From the Fernnook Times:

(Paraphrased)

A 2007 Supreme Court Ruling on automobile emissions has
an endangerment finding that will affect other sectors of
the economy, including agriculture.

The bottom line is that a fee or tax of $175 per dairy cow,
$87.50 per beef animal, and $20 per hog could be assessed
to the farmers and ranchers. (Apparently this will not
affect those with less than 25 dairy cows, 50 beef cattle,
or 200 hogs). As these producers are forced out of business,
one wonders where the food will come from.

Is it yet time to say that our court system and legislature
are run amuck?

Life is always busy, but Spring has got to be the busiest
of all. How can it help but be with all the life that is
bursting out around us.

True conversation (which has nothing at all to do with the
above sentences.)

Laurie: I am not stubborn.

Dad: Laurie, as Mom always said, "Arguing with you is like
arguing with a road sign."

Laurie: Do you mean Mom always said that about me, or G'ma Opal
always said that about me?

Dad: Neither. My Mom always said that about me. But, it applies
to you as well!

Laurie: Humpfh!!

And so, I offer another of G'ma Opal's witticisms. "Arguing with
you is like arguing with a road sign."

I love Psalm 19 with its emphasis on both general and
particular revelation.

Verses 1-6 have been on my mind lately, especially during
the night time hours. This is the time of year when it
is almost painful to go to bed.

The soft velvety air is pierced by the flashes from the
fireflies. The frogs (sorry Uncle Jim) are raucous. The
crickets keep time as best they can with the frogs. Our
whippoorwill wakes us up at all hours of the night and
early morning. The full moon, or the half-moon, or the
sliver of a moon lends its magic to the whole.

Truly:

"The heavens declare the glory of God;
And the firmament shows His handiwork.
Day unto day utters speech,
And night unto night reveals knowledge.
There is no speech no language
Where their voice is not heard.
Their line has gone out through all the earth,
And their words to the end of the world."

We birthday partied yesterday again. This time for Kent.
Cousin Mary, who was promised a game of High Five for coming,
came in the morning to give her regrets. She found out that
Blue had a dr. appointment at the same time as the party, but
she was kind enough to drop off lettuce and onions from her
garden. Everyone else was there. Uncle Jim, Aunt Jenny,
Papa, Tandy, and Stacey and the kids.

Kent, of course, requested quiche.

The Menu:

Quiche Lorraine (but with ham instead of bacon, and with
mushrooms added in)
Crustless Spinach Quiche
Roasted Veggies (a hodge podge)
Green Beans
Hot Dogs (for the kids who might not like quiche)
Campbell Peaches (from the freezer)
Salad (from Cousin Mary)
Hot Bread
Three Layer Cherry Cobbler (really a glorified pie, with
cherries from Aunt Jenny's tree)
Vanilla Ice Cream

It took me from lunch to dinner to cook it all, but it was
delicioso.

Do Whippoorwills, the ones which are whipporrwilling at 5 AM,
ever stop to breathe? Kent, Billy, Tyler, and I would like
to know.

Up and Down the Gravel:

Uncle Jim has had some interesting adventures with birds lately.
A month or so ago a little bird keep hopping closer and closer to
him and finally hopped onto his head. He was thrilled.

But...the other day a little bird did the same thing. It kept
eying him from a little distance and then hopped onto his head.
This time, though, it began to dig in his hair with its little
feet. I don't know if it was trying to nest or possibly trying
to get some material for nesting. I do know this, according to
Uncle Jim, it hurt! He finally shooed it away and yet, within
a few minutes, it hopped right back again. He tried to slowly
reach his hand up and catch it, but he spooked the little guy
and it flew away. But it stayed within an easy hop of him and,
as soon as Jim stood still, right back it came again.

Tyler started drinking coffee. Now, that may seem like a strange
item to note, however, the way it happened was interesting.

I started to drink coffee to get me through college all-night
study sessions. Kent got to liking the brew when he was driving
a bus for the Hope youth group home from Wisconsin and, as was
normal for any trip to and from WI, the bus broke down. As he
was waiting for the bus to be repaired, he had a cup of coffee,
and that was it, he was a full-fledged coffee drinker. Billy
started to drink it last summer during his internship. Work
was slow sometimes and the coffee kept him awake and going.

