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  • …things are once again quiet at our house.

    But for a few days, they were anything but! With two two-year-old grandchildren, a seven-year-old granddaughter, two daughters and two sons-in-law here, it was noisy and a bit chaotic, but oh! so much fun!

    There was a reunion with high school friends and their families in our barn on Saturday night, church on Sunday, a tea party with the grandmas on Monday afternoon where we practiced our good manners and chatted nicely while sipping tea and munching on lovely scones spread with orange marmalade, a visit from Santa himself on Monday evening during dinner,

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    Christmas morning excitement with filled stockings and gifts all around,

                                              stan and kids comp

    and not-to-be-missed wonderful meals at the grandmas’ homes that were shared with cousins, aunts and uncles, and new-born cousins (the lovely Ella Grace!)

                               emma and ella grace comp

    Our Emma (the one who is seven) is growing into a delightful little lady. Her dear friend, Molly (an American Girl doll who came under the tree last year), was a partner to all of Emma’s fun. Her gifts were mostly new outfits for Molly, and it was fun to see Emma dressing her up.

                         Emma piano comp

    Emma gave us a little piano recital of Christmas songs while at Grandma’s house, and we hope to have that pleasure for many years to come. She loves to play Uno and had all of us joining in a game every time there was a spare minute. What a fun age this is!

    Lucy (aka LuLu) and Wyatt are inseparable pals now and got along very well.

     wyatt and lucy comp      wyattlucycrcomp

    They had a few cross moments when they were tired, but all in all, they got along beautifully and kept us laughing at their antics (I just won’t mention the spilled nail polish or the coals from the fireplace all over the carpet!) Wyatt still can’t say all the consonants, so when he missed his cousin, he would say, “Woo-woo! Where are you?” So cute!

    My dear, beloved sons-in-law decided I needed a new type of bird to go along with my favored chickens, so I am now the proud owner of a rare type of peacock….white with blue neck feathers. His name is Kringle. They spent all the afternoon of Christmas Eve going to get Kringle and then building him a special small pen within the chicken pen, so that he won’t escape while he gets used to his new surroundings, all without my knowledge! Kringle isn’t mature yet, so his unique colors aren’t developed. I’ll post a photo whenever this bird gets pretty.

    It really is worth all the effort, the cooking and cleaning up, the late hours and missed sleep, the craziness and even the occasional crabbiness to have a wonderful memory-making family time together. I wouldn’t have missed a minute of any of it…

    And now I’m looking ahead to the new year that is almost here. What to change, what to keep, what to add, what to subtract? It’s such a nice feeling to have a clean slate, a fresh start, an empty calendar with 12 blank pages of months full of days, stretching ahead to fill up. Doesn’t it just make you feel rich? And full of eager anticipation?

    Some of those days will contain sadness, some will be filled with pain, and others will be used up with anger or confusion or exasperation. There will be hard work going on in many of the weeks ahead. I’m not foolish enough to think that the 366 days of 2008 will all be fun and games (remember that this will be an election year, and we have the political ads to endure!)  But I love to think about how I can choose, right now, to make the very most of them, come what may.

    It actually makes my pulse race and my heart sing to think about the new projects I can begin! That cute cap with the earflaps that I wanted to knit for Emma for Christmas could be ready by Valentine’s Day. My bedroom needs an update, and I’ve been thinking about painting our iron bed….RED! That will mean a new quilt! My new journal WILL be filled, day by day, so that at this time next year I can look back and reread (and not just try to remember) a year’s worth of memories. And then there is my long-dreamed-of story to write….”The Line Sisters”….I’ve written it in my head a hundred times. Does that title intrigue you? Do I have the self-discipline to actually write it?

    However you are spending the next few days, I hope you have time to make some plans for yourself for the next year. Think back to last year at this time…what did you hope for…and what have you accomplished? It’s probably good to be realistic, but it’s even better to dream big, plan big and hope big. The worst that can happen is that it doesn’t all come true, you don’t get to do it all, or you might even fail. And remember…..”There’s always next year!”

    Happy New Year to all of you! 

     

  • …”Blessed are they who are able to spend their lives doing the work they love, for they shall find heavenly happiness on earth.”

    I love the beatitudes, so please don’t think I’m mocking or taking our Savior’s words lightly. But this paraphrase is one that is true. There are some who “live to work,” and there are others who “work to live.” I’m sure you know what I mean.

    There’s the fellow who spends 40 hours a week, in a job that he either detests or merely tolerates, so that when the weekend finally arrives, he can do what he really enjoys. Maybe it is golf or fishing or mowing the lawn or rebuilding a ’57 Chevy…no matter, this is the best part of his life. This guy works to live.

    On the other hand, there is the woman who puts in 60-hour weeks at the hospital. She comes home bone-tired at the end of a 12-hour shift spent on her feet, endlessly striving to meet the needs of her patients, grieving when one does not make it, or rejoicing when a medical miracle occurs. This nurse has always known this would be her life, and she sacrifices much of her personal time to help patients. But there is a joy in her smile, a contentment deep in her eyes, for she is doing what she is meant to do. This woman lives to work.

