News you can use
News you can use
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At Easter Sunday dinner Pearl and I decided to have a yard sale. My closets were cluttered and the basement was stuffed. Pearl had equal excess. We had things we had not seen in years. We figured the middle of July would be a great time to hold the sale. We chose Wednesday, July 21. We decided to hold it at my house, situated as it is on a main street, with a wide concrete driveway. Pearl tacked up flyers around town. We checked the weather oracle. Sunny with a few clouds. Temperatures in the high 70s. Precipitation zero....
Eudaemonia: the state of happily following our daemons. A friend sent me this word, knowing it would intrigue me. I like words. I like this word. I like the way it sounds. I like the way it feels on my tongue. For several months I have had this word thumb-tacked above my computer. I studied it from time to time. I mused about my own state of eudaemonia. I wondered just what specific daemons I was following. With our spate of beautiful weather, such a long time in arriving, I finally identified one of my daemons. No matter... Full story
"I fell in love with him because he smelled like horses and leather," I told Karen. "He swung me up on his rope horse and taught me to ride. Well, the horse taught me to ride. My husband taught me to notice things along the trail. I had a tendency to ride with my head down, looking for rattlesnakes. He taught me instead to pay attention to my horse's ears, which would twitch and point if he saw a snake along the way. When I didn't have to worry about snakes, I learned to look out over the land. We rode for fun every evening,...
Donna and Linda from Lincoln invited Karen, who is from Floweree, and me to pick huckleberries. I had important business in Malta Saturday morning, so I took the long route, but that is another story. I met Karen at her house at the end of the gravel road down in Floweree. Karen's husband Don loaded our gear into her SUV. Neither Karen nor I had ever picked huckleberries, so we had no idea what to expect. Rookies that we were, we thought picking huckleberries would be like shucking corn. We each brought along a cooler and...
I am a sucker for old buildings. I have love affairs, infatuations, with handsome old empty buildings. They have potential. Homestead shacks, abandoned houses with the wind whistling through the cracks, dusty warehouses or lovely brick commercial buildings, long ago boarded up. I am an incurable romantic. The phrase "fixer-upper" makes my breath go shallow, my knees weak and my heart pound. Lovelorn lass that I am, I ache to restore their old bones to their former glory. But the word "potential" sets off alarm bells and... Full story
Raspberry jam on toast — a treat to the tongue; raspberry jelly — a ruby jewel; raspberry syrup drizzled on pancakes — perfection; raspberry pie — divine. At the rear of my lot sits a cabin. Originally it sat where my house is now, home to one of Harlem's original families. At present it houses garden tools and junk. Since my only tools consist of trowel, shovel, rake, pitchfork, and two hand-held whickerwhackers, the cabin mostly holds junk. Its chief purpose is to provide a backdrop for my raspberry patch, for the ground...
