 19, 2020

Day 19: A reflection on a reflection

 


I love photos that reflect the horizon. 
In this case, the pink and blue in the water looked more like the sky actually looked than the sky does in this photo, if that makes sense. 
In other words, the reflection is more accurate than what is being reflected. 

It was such a nice evening for a walk. Cool, but not uncomfortably so. Actually, the hubs and I got “warmed up.”
I’d have shed my sweatshirt, but it was a pullover, so I just stayed warm. 

As you can tell, I don’t have much to say tonight. 
There’s a book and a hot cuppa tea calling my name. 
Buenas noches, amigos! 

Wednesday, November 18, 2020

Day 18: Frosty start, warm ending

 What a frost this morning! 


Twenty five degrees here. It was nippy enough that I didn’t mind being inside too bad. So I took advantage of the bright light illuminating the dusty corners of the house, and did some dusting and vacuuming. 


Cold enough to freeze ice in a tub of water outside! 

In the afternoon, Chelsea and Ivy came up for a visit. Ivy hadn’t had her Mule ride to see the “tows" and "Veevee” for a couple of weeks, so we put on coats and grabbed a blanket to cover our legs, then took off. 

The donkeys were grazing way across the field, and they acted like they'd never seen us before, so we didn’t get to feed them this time. Ivy still enjoyed seeing the tows. (Cows)

Back at the house, I whipped up some chicken and dumpling soup, which really hit the spot on a cold evening. 

Our pre-dinner entertainment? Momma bouncing off the exercise ball while Ivy giggled. 



Sooo funny! 


Tuesday, November 17, 2020

Day 17: A Holly Dolly Christmas—and more!

 I wasn’t always as big a Dolly fan as I am now. I’m old enough to remember her from the Porter Wagoner show, when she was just getting started.  I was a kid then, and I liked her okay because my parents did, I guess.

We all liked to hear her sing Coat of Many Colors, especially my mom. 

When I entered my edgier teen years, I guess I wouldn’t have been caught dead listening to her music, not that I wanted to. She was a little too sugary-sweet for me.  Her songs a little too sentimental. She was too phony-looking. 

But I have since come to greatly admire the woman. I’ve been listening to her new Holly Dolly Christmas album today, breaking my own rule about intentionally listening to Christmas music before Thanksgiving. 

Many of her songs are still sappy and silly, but they make me smile. That’s just Dolly having a good time. 

Many of her songs are also heartfelt songs of faith. 

I think my opinion of Dolly began to change when she sang “He’s Alive” on one of the major country awards shows. That was probably 20 years ago. 

I don’t think I’ll ever forget that performance.

Performance is probably not the best way to describe it. It was more of a from the tips of her toes to the top of her head to the depths of her soul expression of worship. 

I knew then that Dolly meant every word of that song. I had goosebumps all over my body.  

My opinion of her continued to grow when we began to occasionally take our kids to Dollywood.

Sure, she’s made a fortune from that place, but the whole place is Dolly’s declaration of “I’m so proud of my Tennessee mountain home, and I want to you to love it too!”

Then, there is the Imagination Library, which began with her distributing books to children in her home county and has grown to include several countries. Almost 150 million books have been donated! 

Dolly donated and raised millions to help those who lost their homes to those devastating Tennessee fires a few years ago. 

I didn’t think I could become much more of a fan girl of Dolly Parton’s, but there was a short news segment on tonight that said Dolly is being praised for the million dollar donation she made to Vanderbilt University, which has played a part in developing one of the two most promising vaccines for Covid-19.

I am not ashamed to say I shed a few tears. 

Why, oh, why, Dolly, did you not run for president?! Would you consider a run in 2024? 

Dolly’s star power just keeps growing.  Besides her new album, she has a new book called Songteller. She’s as popular with millennials as she is with old fogeys like me. Kids love her too.  

I expect we will be seeing a lot of Dolly this Christmas, with her new book and album coming out. 

That's okay. In this dark time, the world needs more of what she's got. Dolly is “letting her little light shine.” 




Monday, November 16, 2020

Day 16: It’s been a Monday

 Could we just rewind back to the weekend?! 

I’m not usually one to complain about Mondays, but I’m complaining about a Monday! 

