I have written before about the differences in language between the Big City (just 3 hours away) and this Mayberry-like place where we live...differences like:

"I don't care to" (which I grew up knowing as, "I don't want to") in Mayberry means, "Sure!"

"Let's have a bunking party," means, "Let's have a sleepover."

"She's showing out," is said here rather than, "She's showing off."

But, last week Kent heard a co-worker (Belinda) say, "I have to tilter when I get home."

Naturally he looked confused and asked her what she meant.  She looked at him in surprise and put her hands out like she was holding onto something and started moving them up and down.  He got the picture, being the bright man he is.  "Oh, you mean you are going to till the garden."

"Yes, I am going to tilter."

Kent said to her, "I guarantee that word is not in the dictionary."

Her reply? "It's in the country dictionary."

Now I have to do a survey of old Ozarkians to see if that is true or not.

Meanwhile, in Fernnook we had a tea party for the older women in the area.  It was lovely getting to visit with them.  We followed it up with a sister-sister-sister-sister-in-law bunking party at Fernnook Lodge.  I am happy to report that a fun time was had by all, though there was not a bit of tiltering going on.

We have a heifer.  We also have a cow.  A little over year ago we took both of them to a friend's house to be bred.  The cow calved about 3 months ago, but the heifer never did.

We have been suspecting for sometime now that she may not get with calf.  Her heat cycles seem to be a bit erratic, but our butcher told us we could bring the heifer (tag number 238) to his farm to see if his bull would breed her.  Unfortunately our heifer lost her 238 tag somewhere along the way of being hauled or of mixing in with the new cows.  

She has been with Mr. Bull now for about 5 or 6 weeks.  In fact, she has been penned up with him alone for much of that time.  Since she has had enough time to be bred, Kent scheduled to have her pregnancy tested today.  That meant he had to take the trailer out to the butcher's place, which was over an hour away.  Then he had to take the cow to the vet which was another 30 minute drive.  The plan was that if she was bred, he would bring her home, but if she wasn't he would take her back to the butcher to become hamburger.

He texted me from the vet's office.  "She is in her 3rd trimester and should calve in the next couple of months.  Is that even possible?"  He didn't ask that because he didn't know that it was impossible.  He texted it out of complete wonderment at what was going on.  

No, it was not possible.  That would have meant she was with a bull 6 months ago, and believe me, we would have known if a bull was in our field.  None was.

The butcher called Kent and when he heard the news, he said, "I thought she was bred."  Then he called back a few minutes later and he said, "Hey, that's right around the time all our other cows will give birth."  Then he called back again and said, "Maybe that is one of my cows."  By then Kent was nearly home with her and the butcher said, "Just go ahead and put her in your field, we'll figure it out later."  Kent didn't want to do that because on our mom and pop farm, it is difficult to load cows.

So, he took her back to the butcher.  (It was getting to be a long day for Kent.)  And, when the butcher saw her, he knew it was one of his cows.  Now, they have to figure out which one is truly ours and put her with the bull.  So, maybe, we'll have a pregnant heifer in about 6 weeks...or maybe we will have a lot of hamburger.  But, wouldn't it have been funny if she hadn't been bred, and Kent had taken her back immediately, and the butcher had butchered his own cow?  Maybe sort of like I have butchered this story!!

We had a calf born just after Christmas last year.  Kent really likes to castrate his bull calves on the 2nd or 3rd day after birth before they get too big for us Mom and Pop farmers to handle.  It never really happens that way, though, and we usually have a big ape of a bull calf before we get to castrate it. Still, hope springs eternal in the small farmer's heart, so we began to try in any way possible to sneak up on that calf to castrate it.  We tried for weeks.  We tried in the day; we tried at night.  

We were convinced it was a bull calf.  It's momma is particularly skittish about her babies, and she wasn't having any part of us getting close to either her or the calf.  Joel, however, got close enough one day that he said, "It's a bull calf!"  And Natalie got close enough one day to say, "I am pretty sure it's a bull calf."