    My husband is like the nurse. Stan has known from his earliest memory that he would farm; he never seriously considered doing anything else. When we were in college, he talked once about veterinary school, but that was just a brief fancy.

     Since he was six years old, he has worked on the farm, and 56 years later, he still loves it.

                                        stan hay comp

    He gets up every morning with a smile on his face (though there might be a crick in his neck from working cattle yesterday), talking about his plans, happy to bound out the door at sunrise and tackle a hard day’s work. He comes in at dark, worn-out tired, back aching, sometimes disappointed that he couldn’t save the cow with the prolapse or the calf with the broken leg, sometimes discouraged that the rain set in before they got the field of silage all chopped and into the silo, but never depressed. Underneath the fatigue and pain and occasional worry, there flows deep contentment because he has been doing what he loves and has done his best.

    Stan doesn’t know how to turn on a computer, but he can completely take a tractor apart and rebuild it. He doesn’t play golf, but he loves to get the men (and girls, if they want) in the family outside for an old-fashioned game of horseshoes, something he loved to play with his dad and grandpa. His idea of fine dining is sitting in the kitchen with our family, having our grandson help blow out Poppy’s candles.

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    He doesn’t have a bass boat, but the farm pond is a great place to watch granddaughter Emma catch her first catfish.

                                       stan emma fishing comp                           

    Although we occasionally travel, it is to satisfy my wanderlust; his idea of a great trip is to drive two hours down into Arkansas to spend a day hiking in the mountains there.

                                         stan in ark comp                                    

    Or even better is a good ole farm auction…there might be a bargain he could pick up!

                                       stan auction comp

    But the very best thing of all is having all the family home, getting to enjoy quiet times with the children and grandchildren. On the farm, he can do that, even on a week day!

    stan lucy comp

    Stan deeply appreciates the fact that his life’s labor is work that he enjoys. He loves the challenges, the successes, the natural beauty that is part of his everyday life.

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     Long hours, aches and pains, and occasional failures are a small price to pay for the reward. He sits in his pickup and sees the cattle peacefully grazing on a hillside

                                         cattle comp

    and knows that “Blessed is he who spends his life doing the work he loves, for he has found heavenly happiness on earth.”

    (Now don’t tell him I wrote this! He would be mortified, petrified and embarrassed. It’s just that he was so happy to head out to work cattle this morning in 19-degree weather, bundled up like a snowman, but excited to get on that horse…I just had to write about his blessed life)

  • …it’s my birthday.

    So I am going to indulge myself for a few minutes and wax philosophical, if it suits me…or just otherwise ramble.

    There’s nothing like a birthday to make you stop and think. And when it is the 56th one you’ve seen, it really does make you pause. The first thought I had at 4:16 this morning when I awoke and could not go back to sleep was, “Why do I have to get up AGAIN and make another trip to the bathroom? I just want to keep sleeping!” Hope you weren’t expecting me to say something wise or profound…it’s just one of those “56″ things I’m dealin’ with these days.

    Yesterday I went for my mammogram. I read somewhere that one should schedule this important test on or very near the birthday, to make it easier to remember, and I took that to heart. It gives you another reason to celebrate….the simple fact of remembering to do it!

    I live 75 miles from our medical providers, so while in town I took the opportunity to do a bit of Christmas shopping. I don’t love shopping (except in flea markets and antique shops) so I tried to cram a lot into an afternoon, and by the end of the day, I had indeed shopped until I dropped.

    One of my most vivid memories of little-girlhood is of “having” to go shopping with Mother and Grandmother, and one of the reasons I dreaded it so much was hearing them complain about how their feet were just killing them. That was the subject of the two-hour return trip home. Of course, they were dressed in girdles, stockings and 3-inch high heels, dresses with matching gloves and handbags and sometimes even the little pillbox hat. One hour of heels would finish me off, so I can only imagine their agony after trudging from store to store in them for a solid day. Yesterday I had on flat, comfortable shoes….and if someone had been with me, they would have had to endure hearing me complain that “My feet are killing me!” Yet another reminder of my…ahem…”age.”

    Seriously, though….my desk calendar thought for today says, “The remarkable truth is that our choices matter, not just to us and our own destiny but, amazingly, to God Himself and the universe He rules.

    SO TRUE! It takes a bit of aging to believe that our choices really do matter in the greater scheme of things. Perhaps it is hindsight or that proverbial wisdom we acquire, but it becomes so clear at “56″ that the choices I made (and am still making) do not impact only me. 

    Choices like who to marry, how to spend money, what to eat, what to say (or not say), where to live, how to believe, what to read….I couldn’t begin to name them all, but I made (and make) them and many folks live with them. Not just me.

    As our pastor is fond of saying, “There’s a sermon in this.” For me, today, the sermon for myself is, “You are still making choices. Since you are now ’56′, make better ones. Don’t make as many mistakes, especially now that you are old enough to know better.”

