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

A "New" Old Iron Kettle...

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. 

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