I’m on vacation this week, so I thought you might enjoy a visit with Rose’s barnyard companions. Feeding and watering of these critters would be solely her responsibility. And, truth is, she’s a bit more attached to them than a farm wife ought to be.Continue reading
I have a thing about rhubarb pie.
It’s deep-seeded, to be sure, since I haven’t had a bite of that particular pastry since I was a child. My paternal grandmother made them. She died when I was ten. 
So when the LitForum‘s Writer’s Exercise  for March was to “write a scene in which the emphasis is on the consumption of food. Make use of the senses of taste and smell. Complement those senses by also drawing on sight, feel and mood. The MC  in this scene has stopped whatever he/she has been doing before and is pausing for a moment,” I knew immediately mine would be about rhubarb pie.Continue reading
I’ve never been a gardener. In fact, I usually tell folks that “I don’t kill plants; I just make ’em wish they were dead.”
So, it’s fitting that, as I plan what flowers I’ll be planting this spring, I’m thinking about Rose, who also wasn’t much of a gardener.Continue reading
Old Ike once said, “Farming looks mighty easy when your plow is a pencil and you’re a thousand miles from the corn field.” 
Of course, he wasn’t talking
It’s raining today. So my mind is on April showers. The old children’s riddle comes to mind: “April showers bring May flowers, but what do May flowers bring?”
I started reading the 1929/1930 Iowa farm wife’s diary I have. You won’t believe what those showers brought to the farm… Continue reading
Harold finds this hysterical. But then, humor was much simpler in 1930.
Rose has been feeling a tad sympathetic with all those on the receiving end of this late winter / early spring snowstorm. She knows just how that feels… Continue reading