    Now I’m going to don my battered New Balance comfortable shoes and tackle day number 20,440 of my life. No complaints today….just happy thoughts and lunch with my mom, other mom, sister-in-love, youngest daughter and grandson…..and hopefully making good choices!

     

     

  • ….”tis the season to be busy, fa la la la la….

    Wait a minute, that’s not how the song goes!

    But that’s how it seems to me. So why, oh why, don’t I do a better job of planning ahead and getting things done in advance and being organized? NEXT YEAR will be different! I’ll mark my new calendar now, and this is how my schedule will look:

    The day after Christmas, I’ll head out to the stores and buy gift wrap, cards, and decorations at half-price to use next year. And while I’m out there, I’ll find some great bargain purchases to tuck away to give as gifts 364 days from now.

    From January 1 until Labor Day, I’ll carefully and lovingly make precious and adorable hand-crafted gifts for each and everyone on my Christmas list.

    In September, I’ll finish up the gift list by shopping for such things as books and other difficult-to-make items.

    October will find me in a fluff of ribbon and paper, devoting my days to creating exquisite, one-of-a-kind packages and wrappings, all tied up and hidden in out-of-the-way places, long before Halloween.

    Our Christmas cards, including personal, hand-written letters to each recipient, will be in envelopes, stamped, addressed and ready to mail by Veteran’s Day.

    From then until mid-November, the days will be a blur of extravagant holiday baking. All manner of breads, cookies and other delectables will be baked, wrapped and in the freezer by the 15th.

    (Time out! I’ll take a brief pause from this Christmas frenzy and use a few days to get ready for the really important holiday of Thanksgiving, but I’ll quickly get back into Christmas mode!)

    The entire house and yard will be lavishly decorated by the first of December. There will be themed trees in every major room of the house. Outdoors, lights will illumine windows, roofline and trees, and freshly-twined garland will rope around the front door, complimenting the handmade wreath. Candles will glow in each window, welcoming guests to our holiday-happy home.

    And then….ah, then, I will simply sit down, look at everything and enjoy! But I won’t sit for long. I’ll do some fun things! During the normally busy, hectic month of December, when I’m usually racing around like that proverbial headless chicken, squeezing in the above-listed eleven months’ worth of preparations, I can, instead, go to church bazaars, visit my shut-in friends with plates of cookies, organize an evening of leisurely caroling, take in a Christmas movie on the first weekend it comes out, stick unfailingly to my diet and exercise regimen, attend the Christmas cantatas at all the local churches, go to bed on time each night, and give not one single thought to a list of any kind.

    That’s my plan for next year.

    Wake up, Janet! That stuff is all just a dream. It will never happen, so I’ll just admit it now. It’s not me, and that’s not my life. I love the idea of being organized, but I’m not. Too many things happen to prevent it….such as living. I won’t be creating gifts from January till September, because I’ll be working on Valentine’s Day, the grandchildren’s birthdays, hay season, Mother’s Day, tax season, the Fourth of July, taking kids to the creek, planting the garden, and other things too numerous to mention…things that deserve the time it takes to do them.

    So when December, 2008, rolls around, I’m sure it will be about like this one, with me, once again, in my headless chicken routine, running around like crazy, making lists and losing them, burning a batch of cookies because I leave the kitchen to wrap a package, spending two hours trying to find the dog-gone burned-out bulb that is keeping my lone strand of lights from twinkling around the front door, sitting up late knitting a “gotta-have” gift, wracking my brain to think of the perfect present for a son-in-law or nephew, rapidly dashing off a generic holiday letter to copy and stuff into envelopes and hope the addresses haven’t changed since last year, looking in the attic for left-over gift wrap and ribbon…and hopefully, smiling through it all.

    Now, if any of you live by the calendar in my above-described dream, please don’t tell me…I just don’t have time to believe you!

    Happy Christmas-ing!

    Currently listening to: It Took a Miracle (the cantata our community choir performed this afternoon–simply wonderful!!!)

  • …it’s story time!

    Princess Priscilla and the ‘Possum

    Once upon a time there was a little princess named Priscilla. She lived in the Kingdom of Poppyseed, with her parents, King Paul and Queen Patricia. She also had an older brother, Prince Patrick, and a baby sister named Princess Penelope. The family lived in a castle with their cook, Pansy, and their gardener, Peter. Princess Priscilla loved two things very much–the color pink, and spending time in the gardens helping Peter do all kinds of gardening chores.

    One spring morning, Princess Priscilla awoke and looked out her bedroom window and saw that it was a beautiful, sunny day, just right for working in the gardens. She washed her face, dressed in her favorite outfit, a pair of pink patched overalls, and headed downstairs.

    In the kitchen, Priscilla found Pansy, who happened to be one of her best friends, and, after hugging her good morning, said, “I’m starved, Pansy. What’s for breakfast?”

    Plump Pansy, pink in the face from washing a sinkful of sudsy dishes, replied, “It’s your favorite, little Princess– peanut butter pancakes.”

