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Archive for August 2008

Aug
31

BLT


Bacon, lettuce, and tomato on Grandmother Bread. Perfection.

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Aug
31

Everybody Dies Famous in a Small Town

I’ve been asked to be one of the honorary grand marshals in this October’s Black Walnut Festival parade. I’ll have to ride on a float. And, like, wave. At people. A lot of people. I said, “Okay, that sounds like fun.” What was I thinking? Was I possessed by a demon? Temporarily insane? I can’t do that! I’ll feel like an idiot. I’ll miss the chance to sit in the upstairs window of my cousin’s office and eat funnel cake while I watch the parade with my family. I’ll have to wear pants. The list of reasons I can’t do this goes on and on.

Clover said she’d take my place if I buy her a tiara.

Think anyone will notice the difference?

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Aug
30

Those Naughty Kids


It’s tough being a mom. You gotta watch those kids all the time. Sleep with one eye open. You never know what they’ll get into. Scampering about, all sweetness and sunshine, one minute….

….and running into the street–or, escaping the fence–the next.

When we first got the babies, they were so little they could squeeze through the openings in the woven wire farm fence. They didn’t go anywhere–they always cried to get back in with mama. (For some reason, they could manage to get out, but they could never quite figure out how to get back in.) Then they got too big to get out.

Or so I thought.

But there they were, out again.

C’mon, babies. Get back in here.

Whew.

Everybody’s back where they belong. I feel better, don’t you, Clover?

Clover: “Did you bring any cookies?”

Clover! You gotta focus. Give them a lecture. I know they’re cute, but– Oh, look!

There’s that little Nutmeg, playing house on the milkstand, pretending to be a big grown mama with milk! She is cute.

Nutmeg: “Did you bring any cookies?”

Yes, you are just like your mother!

Okay, Coco? Pay attention. You’re in charge. Get your crazy tongue back in your mouth! This is serious!

That’s better. You have a job, you know.

COCO!

Coco: “But they just want to play.”

No, they don’t! They just want cookies! And here I go, bribing them back to the gate with cookies…..

And, hunh. Further investigation proved that yes, in fact, they are too small to squeeze out through the fence. What they did was find a gap at the bottom of the fence back in this corner of the yard.

Gap corrected.

Clover? You’ve got to watch these babies, you hear me?

Clover: “I need fortification. A lot of fortification.”

I know, I know, I know. You don’t have to tell me. This mom thing is so hard. You gotta sleep with one eye open. Blah, blah, blah. I’ll get the cookies………

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Aug
30

Sign of Things to Come


The first tree baring its branches for the season to come.

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The Slanted Little House

"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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November 2009
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Rolling in Clover

"Cookies are good." Read my barnyard stories....

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