Tyler is different. No circumstances of the moment could drive
him to such a step. He is much more deliberate. Months ago
he told us, "I am going to start drinking coffee, black, on
the 20th of April." And he did. Why, you may wonder, did he
choose the 20th of April 2009 to start drinking coffee? The
answer is very obvious, at least to him. April 20 was the first
day of Turkey Season. A man needs a little pick-me-up if he is
going to hit the woods in the wee hours of the morning for three
weeks straight.

It's been a rough year for turkeys, in case you were wondering.
Tyler said the other day, "I love turkey hunting, Mom, but I
wish I'd get my turkey so I could stop."

Hattie reminds me of me. The other day she said, "Mom, there are
two words that I just love that I don't think people use often
enough. They are 'latter' and 'vexed'. Aren't those two words
just delicious?" I guess I never thought of "latter" as being
so delicious, but I can quite see her point on "vexed".

I forgot to mention that the New Fern Nook calendar,
compliments of Uncle Jim, is posted below...that is
at the bottom of the whole page.

Life in Fern Nook is busy. The hummers help to keep it so.
First there was one; he sat on the Mock Orange bush and
looked in the kitchen window waiting to be noticed so we
would drag a feeder out of the shed and fill it. In a day
or two the one turned into three. Then the group grew to
five; and they have now become seven. There will be more.
It takes awhile for them to all make the long journey.

The little guys are extremely entertaining. Of course the
bullies keep the show at top billing. Even when there were
just three, a bully rose to the top. Because of that, we
hiked out to the shed to pull out, dust off, and fill feeder
number two. That helped for a day or two. But with the
increase in numbers comes an increase in bullies.

We now have what I affectionately have named The Bully and
The Bully Indeed. The Bully guards the feeder on the left
(as you look out the door to the porch). He will keep five
other birds from eating. As any approach he will buzz at
them and shoo them away. Why all five can't gang up on him
at one time is beyond me. But he is just The Bully because
every so often he lets down his guard and you will see the
five able to swoop in for a little sugar water.

The Bully Indeed weaves quite another little drama. He acts
nonchalant, but beware, his guard is never down. Usually he
sits on the drain pipe. Sometimes he perches on the vine that
covers our bell. Occasionally he will even fly into the
Tulip Poplar that is 30 or 40 feet away. But he never rests.
His back might be turned to his feeder, but nothing escapes
his notice. At the slightest whim of interest from another
bird he is on the attack. No bird, ever, gets to feed from
him feeder but himself.

Sometimes I think I should go knock him over the head to
let the others have their share. I guess it would be nice
and sweet if they all got along; but it wouldn't be nearly
so entertaining, and it wouldn't be nearly so hummingbirdish.

Max is on duty these days. He will not leave the baby geese
and duck when they are in sight. His inbred herd instincts
keep them from wandering out of range.

It is loud on the farm these days. When we lay our heads
on our sweet pillows at night there are crickets, bullfrogs
(which are just now starting up, but haven't yet reached levels
that drive Uncle Jim bonkers), whippoorwills, distant dogs,
and coyotes. When I get up and sit on the couch with the
window open behind me waiting for the coffee to brew there
are dozens of birds calling, twittering, and tweeting. There
is also the loud buzz of the hummers as they zip around. Added
to that is the crowing of Joel's rooster, which we can hear even
though it is a field away.

I know these are sounds that can drive a person from the city
to distraction...but they are life and breath to us. They are
part of God's common grace to mankind and we love it. Add to
that sauteed zucchini, mushrooms, and onion, and once again we
say, copying the old puritan, "All this and heaven too!"
Amazing.

Up and Down the Gravel:

It is not that there is a lack of goings on in Fern Nook...
but some of the oomph is lacking right now. So many things
I think to write about make me tear up and I do not want this
to be a place of sorrow.

The list of items and events that bring on the sadness is
amazing. The other day I was down in Dad's basement putting
something away and I saw a jar of G'ma Opal's pickles. I was
glad to be alone, so that I could be back under control before
I went upstairs sometime later.