Day after day we tried to get close to the calf.  One night, Tyler and Kent tried to sneak up in the dark and use the calf-catcher that Tyler brought with him.  Didn't work.  We looked at ways to make a homemade calf scooper upper, but they really were beyond what we felt we could finagle.

Finally, I took to feeding hay and calling in the cows.  Kent though the momma would be less intimidated by me.  She was really resistant to coming into the barnyard to eat at all, and he was worried because there wasn't any grass left in the field for her.  It took several days, but finally one day after I fed the hay and walked away, she went in to eat.  Progress!  Hope began to sparkle again.  A few mornings later, just after daylight, I fed hay, and she came in to eat.  I snuck around the barn, and ran to shut the gate.  We had her, her calf, and the other 2 year old heifer in the lot!  So, I called Kent (cell phones have their use!), and he called Billy, and the game was on.

Together we maneuvered the two big cows out and kept the calf in.  The guys tackled the calf, and then I went in to help hold one of the front legs.  Kent laid out the knife and the iodine.  Then he reached down and pulled up her top hind leg and we all gasped.  It wasn't a bull calf at all.  We have a cute little heifer.  And, we have another story in the annals of Fernnook Farm.

On the way to the hay rack tonight a funny thing happened.  Well, actually it happened after visiting the hay rack, but, the point is, it happened.  Kent left for a meeting after dinner, and just as he was going out the door, he turned and said, "I need someone to give hay to the cows."  Well, it just so happens that that particular "someone" is me.  So, I went out to give hay to the cows.  It is really muddy right now.  We have had a lot of rain and snow and freezing and thawing going on around here, and that makes for major mud issues...especially in barnyards.

Today is Tuesday.  Tuesday means a lot of folk come over to our house for dinner, and today's meal had most of the usual crowd attending.  So there were hundreds of kids and dozens of adults both in the house and running around in the yard when I went to the hay rack.  I pulled on my trusty boots, not the ones in the picture above, those were from years gone by, but my nice muck-type boots, and headed out with hopes that I wouldn't get stuck in the mud.  And, I didn't get stuck, but something funny did happen.  It happened because I am so short and the mud is so deep.  I got the hay out of the barn, walked fairly well toward the rack, and then just as I reached it, I sunk in deep.  The top of the rack was over my head, so I had to push and shove and heave to get the hay up and in.  In the process, a load of hay went down my front on both the outside and inside of my shirt.  It was in all the wrong places and immediately began to itch like mad.

I had to go back into the barn to turn off the light, and before turning it out, I had the brilliant idea to take off the offending clothing items and pick out the hay.  Immediate relief!  However, as I was standing there with my top half in the buff, I heard distinct squelching noises come from right outside the barn.  Panic ensued!  I yelled, "Don't come in yet!" and I began to get unbuffed as quickly as possible.  It may have taken me 30 seconds or more to realize that the squelching I was hearing was the poor cows navigating through the deep mud to get to the rack.  What a relief!  My hide was saved, and I can give hay in the future with the knowledge that no one is the wiser to what an old woman looks like who is trying to unhay herself in the barn on a muddy day.  

Chicken Request

The Mayberry Times did it again.  They printed an article that was, well, so oddly written that when I read it aloud to Kent, I laughed until I cried.  And, that was certainly not the intent of the writer nor the newspaper at large.

I challenge you to read this article outloud to someone and not laugh.  Bet you can't.

What makes it especially funny to me is that the Citizen Hannah Barnett that is spoken of is my pastor's wife.   I can't help thinking that perhaps she was in a former life a leader in the French Revolution.  In actuality, they should have called her Citizeness Hannah Barnett.  Perhaps she is the one that was confined to a coup...no getting along with the government for her!  No, a complete takeover is what she must have had in mind when she approached the Mayberry City Council.

Here you go, and remember that laughter is good for the heart and the soul.

Doniphan Council Considers Busy Agenda, Favors Chicken Request

After much deliberation the Doniphan city council came to the Oct. 1 meeting with a unanimous decision to amend the city ordinance to allow chickens. However, this is to be on a trial basis, and comes with a lengthy list of restrictions.

Even so, the zoning and planning commission must first also approve the ordinance change.