Was ahead of the game (I thought) and poised to sail into work a good ten minutes early. 

The car wouldn’t start. Fortunately, we had a spare— the monster truck. A big old rusty smelly diesel truck with the fuel light on. 

I stopped at the gas station and called the hubs to see if Shell Mart even sells diesel. 

They do. And the tank was full, the light is always on, he said. 

And besides, I filled it up Saturday, don’t you remember? 

Well, no. Is that what we were doing there? 

I made it to work, ten minutes late. 

Was trucking through my emails when the server went down. Typically it comes back on after turning it off,  then back on. Not this time. Not after multiple times. 

Sooo, we limped along all day, forced to try different approaches. 

Could be a lot worse, so I’ll stop with my griping. 

Still, I found myself wanting to rewind to yesterday- a long walk on a country road with more than a half dozen dogs and two sweet girls. 

Mom’s country cooking. Chatting with the parents. Pretty views and bright sun.

How was your Monday? 



Sunday, November 15, 2020

Day 15: Pondering grace and a changed man


This morning, I spent some time reading again one of the most remarkable stories in the book of Acts.  

There once was a verrrryyy zealous Jew, one of the most schooled in Hebrew Scriptures, one of the most devout, one of the most revered. He hated those who believed in the risen Jesus. His name was Saul of Tarsus. 

When Stephen, one of Jesus’ followers, was stoned for his faith, those who took part in his stoning laid their coats at the feet of Saul. He was their hero, the one they admired for his fierce loathing of Christians. 

As Stephen was stoned, he said, Father, forgive them. 

I wonder what impact that prayer had on Saul? Did he think of it when not long afterward, Christ appeared to him in a blinding light, and said, basically, why are you picking on my children? 

It wasn’t long before Saul had “done a 360“ and was preaching along with the disciples who were understandably still a little wary of him. 

Saul soon had a new name along with his new purpose. He became Paul, and he would go on to pen much of the New Testament. 

This story always amazes me. How God basically grabbed one who had the utmost religious devotion by the scruff of the neck, gave him a little shake, and essentially said, you’ve got it all wrong, buddy. This is how it’s done. 

Saul the lawkeeper became Paul the grace preacher. Paul preached that grace for the rest of his life, and suffered mightily for it. 

Today there is still plenty of tension between religious rule keepers and those who have experienced grace. 

Grace seems too easy for the legalist, who wants to try to insert a condition or two. In Saul’s day, that was commonly circumcision. Don’t ask me why. 

In our day, it might be something like, don’t wear this or don’t go there, where those sinners hang out. 

From the moment Saul was converted, he resisted mightily the natural human tendency to try to earn God’s favor. 

In fact, he says in his letter to the Philippians that he was “appointed for the defense of the gospel.”

The gospel (meaning good news!) being this:

“For we are the circumcision, who worship God in the Spirit, rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in the flesh.”

Paul knew better than anyone that his own righteousness was like filthy rags, but true righteousness is instead received by faith. 

In the book of Ephesians, Paul prayed for believers, ..”that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height—to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. 

He goes on to say, “Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, to Him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end.

“Amen”

So be it. 

Sounds to me like He loves us sooooo good. 

Every single one. 






Saturday, November 14, 2020

Day 14: Working up to some Christmas cheer.

 I see that lots of folks are putting their trees up already. 

I’ve been working up to it...still had leaves to rake, vines to pull down, and other dead debris to remove from the yard.

It’s important to have a tidy yard before decorating for Christmas, lol. 

Looks like we are going to have some pretty days next week, so maybe, just maybe, I’ll drag out some outdoor lights and decor. 

I sure understand the desire for some seasonal cheer. Listening to the news is downright depressing,  if not terrifying.  

To not watch it at all is to get a little too careless about the coronavirus, I think. We can’t stick our head in the sand. 

Anyway, I typically put up our trees after Thanksgiving, but who knows. It might happen sooner this year. 

While I’m not a super early decorator, I do like to leave the tree and lights up til mid January, in hopes we will have a big snow before I take it down. And there's old Christmas to celebrate on Dec. 6.   

If the pandemic continues, I may leave it up til ‘tater planting time! 

Friday, November 13, 2020

Christie Brinkley and I could be BFFs

 I follow Christie Brinkley on Instagram. 