Today I was dusting our family picture from 2000, and seeing
Mom brought the sorrow all over again. I really, really miss
those two.

However, life at Fern Nook has been full. We have been playing
musical garden with Aunt Jenny's tiller. Uncle Jim is the
official keeper of the tiller, and we all ask his permission to
use it. Joel has the biggest garden, I think. He'll probably
keep me busy freezing and cooking all his produce.

Joel has been hatching out all kinds of critters. He has a baby
duck and four geese right now. He brings them down in a bucket
and then lets them out to wander the yard. Max, his German
Shepherd, lives up to his name and shepherds the little birds.
It is fun to watch them cuddle up to such a huge monster of a
dog.

Billy graduates in a couple of weeks, that is if he survives his
senior EE project. It is much more involved than the senior
Comp. Eng. project he did last year. He has been gone from home
a lot this semester. We all miss him. Tyler is having withdrawl
symptoms I think. Really he has been having some sort of hive
thing going on. We can't pinpoint the reason for the hives,
but he is on a short dose of steroids to clear them up.

Tyler is also busy with school, work, and most important of all,
Turkey Hunting. He said the other day, "Mom, I love turkey
hunting, but I wish I'd get my turkey so I could stop hunting
and get some sleep." The gobbling has been scarce this year.

We have Iris, Columbine, Johnny Jump-Ups, and Clematis in bloom.
In a day or two my peonies will start opening up. We have three
early bird Hummers that have arrived. I imagine it will be a week
or two before the whole passel gets here. The other day we had
two Cattle Egrets by our little pond. Nearly every year we see
them for a day or two. They are snow white and look a little
bit like a heron. And most delightful of all, tonight I heard
a Whipporwill for the first time this year, though Joel told me
he'd already been hearing them.

The full burst of spring is here, and I want to hug it so it won't
fly by so fast.

Dad, Joel, Tyler, Jenn, and Hattie-cakes went to the river today.
Hattie went swimming. Kinsey has nothing on her now.

Last Saturday, when the Martins were down, we spent the day at
Cave Springs. We have been going there all our lives.
G'ma Opal loved Cave Springs. She wanted to go every spring
to collect watercress from the fresh, cold water.

Dad gathered some cress, and he cut a few wild onions, and we
added them to our hotdogs. Hotdogs are good with watercress
and wild onion. I was reminded of the year I borrowed an
Irish Cookbook from the library and read about the Irish adding
anything green they could to their diet. They (at a certain
point in history) were short of veggies and would add cress
to their potato soup when they could. Aha, thought I, I can
do that. So I gathered the greens, went home, and made the soup.
The watercress really didn't affect the flavor much at all, but
all the kids turned up their noses at the green color.

This last Saturday turned out to be a sparkly day. The sun was
warm and bright, there was just a hint of a breeze, the fire
added to the fun, the water was cold (just ask Kinsey who went
all the way in...yes in the spring water and yes in April). The
cave was damp and echoey, just as a cave should be, the hiking was
fun, and the napping in the sun and getting a wee bit of a tan
was delightful. A good day.

Straight from the Fernnook Times (AKA The Prospect News)
last week:

"Both candidates for Naylor Alderman in the North and
South Wards were running unopposed for their seats.
Barbara Bell received 10 votes in the North Ward and
Barney Hornocks took in 14 in the South Ward.

All results from this election are unofficial until
they are certified by Ripley County Clerk Becky York
on Thursday, April 9."

(That one sent Sister Becky into a laughing fit. She is
not always used to our country ways....I think it was
the fact that an unopposed candidate garnering 10 votes
could still have an unofficial count.)

Also from the Fernnook Times this week is an ad. See if
you can figure this one out.

"For Sale
Catfish
Pond
You Seine,
By the pound
or by the pond."

Bob Skaggs, husband of first cousin once removed Jetty,
was talking to me at G'ma Opal's funeral. The conversation
was more or less the following:

Bob-"I haven't been back to the home place (meaning his
family's home place, not ours, tho' they are catty-corner
to one another) for a long time. There used to be a lot
of frogs in the pond there."

Me-"There still are a lot of frogs. Just ask Uncle Jim.
He calls them maniacal."