The city had heard a request to allow chickens from citizen, Hannah Barnett, at the September meeting.

Having made the decision, Doniphan City Attorney Christopher Miller will take the city’s list and draft a preliminary ordinance that will be presented to the commission. A public hearing will follow, during which residents of the city can have a say.

Miller advised against changing the ordinance, which he said was actually rewritten in part because of an issue with chickens.

It was thought that problem was a complaint because of roosters crowing.

Certainly there will be a limit as to the number of chickens, a ban on roosters, a set-back requirement from the homeowner’s property, and requirements as to confinement to a coup, the structure itself, and sanitation.

Residents who decide to keep chickens also would have to submit to an annual inspection and purchase a permit.

Code violators would be given a specific number of days to comply or be shut down.

That within itself was a huge concession for the council. They were concerned that Brian Byrd, who is both the city’s code enforcement officer and also the fire chief, might not have time to take on another responsibility.

Mayor Dennis Cox said he was not in favor of permitting chickens, stating that it is difficult and time consuming enough for Byrd to have to enforce city habitation ordinances.

Cox also expressed his opinion that, “We already have a problem with dogs and cats being out of control. I am not convinced we need to add another animal that might potentially cause more problems.”

Alderman Denver Jackson was not present at the meeting; however, Alderpersons Riley March, Leslie Netherland and Steve Collins each said they were willing to permit residents to keep chickens, within reasonable guidelines, at least on a trial basis.

“We can always change it back later,” they said.

Collins noted that he polled his neighborhood and out of 11 individuals he asked for an opinion, only two objected.

 

Since we moved to the country in 1991, we have collected a lot of Mayberry stories.  One happened today.  The phone rang, and I checked the caller ID.  It read, "Melvin Nesbitt."  Thought I, "I don't know any Melvin Nesbitt, and I have kids here and am crazy busy, so I will just let the answering maching get it."  But just at the last second it hit me, Melvin, our mailman from our first day here until about a year ago when he retired...I do know him.  So I grabbed up the phone to find that Tollie had already answered it and was bringing me the other extension.

"Laurie", said Mel, "I am delivering packages for (I didn't catch the name) to help them out today." (Aside: Mel just can't hardly stay retired.)  "I am at Hattie's driveway with a package for her, but the gate is locked.  I could leave a note in her mailbox for her to pick it up at the Post Office, but I thought I would check with you first to see if you know the code."

I just learned the code last week (not because they didn't want us to know it, but because they hadn't gotten that part of the gate working until last week), but it had been sent to Kent's phone, not mine.  With a little hard thought, I pulled the number out of my head and told it to Mel.  He delivered the package, and all were happy.  Well, Hattie was a little surprised to see someone coming up her driveway, but she didn't hold it against me, so all is well in Mayberry tonight.

Turkey Stories

This morning Kent and I headed out to pick up our car that had been worked on yesterday.  As we were tooling down the road, just enjoying the fresh air blowing through the windows, we got behind a large tractor.  I think it was a tractor with a hayrake.  When we got to the stop sign at the junction, I gasped and said, "No one is driving that tractor!"  I could see the seat, but there wasn't any head sticking up out over it.  The only thing I could think of was that a VERY short person, like a 5 year old, was driving it.  

Kent looked at me in disbelief and replied, "Laurie, that tractor is on a trailer."  And, well it was!  It was on a trailer and being pulled by a black truck."  

So we giggled a bit.

Then, Kent looked at me again and said, "You know those plants in a little rectangular pot that are on Ashley's back porch?"  (Ashley owns Loma Linda, which is where Kent is a maintenance/grounds keeper).  "You mean those succulents?" I asked.  "Yep," he replied, "Ashley called me over to look at them yesterday." Then it hit me, Kent was probably watering them 3 to 4 times a week, and they only need it once a week at most.  I gasped again.

But, it gets worse....  "You have been watering them too much," I said.  "Yep, way too much.  They are artificial plants!"

Ashley was wondering why the pot was rusting out.  Now she knows.

Now we weren't giggling, we were roaring, and gasping again, but this time for air.

