I remember sounds from my childhood home in the Texas Panhandle, noises that made me fearful and cold when I was small, with echoes that I rarely hear anywhere else, the calls of coyotes at night.
Continue reading Coyotes: Yipping and Calling as the Night Train Passed
Announcing a New Feature–The Things We Treasure
I see plenty of bloggers who have a Music Monday or a Thankful Tuesday. Perhaps they have Quote of the Day Wednesday, Fantastic Friday or Stream of Consciousness Saturday, but I am not necessarily hooked by those prompts. I have been tempted to create some regular weekly or monthly posting categories with enough variety to be valuable to my audience in the cyber world.
Recently, Beth asked me to write about lessons I have learned from my mother. Thinking about my remarkable mother, who raised six children and has 19 grandchildren, I agreed. Old habits persist, so I called my mother and asked for permission to share what I’ve learned from her. There was a long silence on her end of the phone. When she responded, her answer encapsulated one of the most valuable lessons she taught me: “I should write about what I’ve learned from you, Sandi. I have learned so much from all my kids.”
Continue reading Learning for a Lifetime by Guest Writer–Sandi Fleming
Five girls in a bed and the little one said, “Roll over! Roll Over!”
Then the daddy left for work, and the mother said, “Move over! Fill Dad’s spot!”
So they all rolled over and slept a while longer, then mother snapped a selfie and…
Self-analysis dictates that sleeping six (or seven) in a bed, no matter the bed size, is damaging to the health and alternative arrangements should be made, whether or not the kids have bad dreams, sugar ants on their pillowcases or pets munching scattered toys and food to keep children from sleeping all night.
After all, why did they buy beds for each kid?
I have traveled HWY 287 between Denver and Dallas many times with my daddy’s aunt when she was off from school during summer breaks, but mostly the rides were from our farm to church, school or grocery shopping nearby my hometown of Clarendon, Texas.
The highway itself was built with gravel taken from one of my daddy’s farms near a place called Hedley. He originally bought what was known as “the old Mann place” so he could run Galloway cattle there, but with trespassers always leaving the gates open when they came to shoot quail, he had a hard time keeping his cattle contained. Neighbors would call and say, “Your cows are out again.” Or they would call to complain that our bull had knocked down one of their chicken pens.
MULIEBRAL VIEWPOINT 