Remember the golden girl supermodel so popular in the late 70s and early 80s? 

She was just a teen or young twenty-something back then and was the cover girl in lots of magazines that teenaged girls liked to read...Seventeen... Glamour, etc. 

(I know, it’s hard to believe I have ever looked at a fashion magazine, but when I was a teen, I did.) 

I wanted to be tan, tawny and trim just like Christie. 

My sister and I would lie in the sun for hours, in the backyard or on the creek bank, trying to achieve that same golden girl look. We’d slather up with baby oil or coppertone and bake ourselves. 

Christie is now wellll into her sixties, and she looks amazing. Still as trim as ever, with that same bright smile. 

(Like me, she now wishes she hadn’t damaged her skin so badly in the sun. Unlike me, she can probably afford the work to take care of some of the facial sag and wrinkles.)

I’ve enjoyed Christie’s posts throughout the pandemic. She’s taken up gardening and she got some chickens to keep in the backyard. She runs around barefoot wearing very little makeup. She seems to totally take delight in the natural world. 

She has three grown children, and they must be spending a lot of time at her home in California (I think) since the pandemic. They hang out in the garden by the fire pit a lot. 

Anyway, Christie posted a video of the day “the kids” first went outside to check out the chickens in their new coop! 

They were sooo excited, and I thought it was all very charming.  

I mean, you wouldn’t think these uptown girls would be so enchanted by a few little red hens, buuutttt... they were.

I’ll bet they’d go ballistic over our donkeys :)



:) 

Thursday, November 12, 2020

Day 12: Tobacco strippin' (50 ways to leave your lover)


Sometimes a burst of memories will randomly surface, like bubbles in a glass of icy Co-cola.

I was sitting on the porch Sunday morning, when all of a sudden I was 40 years younger and walking from mom and dad's house to the old storehouse where we stripped our tobacco crop each fall.  

Sunday's weather was hot, but the light had that certain slant.  I guess that's what transported me back.  

I could picture Pam and myself, walking along under the blue sky bright as glory, the creek we followed below the road blackened with tannins from fallen leaves.  There would be a  smattering of yellowed leaves still floating on the surface.  

Tattered maple and crunchy brown sycamore leaves would cover the one-lane road, and we'd kick them up as we walked.  

I can still hear the sound of the store's old wooden door as we pushed it open, the thunk the old metal latch made. I can smell the dry tang of tobacco, tinged with the lingering peppery scent of curing meat.  (We used the old store for curing country ham and side meat after the tobacco was all stripped and sold.)

On a warm sunny day, we would have worked with the storehouse door open, the sun streaming through in the afternoon and highlighting dust beams.  

The radio would have been playing Paul Simon's Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover or something like that.  Pam and I would sing along and try to remember all the ways...  You just slip out the back, Jack..make a new plan, Stan...you don't need to be coy, Roy, Just get yourself free  Hop on the bus, Gus, You don't need to discuss much  Just drop off the key, Lee, and get yourself free.  :) 

We'd work by the stripping bench with neighbors and other family members.  The bench would be piled high with tobacco stalks, and the first person in line would pick up a stalk and strip off the bottom leaves, then pass it to the next person, who'd strip off a few more leaves before passing it on down to the last person who would strip off the last "grade" of tobacco, the reds.  We were always advised to leave the "suckers," those unwanted leaves that came out after the bloom had been broken off back in August.  Those leaves would be smaller and the stem slimier.  

After the stalk was stripped, it would be thrown into a pile on the floor.  If you did it right, all the stalks would land in a neat straight pile of stalks.  Once there was an armload of them, someone would carry them out and toss them on a wagon.  When the wagon was full, the stalks would be scattered on the hillside pasture, where they would melt into the ground over the course of the winter, fertilizing next spring's grass.  

For many years we'd hand-tie the leaves, then drape them over a tobacco stick.  When the stick was full, it would be carried to the tobacco press and hung.  After a number of full sticks were put into it, someone would lever the wooden panel that would press the tobacco flat. 

The last few years we raised tobacco, we'd place the leaves, stem facing to the sides, in a tobacco baler.  That made the process faster, but it took some of the artistry out of it.  There's something beautiful about a stick of neatly tied tobacco hands.  