Kent and I clean two houses every other week.  I take my feather duster, because I love feather dusting things.  At Miss Joy's home, I climb on her big poofy sofa (after removing my shoes) and dust the window, curtains, and behind the couch.  Not long after we first started cleaning there, my feather duster lost a part of one of the feathers behind her couch.  The next time her great-grandkids were over they saw that feather and thought it was a snake.  She and I have giggled over that several times over the last couple of years.

(As an aside, and not really part of the story I am really telling, one day I left my feather duster outside her front door.  I put it there when I was finished with it so that I could grab it on my way out.  It was tucked in the corner between a potted plant and her outside wall.  I forgot to grab it, and she saw it the next day and thought a chicken had gotten stuck in there!  We really have giggled over that one.)

But today, I had an opposite experience from Joy's grandchildren.  I was vacuuming at Nikki's house, while she and her mother Kathy, and her son Brooks were sitting in the living room waiting for us to finish so they could pack up and leave for a barrell race down south somewhere.  As I was vacuuming in the corner by the door, I thought I saw an escaped feather.  It kept "blowing" and wouldn't be vacuumed up.  So I bent over to look at it, and said, "Oh, I think it's a worm."  Then Brooks ran over and looked.  He said, "It's a snake."  And, shore 'nuff, it was a little black snake.  Nikki and her mom didn't even get off the couch.  They were cool and clam as a lamb about it.  So, I grabbed a paper towel from the sink, wrapped it around the snake, kind of pinched it, and threw it away.  I hope it doesn't come out and crawl into one of their beds while they are out of town!  I wish I had just moved it outside into the yard, but I was a bit thrown off by the whole experience and didn't think of that until later.

 Life in Mayberry is often hard, sometimes funny, but never dull.

This past week we had our first ever political showdown here in Ripley County.  Lots of candidates that will be competing both in the primary in August and the General Election in November were present.

I picked up a few new Mayberry sayings that I had never heard before.  They all came from some of the six men who are duking it out for Western District Commissioner.

One candidate in describing the various quick fixes that had been done to the courthouse in recent years called them all just, "lipstick and rouge".  What an apt little phrase!

Another one, after hearing the "horrible" condition of the roads mentioned one too many times said, "But that horse has already been beat." (I have heard that before, it was just perfect though when he used it the other night."

Another candidate in discussing the power structure in Ripley County said, "There are a lot of chiefs and very few Indians."

And finally, one said, "Only people that leave Ripley County with one million dollars come back here with 2."  I am not sure exactly what his point was, but I got a kick out of hearing him say it.

 

The various grandkids get to go shopping with me on a somewhat rotational basis.  This past week it was Adeline's turn to go.  She is very much her own little person, and that came through loud and clear in our several conversations throughout the day.

Some years ago I had Kathleen with me and we drove past the purple castle that Doniphan is graced with.  As we gazed at it, I said to Kathleen, "When my ship comes in, how about if we go to Europe and explore all the castles we can find?"  She was thrilled with the idea and our imaginations ran wild.

As Adeline and I drove past the Doniphan Purple Castle yesterday, I tried that same tack with her.  "Adeline, when my ship comes in, wouldn't it be fun to go to England and Ireland and Scotland and Germany and see all the castles that we can!"

Dead silence for about 5 seconds (and 5 seconds can be a lot of silence from a 6 year old).  Then, "Do you mean you and me, Grandma?"  "Yes," I replied.  More seconds of silence followed that little exchange.  Then came this from her, "Well, could you just go and take a lot of pictures?  I don't want to go without dad and mom.  And, I already decided I never want to fly in an airplane."

A bit later we were in the parking lot at Menard's and saw a person with a handicap working there.  I pointed them out to her so that we could talk about how we treat people, no matter who they are.  After about my first or second sentence she said, "Grandma, please stop, I never want to talk about this again."  

Finally, I was putting on a Fernando Ortega CD to listen to, but before the music started, I began singing the first song.  "Grandma, please stop, if I listen to you sing it first, it will ruin it for me."

In a world of innuendos and indirect statments, such honesty is refreshing!

