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..."


Wednesday, August 23, 2017

Changes...









After several weeks of hot and humid weather with showers almost every day, as of late, there seems to be a change in the air. Yesterday the clouds were dark and ominous, which, actually, made for some nice pictures along the trail.  But, this afternoon, when Millie and I were out and about, the sun was shining and the air had a clean, crisp feeling.  I even made it home with a dry shirt, for a change. Could it be that fall will come early this year?


Of course, the Eclipse was the big news of the week, but here in our neck of the woods, I was the only one who showed any interest in the event.  The Cowboy absolutely refused to go outside, opting instead to stay inside and take a nap.  It was later that I read that the Navajo stay inside and do not observe the eclipse out of reverence for what they say is an intimate event between the earth, moon and sun.  So maybe that was the thing with him, for his roots are intertwined with Native American.  I was reminded of  how he always refuses to go inside the large Indian cave that is near here, saying he feels spirits all around.  Or heck, he may have just wanted to take a long nap while it was dark and quiet, which, looking back, really wasn't a bad idea at all. 







The time for migration is soon approaching for the little Ruby-Throated Hummingbirds that have fed here since last spring.  It has been a chore to keep the feeders cleaned and filled with fresh sweet nectar, but, as always, I have enjoyed these little hummers immensely and will eagerly await their return next year.
  




I've never been to Montana's Big Sky Country, and probably never will, but I was reminded of it yesterday when I snapped this picture.  Let's see... Could it be that the Little Bighorn River lies somewhere right over yonder rise...





Monday, August 14, 2017

The Garden ~ Back Then...




Adam. ~ back then...


The hardest thing about moving from our old farm house was leaving behind the garden.  Even though we would be living only about a half-mile away, I knew I wouldn't be able to care for the garden like I had in the past.   How many times had I slipped out of doors early in the morning, sometimes  still wearing my night gown, with the intention of only walking through the garden to see what at happened during the night, but could still be found there an hour or so later attending to some gardening chore that needed doing? 

And, who could blame me if I dilly dallied in the garden for a while?  It was always a garden full of birds, so early morning was a wonderful time to watch them, and to listen to their sweet songs.  The brown thrashers were regulars, year in, and year out, and what fun it always was to finally discover where they had built their nest.  I wonder if they still come...

It has been a dozen years since we moved, but I still go back to mow and clean along the rock paths that I once worked so hard to build from flat-like stones that I found along the little streams on the place.   A lot can change in twelve years.  The lilies, hostas, and other perennials  were the first to go, thanks to the white-tailed deer that soon claimed the gardens as their own.  The drought of 2012 took out a lot of the flowering shrubs and small trees.   I'll not be planting more there even though the bones of the garden are still there, and seem to be begging for it~Queen Anne's lace, butterfly bushes, daisies, foxglove.............. 



The Little Pond...

The little waterfall no longer flows into the little pond where Adam once fished, even though there were no fish.  The old stones, mottled  with lichens are just lovely now, I think. 



The Stones...




Stone Steps...

I can remember being particularly proud of the construction of these stone steps.  My older son wouldn't remember, (but I do)  that he helped me place the thick heavy stone that is the fourth one up.  There are a lot of memories to go with these old stones.



The Stone Path...


When Disney's "Lion King" was released in 1994, our older grandson began to call this large stone, "Pride Rock."  Pride Rock was always a favorite resting place for Nell. 




Nell and Pride Rock ~ Back then...



"Two Roads"...


I sometimes stop here and think of Robert Frosts' The Road Not Taken.  "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I ~ I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference." 

I'm not sure, in this case, that one is less traveled than the other, but I always take the high road, and return by the low road.  Always...




Back Then ~ Granddaughter and me...