A few years ago Jim began to be bothered by a loud noise
whenever he was outside after dark. (NOTE: he lives a
quarter of a mile down the gravel from us.) Finally he
could stand it no longer and he hopped in the car,
windows rolled down, on a quest to find the source of
the racket. When he hit our place he bingoed. It was
our frogs. I admit they are raucous. The peepers are
loud in themselves, but the bullfrogs are deafening.

The bullfrogs haven't gotten into their full swing yet. Last
night Kent, Ty, Hattie, and Jenn were outside playing 21 in
basketball. After they came in, Jenn said, "The frogs were
so loud we could hardly hear each other." The key word there
is "hardly", because after the bullfrogs get into full swing
you won't at all be able to hear each other. Then you just
sit in the yard and smile at one another and think deep
thought, or if you are Uncle Jim, murderous thoughts.

But, back to Cousin Bob's comments. He said, "I was just
wondering if there were any frogs left, because one year when
I was a kid and came to visit Grandpa, he put me to work shooting
frogs for a frog fry."

I said, "They're still there." I love my peepers, and I love my
bullfrogs, but I think a frog fry is on the agenda this July or
August. We must keep peace in the family, and Uncle Jim rates
even higher than the frogs.

On the Finished Pile:

Northanger Abbey by Jane Austin. This is the cutest of her
books. I don't think Catherine has the depth of character
and development that is seen in Emma, Lizzy, Anne, Fanny,
or Eleanor, but she is a darling of a girl.

I especially enjoyed the biographical notes before the Oxford
edition of this book. In a letter, written just a few weeks
before her death, Miss Austin spoke to a friend of a domestic
problem she was facing. She wrote the following words which
speak to her strength and sweetness, "But I am getting too
near complaint. It has been the appointment of God, however
secondary causes may have operated."

Also on the pile is:

Redemption Accomplished and Applied by John Murray. This gem
of a book was on our bookshelf, as it has been for 25 or so years,
but I had never taken the time to read it. It is an excellent
treatise on redemption. The last two chapters, which covered
union with Christ and glorification, were especially moving.

This book is on Monergism's top 40 all time list of books to
read.

Fernnook Farm has been bursting with life lately.
















The new calves: PeDunk, Jogi, and Jughead.










































The triplets. Their names are Tickle, Trickle, and Nickel.
Don't even ask. I can't tell them apart, but the rest of
the family can. They are all nannies. If one had been a
male it would have been named Pickle. Apparently Pickle is
masculine, but Nickel is feminine. That is why I am not
asked to name the animals. I don't quite understand the
finer etiquette of such things.

From Solomon comes a wise political commentary in regard
to the current situation in which our country finds itself.

Better is a little with righteousness,
Than vast revenues without justice.
Proverbs 16:9

On the Finished Pile:
Mansfield Park by Jane Austin and
Lovers Vows (which is the play that forms such a large
part of Mansfield Park) from the German of Kotzebue and
translated by Mrs. Inchbald

Jane Austin always soothes the heart. Lately a little soothing
has been needful.

But today is a nice warm day and we are taking the day off to
go visit Mingo Wildlife Area.

Yesterday was Pi Day. (3/14)

Billy requested, and I made Shepherd's Pie for dinner.
For Kent I made Spinach and Artichoke Pie.
For the rest of us I made Cherry Cobbler (with three
layers of pie (pi) crust). I had to make the cobbler,
because, you know, sometimes pi R rectangular.

It is not possible to sum up on one page the life of
Opal Fleetwood who lived 98 years, 4 months, and 6 days.
She was born Hattie Opal Faye Simon on October 26, 1910
and lived a very full and fruitful life. She Married
Marion Fleetwood in 1929 and raised five children:
Paul (Bob) Fleetwood, Billy Fleetwood, Kenneth Fleetwood,
Jenny (Fleetwood) Starkey, and Jimmy Fleetwood. She had
12 grandchildren, 23 great grandchildren, and
5 great great grandchildren.

Opal loved her family and extended family and enjoyed dining,
visiting, and playing together. She loved to garden, fish, and
playing card games. High Five was her all time favorite game.
She loved to talk about the old days with her mom and dad and
brothers and sisters when they lived in Fern Nook on the farm
by the Little Black River. She liked to remember the trips she
went on to Hawaii, Nova Scotia, Colorado, New Mexico, and
Lake of the Ozarks where the fishing was good but fun with
daughter's-in-law Shirley, Wanda, and Ann was even better.