    “Perfect!” Priscilla proclaimed and proceeded to clean her plate. “Pansy, that was the best! I’ll be able to help Peter a lot now.” And with that, she headed out to the gardens.

    When she stepped outside the kitchen door, the little princess looked out on a beautiful sight. All around the yard of the castle were lovely flower beds filled with Priscilla’s favorite flowers, all in shades of pink, of course. There were predominantly petunias and poppies and pansies, but there were also pots and planters filled with painted daisies and portulaca, surrounded by borders of perennials, including sweet peas and periwinkle.

    Behind the flower beds were the vegetable gardens where Peter, the family’s gardener and another of Priscilla’s best friends, was now working. He was planting some of Princess Priscilla’s favorite vegetables, such as pink-eyed purple-hulled peas, peppers, parsnips, potatoes and the royal family’s favorite, popcorn. Beyond the vegetable gardens was the vast orchard, filled with trees that would bear fruit late in the summer, including more of her favorites, juicy peaches, pears, plums and pomegranites

    Princess Priscilla pulled on her garden gloves and her oldest sneakers, picked up the handles of her wheelbarrow and headed over to where Peter was at work. “Good morning, Peter,” she called out across the garden. “What can I do to help this morning?”

    “A very good morning to you, Princess,” responded Peter, as he straightened from the furrow where he was carefully placing the eyes of seed potatoes. “Perhaps you’d like to start setting out the pickle plants.” This was Peter and Priscilla’s pet name for cucumbers; they much preferred thinking of the vines as pickle plants because dill pickles made from cucumbers were a huge favorite of both of them.

    Princess Priscilla pushed her little wheelbarrow into the nearby greenhouse and loaded up several pots of pickle plants that Peter had started from seed late in the winter. They were now nice and bushy and ready to spread out when placed into the soil of the garden, warmed by the late spring sunshine. She filled a watering can with water from the spout and went back to the garden to find the row that Peter had marked for pickle plants. Down on hands and knees went Priscilla, scooping up handfuls of dirt, making nice holes for the tender little plants, patting the soil around the roots and giving them a good drink from her watering can.

    After she finished planting the pickle plants, Princess Priscilla discovered that she was as thirsty as her little pickle plants had been. She went over to the spout, had a good drink from the hose and returned to where Peter was pulling up weeds from around the vines of the peas. He said, “If you’d like, you could carry these weeds in your little barrow around to the compost pile for me.” So off went the Princess, to the back of the greenhouse where she and Peter kept a lovely compost pile, filled with decaying leaves, grass clippings from the lawn, and potato peelings and turnip tops from Pansy’s kitchen. Nature would soon percolate the refuse into the very best sort of fertilizer for Peter’s garden.

    As she dumped out the contents of her wheelbarrow into the compost pile, Princess Priscilla noticed a shiny, black, pointy thing sticking out at the edge of the leaves. It looked as if it could not be something that would compost, and she wondered if it might be something that Peter had lost. She leaned over and carefully pushed the pile of leaves back and discovered that the shiny object was attached to a fur-covered body. It was the nose of a little creature, the likes of which the princess had never before seen!

    “What in the world is this?” exclaimed Princess Priscilla.

    She was truly amazed when the little creature opened tiny black shoe-button eyes, looked up at Priscilla, and, in a tiny forlorn voice, said, “What in the world are you…and where in the world am I?”

    Princess Priscilla’s eyes widened as she drew back. She certainly hadn’t expected an answer to her question.

    “You are in my compost pile! And I am Princess Priscilla, of the Kingdom of Poppyseed,” she answered regally. “Perhaps you will now tell me who…and what…you are.”

    “I’m lost is what I am,” the tiny thing said pitifully. “I am Peppy ’Possum and I want my mommy.

    Princess Priscilla felt her heart melt as she gazed at the sad little animal. He had wobbly tears about to fall from his little cheeks, so she reached down and picked him up gently. “Who is your mommy, Peppy?” she asked.

    “She’s Mommy ’Possum, of course,” sniffled Peppy, through his tears. “Would you help me find her, please?”

    “Since you asked with such good manners, I’ll try to help you find your mommy,” answered Princess Priscilla. “Where do you live?”

    “I live with Mommy, of course,” Peppy replied.

    “But where does your mommy live?” insisted Priscilla

    “I…I…don’t know!” wailed Peppy, sounding sadder and sadder all the time.

    Priscilla held Peppy close and patted his little head. “Don’t cry, Peppy,” she said, “I’m sure we can find your mommy. Let’s get started.”

    Peppy brushed away his tears as Princess Priscilla carried him down the path through the orchard, between rows of large peach trees, abloom with sweet pink blossoms. She looked up into the tree and saw a tidy little nest on a forked branch. The nest looked cozy and homey, so Priscilla said, “Peppy, could that little nest be your home? Do you and your mommy live here?”

    Peppy peered up at the nest and replied, “No, I’ve never seen that place before. I don’t think I live in a nest. May we look some more?”

