This is the first day of spring! The birds are very active. The budding branches on the maple tree, outside of my kitchen window, welcomed many of the happy visitors today.
I was hoping to see the fat bushy-tailed boar squirrel that comes to my back porch everyday in hopes of a handout and a friendly, "hello." He is aware that I am rather generous with my treats. I might remind him of his mother.
On this day, he is staying high in the treetops and fussing with those busy blue jays.
Several turkey buzzards are hovering over the home place, near the deep ditch.
Road kill comes to mind. Could be another job for this distant relative of the late Godfrey Green, the dead animal service man, in the area in the day.
The only difference is there is no longer a glue factory near here now and furthermore; I do not think the birds are drooling over a dead horse.
One thing I do know about those big black birds with the red heads and white bills is that they aren't finicky eaters. The deader the better. They do not mind traipsing on tire tread marks or taking in a foul-smelling meal. Those dirty flesh eating birds have no respect for the dead.
So, here I am, alone again, birding from the windows of the little blue house at the end of the road. I am inside looking outside, because of the way that I am feeling today.
Those buzzards could be hanging around waiting for me.
Our grandson, Michael Risk and his wife, Kayleigh visited us this past week. I served rotisserie chicken seasoned with a spicy rub and a choice of several sides.
Grandma baked a homemade strawberry pie earlier in the day. I served the microwave warmed pieces with vanilla ice cream. Everyone was pleased with the meal, including the exhausted, but proud and satisfied cook.
The young folks said that they were starting their diets the next day, therefore; the full meal deal at our house was good with them.
Everything that I cook or bake is not that good. Yesterday, I prepared some delicious chicken and noodles. The potatoes were excellent. My creamy slaw was mouth watering, but the dessert was a disaster. I am still pondering on what went wrong.
Did sweet little Tootie Mae cause her mom to forget a key ingredient in the persimmon bread when she begged me to join her in the easy chair for a minute or two?
I could have used the wrong size of cup to measure the oil or used none at all. My mind does tend to wander when multi-tasking.
Well folks when I was ready to serve Paul Baby a slice from the loaf of this nut's nut bread, I struggle to saw through it.
He went for it with gusto and then stopped before the first bite was properly chewed and yes, consumed. Paul said it was tasty, however; the darn thing was tough as nails and dry as a bone. He suggested that we feed it to the chickens and that he did.
Today when I went out to the henhouse to gather eggs and talk to the girls and their male companion, I noticed a portion of the hard, dry and spicy cake was lying upside down, untouched.
The chickens weren't as friendly as usual. Thanks to a pail of layer crumbles they are once again cackling with me.
They say, "If at first you don't succeed try again." I shall do that. After all, this old hen does not want a fine store of persimmon pulp to go to waste, nor does she want to disappoint the old rooster.
Paul satisfied his craving for sweets with my 'Double Peanut Butter Cookies.' The little cookie monster claims that they are the best ever. He always says that as he looks toward the next batch.
In this game called marriage you win sometimes and lose sometimes. After so many years you stop counting the times.
I send my condolence to the family of Delores "Dee" Smith Escott. She died this past week. Delores was a link in my friendship chain.
She and I were friends and neighbors for many years. She was a special lady.
Now I must go. Paul will be home soon and I must prepare dinner.
I can be reached by phone at 812- 446-4852 or by email at email@example.com.