About Blog Title...

As a child, it was one of my greatest delights to visit my grandparents in the spring when the whip-poor-wills began to call. Grandma and Grandpa lived in a remote valley of the Ozark Mountains where there were trees a plenty, and, seemingly, a whip-poor-will, or two, in each one.
My grandmother insisted that a whip-poor-will's call was not "whip-poor-will," but instead, "chip-butter-white-oak." I would listen really hard trying to hear it exactly as she said it was, but all I could hear was "whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will,..." But, I never let on to her.
I remember my grandpa watching and listening, with an amused look on his face, to one of these listening sessions. Shortly after that he began to call me, just for fun, "Chip Butter." It is a name I am proud to wear for I still love to hear that long, lonesome call on a warm summer's eve. And, sometimes, when I listen really, really hard, it seems I can hear quite clearly, "chip-butter-white-oak, chip-butter-white-oak..."

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Grasshoppers and Drought...

Grasshoppers and drought...guess they go together like hand and glove.  Surely grasshoppers have a reason for being; something about the food chain, I think.  But where is the thing in that chain that should be eating these critters...bring it on!

When I was a child, our barnyard chickens would chase grasshoppers down and have a feast. Well, come on rooster!

 Before the grasshopper invasion, the fern at my front door was fresh and green and beautiful. Now, I dare not take a picture of it.

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