I remember other little things about the storehouse...we'd keep a stash of hard candies, "Christmas candies" or a bowl of busted peppermint stick, on the dusty counter, which was also piled high with our coats and gloves.  We always laid them beside the old glass candy case that was in use when my grandpa ran the store. 

Our excuse for sucking on hard candy all day long was that it kept our mouths moist as we worked in the dust. 

Uncle Clyde made an appearance each day, as he would walk down to check his mailbox.  I can see him coming down the gravel hill now, the ambling gait of his short overall clad legs.  He would get his mail and stand by the potbellied stove to sort it.  Junk mail either went into the fire or the ashpan below it to be used as a fire starter later.

He'd shove the rest of the mail into the large back pocket of his overalls to be read back at the house.  If there was a bill in the mix, he'd usually pay it the next day or two.  

He and Aunt Myrl always looked forward to getting their weekly newspaper.  Aunt Myrl would cut out and save "the deaths" in a butter cookie tin.  They'd talk about who got indicted, or who brought what property or how much Mazola oil was at the A&P.  (They religiously followed the doctor's advice to switch from hog fat to vegetable oil for cooking.)

I wonder what they would think about me being editor of that paper now?  I'm sure they'd tell me what they did and did not like about it.  

I can still see Uncle Clyde wearing his winter cap with the flaps that folded down over his ears. I remember that his beaked nose always looked like it was about to drip whenever the weather was cold. and whenever he came into the warm store, his glasses would fog up and he'd take them off and wipe them.  I'd think how different he looked without his glasses, his eyes a pale watery blue, his gaze a bit unfocused.  He must have been near-sighted like me. 

Uncle Clyde would usually pull up a chair and sit down and help us for a while, then he'd announce that he'd better get back to the house to feed the chickens.  

Aunt Myrl, Uncle Clyde and Johnnie are all gone now.  We no longer raise tobacco, or scatter the stripped stalks like a spilled bag of pretzel sticks on the hilly pasture.  I haven't been in the old store for years.  

But a certain slant of November light can take me back to a place that I had almost forgotten was still there. 


Wednesday, November 11, 2020

Day 11: Thinking of our veterans


My dad, John Dale Arvin, US Army 

 It’s good to see social media lit up with appreciative messages for our veterans. 

We appreciate them, but it’s hard to truly get the sacrifices some of them have made. Only fellow veterans and their families truly understand the depths of that. 

My dad served two years in the Army, stationed in Texas and in Germany. 

Somehow, I grew up believing that he wasn’t exactly a veteran, because he served during peace time.  

My dad is the furthest thing from a braggart that I can think of.  Maybe he told us that. 

But I know better now. 

He gave two years of his life to serving his country.  

He endured a terrible storm while on a ship to Germany. 

He left behind a girlfriend (our mom). He left behind family, friends, the farm and everything familiar to him. 

Of course he is a veteran! 

Two of my dad's brothers were veterans also.   At least one was a paratrooper, a fact that I found amusing as a kid. My memories of him were after he was older, and, um, rounder. 

I marvel sometimes at how young many of our World War veterans were when they served. 

It seems wrong that young men often have to fight the battles that old men start. But there have always been those who were willing to lay down their lives for the good of their country. 

Thank you for your service, veterans, whether you were shot at or not. 



Tuesday, November 10, 2020

Day 10: Hittin’ the log roads again

 

Too hot for hiking in November, Honey says. 


We spent yet another afternoon rambling around in the woods. 

We drove part of the way up a rough rutted log road to the back side of our property, then we hiked, tripped, slipped and slid through a gap in the cliff and around the base of it for a purty good piece. 

Two things: leaves are almost as slippery as ice. 

And I felt every extra pound when hauling arse up and down the hillsides. 

Too many good meals, Lisa! 

Three things, actually: 80 degrees in November is pretty hot for a strenuous hike! 

But the views, the smell of leaves, and the challenge of trying to orientate ourselves with home from the meandering cliff line all made for an entertaining afternoon. So did good company.

Of course we worked up a good appetite, so for supper I fried hoecakes to eat with leftover soup beans cooked with a chunk of pork, greens, and hominy with a sprinkle of chopped green onions over all and the bright garnish of a beet pickle on the side. 

