a tale of tails, tenacity, and tedium, as told by me, usually barefoot and bellowing

Thursday, February 28, 2013


The waters recede and even in that is beauty.  The roaring water has left a debris trail along the path of the creek.  The water begins to clear and the spring water crest is peeking through the crystal clear spring water.
This branch lies below our first spring that we do not use except to fill the creek for livestock.  This also carries the over flow from the "New" pond which is now over forty years old and the drainage from the surrounding hills.
The dogs join me...always.  They find things I can't see and share their discoveries with me.  The water is never too cold for Lil to wade.  Squiggs jumps the water if he can.
and Ki-Anne jump wide.
Lizzy assesses the situation and find a reasonable crossing and daintily tip-toes through the shallowest water she can find.

It remains a quiet Thursday At The Farm.  I have a leak on the screen porch to repair, chimney flashing to caulk, branches to pile and washes to fill but today this moment I enjoy the abundance of water hoping it stays with us through the growing times when it's needed the most.

My crock pot croaked today while I cooked deer stew.  I finished a Greg Iles thriller. This guy's mind and talent amaze me.  As I ramble I begin to understand retirement.  It is the time you can test the water, smell the roses, read the thrillers while helping family when you are needed.  

I write down appointments for doctors on calendars for Hubby and Marcy and dental for Andrew and ignore my teeth and eyes.  The right time will come when I can do that.  Now is the time to help others who would do the same for me. Between the appointments and obligations I draw my strength from the land around me.

...and write really boring posts to share with you.

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Rubber Booting...

is what I do when it's been raining a while.  Gotta check out everything. Dinner's in the oven so I don my camouflage rubber boots and a jacket because it's turning cold. I listened to the water roar through the valley at its peak last night but I couldn't go see.

Daylight comes we have things to do.  Want to help?  Come along with me and we'll have some fun.
We must check the water level.  We must check for new sand bars and see if the old ones still remain.
We have to watch for places holding water
and places that have washed out.  All these have to be corrected to conserve the land.
We check water gaps to make sure nothing is stopping the flow. If the water has damaged it replace/repair it so the cattle will not get out. 
We take out the limbs and the football (placing soggy football under our arm) that was blocking the flow and discover we have a hole in our boots.
A cold hole. Boots now full of water we slosh back to the house thinking it may be time for new rubber boots.
We find an arrowhead. And that is how a day goes after a big rain...now I'm looking for new rubber boots.
So many choices!!!

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

My Chair Died...

or was it murder?  Death by butt.  Wouldn't be the first time something died over too much tail.  I mourn it's passing. It was ailing and I tried so hard to save it.  Gorilla Glue just didn't work it's magic this time.  I don't believe even duct tape would have fixed it.  It was time to go.
Born in the fifties it joined my family about fifteen years ago for the grand price of $3.  It served us well, moving from room to room, rising to fill the need for an extra chair now and then. 

It had recently been promoted to a role as my personal chair since my other had developed a slight squeak just behind my head.  It collapsed around midnight last night when I stopped to sit a moment. 

It was pronounced DOA after examination.  There will be a funeral pyre next week to honor its life and to allow those who loved it a chance to say goodbye.  The cushions will be re-purposed so its life/death will not be in vain.  

Fare well, my three dollar chair.  I shall miss you.
Moving in to carry on will be Three Dollar New Chair accompanied by recovered ottoman and home created pillow.  I wish you well New Chair.  You have a big load to carry.

Monday, February 25, 2013

Walmart Super Center...

is quickly becoming a resource for everything you may need.  Eye exams, banking, dining and hair stylists are just a few of the extras at a super center.

I'm not one to make appointments.  I want a service when I want it and Walmart hair stylist fits right into that niche.  Change your oil, rotate your tires, get your new eye glasses and have your hair styled...all at the same store.

You sign your name and luck of the draw you get the next stylist who is available.  I am pretty easy to please with a hair cut.  I wanted short.  I say Twiggy,  I mention Alyssa Milano, Mia Farrow...I am with a child!  She knows none of these ancient stars.  I finally suggested the poop yogurt lady, Jamie Lee Curtis, and she finally knew because she had seen the commercial for Activia.
Having a picture in your head is far different than trying to relay it to a stylist.  Now she has a base.  I want no bangs, care free hair...she starts to work.  I quickly become a crested water bird or a full dog tick, not sure which look I had.  I said take the crest off unless you want to dye it red.  I am either her worst customer of the day or the most fun, she hasn't decided yet.

We jointly decide the crest has to go.  The stylist says but Jamie Lee has a spike, yep, had them before.  That's it.  Cut it off.  She finally pulls out the clippers and goes to town on my hair.  She also discovered the sides of my hair grow forward, I have two crowns. my hair wants to naturally part in the middle and is very thick...a stylist's nightmare. I simply said, Cut it the way it grows.  She thins the top finally enough that it spikes instead of cresting, she shaves the back and the sides and still is not sure if I will be happy.  I run my hand through my hair and said, yep, that't it.  I tipped a hundred percent so she got compensated for putting up with my strangeness.

I think next time I will ask for a Mark Harmon haircut and see what I get.

Andrew liked my new style.  Hubby says nothing.  He knows it's usually safer that way.  Lizzy liked it even after it was messed up or maybe it was the Big Mack scent left on my face.
We compared our spikes.
Lizzy gives her approval
and then hides her face.
I'm still not sure what she thinks
but like the rest of the people around here
If I keep cooking, the hair style doesn't matter.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

The Mag 157 Venus de Milo With Drawers...