The "Little General" as she was affectionately known had an
amazing memory right up until she died. She didn't need a
calendar to remember her kids, grandkids, and great grandkids
birthdays because the dates were all in her head. Just recently
she repeated the entire preamble to the constitution which she
had learned in Grade school.

She always had a birthday card with a dollar in it for her grandkids:
Mike, Tandy, Terry, Joseph, Sandy, Kelly, Laurie, Ricky, Kenneth,
Becky, Scott, and Stacy. She always wrote in the card, "Remember
Old Granny loves you".

Her favorite work was gardening. She loved and tended every
little shoot and fought the bugs like a warrior. Oh! How she
(and the whole family) loved her fresh vegetables. She had a
green thumb, and her house was always full of plants and flowers.

Opal was a believing Christian. She kept her well worn Bible next
to her on the couch and read from it daily. She trusted the Lord
for eternal life and spoke gratefully of it shortly before she died.
She will be missed terribly.

Praise the Lord for giving her to us all for such a long time.

G'ma Opal came home from the hospital Monday afternoon.
The extra time and care for her have taken my attention
and I haven't had the time or energy to think of items
of interest to blog about. She is weak, but (as they
say in Ripley County) she is proud to be home.

I decided next time she is in the hospital I will volunteer
for the nighttime weekend shift. The two nights I slept
there her roommate kept the T.V. going the entire night.
The two nights Becky spent with her she had no roommate.
I realized that because surgeries are scheduled M-F the
census is lower over the weekend.

On the home front we have had two out of three calves born
this past week. One of them is eventually to be destined for
the freezer. I always feel a nice warm fuzzy knowing we have
a calf in the wings for the freezer. I get the same warm fuzzy
knowing I have a huge pile of crossword puzzles to be worked.
I worry about running out of beef and crosswords. We are still
waiting on Hattie's goat to kid.

The big 6 inch snow we enjoyed on Saturday is nearly melted.

Joel went to the Bluff during the snow to check out the
babies at Orscheln's, and he came home with turkeys, chicks,
and ducks. Hopefully he can keep the 'possums away from
these little guys. Of course, they will enjoy deluxe
accommodations in his living room for a while.

We are looking forward to having Billy home for Spring Break
starting this evening. I think one of the items to be
accomplished while he is here is the burning of one of the
huge brush piles accumulated from ice-broken limbs. The fire
should be so big that aliens on the moon will be able to see
it. Wish all you ex-pats and wannabes could be here to watch
it burn.

Hasn't Venus been lovely lately?

Up and Down the Gravel:
It's been busy here in Fernnook. February is birthday month.
Tonight I'll host the third party in as many weeks. Tandy
wants spaghetti and meatballs and chocolate Butterfinger
ice cream cake. She is leaving the rest up to me.

Sunday evening Hattie noticed an ambulance speeding down the
gravel. We called down to G'ma Opal's house and Uncle Jim
told us that he had called it for G'ma. She had another
heart attack. Apparently it has done quite a bit of damage.
She was in ICU for several days, but yesterday evening was
moved to a regular room. Hopefully after they monitor her for
a few more days and tweak her meds a bit more she'll be able
to come home. Her middle name is still feisty.

We are expecting any day now for three cows to calve and one
goat to kid. Kent noticed yesterday that for two of the cows
have bags that are beginning to fill out. I'm excited. It's
been a while since we've had a calf. We are still tossing around
the idea of getting a Jersey again.

Hattie wants to hang some of her clothes in the goat sheds. The
idea is that the human smell will deter predators from bothering
(that would be eating) the kids when they are born. That is
probably a good idea since Tyler saw a bobcat by our swingset
last night when he arrived home from the Bluff.















Bill's Birthday.















Jim's Birthday

On the Finished Pile:
Jane Austin: The Minor Works

What needs to be said. This is Jane Austin mainly in her youth.
It is funny, insightful, unpolished, but good. Included at the
back are notes she recorded about the reactions of her friends
and family to various of her main novels. It was so interesting
to see how different were the viewpoints on which were their favorite
heroines or story lines. I am now reading my least favorite of her
novels. I'll tell you which one that is when I am finished.