We are hillbillies, I told my hubby on the way back over the mountain. He didn't argue with me. 

We're pretty proud of it. And thankful too. 


Monday, November 9, 2020

Day 9: It’s been that kinda day

 


This will be a short post. I have a virtual meeting in a few minutes, then a half dozen other chores to do before bedtime. 

But this picture pretty much sums up the kind of day it’s been. 

Golden. 

Bathed in warm light. 

Sunny. 

A few shadows thrown in for balance. A few aggravations. Such as having work to do on the computer when there were plenty of things to do outside that I would also have enjoyed. Maybe even better. ;) 

Actually, I did combine the two for a spell, computer work and outdoors. 

Anyway, it’s been a spectacular day for November, no doubt about it! 

I hope yours was the same! 

Sunday, November 8, 2020

Day 8: Out and about while in cor’n'teen



We’ve been in cor’n'teen for about a week now. 
Thank goodness we live in the country and have access to an even more remote piece of mountain land.

 The hubby, Honey and myself hiked and explored it today, looking for signs of the old homestead that once existed there and again wondering about the families who lived in these hills and hollers generations before us. (Don't worry, we didn't see another soul, and we tested negative anyway.) 

Times have been rough for many in 2020 though, but times were hard for mountain folk most of the time, I’d say.  They dealt with other pandemics and diseases, most of which we don't have to worry about any more. 


Every time we are up there, we always marvel at this rock-laid well. You can’t tell in the photo, but it’s about six feet across the top, about double the width of every other well I’ve ever seen around here. 

And the well is on top of the mountain! How did someone know to dig a well there?  
Did someone “witch” the site with the fork of a peach tree sapling? 
Was there evidence of a spring so they knew where to dig?
How is it that we’ve never seen this well go dry, even in years of drought? 
Questions, questions!


And this clay pipe? 
About three feet of it sticking above ground. Why? What was it even used for? 

We also saw pieces of old crocks that were used to store food and piled rocks from the foundation of a home that has been reclaimed by the earth. That’s about all the evidence left on the ridge that there was ever a homestead there. That and a few remnants of fence row. 

Seeing these bits and pieces of another civilization is kinda like revisiting someone else's dream.  

 After we got back home, we drove down to the creek bank and fine-dined on hot dogs and pork'n beans.  



What a day, what a day it was for cor'n'teenin' in November! 

Saturday, November 7, 2020

Day 7. A big announcement

 It was another great day to be alive and to mostly avoid social media. 

I couldn’t help but take a peek after the election was called tho.  

The scope of reaction to the news was pretty interesting, to say the least. 

I think it is important to remember: Hilary supporters were as devastated four years ago as Trump supporters are this year. 

Life will go on. We need to move forward. Life’s too short to be angry over politics. There are too many people who need help, too much of this hideous coronavirus that threatens to overwhelm our health care systems. 

I pray we all come together. 

Since it was such a marvelous day, we pretty much stayed outside after breakfast. 

After fixing a “tater hole” in the barn to keep them from freezing this winter, we sidled up to working on this big old camper that was given to us. 

It looks okay on the outside, but the floor has some rotten places that need major attention. 

It’s either the ceiling caving in or the floor, with old campers. They are very susceptible to water damage, that’s for sure. 

Another noteworthy event for the day... “someone” gave me a black cat! 

She’s a half grown kitten, and she looks just. like. my beloved Black Betty. 

I think I will call her Kammie Jo! 

She’s sweet, but is being pretty shy-for now. 

She blends into the shadowy corners, but I spy her pretty green eyes! 






Friday, November 6, 2020

Teach me your paths

Psalm 25:4 Show me Your ways, O Lord, teach me your paths. 

I don't know what we ever did to deserve such a beautiful stretch of weather in November, but I'll take it.  I'll take it and be just delighted with it.  

There's no better way to spend a perfect fall afternoon than with a walk in the woods.  Honey, my dog, is always eager to go with me.  It's like she reads my mind when I'm about to take a walk.  She gets so excited!  

Sometimes she runs far ahead, and I lose sight of her, but most of the time she seems to be conscious of my whereabouts.  

