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, September 25, 2012
From my early memories I know there was a large and a small iron kettle, one or both of which Mother used to render lard at hog-killing time. I have only a vague memory of her boiling clothes in the large kettle, before she got her first washing machine. I do not remember the kettle in the photos below. There was already a hole in the kettle, so there is no guilt on my part for using it as a planter.
I have also been Nell-proofing the borders on the east side of the house where she likes to dig a nice cool and comfortable hole to lie in when the days are hot. If you look closely, you should be able to see rusty net wire fencing laying flat on the ground, most of which is covered with mulch. I found most of the old fencing on the place, just remnants of fences that were once here. I cut them in sections from 18 to 24 inches wide and from four to five feet long, a nice size for situating among the plants.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
Probably the only thing I remember from my college freshman art class, Introduction to Art 101, is the instructor's admonishment to the class, "I don't want to see any trees in your work. If I want to see a tree, I will go outside." Why do I still remember this after all these years?
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
The little garden area outside the sewing room window had a rough time of it this summer; definitely time for a fresh new look. Grasshoppers and heat had taken a toll on most of the perennials, while the grasses seemed to thrive as long as water from the hose kept coming. I decided to move out the old mowing machine and in its place lay a stone path from flat stones, which I gathered from a stream bed on the place. Dan's only job in the project was to move the old mower; a job for the tractor.
So, there was a different view from the sewing room window this morning. A new doll (a work in progress), inside the window, who has been measuring up to Jubal, seems pleased with what he sees (through temporary eyes penciled in; always give my dolls eyes right away).
The old mower now sets farther down the hill near a persimmon tree and a stack of rocks from an old barn foundation. (Removing the rocks has been an on-going project. The older Dan and I get, the heavier the rocks seem to be.) The old International Harvester No. 9 seems to belong there as though waiting for an old farmer to hook up the team for a day's work mowing hay.
Monday, September 10, 2012
"As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives." ~ Henry David Thoreau
Saturday, September 8, 2012
It would have been magnificent in the year of 1859, a vista of forests, meadows, and springs of cold and clear water. It was the year that the land, which has been our home for almost forty years, was first taken as a homestead. Native Americans, who once roamed the land where they hunted and fished and gathered berries, roots, and nuts, had been pushed out to live on reservations which opened up the land for homesteading.
The old house with wooden shingled roof, which had been built after the land was homesteaded, was still standing when we bought the property. Dan took the old house apart, board by board, each of virgin pine, which he later used to build a barn and a chicken coop. The chicken coop has since been converted to a "feed house" where feed for the horses and dogs is stored. Each day at feeding time, I can't help but admire the weathered boards, still so solid and strong. Likewise is the door still solid and strong, which was once the front door of the old homesteader's home, and still standing the test of time.
|The door on the right is the original door found in the old house.|
|Many of the old boards used in construction of the barn are well-preserved today.|