The moon was at the half as I wandered around the yard with a flashlight attempting to gather in the two-year old kittens. Wilhelmina can usually be found reclining on the picnic table, but not always.
Saturday night a week ago Sam and I headed to a gospel singing at the City Auditorium in Vernon, Alabama. We looked at the map and checked the distance. If we left by 4 o'clock, we would be sure to make it in time to hear Jessica Horton, Shaeffer's Chapel's praise and worship leader, sing at 5:30. Jessica's talent and charisma compelled us.
The air blows hot and dry, but even that is a welcomed comfort when standing under shade trees.
There's a couple of names for trash fish; some call them garbage fish or rough fish. The terms refer to fish that are less than desirable, the ones you catch you aren't trying to, and fish where there's no legal limit to catch and keep. Some fish simply don't taste good. Some species are invasive or nuisance fish. Culture and traditions can alter what might be a trash fish, or not, in different locations.
While Sam shopped for tractor parts, I hung over the enclosure of baby chickens.
In the last six months half-a-dozen friends have fallen, including myself. We range in age from 30 to 80. Two of the "fallers" were due to medical conditions, three were carrying groceries, one was due to inattention. The results of those falls varied from a small cut, two compound fractures, facial injuries requiring a cosmetic surgeon and two hospitalizations.
"I would like to do something this afternoon and it involves water." I suspected this would arouse Sam's interest.
The water hose was lying in the flower bed surrounded by a pile of gray sand. I touched it with my fingers. Sam said, "It's coming from the well through the hose." I thought maybe not. "If it's gray," he said, "it's coming from the well."
"I asked the Lord to help me wake up earlier every morning and He gave me a paper route."
Cindy Webb, former paper carrier
On Saturday, Sept. 22 at 8:45 p.m. the autumn equinox will occur and yet already school supplies fill the stores, fall catalogs arrive daily and traffic builds around college towns. While spring brings a season of cleaning, fall brings a season of sorting.
"Every gardener I know is a junkie for the experience of being out there in the mud and fresh green growth. Why? An astute therapist might diagnose us as codependent and sign us up for Tomato-Anon meetings. We love our gardens so much it hurts."
In the middle of the day even cats refuse to go outside.
Looking out the glass doors, I watched the bottom fall out of the sky. When I went into the gym it was a bright, sunny, cloudless day. I leaned on the door and wondered when was it I stopped playing in the rain?
My good friend, we'll call him Richard, caught up with me at church. "Girl," he said, "did you see this issue of National Geographic? It's about all that plastic ending up in the ocean."
After about the fourth time a frozen baggie of crappie fillets fell out of the freezer and onto the floor, I figured we needed to find some different recipes to use up some crappie fillets.
"Make Your Bed," by Admiral William H. McRaven (U.S. Navy, retired), lay on the coffee table.
Early spring brought lots of rain. Prairie lakes were full; spillways flowed like streams. Daily Sam checked water levels of local creeks and lakes. He checked Grenada Lake where crappie grow large and plentiful. High water levels are not conducive to spawning crappie.
There's some things I notice and some things I don't. Sam suggested I notice things like if there's water standing somewhere where it shouldn't so I can let him know. We need to find out where the water is coming from, especially when we are in the season of drought.
The birds we love empty the feeders about every half hour, with a little help from the squirrels. Once we had no squirrels, but lately there's been a buildup.
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