Her worst fault is not waiting for me when we cross the road. Not the graveled lane in these photos, but the main road where people drive fast.   We've about trained it out of her, but sometimes she still races across, and she definitely does not look both ways.  I get pretty upset with her, and typically yell at her for that disobedience.  

I don't question her devotion, but I do question her obedience--and her judgment-- sometimes.  

Do you think our Father in heaven sees us like that?  Devoted, but prone to wander off?  Mindful of his presence, but pretending we don't see at the same time?

Unh, huh. I'll bet he does. 

He gives us a lot of running room, but we'd do well to pray as the Psalmist, Show me your ways, O Lord, teach me your paths.   

Psalm 17: 5  Uphold my steps in your paths, that my footsteps may not slip
  
"You crown the year with Your goodness, and Your paths drip with abundance." says David the Psalmist.  (Psalm 65:11)

Don't they, though?   




Thursday, November 5, 2020

Day 5: Black and blue cobbler



 I had a brief stroke of genius a few years ago and decided to mix blackberries and blueberries in a jam recipe! 

I thought the most fitting name for this concoction must be “black and blue” jam. 

Despite the harsh-sounding name, the jam was so tasty! 

The milder blueberries took a little edge off the bitterness of the blackberries and the result was lip-smackin’ good. 

I’ve since applied the same principle to my old fashioned poor man’s cobbler. 

This cobbler is the easiest thing to make, a recipe used for many decades by country cooks.  It’s been called washday pie and lazy Susan cobbler. Whatever you want to call it, call it simple to make. 

You can use just about any fruit filling—berries and peaches being the most commonly used fruits for this pie. 

All you need is a cuppa flour, a cuppa sugar, and a cuppa milk.  A stick of butter, too. And your fruit. 

Here’s the recipe I most often use. Sometimes I beat an egg into the batter for a slightly more cake-y crust. 

Sometimes I don’t. 

This time I didn’t. 


Quick Cobbler

1 stick butter

1 cup flour (I used self rising) 

1 cup sugar

1 cup milk

4 cups of fruit (I cooked two cups each of black and blue berries for about ten minutes with about a half cup of sugar and about a half cup water. The fruit needs to have a little liquid in it.) 

The pie will look like this before it goes into the oven. 

Melt butter in a 13 by 9 inch pan. 

Combine flour, sugar and milk, then pour over butter. Pour fruit over the batter and bake at 375 until browned around the edges.  

A scoop of vanilla ice cream sets it off! 











Wednesday, November 4, 2020

Post-election day stress release

A beautiful day, but a messy looking garden.  


Before,.....then after.  Ta-da!  I feel accomplished! 


What a beautiful day to be home. The sun was bright and warm, and my frostbitten bean plants begged to be pulled up and thrown away. 

So I pulled up the cane poles that we used to make these little green bean tee-pees. I yanked and tugged until I had them all out of the ground, then I stacked the ones worth saving for next year’s garden and piled the rest on the burn pile. 

What a great way to loosen some of that post Election Day tension from my shoulders, right? 

After I had everything cleared, I mowed over the patch with the lawnmower, and now it looks nice and tidy. 

I can already visualize another crop growing there next spring. 

Same, after I pulled up our massive okra plants. Some of the rich black soil came loose, and the look and smell of it had me ready to plant something new. 

Even thought the weather was just perfect, I knew better. 

Gardeners are eternal optimists, but not that optimistic! 





Tuesday, November 3, 2020

Before the watch party


This election has been as cantankerous a one as I’ve ever experienced. My own emotions have been stoked by inflammatory rhetoric on both sides. 

I mostly just turn away in disgust these days. I constantly have to remind myself to pray and leave the outcome of this election in God’s hands. 

I shudder at the thought of violence over an American election. What have we become? Have we forgotten that there are easier ways than war to deal with one another? 

If we forget, we will do so at a great cost, and what a shame that would be. 

Our kids and grandkids play sports together and attend the same schools. We are more alike than we are different, if we would just take a closer look. 

I see a lot of people who seem to be resigning themselves to the possibility that election results may not go as they wanted.

That’s okay. We can put up with whomever for four years. We can work on becoming peacemakers so the next election won’t be as ugly. 

We can focus on defeating a pandemic and becoming well. We can put up our Christmas trees and think of Jesus, our Emmanuel, which means God with us. 