Wasps have been a large part of Fernnook this past week. I
was on the phone with my father-in-law when I saw a poor wasp
trying to fly across the living room. Poor thing, he was having
a hard time. Somehow (I sure don't know how) he had picked up
a huge dust bunny and it was trailing down from him. I guess
the weight of it kept him from being able to zip along. He
couldn't get more than 18 or so inches off the floor. As I caught
my breath from laughing, my dear father-in-law wondered why we
had a wasp in the house in February anyway. I don't know. We
have a lot of wasps that come in Billy's bedroom, especially on
warm winter days. I guess they have nests between the walls or
something.

Then G'ma was getting dressed a few days ago and a wasp was inside
her clothes as she was pulling them on. It stung her, according to
her, several times. She looked around the bathroom and all she
could find that looked mediciny was some vapor rub. She put that
on the stings and she had no swelling or pain. Now we know. Vapor
Rub for wasp stings. Who would have thunk?

Hattie and I went to sit with G'ma last night. She wasn't feeling
very well when we got there, so we just sat quietly and chatted
about things. After a bit she was telling me some stories that
included convoluted connections of various relatives. I was trying
to find my way through the maze, but I think I got a little lost.
But--the thing that was so interesting to me last night was a new
recipe she came up with. She loves hominy, but, having no teeth,
it is hard to eat. She can swallow it whole, but the flavor is lost
when you do that. So, she had a brainwave. She fried some bacon and
then dumped a can of hominy, juice and all in the pan with the bacon
and grease. She added a tich of salt. Then she transferred the whole
panful (bacon, grease, and hominy) into a food processor and made a
mush out of it. The mush ended up being quite thick. She took the
mush and made patties out of it and fried them in more bacon grease.

What can I say. They were delicious. She ate one and Aunt Jenny ate
one and she had enough mush left over to fry up some for her breakfast
this morning.

Now that it brilliant. I tasted the mush. It did taste like hominy.
It was delicious, if you like hominy that is.

For all current, former, and wishful Fernnookians--I have news.
Uncle Jim has graciously agreed to let me post his monthly
calendar. It has birth dates and anniversary dates and other
items of note. It it BIG and so the only place to put it is
at the bottom of the page. Scroll down and check it out.

From JT at Between Two Worlds

The President said: "There is no God who condones taking the life of an innocent human being. This much we know."

Doug Wilson:

This is chutzpah on stilts and steroids. . . . If anyone
were to attempt to call him on this, that person and not
Obama would be called down by just about everyone for being
a troublemaker and small-minded garroter of words. Obama
is not about to be challenged for his deft exclusion from
this question all those millions of innocent lives that don't
count anymore. He is saying, by implication, that "there is
no God who condones taking the life of an innocent human being,
except for those millions of lives we have found convenient to
take on the threshold of life, and those lives we find it too
expensive to not take among our most senior seniors. This much
we know." To speak this way is tantamount to saying, and far
more simply, "there is no god."

On the Finished Pile:

"Covenant Theology: The Key of Theology in Reformed Thought
and Tradition" by Peter Golding.

Covenant Theology is a combo of a history of the development of
Covenant Theology through the years of church history and a
definition of Covenant Theology itself.

I loved the following quote from Geerhardus Vos that Golding puts
towards the end of the book.

"Only when the believer understands how he has to receive everything
from the Mediator, and how God in no way whatever deals with him
except though Christ, only then does a picture of the glorious
work that God wrought through Christ emerge in his consciousness
and the magnificent idea of grace begin to dominate and form in his
life. For the Reformed, therefore, the entire ordo salutis...is
bound to the mystical union with Christ....Now the basis for this
order lies in none other than in the covenant of salvation with
Christ."

My family know me. They know me well. Last night Joel left to
go home. As soon as the door closed though, he opened it and
said, "Mom, come here or you might miss it."

I stepped out and he said, "Listen, there's a peeper."

I hugged him, and kissed him, and just about squeezed his head off.

