Getting the Garden In

We will turn the soil to incorporate the poop;
On our knees, we’ll plant the seeds that will soon take root.
It’s time to get the garden in; there’s no more excuse.
I’d like to rest one more day, but can’t afford this ruse.
Rain’s coming tomorrow; there can be no better time
To sow the most tender plantings in this mountain clime.

We know that by some standards, we’re a little bit late
Frost and mud and our travels clearly delayed the date
For harrowing and planting and other garden chores
We’re just eating the last of our last year’s produce stores.
We think it’s okay if we don’t harvest quite as much;
Besides doing canning, I may read and write and such.

Mother's Day Musings

I guess I’m glad that my children no longer need a mother.
I never felt like a mom; I’d prefer to be a brother.
Brothers aren’t told to stay at home and to rock crying babies.
Sitting still is an exercise that often makes me crazy.

I always had too much to do when my children were at home.
Now when I visit their homes, I’m often left too much alone.
They have school and soccer, piano lessons, lacrosse and dance;
Their busy activity schedules hardly give us a chance
For hello hugs, games, or talking -- then our extra long good-byes --
No matter how much we wish for it, and everyone sure tries
To make more time for snuggling, conversation and some singing.
I miss their voices that used to be so constantly ringing
With their sweet laughter and with such sincere little child requests --
When they still thought that Granny and Mommy always know what’s best


It wasn’t until I was Granny that I began to see
When I took the time to be still, babies really did like me.
I spent much time rocking little ones when my kids had babies;
I found that it was a great excuse for my being lazy.
Now, it’s not until the summer and other big holidays
That we can all bask in our vacation time leisurely ways --
Mornings in pajamas with coffee and cocoa by the pot
Evenings spent at blazing campfires with s’mores, or maybe not,
Snuggling in the rocker or sometimes on the living room couch,
Singing karaoke until everyone’s voices run out

It’s Mother’s Day and I’m glad that I did become a mother
Even though I’ve often thought God mistook me for another.
I am lucky that my grown children still want to be with me
At our home with our kids and grandkids is the best place for me.

Slow Is the Way We Go

We took a break and went over to scoop
All the hen poop from Mamie’s chicken coop.
Trailrider has poop from more than one horse
We’ll get it soon for our garden, of course.

Now we’re back at home to tackle our mess
We’re taking it slowly I will confess
We will take time for a movie or two
It’s the way we work when there’s much to do.

Richard is now rattling pots and pans;
He’s already made salads. What a man!
I guess I’d better go and do my part.
It isn’t really that bad once I start.

Focus on Fun

We cooked for hundreds and fed fifty-three;
That was also counting Richard and me
That’s not to say we didn’t have great fun;
We’d have had fun if we’d fed only one.
Jack Darnell came in with his published book;
Everyone bought one who took a look.
Mamie was there with a few of her friends;
Shirley was there from our right-of-way end.

Our over-the-hill neighbors, there in force;
Their total number being five, of course.
Deborah was able to promote her class.
Exercise may help to relieve the gas
Caused by the beans, onions, and cheese and such.
Many people confessed they ate too much.
Tall Pines new owners came to meet neighbors
They felt that we’d done them a big favor.

The Schaaf family makes strollers for twins
Bill fixes engines and some odds and ends
One of his talents is for finding gold
He gives gold panning tours and is quite bold
In his knowledge of gold and Coker Creek
He shared some with us when he rose to speak.
He brought panning equipment and some sand
For showing how to find gold in a pan

Brave Betty, two Lindas, Don and Judi
Did all the serving and cleaning duty
At the hall so we have much less to do
Until Monday when we’ll have to scoop poo
Now to the kitchen with lots of chili
Our plans to scoop poop now feel silly
What were we thinking? It will take two days
Filling the freezer with chili in trays.

And cleaning and storing spoons, pots and pans --
I forget this part when making my plans.
We’ll focus on fun as we clean the mess;
How long this will take is anyone’s guess.
All in all, it seems everyone had fun.
I certainly hope we’ll do more than just one
First Friday Feast. But pot luck it will be;
Not so much work for my Richard and me.

First Friday Food Fears

Me and my bright ideas. What ever possessed me to think that we could feed all of Coker Creek on a couple of pots of chili? And why did I think that people here would be any different than people everywhere else that I’ve lived; that they would actually RSVP? All of a sudden, my friends are getting nervous about this; maybe that’s why I’m feeling a bit unnerved.

I had asked Mamie to call her friends and encourage them to come, seeing as the mountain people are rather shy about invitations from outsiders. I’m thrilled about her success since the whole object of this exercise is to mingle with a broad section of Coker Creek without the strictures of what other groups anyone belongs to.