 

Confession--I love a real tree for Christmas.  But, I also love a fake tree that looks really fake.  Fake trees that try to look real are just a little too cheesy for me.  A nice silver tree, especially one that is well-loved and shows it here and there, is just the ticket to brighten up my home for the holidays.

Besides, a silver tree reminds me of my Grandma Lil.  She and Grandpa Ben had one in their apartment on 13th Street in St. Louis.  I don't remember a lot about Grandma Lil and Grandpa Ben, but I remember the silver tree.  I also remember the smell of the shaving soap that Grandpa used, the tile in the bathroom, and the nicely shaped wooden posts of the beds.

Several years ago, I thought of Mom's silver tree that she used to put up in her sunroom, and I dug it out of dad's basement and set it up.  It was an instant hit with the grandkids.  It is different than any they have, plus what isn't cool about a turning color wheel?  Which reminds me of how nice it is NOT to have to put lights on a cedar tree every year.  Taking them off is even worse than putting them on because by the time you take them off the tree is especially prickly.  

Now, I also have another confession.  I don't like to decorate early.  I do like Christmas decorations, but they make me feel a little claustrophobic.  It is always with a sign of relief that I take down the decorations and pack them away.  It is probably partly because we are always having to fit people into our house with a shoehorn anyway, and the tree just eats up quite a large amount of room that could be used for seating at the family dinners.

Anyway, I put decorating off as long as I could this year, but today was the day.  So I rounded up 11 of our 17 grandkids, gave them the box with the tree, and set them to it.  They did a nice job.  The Biggles and Middles helped the Littles as needed.  They always do.  I love them for it.

Afterward, Colyn found some lights and the kids decided to try to brighten up our porch.  That didn't quite work, so they decided to decorate the playhouse.  Not only did they decorate it, but they cleaned the playhouse, and then they cut a little tree down and decorated it too.

Fernnook has gotten quite festive this year with a lighted outdoor tree and gnomes at the boy's place (Ken and KJ's), and a lighted outdoor tree at the Joel Harding home.  Of course dad's house has outside lights, but it faces Highway K, not K-2.  I don't know about further down the road past us, because I haven't been down after dark lately, but now we can add our own dazzle with our lighted tree and playhouse.  

We celebrated the lovely tree and playhouse decorations with cups of hot toto (as Toliver calls it) and marshmallows.  

What would family life be without all the conversations?  The last couple of weeks, since we are in December and Christmas is soon to be upon us, the Middles and the Littles have been having some interesting debates over some of the finer points of Christmas.

The first was between two of the Middles (both 5). (And, I admit, because I have slept multiple times since I heard this one, it may be off in the exact wording, though not in the ideas expressed.)

Adeline:  I can't wait until Santa comes.

Andrew: You know Santa is just pretend.

Adeline:  No he isn't!

Andrew:  Yes he is!

Adeline:  Well, I've seen him.  I saw him at Silver Dollar City.

Andrew: That was just a person dressed up in a Santa suit.

Adeline: Haven't you ever woke up on Christmas morning and there were a lot of presents under the tree that weren't there the night before?  See, he is real.

Andrew: That's just your parents that put them there.

Adeline and Andrew together: Grandma????

Grandma:  This is something you need to ask your parents, not me! (I am not chicken or anything....)

The second conversation was more recent and was between two of the Littles (both 2).

Toliver: Santa is coming to my house.

Linus: Santa is coming to my house.

Toliver: No, he is coming to my house!

Linus: He is too coming to my house!

Linus: (Turning to look at me with a big grin) Grandma, I bewieve in Santa!

Caveat: The next evening as we were driving home from church, Linus' older brother Chappell said, "Linus doesn't believe in Santa anymore."

I am curious how that came about.

(To see a post about a different girl in our family that believed in Santa for ever-so-long go to https://fernnookfarmgirl.blogspot.com/2006/11/mayberry-meanderings-in-august-we-have.html) 

 

We took a jaunt to Markham Springs a few weeks ago.  It was a wonderful way to celebrate early springtime in Missouri.  I hadn't been there since I was a young thing myself, and Kent had never been.  The kids had a blast.

