Finally! My garden is cleaned up and ready for spring. I know, just a few months AFTER the rest of the world, but I have an excuse. That boy scout in need of his help-a-cranky-old-lady badge I was hoping for never did show up.
I took me all day yesterday to finish cleaning them up. Well, most of them, anyway. So there I am, on my knees. The day is beautiful and where I live is fairly quiet, so naturally I’m praying while I work. Family. Friends. People God has reminded me this past week I’m supposed to be praying for.
What? I used my handy-dandy garden tool thingy and under some dead grass I see fur. Ew! Did something die there?
Something is in that hole. But what? Mice? Rats? Oh, please not gophers.
I know, they might not be a blessing next week or next month, but for today, they blessed the socks right off me.
God’s handiwork is amazing!
Does that phrase make your heart beat just a little faster? It does mine. I love the weekend!
For different people, the week’s end means different things. I have one writer friend who LOVES Mondays, because that means everyone goes back to school/work/whatever and she can get back to her life as she lives it.
Another lives for the weekends, barely making it through the days in between and reliving the weekend happenings as often as possible.
When I was in school, Friday meant beans and jeans day. Most of us loved having brown beans and cornbread at school, but for some reason, the cafeteria only served them on Fridays. (Maybe the gas building properties of the legume.) Being a devote britches girl, wearing a skirt every day was killer, so getting to wear jeans one-day-a-week some years and one day every-other-week others was a joy! So I loved Fridays even then.
Around the Spess house, we spent Saturday getting ready for Sunday morning church. When we were small, we took turns having Mama washed our hair in the kitchen sink. She’d roll it up on brush rollers, then we’d sit under the big old metal hairdryer until we were dry.
I wrote a blog for you this morning, then ate breakfast before I posted it. When I came back I read it again and . . . b-o-r-i–n-g!!!
What do you do when you find yourself in that predicament?
I’ll just tell you about my flock! (Don’t squawk.)
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it lately (clears throat) but I like roosters, and a chicken or two.
That picture is a rooster that I admire. It lived in that Small Town to the North when I discovered it. It drew me in to the most beautiful shop I’d been to in a long time. When I asked about it, I found it was out of my range–I didn’t want to drop all that scratch.
Anyway, I started admiring roosters a while back when I bought my dad a rooster pitcher. I don’t have a picture of it, but I still see it at his house when I visit, so he must have liked it. Otherwise, he’d give it away. LOL.
After that, I started picking them up for myself, and a few friends have added to the mix. Below you’ll find a slideshow of some of my flock–no pecking order there.
Not shown are an apron from Lynnette and Dale last Christmas and an adorable serving set that Marilyn gave me for my birthday. Oh, and I forgot Rusty. He’s not there, either, but he too is one of my favs and lives in my garden flock.
The other day, I heard a noise in the kitchen. Since it wasn’t lunch time, I went to investigate. Guess what I found.
This precious little girl, sitting in her car seat/carrier. She normally a very happy baby I understand, but when a girl’s in a strange place and an even stranger woman starts loving on you, it can be a little disconcerting.
She handled me well, though.
I soon heard a commotion down the hall. The sweet baby’s bigger sibling had found a place to have fun. This little girl cracks me up. She’s one who, being a very smart child, tests her boundaries very often. That’s Brother Jeffrey behind her. This one found a bowl of licorice jelly beans and declared she loved them! (Unusual for a girl her age.)
She carried them with her for the rest of the time she was in the office. Didn’t finish them off, though. I imagine the flavor was intense for even a candy lover like her.
But this precious boy, who at his tender years rules the office with an iron fist holding most of us by the heart, nearly killed me yesterday.
I used to be his favorite. When he was upset, he’d occasionally come to me for comfort. That makes a wannabe grandmother feel wonderful! But I’ve been replaced.
His favorite person now is Rick. Rick has a pickup and a hat that he lets him wear. (What can I say? The Kiddo is into hats.) Rick takes him out and lets him play in the bed of his pickup truck. Kiddo loves that! He sets him in the fork of a small tree in our garden. Kiddo adores him.
Apparently, Kiddo has decided I’m chopped liver.