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I would hate to explain exactly what happened here. It might have involved some chocolate. Or make that a LOT of chocolate.

But Buttercup looks kinda judgmental, don’t you think?

Steve-the-Builder, still finishing last touches on the house.
Finally, the Princess’s loft suite (she has a loft SUITE! if she wasn’t my daughter, I’d be so jealous–oh, wait, she is my daughter and I’m still jealous) is ready! She gets to sleep in her new room now! The last touch was preparing her new bed. Her “new” old bed. She’s going to be using a hand-me-down trundle bed.
Trouble was, the bed came with gold knobs. She doesn’t like gold. I can’t blame her–I don’t like gold, either. I bought a 99 cent can of “brushed nickel” spray paint and stared at the knobs for a few minutes… I couldn’t just hold them while they were drying. What to do?


A box! Stick the ends in a box!


It worked perfectly! And in no time I had “brushed nickel” knobs and was getting out her brand new horsey bedding and making up her room.

Isn’t this bed adorable? These are her new horsey sheets and pillow shams. Where is her comforter? I still don’t know.
Then, because it was Saturday and that means things have to get done that have been put off all week, we headed outside to plant the peach tree that we’ve been hiding since Bluebell discovered it and tried to make it into a toy. My cousin’s wife, Sheryl, came over to see the new house and watch the planting.

Bluebell was thrilled to see her. I said, “You miss Bluebell back at the old farmhouse, don’t you?” Sheryl said, “We haven’t had any trash dragged around the yard in weeks!”
Yes, you know they miss her desperately.
Bluebell was very excited when we made a HOLE.

Then we brought out the peach tree. (A self-pollinating peach tree–so there’s just the one.)
She got very serious.

And confused. And baffled. And downright discombobulated.

Why? WHY?

Why did we take her toy and BARRICADE it and that so lovely HOLE behind a fence? WHY?
Life is so unfair when you are a puppy.
And that was Saturday in the holler. You?
Posted by Suzanne McMinn | Permalink
"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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