At Markham Springs there are five different springs.  We didn't actually see them all because the kids got sidetracked with fishing in the springfed pond.  It is a lovely, clear, basically fishless pond.  There were some small minnows that the kids were able to catch with nets and use for bait, along with the worms they had dug up from Fernnook Farm before we left home, but besides those few little minnows, the pond was fishless.  Beautiful-yes, cold-yes, clear-yes, but fishy-NO.

Still, the Fernnook Kid's Club was busy for hours with casting, and rebaiting, and moving to more likely-looking spots.  There were some great quotes overheard by Kent and me.

Kathleen to me, "Either the fish aren't biting or there aren't any fish in this pond."  Me, "There aren't any fish here."  Kathleen acknowledged this with a shrug of her shoulders and an immediate recast of her line ino the pond.

Judah to Kent, "I don't care if there aren't any fish here, I am going to fish!"

Andrew to Kent, "I just love fishing."

So, fish they did!

And, I was so proud of them.  The biggles helped the middles with re-baiting, fixing lines, and any other fishy things that needed to be done.  Basically all Kent, Hattie, and I had to do was watch them and enjoy the beauty of the day.

A Season of Sorrow

I have been intending to write this post for some time now.  I want to capture for our collective memories the events and emotions of the past year for all of us here in Fernnook.

It was just about a year ago that we began to be worried about Uncle Jim.  He wasn't right.  He wasn't himself.  But, we were not sure what was going on with him or what to do about it.  As winter melted into spring, he became more and more erratic in his behavior and less and less stable in his ability to walk.  We began to take him meals, to get involved in getting him to his doctors, and to check on him multiple times a day.  

Then Aunt Jenny fell and broke her wrist.  That entailed a middle of the night trip to the ER for my cousins, an operation, and a hospital stay that was very traumatic for her and for her family.

So, the family was stretched...some caring for Jim and some for Jenny.  A couple of days after Jenny was released from the hospital, I saw an ambulance going down the gravel around midnight.  Cousin Sandy was staying with Stacy at Jenny's home helping to care for her.  I was sure the ambulance was for Jim, and called Cousin Kenny.  It wasn't.  He told me that it wasn't for Jim, it was for Jenny, and it didn't look good.  I was so grateful that Sandy was with Stacy when her mother died.

The next morning we decided that things had gone too far with Jim and we took him to the ER.  We were pretty sure he had lung cancer, but didn't know what was affecting his thinking and walking so severely.  Well we found out.  The lung cancer had spread to his brain and he had a tumor.  He was in a hospital in St. Louis recovering from brain surgery while we were at Jenny's funeral.

We fought so hard to get him treatment in time.  We all fought so hard for him.  But it was not in God's providence.  Two weeks of severe nosebleeds, two nose surgeries, and a stroke caused by one of the surgeries put off treatment for too long.  

We all came to the end of the summer tired, sad, and numb.  

For me personally, and for Kent, this was on top of a previous year which had us facing the deaths of Kent's father, Opa, and three very close church friends.  So, emotionally, when Jim died, it seemed our cup of sorrow was full to the brim.

In December, though, a series of events began that made us all feel like we were punching bags.  First, Andrew (our grandson who has CF) was hospitalized.  We were thankful to the Lord that what looked like a possible two week stay was cut down to four days, and he did get to be home for his family to celebrate Christmas a few days after the holiday itself.

Then, we were all heartbroken when Hattie, who was 12 weeks pregnant, miscarried two days before Christmas.  She and Ethan grieved deeply, as did we, over their loss.

Two days after Christmas, Uncle Ken (visiting his daughter Kelly in Houston) had a heart attack while he and Kenny were traveling home to Fernnook.  It happened in Tyler, TX, and he spent the next 38 days in the hospital in Tyler.  He responded well to a pace maker, but developed pneumonia, a UTI, a prostate infection, esophagitis, and ended up with a PEG feeding tube.  He was unable to swallow and lost the strength in his legs, and so was unable to walk.

Meanwhile, back in Fernnook, Papa (my dad) got a partially blocked lower intestine and was hospitalized for a week.  Then he also developed pneumonia.

