“If you go out in the woods today
You're sure of a big surprise.
If you go out in the woods today
You'd better go in disguise.
For every bear that ever there was
Will gather there for certain, because
Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic.”
Lyrics from “The Teddy Bear’s Picnic”
Who knew? I never got the memo, let alone the invite…
It’s finally Spring up at the cabin.
View from the old home place.
And then, wandering along the trail and triggering the trail cam, comes my new buddy, Oswald.
Some days you just feel puny, you know?
You’re not feeling bad but you’re not so good either.
Days like this call for something new. Maybe even a few Something News.
Today I added sweet potatoes to the deviled eggs and it was good.
Sometimes all it takes is a little spice to push a day from Partly Cloudy to Right Nice.
But in case that didn’t do it- I made Seven Layer Bars- only I rearranged them completely. They’re now Landfill Bars…Homemade Chocolate Chip Cookie crust (without the chocolate chips), layered with Dulce de Leche, bittersweet chocolate chips, Kraft Caramel chips, semisweet chocolate chips and topped with coconut flakes and more Dulce de Leche.
Sometimes it takes a little overdose of sweetness to let a bit more light into an otherwise dreary day.
That’s how we do dull, gray days here in the holler. We sugar and spice ‘em up until they shine.
“Like a bird on a wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir, I have tried, in my way, to be free…” Leonard Cohen
What do you think they were saying?
“Girl, shee-zam! Where did you get that outfit?!”
or
“So, I said to him, I said, boy, you don’t who you are messin’ with!”
or
“I’m tellin’ you, I saw her and she was prancin’ around her house on two legs, just like this! Honey, I’m tellin’ you- there is something wrong with that human!”
or
“Listen, I’m sayin’ if we get good at this, we could just walk right in the Ferrum Mini-Mart and nobody would ever be the wiser. They’ve got apples and corn, just settin’ out in the open. Honey, we could eat for days!”
or
“You ain’t woman enough to take my man!”
Unless, of course, they are men….Then it’s more likely…
“You talkin’ to me? I said, are you talkin’ to me?!”
The trail back along the old hog pen was still and silent, muffled by the thick mantle of snow.
The pond is frozen over.
Everywhere the bleak gray of winter has been replaced with a pristine layer of clean white snow. An elegant cloak.
Quite a change from the other morning.
By late afternoon yesterday the lane the lane was open to traffic, thanks to the kindness of neighbors.
Up hollar life goes on.
The moonshiner dropped by last night with a quart jar of his specialty, Apple Pie. “Do you know what you’re lettin’ yourself in for?” he asked. He looked for all the world, like a concerned father. “Hit’s gonna be 17 inches. Seven-teen,” he repeated. “That’s more’n last time.”
In the lane, his battered old pickup rumbled and sputtered while he stood on the porch stoop talking about the trouble I might be in.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Just might be here awhile, that’s all. Guess you’ll be stuck at home, huh?” I nodded toward his old truck.
“Why that truck got me to work the morning after the last big snow,” he said, indignant. “It gits places don’t nobody git in the snow and ice.”
Clearly I’d stepped on some toes.
“Well, good,” I said, trying to soothe his ruptured ego. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Of course, it’s about noon and I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him coming along the lane. Surely he wouldn’t be ready to risk this snow…
Yes, it is cold. It was 16 outside when I reached the little log cabin late yesterday afternoon and below freezing inside. But now it is warm and toasty. Fires are going in the woodstove and fireplaces. Cinnamon rolls are rising and almost ready to pop in the oven. Life is good here. Sweet and peaceful.
At least, unlike my friends below, I am not living outdoors.
This is my new boyfriend.
I think Hank knew it too.
But BoBo, (That’s what I called him), was a sport about the whole deal and did his best to smooth the situation over. And soon Hank was cool with the whole idea.
Until it came time to play the game Hank and I always play alone- Fetch.
Bobo caught on right quick and therein lay the trouble…Hank will share me in a heartbeat, but when it came to the bone…not so much with the peace and brotherhood, what’s mine is ours notion.
And then all was forgiven as I seemed to have been forgotten…
Oh well, I’ll make do I suppose.
Big doins at the little log cabin this weekend. Glen and Jeanette next door invited us to the Ruritan Club to eat and listen to the Dry Heel Draggers (some, a few, or most all of them.)
Glenn danced but he’s so fast, the camera had trouble keeping up. He’s a great flat-footer.
Fried fish, turtle, frog legs and some of the best potluck to be had for miles around. Good music, good eats, good company…
A while back, Skeeter the Dowser, came and used his brass divining rods to pick the best spot to drill the new well. He said something about electromagnetic energy and that there were three caverns below the spot he elected to drill.
Sure enough, old Skeeter hit water. But did he also hit something else?
A few months after Skeeter installed the well, one of the remaining members of the land’s original owners popped by for a visit. As I’d heard rumors about an unmarked Confederate soldier’s gravesite on the property, I asked him if he knew where the boy was buried.
“Yep,” he said, nodding out toward the field. “Reckon he’s about right where you put that new well.”
Okay, I thought he’s playing me. I’m the City Girl. He’s the big, strong, Country Man. I thought that all year…until today. Today I found this.
Be afraid, people. Be very afraid.
They’re electrostatic, they’re translucent and they’re on the move!
By day- just an ordinary shed surrounded by an overgrown garden.
Yep, here in the hollar it’s peaceful by day…
Wild Thangs are everywhere!
The leaves are beginning to turn. The air is crisp and when evening comes, it gets downright nippy.
With a hard freeze coming any day now and the trellis bowed by their weight, it’s time to harvest the gourds.
But inside- it’s warm and cozy and we are enjoying the first fire of the year in the big stone hearth.
Tomorrow morning there will be hot coffee and plenty of plump, gooey cinnamon rolls for breakfast.
Life’s always sweeter in the country.
Okay, so the date’s wrong by a month, five years and two hours…but the rest was just right.
It is dawn and the first day of bow season. Down by the pond next door a light is on outside the tiny trailer. I know what that means. My city girl roots are showing.
Last night I saw Mama and her two remaining babies down by the creek, munching in the neighbor’s clover patch and I wanted to scream, “Get out of there! If you do that tomorrow, he’ll kill you!”
Okay, I don’t know all the rules but I’m fairly certain he won’t kill the babies- Maybe not even the mama. But I’ve watched over them since Spring. I mourned when the trail camera caught the bobcat dragging the third baby away. And don’t tell me it’s the cycle of life. I work in a nursing home, remember? So I’m down with the whole cycle of life business.
There are just some times when I wish I had a bit of control over the whole thing. Instead, I am relegated to standing out on my back porch, shooting the moon.