When Mamie’s list of attendees grew to over thirty folks, she must have gotten nervous; she called and insisted that I come get four dozen eggs. She proceeded to share her recipe for deviled eggs, and even gave me her secret ingredient that was stashed in her pantry. I hadn’t planned on making deviled eggs, so thank goodness Richard’s game for being devilish today.

Mountaintop Mary has offered her cooking talents. When I told her that we were going to just wing-it, and when we ran out of food, we’d simply be out, she couldn’t help but exclaim that I may be crazy -- like I didn’t already know that. Since she won’t be bringing food, she’s going to help wash dishes, she says.

Several others have offered their assistance. Betty is bringing bowls and eating utensils; Don and Linda are coming for set-up. If this trend continues, maybe we can do this every first Friday. Hopefully, as a pot luck next time.

My entertainment for the evening has backed out, so I’m hoping to enlist my songbird next-door-neighbor Shirley to fill in. I had planned to have my next author Nancy read some of her poetry, but she suggested that we wait until her book is actually out in the stores. I agreed; now Nancy’s off the list of the evening’s entertainment.

Jack has promised to come and read from his already published book. Maybe he can also read something from his upcoming book of romance stories and poems, just to get a head start on marketing his new work. Bill may come with some gold and stories about his panning adventures. This would be very cool, as many people don’t know about his gold panning tours.

The iced tea is steeping while I’m writing. The beans are boiling as I believe they should. I have a back-up plan for more chips and cheese sauce if we run shy of chili, beans and spaghetti. After all, it’s not like we don’t have Davis Mountain Market five minutes from the Ruritan building and Sav-a-Lot within a half hour’s drive.

I hope that by show time I can say, “What, me worry?” and mean it. It’s probably the only way that I’ll interest others in making this a monthly event.

Chili, Cheese and RSVPs

Got back from a trip to the city;
Now it’s time for the nitty gritty.
Cooking for a crowd -- numbers unknown.
The Ruritan Club will sub for home.

Chili, spaghetti, and grated cheese
With a bit of onion, if you please
Nachos, cookies, and some brownies too
Tea and lemonade for quite a few.

This is not one of my better plans,
But Richard hasn’t thrown up his hands.
How it all goes, we will have to see;
Too bad people don’t RSVP.

Coker Creek Contortionist

Deborah’s done it again. She’s no bigger than a hummingbird, but she sure knows how to get things done. Already she’s busy hosting huge groups of bluegrass musicians and their fans every other week-end and playing inn keeper to their many out-of-town guests. She also assists Charlie in his many Antique Automobile Club of America functions as a judge and chapter president, which entails a fair amount of travel. Now, she’s decided to help the rest of us get limber through exercise classes.

Only four of us showed on the first day of limber lessons; this was probably due to civic responsibility. The class was held on election day. I know this excuse holds for at least one possible participant who is a poll worker. The real reason for the sparse attendance may be that we see how trim Deborah is and figure she’ll be a “physical terrorist,” as was Charlie when he was helping Jim recuperate from several surgeries. Jim is doing well, so it must have been just what he needed.

Thank goodness we had Wanda to keep us all laughing. I could no more touch my head to the floor while sitting spread legged than I could kiss my own elbow. Wanda had a sprained ankle, so she had a plausible excuse for her limitations. She made great fun of herself, which kept everyone entertained. I could almost pretend that I wasn’t in pain. But, there was little bitty Deborah, like she worked as a contortionist for Cirque du Soleil.

I felt very old as I watched eighty-six-year-old Martha following Deborah’s lead, which certainly humbled and surprised me. Nancy never surprises me in what she can do; I think all her time with her horses gives her quite a work-out on a regular basis. I was rather relieved when she confessed that she used to teach exercise classes.

Here I was with my big butt up in the air and Deborah insisting that I could get my feet farther toward the floor. Maybe in an alternate universe; I couldn’t even do that maneuver when I took dance at the age of six.

I stopped to see Mamie after class; she thought it was fairly funny that we’re taking time to exercise. She’s often mentioned to me that she can’t understand people who pay for exercise classes and drive many miles to attend them when we can get all the exercise we need in our gardens.

I know I’ll get lots more movement in the next couple of days, even though I’ll miss Deborah’s next class. Nancy has offered her horse poop for our garden and Mamie’s hen house roost is ready for harvesting of more fertilizer. Maybe I can figure a way to incorporate stretches into our sh_t shoveling exercises.
As Miss Jenny of Romper Room School used to sing, “Bend and stretch; reach for the stars. Stand on tippy-toe all so high. Bend and stretch; reach for the stars. There goes Jupiter; there goes Mars.”