    “Of course,” said Priscilla. “We’ll just look until we find your mommy. Then we will find your home.”

    The path upon which Priscilla was walking led by a small lake. As she and Peppy passed the end of the lake where a spring-fed stream came into it, she noticed a slight movement in the edge of the water. There was a large mound of tree limbs and branches piled up across the stream’s entrance into the lake, and the little princess realized the something that had made the movement had swum under the pile of limbs.

    “Peppy, look!” she exclaimed. “Maybe that was your mommy swimming in the water, going under that big mound of brush!”

    Peppy peeked over Priscilla’s arm and saw the dark-looking water of the lake. He shivered and said, “No, Princess. I don’t like to be in water, and my mommy doesn’t, either. My home is NOT in that place.” With that, the little ’possum began to sniffle and cry again.

    A furry, brown creature with two big teeth and a large, flat tail emerged from the mound, swam to the bank, looked balefully up at the pair and said, “This is the home of Benjamin Beaver, and that is me… and opossums are decidedly NOT welcome here!”

    Priscilla briskly walked on as she said, “Oh, Peppy, that was a beaver den! I should have known you don’t live here. But don’t worry, we’ll keep on looking, as long as it takes. We’ll find your mommy, I promise.”

    The two new friends rounded the end of the lake and their path led them into a park. Priscilla knew this was a friendly place; she and her family often played and picnicked here. She walked along, looking into the bushes on either side of the path, hoping to spot something that resembled Peppy.

    There were squirrels playing tag on the branches of the trees overhead, but Princess Priscilla knew Peppy didn’t live with them. Priscilla pointed out two tiny chipmunks nibbling last year’s pecan shells under some bushes, but they did not look anything like Peppy. A tortoise lumbered across the path in front of them but pulled in head and legs as soon as they got near. “My mommy doesn’t have a hard shell like that,” whispered Peppy. “She’s soft and cuddly, like mommy ’possums are supposed to be.”

    Princess Priscilla was beginning to wonder if they would ever find Peppy’s mommy. Perhaps she wasn’t in the park or anywhere in the Kingdom of Poppyseed! As Priscilla thought about their predicament, she decided to rest for a while under a big persimmon tree. Cradling the little creature, she sat down, leaned her back against the tree trunk and wondered what to do next. Just then, a worried-sounding voice from above called out, “Peppy? Is that you?”

    Peppy perked up and said, “Mommy? Where are you?”

    “I’m up here,” was the answer. “Where in the world have you been? I’ve been so worried!”

    Priscilla and Peppy looked up into the persimmon tree and saw something sitting on the lowest branch. It looked very much like Peppy, except it was larger. There was the same kind of pointy black nose, except it was a little larger. There was the same kind of skinny tail and grayish fur. And on its back were two more little creatures that looked exactly like Peppy.

    “Mommy! I got lost and Princess Priscilla found me! Hey, Pamela, I saw a beaver! Pesky, did you eat all the persimmons?” Peppy was talking so fast that Priscilla could hardly keep up with what he was saying. He climbed down off Priscilla’s lap, as his family made their way down the tree to him.

    “Princess Priscilla, thank you for bringing my baby home,” Peppy’s mother said gratefully, as she nudged Peppy onto her back. “He’s still small and should never have wandered away.”

    As Peppy settled down alongside his brother and sister, Priscilla asked, “Just where do you all live?”

    “This is where we live!” chimed the three littlest opossums. “We’re home!”

    “Let me explain,” said their mother helpfully. “Baby opossums like Peppy, Pamela and Pesky are very tiny when they are born. I have a special pouch, right here on my belly, where they stay for the first couple of months after their birth. Then they move onto my back for another month or two, until they are bigger and better able to fend for themselves.”

    “I was sleeping yesterday when Peppy wandered off. He has lots of energy, even for a little ’possum. I’ll have to watch him more carefully,” she concluded, as she snuggled the three little ones closer.

    “Peppy was right when he said he lived with his mommy,” Priscilla smiled and thought to herself. “I had no idea he meant that he lived ON his mommy.”

    “Little ones grow up so fast,” Mommy ’Possum sighed. “It won’t be long before these little ones are big enough to begin taking care of themselves, and then I won’t carry them everywhere I go. Now we’re off…thank you again for rescuing Peppy.”
    Priscilla waved goodbye to the little family as she turned and skipped back home. “Peter will be wondering where I’ve gone,” Priscilla thought, but she was happy to know she had helped reunite little Peppy ’Possum with his mommy, sister and brother. It was fun, too, to think about the three baby opossums riding around in their mother’s pouch before they were big enough to climb onto her back. The little princess had read about kangaroos, and she thought that opossums were much the same when it came to babies in pouches.

    As she came out of the park, around the lake, and through the orchard, Priscilla thought about all the different kinds of homes that animals lived in. The turtle had his shell, the beaver his mound of branches, the birds had nests, and Peppy had his mommy’s pouch. But when she saw the beautiful pink castle of the Kingdom of Poppyseed, where her own family lived, the little princess felt that she had the very best home of all.