One night, a few weeks later, Cousin Stacy called me at 3 am to see if I could come get her daughter Lizzie, because her other daughter, Emily, was unconscious after having a seizure.  Emily had seizures from bleeding on the brain 5 years ago, but she has been doing really well for several years.  That entailed a trip to the ER and a transfer up to Barnes.  Thankfully, there was no new bleeding and they believe it was a UTI that caused the episode with her.

Then I got a call from my Uncle David's caretaker.  She told me that they were putting David on hospice.  I have only seen him a few times in my life, but he is a dear, gentle soul, and this has been very sad for me.

Meanwhile, my brother Mike had a blood vessel growing toward his pupil that was affecting his eyesight and if left untreated could cause him to lose his sight in that eye.  So, he had a painful eye operation.

All this happened while Ken was still in the hospital in TX.  Just a week and a half ago, Ken took a rough ambulance ride to Van Buren to a rehab place there, but was immediately transferred to a different ambulance and taken to the hospital in Poplar Bluff.  They kept him for a week to get his heart rate back under control, then moved him to a rehab facility in the Bluff.  That was a disaster, and Kenny pulled him out yesterday and brought him home.

He is beginning to eat again, and, we pray, will be able to regain strength in his legs soon.  

If we have seemed distant or distracted or difficult to be with, forgive us.  We don't doubt the Lord's care for us, but it has been a long, rough season of sorrow for all of us here in Fernnook.

The Imps

 Andrew to me the other day, "Grandma, I just spit on your shoe." (And yes, sure enough, he did.  A nice little pool of spit was just sitting there on my shoe.)

Adeline to Grandpa Kent as he was carrying her on a hike through the woods, "Where we are, Grandpa?"

Andrew and Adeline tonight at our New Year's Eve get-together...dancing on the table, uprooting the aloe plant, dis-leafing the parsley, in the tub washing their feet together...regular little imps.  Just missing their third partner in crime, Chappell.  

Oliver M. Chappell

 Oliver M. Chappell

Toliver Chappell and Mary Mink’s boy

Born in 1872/3 date unknown

Died aged 11 years old

Cause and date unknown

Records lost in courthouse fire

He was Hattie Chappell Simon's brother 

In 1880 he was eight and Hattie was six

(Amazing how much Peter Harding looks like him.)

Letter from Grandpa Marion to Grandma Opal ( shared with me from Uncle Jim)

 

(From Jim to me on May 3, 2018)  Following is a letter Marion wrote to Opal in Oct 1929. It is not the complete letter but only three pages of it.  Opal would have just turned 19 and Marion was 24.  He was writing from Flint Michigan.  You must remember Marion only had a fifth grade education if that much so I made a few corrections to spelling and grammar.  From the way the letter was going Opal may have censored the last page and made sure it did not get saved.  Pure speculation on my part. We can thank Ty for locating this. He was the finder of the treasure.

Here it is:

Oct. 28th 1929

Miss Opal Simon,

My dearest loving little girl, I will write you a few lines tonight. How are you and what are you doing to pass the time off?  I wonder if you are thinking of your old lonesome boy tonight and wishing you could be with him to cheer him up.  Baby, life sure seems dull sometimes, if I didn’t have you to think about I don’t know what I would do but I know we will be together sometimes and so it makes me glad about it.  Because I can have you for always, Baby girl, isn’t that nice for us to be together for always and for me to love you for all time.  It just seems so good honey I can hardly stand to wait for I want you so bad.  Oh! Opal darling I know we will always be happy together.  For I could be happy with you anywhere on earth and I know you would always love me and we wouldn’t be jealous at one another because we wouldn’t do anything to be jealous over.  Opal darling don’t you ever doubt me for I will always be true to you, because I know I love you and I don’t want other women.  I would rather kiss you than any girl I’ve ever known and Opal darling I know just how you are.  I know it would be lots nicer if I had lots of money and I could give you anything you wanted.  But Baby girl I haven’t got it. I can only give you my love but sweetheart I can work for you and we can get by.  Opal sweetheart as much as I love you I would give you up if you could marry some man with lots of money and you could be happy with him.  But it sure would be a pain for me to have to give you up.

