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..."
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
It is encouraging to see water flowing once again through the bridge culverts that we cross each morning when going to feed the cattle. I won't be forgetting last summer's drought when there was only a trickle in the culverts, then not even that.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
I have taken many pictures through the years from the top of Lookout Point, but never below the point looking up. The trail below, which is nothing more than a deer trail, is steep and rocky, I did a lot of tree hugging, and was glad when I reached the bottom with two good legs!
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Friday, January 25, 2013
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
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.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silent and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
And so it has been.