    “Peter, I’m back!” she called, as she raced to the garden. “What can I plant now?”

    “How about pumpkin seeds?” her friend suggested.

    “Hmm,” thought the little princess. “Didn’t someone live in a pumpkin shell?”

    The End

  • …we’re lookin’ for snow!  There is none in the forecast, and since our winters have gotten warmer and shorter, it will probably be a long wait…but we’re prepared for it, if and when it comes!

                                      sledcomp

    We’re baby boomers, and all things commercial seem directed at baby boomers, these days. The commercials on television are backed up with rock songs that supposedly remind us of our wild young days, the vehicles are looking more retro all the time, and the hundreds of motorcycles going by our house these days are being ridden by old hippies with hair flying out the back of their helmets, pot bellies tucked under leather jackets. Everyone is seeking a return to the glory days of youth, right?

    For my husband, that would mean a trip back to the old one-room schoolhouse where he spent 6 years of grade school. He was reminded of those days last weekend when we visited a flea market and saw this sled hanging high on the wall. Now, Stan has never really cared about antiques or the old things I love…but this was different. It was an immediate, tangible reminder of carefree days full of fun when he was a boy. Immediately, he started telling me about the snowy, icy days when the kids would take sleds (if they had them) to the Upper Brixey school to enjoy during recess. The kids who didn’t have sleds would all pile on with those who did, and by the time they reached the bottom of the long, steep hill, most would have fallen off. But, oh! the fun! Their teacher would join in, and on those special days, recess would last longer than some of their classes.

    So, the ladder was summoned, the sled taken down by the store owner, and now it makes its home with us. Hopefully, we’ll get a snow this winter that will allow him one more exciting ride down the hill.

    This was the sight that greeted me yesterday morning when I stepped out our back door just before sunrise…

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    what a beautiful morning! And I was also greeted by this pair…

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    Chip and Justacat, hungry as always and ready for their breakfast.

    My daughter and family needed a photo shoot for Christmas cards…

                                        ALMSCHRISTMAS 001comp

     

    and this was the best one of 53 shots. Wonder why it took so many? Mr. Wyatt had a bad case of the wiggledy fidgets.

    My sweet husband had a birthday last week, and guess who helped blow out the candles?

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    If I had been determined to remind him that he’s now much older than I am, I would have had 56 candles on the cake. But, loving, considerate wife that I am, I settled on only a few…just enough for a two-year-old to have to huff and puff a little. Now I have 12 more days to keep reminding him that he’s married to a much younger wife. :)

    Have a great weekend, everyone!

  • …we’ve been as busy as the squirrels, getting ready for winter! And with so many things going on, it’s been three weeks since I’ve found time to xanga (is it a verb?) So, time to catch up…afraid this one is a bit long!

    It’s now official…I’m a great-aunt! (Yikes! Being a “great-something” is a little scary!) My niece has a new baby daughter, born November 12. Welcome to the world, baby Ella Grace! She’s a beautiful little girl and destined to make the world a better place, especially for her loving family. What a blessing!

    One of our employees on the ranch, Ernie, has been ill and off work for more than a week.

                                     guys on horseback

    (Ernie is on the left in this picture, taken in July when we were working cattle.) This young man suffers from high blood pressure, and he ran out of medicine and failed to get a refill in time. His pressure sky-rocketed and into intensive care he went. Ernie’s home now and coming back to work tomorrow, for which we’re very thankful. He does so many good things for us, and he was sorely missed while gone. We plan to remind him often to keep his blood pressure controlled, especially for his sake but also for ours!

    Last Wednesday was my turn to host the Queen Bees. I think it is the first time I’ve “had company” and not cleaned my house! But you know what? It really didn’t matter. I think I learned an important lesson….the main thing is to welcome guests with a smile and something good to eat and to not worry about the dust!

    We do something each time we get together. We’ve had knitting and rug hooking lessons, we’ve scrapbooked, baked bread, had “field trips” to a museum and to tea rooms, and we’ve discussed books. Since I was hostess, I chose our activity; this time we read and discussed “The Persian Pickle Club” by Sandra Dallas. The book is about a group of women (much like us!) who quilt together, laugh together and help to bear one another’s burdens. It is funny, touching and outrageous and an altogether good read (if you cross out the one really bad word that adds nothing to the story.)

    And since we read a book about women quilting together, it just seemed like the natural thing to do…make a quilt for the American Hero Quilts project! That will be our January activity. I mentioned this project, the brainchild of Sue Nebeker, in an earlier post. People all over the country make quilts for wounded soldiers coming home from the Middle East. She and her project are featured in the current issue of Quilt magazine, and the pictures of wounded servicemen with their quilts are very touching. The sad thing is that, after giving away hundreds of red, white and blue quilts, she still can’t keep up with the demand….16 wounded for every serviceman killed. Maybe we’ll do two….

