Wednesday, August 31, 2016

There is nothing quite like a city kid coming to the country. The lessons learned, on both sides of this fence, may be humorous and luminous, shining a light on two very different ways of looking at the very same thing.

The joy and wonderment of youth is a gift like no other. Just when the burdens of the world begin to feel unbearably heavy, I am blessed by the children's' voices that help light up my life, as well as the lives of those around me.

The deeper the joy, the more devastating the heartbreak. The journey across this life brings a mixture of both and somehow we must be strong enough to hold it all.

Joy is found in simple moments if our eyes and our hearts are open. Today, from the back porch of what will soon be our new home, I watched nine deer amble across the hay field, just about 75 yards from where I stood, only the white board fence separating us.

I awoke, slightly bleary-eyed from not nearly enough sleep, and headed for the kitchen one morning last week.

While some kids played house, I remember playing railroad hobo with my sisters and our cousins. Our maternal grandparents, Henry and Mabel Tucker, lived on a nice, small horse farm on the outskirts of Ashland.

I spent Friday night with a singing farmer's daughter and it was the most fun I've had in a very long time.

I found out something this past week that sort of has me stumped. I am addicted to oil. Now, I am trying to figure out how this happened.

I found myself playing referee yesterday, standing in the middle of a cat and dog fight. The scrappers were not a dog and a cat, as you might suspect, but two humans with strong opinions on canine and feline superiority.

It strikes me as a bit humorous that everything old has become new again in many segments of our society.
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