We can be the one to bite our tongue. to turn our cheek, to love as Jesus loved. 

When mankind did his worst to Jesus, He said, Father, forgive them, because they don’t know what they are doing. 

We don’t always know what we are doing. Let’s acknowledge that. Let’s come together. 

Let’s have a watch party, and believe in America and each other. 

Our best days don’t have to be over. 




Monday, November 2, 2020

Present in the Moment

                                                                I spy, with my squinty eye... 


On Sunday, after a chilly start to the morning- and bacon and eggs- we wondered rather aimlessly what to do next. 

Our neighbor came down to work on cutting up the trees, so we jumped in to help. Besides splitting and loading firewood, there was plenty of bark and debris to remove from the yard. 

I took a break and sat down on the porch, sheltered a bit from that raucous wind, and noticed how the trees on the hill beside the house were swaying in the breeze. Clothed in gold, they appeared to be dancing. 

The sunlight felt so good on my legs, stretched out and propped on the porch post. 

What a moment to just be. Be alive, be present, be grateful to experience. 

I need to do this more often, I said to Self. 

Somehow, that sense of contentment comes most often after working up a good sweat. 

Maybe it’s the endorphins. Maybe it’s the release of tension. 

Whatever, it was a good reminder to be present in the moment. To bask in it like ol’ Honey (our dog) has done in the sun much of the afternoon. 


Sunday, November 1, 2020

Here I go again...

 I don't think it even exits any more officially, but a few of us are die hards. 

Nine years ago, I decided to pick up the NaBloPoMo challenge and blog every day for the month of November. Now, it's almost become a habit. A once a year habit.

 So here we go.

 THIS November is obviously quite unlike any other, with the pandemic raging all around. Who could have foreseen the craziness we've been living through in 2020?

 So many of the things I typically cover for the newspaper-not happening. I'm getting to be home more, which is my favorite place to be, so I'm not complaining about that.


 Life on the farm still carries on according to the seasons. Gardens and livestock and farm chores and projects have no regard for COVID-19 or politics. The predictable routines of the seasons are comforting and they always keep us busy.

 One of the projects that was needing done got done yesterday. Our two big storm-damaged trees needed to come down.

 Three and a half years ago they were badly damaged by the 100 mile an hour winds that ripped through here. We gave the trees plenty of time to recover, but for some time now, it's been pretty obvious that they weren't going to.

 So yesterday, a neighbor came down and sawed them down in exchange for the fire wood.

 Those big trees provided such nice shade for many years. So many conversations happened beneath them. One time we had a porch swing on a limb of the largest one. The chain broke when I was hugely pregnant with our firstborn and I came crashing down with a thud! I half-way expected that to start my labor, but it didn't. Our kids and grandkids have enjoyed swinging from that limb too!

 More than once, I spotted snakes stretched out overhead, watching us--or birds--through the leaves.

 I've been told that my Uncle Bill planted one of the trees. :(

 The yard looks so different now. We've been thinking about something to plant back, but I think I could get used to there not being any trees in this area. Hmmmmm... anyone have any suggestions for pretty trees that don't get so big they would threaten the house?

Saturday, February 1, 2020

A brand new month, and we are that much closer to spring





It's February already, that shortest month of all that typically feels longest, because cloudy skies seem endless, the fields are still muddy, and there's not much color in the landscape.

But! There are hopeful hints that spring will be here very soon.

Just look at how lush and green the wheat cover crop is!  (I've been putting a leash on Honey when we take walks because she likes to race across the road--without looking both ways.)
And I see hints of green in the pasture, daffodils setting buds by the sidewalk, even a crocus blooming!

We had a calf born last week--another uneventful birth. Thank the Lord for that!
Last year at this time we were really struggling.  It was colder and so much muddier. The mud just about got the best of man and beast alike last winter.

Our tomato seeds came in last week, so we gotta sow, sow, sow...

If you can believe it, I had a tomato from our hoop house with supper tonight.  It had to ripen in the house after I picked it in December, I think, but I can now say I've had a homegrown tomato in February.  A first!






"So great a cloud of witnesses"

Our nine-year old granddaughter was baptized on Sunday, fully-immersed in water that had been warmed in an inflatable hot-tub.   I grew up B...