    Deer season is almost over here in Missouri, and I’m glad! I root for the deer, even though I know, intellectually, that deer season is a good thing to help keep their numbers down. But I much prefer to see them bounding across a field rather than hanging upside down from a tree. I do understand that some folks need the meat the deer provide, and I appreciate the ones who donate venison to the local food harvest. A man who owns a local restaurant volunteers to butcher donated meat and then it is given away. This is a fine service for people who need it!

    And now for a bit of very GOOD news….our neighbors Susan and Glen got married last weekend! Susan’s 6-year-old son called to tell me, sounding so excited! We’re thinking that a neighborhood celebration is in order, real soon….

    Today I needed to get outside, so what to do? Take an Ozarks drive through the country! This afternoon we chose the Glade Top Trail, a nearby Scenic Byway that follows a ridgetop and offers splendid vistas, best appreciated when the leaves have dropped and you can really see out. For me, this is the quintessential Ozarks.

                                             looking into AR

    It was a bit hazy today, but we could still see way down into Arkansas, more than 40 miles away.

                                     fire tower

    An old fire tower is no longer used but still stands on a high point. The forest service removed the floor so daring kids can’t climb up and get hurt.

                                   hitching post

    Lots of people use the Glade Top for horseback trail riding….a hitching post is convenient at an overlook.

                                                  deerskin

    Someone had killed a deer and left the hide to dry on a rock…

                                     trail through woods

    Doesn’t this trail through the woods look inviting and intriguing?

                                      cellar

    This old cellar is the only remnant left of an old farmstead.

    It was a lovely drive, the afternoon weather was a perfect 10, and now I feel ready to face the new work week.

    This soup was a hit with the Queen Bees this week. The day was chilly and dark, and soup just sounded good. I also prepared a new Paula Deen recipe, Grilled Turkey Reuben sandwiches….yum! A Waldorf salad went well with soup and sandwich, and I made a pumpkin cream cheese roll for dessert, served with hot spiced cranberry tea. Now I’m in the mood for Thanksgiving!

    CHEDDAR POTATO SOUP

    1 large onion, chopped

    ¾ cup chopped celery

    ¼ cup butter

    5 cups cubed potatoes

    1 cup sliced carrots

    3 cups water

    3 cups milk, divided

    4 teaspoons chicken bouillon granules

    Salt and pepper to taste

    ¼ cup flour

    4 cups shredded cheddar cheese

    ½ pound bacon, cooked and crumbled

    In a large Dutch oven, saute onion and celery in butter for 5 minutes. Add potatoes, carrots and water and bring to boil. Reduce heat, cover and simmer for about 15 minutes or until vegetables are tender. Stir in 2 cups milk, bouillon, salt and pepper. Combine remaining milk and flour, blend until smooth, and gradually stir into soup. Return to boil and cook for 2 minutes or until thickened. Reduce heat, add cheese and bacon, and stir until cheese is melted. Serve immediately. (You can reserve a little of the cheese and bacon and garnish soup bowls with it for a nice presentation.)

  • …fall has really arrived!

                                     frost comp

    We had our first frost yesterday morning. When we awoke, the horse pasture below our house was covered with white, and now the bell pepper and tomato plants are really and truly finished. The clover in the yard has wilted, and the impatiens and periwinkle that were still trying to bloom their little heads off have given up and gone to sleep.

                                  kids comp

    We had a houseful over the weekend, with both daughters and the three grands here. It was kind of wild and crazy, with two two-year-olds holding forth, each one trying to outdo the other in volume and intensity. But it was pure fun, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

    fotm comp fotm 07 comp

    (left, the scavenger hunt around an old barn; right, one of the two hay wagons.)

    The weekend was special for two reasons. First, we have a fall gathering every year to celebrate the season, and we call it Fire on the Mountain. A hayride to a high place on the farm, a bonfire for roasting hot dogs and marshmallows, and stories told around the fire are the highlights. This was the perfect weekend for it. After a week filled with dreary, cold, misty days, Saturday dawned clear and still. And the moon that rose over the eastern evening horizon that evening was almost completely round and perfect and shed plenty of light for our get-together. It was just cold enough to warrant jackets and caps and warm enough to be tolerable while riding on a hay wagon. The weather couldn’t have been nicer. What tastes better than a hot dog cooked out over an open fire? The stories were delightful, and the company was the very best…a perfect evening all around.

                                        howard and virginia 001

    (Above, Howard and Virginia Plaster of Almartha, MO)

    And second, some dear neighbors celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary with an open house at our volunteer fire department. It was the perfect location because Howard was the president of the board for many, many years and was the driving force in building our little department into a strong and effective force in the community.

    The couple’s only son, Glen, hosted the event. Glen lost his wife, Kathy, to cancer a while back, and we all grieved with him. Glen and Kathy had one son, a beautiful handicapped little boy, who died at the age of three. Glen’s only remaining family consisted of his parents.

