Rain is likely Sunday. I hope we receive a measurable amount. The earth is as dry as burnt toast. Even the dusty milkweed has already been drained of its milky juice.
And, as poetess' Helen Hunt Jackson, one of the best of all times, once wrote, "The goldenrod is yellow and the corn is turning brown." Anyone that has ever been interested in poetry knows that one.
Trees in West's Orchard with apples are bearing down! Forgive me I sometimes get carried away when fruit comes into the picture.
So, what, if my sweet potatoes are snake-like, coiled like cobras and the tomatoes when sliced are out-sized by the dill chips; it is all good and free for the taking. I'd say that's a bargain these days. They look good enough on the mini buns and puny burgers.
Now all we need to do is put a few fire crackers under those lazy hens and get them back on the nests again. Now that we removed old 'Cocky' from the flock, the layers are just lying around twiddling their wing tips. Now and then one or two lays an egg for show and tell.
Truth is, they provide dozens of eggs during their productive cycle. The rest is deserved.
Next Sunday is the anniversary date of one of the worst days in our history. Never will the day move so far away from us that we shall forget. Sadly we remember----
September 11, 2001 began as a beautiful sunshiny day. The birds were singing and all was well at my house. I had already ironed a pile of dress shirts and proceeded to smooth out a starched old fashioned clothespin bag made from a child's dress.
Ironic as it might seem, I was thinking about what I was doing when I heard Walter Cronkite announced on the TV that John Fitzgerald Kennedy had been shot and was being transported to Parkland Hospital trauma center in Dallas.
On November 23, 1963 I was pressing my little girl, Starla's dress of similar design.
While I was deep in thought revisiting that terrible happening, the phone rang.
My daughter, Lori Patrick was on the other end of the line. She was very anxious and obviously in tears. Her car was wedged in traffic between Washington, D.C. and Stafford, Virginia, her home then.
She informed me that her stores, Waldenbooks, had evacuated, as well as Dulles International Airport, where she worked at the time. A plane had hit the Pentagon, as we know now, at the hand of a suicide bomber of the Al-Qaeda network.
She was concerned for her school-aged children at schools in Stafford. Her husband Clifford Patrick was at work near Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. A plane was brought down there as well. My daughter failed to reach her husband by cell phone.
Lori Ann first became aware that something was wrong when word came about that a commercial aircraft crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center, in New York City.
My daughter said that her store was located across from Gate 18 where the fatal flight that hit the Pentagon had departed.
Lori conversed, about one hour, with a grandmother on a journey to visit her grandchildren. The lady was on that ill-fated flight.
I comforted my daughter in that space of time and the miles were bridged.
In the meantime, I was concerned and worried about Lori's sister, Starla.
My eldest daughter was returning home from a business trip at the time. She arrived at O' Hara International Airport, in Chicago to find, all planes had been grounded, due to the catastrophe unfolding on the East Coast. She was unable to get a commuter flight out to Indianapolis, her final destination and family.
It is my prayer that will never happen again.
In these difficult times and especially after bearing witness to happenings such as that of September 11, 2001, we have more reason to worry about all of God's children and the world in which we live. It is imperative that we never let down our guard.
We are proud to be Americans and we must do what it takes to keep America powerful and safe from pointless harm. God Bless America!
I can be reached by phone at 812 -446 - 4852 or by e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.