Every Sunday I await Tess Kincaid's unique writing challenges to be inspired by her visual prompts.  Never letting us down, today she present Venus de Milo with Drawers by Salvador Dali.  Join the challenge and read other pieces that were borne from this very different visual prompt today.  No guidelines in regards to style, keep it clean and link up at Magpie Tales.
Imagine Venus with drawers
She already had a cloth
What she needed was arms
But at her loss we scoff

Dali gave her knobs instead 
And places to hide your stuff
Although this adds depth and use
Having arms would be a plus

I admire Dali's talent
But fear inside his head
I would add a one drawer wonder
By installing a jack-in-the-box instead

Saturday, February 23, 2013

The Sunday Mini-Challenge~14-Liners

The last place
I would look for revelation
Is in a book called Desperation
Written by King
For millions to read
The message took shape
As He did the deed
Blood, death and gore
Knitted into a tale and more
The truth revealed within
Hundreds of pages
Buried in blood
Truth for the ages...
God is love.

Every one's writings tend to reflect where you are when you write.  I remember when I first read Desperation I had an aha moment.  This was his religious revelation novel.  That idea was re-enforced tonight when I watched an old movie based on the book.

Then magically appearing just for my writing pleasure the Sunday Mini-Challenge with Imaginary Garden With Real Toads. I studied no style since we were given leeway just to create.  Join the challenge and read some real poetry.


The ice was not a big surprise but a few trees went down, a few limbs lost but the power held.  That is always good.  School started two hours later and buses did not travel the gravel roads.
Hubby and I ran errands.  He drove or should I say flew?  These were the best shots I could get traveling at almost the speed of light.
The ice made the plain brown trees look like they belonged in a magical kingdom where unicorns and fairies were the norm.

It was a flying trip, no leisure stops to see what we could see.  We did stop for lunch.  Visited the discount bakery and found some fattening bargains.  We found cheaper diesel for the tractor.  We found cheaper feed for the cattle.  We found two new holsters for our conceals.  We declared it a successful day.

Flew home again.

The ice was beginning to fall from the trees.  The rest will leave today.

Happy weekend to every one.

Friday, February 22, 2013

On The Rocks...

I always prefer my drinks on the rocks
but not the farm.
not much but too much for us.
This is the South!
 The valley sparkles in the morning sun
and the woods crackle with falling ice.
and Spring is delayed a few more days.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Diamond Lil...

What's wrong with this stick?
Can't you see this wonderful stick?
 Okay, I'm holding here.
Come and get it.
Do I have to do everything?
The perfect stick is delivered.
Lil says, Now, throw the blooming stick!

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Faces Of Rescues...

Lizzy and Ki-Anne were rescues.
Mutts are the new designer dog. 
It's difficult to get a still picture of Lizzy.
Running with the big dogs and me
Lizzy and Ki-Anne are mostly a blur
but every now and then 
you can get a still shot.

Looking for a new family member?
Check with your local shelter first.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013


Picture courtesy of http://worldboat.blogspot.com/

I was fifty-eight when I realized there was no use for the whole "life" thing.  I had heard life was a series of rooms and what mattered was who you were stuck with in each room.  This spoke sense to me.

All of my rooms had belonged to someone else, filled with their wishes, their plans, their dreams.  I was nothing more than the person they were stuck with, by choice, maybe by fate.  One thing was clear.  I had no choice.  None of the rooms seemed to be mine.  Looking back, the scenes were what someone else wanted.  I quietly acquiesced to make life easier for all.

The rooms began as a child, and I fit perfectly in the perfect child's room,  meeting the conformity that was expected.  From that room, to the next, to the next.

Tonight I cannot think of a single time, even one room, where I was happy.  Happy like I had expected to be:  soul flying on wings happy, or laughter bubbling in your throat and breaking free into the air happy.

My husband was different in every room.  We had children.  That was what you did.  They had children.  My parents died without me by their side.

I am blocked in a room so dark and dreary that a candle cannot mark the darkness.

Room upon room upon room---for fifty-eight years---and none of them mine.  Not one.

What of me now?  Do I even attempt to make a room, or do I stop the construction?  Shall I stay in this room, alone and in the dark, wondering why more of myself did not break free?  The beacons were merely mirages, tricking me to remain in rooms constructed by everyone but me.

Uncertain, I wait.  For a door, for a light, for the sound of hammers building, building, building.  My own room...

Monday, February 18, 2013


I pour my Dr Pepper into a glass of ice too fast.  I am too slow to sip quickly and avoid the overflow of  bubbles that splat onto the floor.  I find a paper towel laying alone as if for this very purpose and clean my mess blaming nothing but my lack of attention to detail.
I wisely decide to go for a walk.
Just me and my Fat Baby boots
The dogs joined us.
Fat Baby on a log, 
Fat Baby on a rock, 
and Fat Baby on a rail road tie.
The pair and I had a good time.
On the way back home
nestled in the woods
by the remains of an old barrel
we shared a glimpse of spring.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

The Mag 156

Magpie Tales presents a wonderful visual writing challenge each week called The Mag.  No requirements except keeping it clean and try to visit your fellow participants.  Enjoy.
Wind of History by Jacek Yerka

Broken marble concrete crumbles
People invade repeatedly
One light shows one car goes
As so many before
Who meets them what greets them
Will be a great surprise

It could have been different
If only people had come
When the occupants were living
They would welcome every one
Now the people visit
Who would never have before

The welcome is not so open
The smiles are not so kind
No refreshments offered
No conversation to pass the time
If only they had come
When the occupants were alive...
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