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, April 15, 2013

Just Another Pretty Face (Or Two)...

And, to make these little beauties even more special, they are both heifer calves, born to cows that were gifts to me from my dad.  I think he would be pleased with these little girls. 


  1. These little gals are something special for sure! They're beautiful!

  2. The fields surrounding my cottage
    are filled with special baby calves.
    But because
    this was a gift from your dad
    it makes me smile
    and warms my heart...