Peepers. Ah, the relief. The delight. The lying awake and just
listening.

True, there was only one, and later, when I went out before I slipped
between the sheets for the night, there was still only one, or maybe
two at the most...but still. Peepers.

Day 11 and the electricity was turned on. It was nice to
be able to play the piano after dark and to run the dishwasher.
The past 11 days haven't been too bad though. The electric
company had a lot of lines to fix.

Perhaps you have wondered how G'ma Opal (98) did through the 11
days of outage. She did just fine. She probably handled it as
well or better than anyone else. She wouldn't even leave her
warm, dark cave until day number 9. Then she went to Dad's house
and took a bath, and then she traipsed off to town for a haircut and
some grocery shopping.

Uncle Jim is going to have plenty to keep him busy through the
next few months. I've included a few pics of their yards and
pole.

FYI: Nine days and no line men in sight yet.

I have been know to brag. We used to live on the prettiest
road in Ripley County. Now there are no pretty roads in
the county. By the way, we are on day seven of being without
electricity, and there are no linemen in sight.












































The above three pictures show why it took two days to
clear the gravel.













































Three pictures from the lane going back to the old homeplace.




























































Four pictures of our front yard.















Movement of one of the Harding utility poles.





























Lines down and out of commission.















Joel's backyard.















Melting snow to flush the toilets.





























Beauty in the midst of the storm and the hope of better things
to come.

"For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly,
but because of Him who subjected it in hope; because the
creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of
corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.
For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with
birth pangs together until now. Not only that, but we also
who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves
groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption,
the redemption of our body." Romans 8:20-23

January is creeping to an end. I like January, but I anticipate
getting a lot more sleep in February. More sleep is good.

For those who think it is only the parents of babies and small
children who lose sleep, you have interesting days ahead.

Last night (as has happened once or twice or more times a week
since the guys got the boat rigged for gigging season)the guys
were out gigging. It was after 3:00 am before the fish were all
safely gigged, cleaned, scored, and stored in the freezer.
They have all the fun, and they do all the work. I just stay awake
until everyone is safely tucked in bed.

I'll get more sleep in February because the season ends January 31st.
Don't tell them I'm throwing a party. It'll be a sleepover.
















Look at Joel's beautiful giant.

On the finished pile...

"Pierced for our Transgressions: Rediscovering the
Glory of Penal Substitution" by Steve Jeffery, Mike
Ovey and Andrew Sach

Highly recommended.

For a full book review see Challies review on Discerning Reader

Recently Overheard Conversation at Fernnook Farm.

Man: I really miss that fresh milk we used to have.

Woman: Oh, man! What about the butter, and the cream for
our coffee? I dream about those things.

Man: We could get another milk cow.

Woman: We could.

Man: You feel like milking her?

Woman: Nope. You?

Man: Nope. But I sure do miss that milk.

I walked down to visit G'ma Opal a few days ago. She was
up on a stool fooling with one of her shades. We worked
and took both shades off and fixed the strings for them and
then washed them.

While we were working we started talking about milking cows.
G'ma started milking when she was six years old. Her folks
bought her a little shiny milk bucket that was wider at the
top than it was at the bottom. She told me some stories about
her milking days and then the conversation took this turn.
(This is a paraphrase, my memory these days is slippy.)

G'ma: I miss the milk, but I do not miss milking.

Laurie: Boy, can I relate to that.

G'ma: The horseflies were the worst.

Laurie: There are about one or two days a year when milking
is lovely, romantic, a fun thing to do. The rest of
the time....

G'ma: Yes! When it is dry out and pleasantly warm.

Laurie: Every once in a while you would be sitting there by the
cow, on the stool, and the sunlight would filter in just
right through the slats in the barn. There would be dust
dancing in the rays of light. The cow would be relatively
clean and quiet and you could rest your head on her side
and milk. Of course, it would be 72 degrees out. Just
lovely.

G'ma: Usually though you'd be dripping sweat and she would dip her
tail in the bucket and then slap you with it.

Laurie: Or your hands would be red and chapped and there would be
mud (and worse) caked all over the cow that you just couldn't
get off.

G'ma: I sure do miss that milk though.

Laurie: Sure do!