Fall and Winter Doings

We at Fernnook have had a busy Fall and start to Winter.  Having Ken and Kenny Joe here have added to the ideas for fun and festivities.  One tradition we started was to enter a Fernnook float in the Doniphan Lighted Christmas Parade.  Somehow we didn't place...but we did have a blast.  Even Grandpa Jerry Martin joined the Potbelly Gnomes as an Honorary Leading Citizen of the Province of Fernnook.  Unfortunately KJ fell off the float.  It was embarrasing for him, but there were no broken bones.  His motto, as it should be, is, "Whatever it takes to get Fernook on the map!"

A few weeks later on Christmas Eve we had our traditional appetizers and gifts.  But, we broke tradition on Christmas Day, and instead of having ham and picnic sides, Ken and Kenny Joe did a reverse sear on some lovely prime rib.  To make the day more perfect, we were blessed with a lovely warm day...the kids had a blast playing kickball and riding their bikes.  Some of them (the younger set) were playing pirates in Papa Bob's boat.  Somehow the key from one of the tractors ended up in the boat, and it took Papa a good while to find it the next day (oops!)    

 

A few nights ago several of our grandchildren were here long after dark.  It is just that time of year that the glow worms start to appear.  I love their magical, fairy-like, quick wisp of a glow that fades back into the deep dark of the night.  (For the uninitiated, glow worms are the common name of the larval stage of several beetles and even flies...in this case they are the larva of fireflys).  You only see them in September and October (or at least that is the only time I have ever seen them) after the weather begins to cool down a bit.  

So, the children were running around in the dark, some with flashlights and some without, when one of them noticed a glow worm.  Soon, they had brought me a plastic cup with a lid, and every few minutes, one would run up with another glow worm to add to those collected in the cup.  Now, if you look at the picture above, you will see what a glow worm looks like.  Really, they are a bit creepy, but that didn't phase the children.  Even the girls, Kathleen, Elsie, Opal, and Adeline were gleefully catching them and depositing them into the cup.  What a wonderful time they all had.

Later, as I was driving Joel's kids home, I told them about all the fun I had as a city kid visiting Fernnook and running around after dark with my cousins.  Kathleen said to me, "Grandma, do you ever wish you were still a kid?"

That was an easy one for me.  I loved my childhood, but I truly do believe that maturity is worth more than all that has gone before it.  I do miss people from earlier times.  I miss my mother.  I miss Grandma Opal.  How I wish I could play one more game of High Five with them and laugh until we were silly.  But, I don't want to go back to those good old days; rather, I want to somehow pull them into these new good days.

Well, I couldn't really explain all of that to Kathleen, so I just said, "No, honey, I wouldn't want to go back to being a kid.  If I did that, I wouldn't have you precious grandchildren that I love so much.  Honey, these are the good news days, and I love them!"

 

The other day, Tyler and Adeline stopped by for dinner.  Adeline was carrying a little watering can and told me this was her friend.  It was a frog.  "How cute," thought I.  "She is so good at pretending.  The watering can is her pretend frog friend."  During dinner her friend sat on the table, and she tried to squish a pear down the spout.  Then when we told her to take the pear out of the spout, she popped it in her mouth...ugh...but so 3 year oldish.  Why did she try to put a pear down the spout?  Well, to feed the frog, why else?  It wasn't until quite some time had passed, that I happened to look into the watering can.  And what did my little eyes behold?  Why, a frog, of course.  A green, sticky, long, skinny frog just sitting in the bottom of the watering can.  That watering can made a nice little home for her little frog.

Another Adeline story happened last week.  Kent was watching the kids outside during Wednesday night Bible study.  Two of the kids were on the swings, and there were only two swings and Adeline wanted to swing.  So, she turned to her grandpa and said, "When will it be my turn, Brother Kent?"  That's what you get from going to church where your grandpa is the pastor.  And tonight I heard that little Kate Smith was playing with her Barbie dolls with her dad.  She handed her dad the Ken doll and said, "This is Brother Kent.  Will you put these sandals on him, dad?"