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..."
Monday, January 14, 2013
Nothing looks much better to us these days than to see the stream beds filling back up. I looked back at pictures taken during last summer's drought...so depressing! Our house is almost visible in the picture between the double trunk of the split tree. The cattle tub on the right of the stream has been been converted into a raccoon feeder. It was built as high as we could reach to pour feed into it. I also save all my scraps for these little critters; would love to see their delight when there is a special treat.