    Susan, another neighbor and mother of three children, was divorced several years ago when her husband left them. Susan has struggled to maintain a good home for her three dear ones and has worked two jobs sometimes to make ends meet, but always has tried to keep her children’s interests first, even when their dad failed to provide court-ordered support.

    At the anniversary party, Howard was radiant when he announced Glen and Susan are to be married! Another cause for celebration!! This couple will gain grandchildren in their golden years, and Glen and Susan will have a new chance at love and marriage. We are all cheering for them and offering our support as they blend their families into one.

    I feel just full to the brim with the happiness of the weekend. Hope you all had a great one, too!

    (Here’s one thing I always serve at Fire on the Mountain….and it’s NOT for you if you’re worried about calories or fat grams! Someone asked for it so here it is:

    Scrumptious Dip

    1 pound ground sausage (or ground beef)

    1 small onion, diced

    garlic, salt and pepper to taste

    1 teaspoon chili powder

    1 can original Rotel tomatoes and green chilies

    1 can yellow hominy, drained

    1 pound velveeta cheese, cubed

    Brown meat with onion, garlic, salt and pepper until no longer pink. Add chili powder, can of tomatoes and chilies, hominy and cheese and continue cooking over low heat until cheese is melted and dip is hot and bubbly. Serve warm with tortilla chips or other dippers.

    I guarantee you will come home with an empty bowl!

  • ….we had a rainbow!

                                    rainbow 001  

    Yesterday evening, just a few minutes before the sun set over the horizon, I stepped out the back door and this is a tiny portion of the beauty I saw. There was the most beautiful rainbow I have ever seen, extending in a perfect arc. The day had been cloudy, misty, windy and cool, but at that moment it became absolutely perfect. I couldn’t get the whole thing in the lens of my camera, so I shot this end because it was so bright. In no way does this picture do justice to the beauty of the moment. Note that a second bow was starting. The scene lasted maybe five minutes before the sun went down and the colors faded away, leaving only the memory of a singular moment in time….

  • ….I want to say thank you to Nancy Zieman. Do you know her? She’s the Nancy of Sewing with Nancy, which I watch on public television here at home. I owe her a big favor, and here’s why.

    About 9 years ago, I started researching genealogy online, and through the process I came into contact with Susan Nebeker, Vashon Island, WA, who is my husband’s second cousin. She’s a real expert and helped me learn so much about our shared hobby, while I was able to find information for her here in the Ozarks where her grandmother was born. How excited we were to discover we also shared a love of quilting! And to top it all off, we both had granddaughters, the same age, named Emma. Such fun!

    We became wonderful e-penpals. I printed all her messages to me, shared them with my father-in-law, who was very close to her father when they were little boys,

                                       curtis

    (Above, in 1940, my father-in-law is lower right, and Susan’s dad is second row, second from right. They went on an old school bus from Taney County, MO, with this group to visit the headquarters of the Watkins Company in Memphis, TN…and what a time they had! But that’s another story…)

    and then put them into a folder. When 9/11 happened, Susan was very upset and depressed and fearful. Her messages stopped coming, and I didn’t know what had happened. I tried unsuccessfully to email her through the ensuing years, but I got no response…I guessed she was no longer interested.

    Two weeks ago, on Saturday morning, I was at the fitness center. Had the place all to myself so while I was huffing and puffing on the treadmill, I watched Sewing with Nancy. She was teaching me all about various sewing machine attachments and neat tricks to do with them, and at the end of the program, dear Nancy said, “Today for our Creative Kindness focus, I want to recognize Sue Nebeker of American Hero Quilts.” I about fell off the treadmill! That’s not a common name, so I knew it had to be “my” Sue. Listened to the rest of the segment, came home and got online, and sure enough, it WAS my Sue!

    Go to http://www.americanheroquilts.com to see what she’s done. Though she has MS and can’t do a lot physically, she can quilt. Sue has been the inspiration and driving force for a group that makes hundreds and hundreds of handmade quilts for wounded Iraq war veterans. They are supported by quilters all over the US, and Nancy Zieman has herself been a huge supporter of the group.

    I found her address and wrote to Sue, and in two days I had an email, several pages long, back from her. We have been so excited to reconnect and have shared the intervening six years of our lives. Turns out that Sue had lost my address, her email address had changed, and my messages hadn’t reached her…and time went by. I love having my friend back!

    Now I’ll share two knitting projects I finished this week…more fun!

                            pursebeforefelting

    This shows my purse before felting. Notice how you can see the individual stitches in the stockinette pattern.

                                     pursefelted2

    After felting (which is something we used to do when we accidentally threw a favorite wool sweater in the washing machine on hot water…voila! Tiny sweater!), you cannot see the individual stitches because they have shrunk. The purse is about 1/2 its original size.

                         cap2

    My niece is having baby Ella Grace in November, so this little cap will be for her. This took about 2-3 hours, i-cord and all. So easy! You make a row of eyelets to weave it through and tie the bow…adds a girlish touch. It’s really the yarn, though, that makes this so sweet.

    Hope you all have a delightful fall weekend!

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