Leaves Dancing, Snow in the Clouds

 

 

Winter in the Woods,  1899

 

 When sunset rays

Lace through bare trees.

As light fades, a chill wind

Swirls fallen crumbled leaves,

Once so bright and drifting 

 

With a dancer’s flourish.

In darkness, the clouds roll back

As a scroll of gray and black. 

The reigns of summer and autumn

No longer tower and burn.

Midnight reveals

A treasure chest of winter:

 

Ice and snow prepared

To lay ruin to the land. 

 

Many thanks to a former blogger, Delores, who started the Wednesday Words as a challenge for writers to expand their writing.

 

Delores retreated from the blogger world after a few years, passing it on to  River. Elephant's child passed away in the fall, and I will miss her writing and photos.

 I wrote this poem in 2012, and the bold words were guest words for that week. 

Foods that surpass

 

.Bologna and Ramen cake

 Eager to try new recipes?  Really? Try this one!

This is a simple recipe: 2 pkgs ramen noodles, powdered sugar, raw eggs, ramen water, couple slices of bologna, mayo, and ramen powder from ramen bag...

 Really that is all there is.  Just follow directions from the video. It is not difficult.  You can do it.  Can you eat it? Do you want to taste it?

How about this, especially for people who can possibly tolerate such?

 .boredpanda.com/horrible-food-photography/

 Fried Brains (yes, it is sheep or cow brains)

                                            Or maybe:  

                                                                   Testicle pie  

Yes, this is made from real animal testicles.  

 

                                                                 Donkey penis,      

Recipes from around the world are unique to the area and culture.  The ones shown here are unique to many people. The ingredients are usually the parts of an animal, ones that would probably/might never appear on a menu. Offal and assorted organs were commonly used. 

Always check health standards of the country of origin. They are different from country to country.  Be careful. Get your shots.

 Try one or more of these maybe?  Bring back a full report? We want to see what you come up with?  

Wed. Words: Harold and Bernice

 

    Boot jack plug tobacco

 

After breakfast, Harold settled under a morning sky, quietly chewing on a wad of tobacco outside on the porch. Bernice handed him a mug of coffee, and were quiet as they watched the pumpkin orange and honey sunrise washing over the sky.

They had been companions since 1946, when they saw each other at the church picnic, where Harold had been spitting now and then by himself. After being friends for 40 years, Bernice had plopped down by the silent man, nudging him, loudly announcing that she thought they should get married. Harold was silent for a moment and nodded in agreement.

They arose, held hands and visited Parson Smith to get wed, surprising Mrs. Smith who ran to the phone to spread the word that Harold and Bernice were finally getting married. There was a wave of voices rejoicing for the long-awaited wedding

The reception was boisterous where men were laughing loudly, and the women were fussing over the bride. After the rites were recited and the cake consumed, the couple headed onto their house where they presumably consummated their marriage.

Being elderly in their 80s, this was not easy, but ultimately there was success. There were signs of marital bliss.

The next day they were exhausted, which was expected.

This is a selection of underlined words from last week. this is a variety of words that were selected by other bloggers, please go there!!

River   Elephant's Child is no longer active; Sue Goldberg died and left all us bloggers who enjoyed her site.  

What is in that bottle??

Found in our old barn's timbers

 

We like to think that life was good in the "old days", when our grandparents were young and WW1 was on the horizon.
Telephones that hung on the wall? Water hand pumped in the kitchen? Wood burning stoves?  

Some of those old days were good in the sense that social life was simpler. The old days were more community oriented. 

But medical care? My mom once told me how Dr. Wells performed her appendectomy on the dining room table. House calls were the only time most people saw the doctor. Prescriptions? Home remedies and readily available self-medications for the most part, although the doctor had some legitimate prescriptions at his home.

At the farm, our barn had been built late 1800s, and was leaning by 1970s When the barn was torn down, an untold number of medicinal bottles were found, all of which were long empty and those few still had small amounts of amber liquid, sealed in by caps melded to the glass. (owner of our farm was a doctor and had the liquid analyzed. It was alcohol.)

Order form

$95 · A rare (Heroin) original 1915 government issued "Order Form for Opium, Etc". A similar form from the 1920s was recently shown on the History Channel during a program on illegal drugs.

one dose should be enough

Pinterest

Found treasure

We look at the contents of these cures for common colds and we are horrified by its contents. "Good old days" take on a new view when we think of people of that era. They must have felt pretty good/well after a few doses

 Doctors had absolutely no control what his patients took for what ailed them.
Did he have any idea about the contents? Did he even know the effects of the miracle tonics, elixirs?

What about the prescription below? Did Dr. George Nichopolous realize the results of the prescribed meds he gave Elvis Presley? I am betting he did.

Pinterest

Here, in the "good new days", we are aware of contents and need. BUT, there are doctors who are on a paycheck from the rich and famous and who pull out that controlled substance pad.

No surgeries on the dining room table I am guessing.

 

 

 

 

 

The Writer Within

 

 When the town’s beloved, elderly, and feisty Lucy Powell died suddenly at age 95, all wondered how to peer into her belongings.  

Miss Powell had no relatives yet alive and no family to inherit a lifetime of her history.  Her family was her community and friends.

Slowly, close friends began to assimilate bits of China, old books, quilts, and other items into their own homes.  That was when the diary was discovered. Who should take it?  Who should even open it?

A diary can paint a picture of unrequited love with hearts broken, hearts renewed, and love lost then found. Finding a worn diary, fringed from fingers turning pages over decades, awed all who gathered around.

Finally, Old Ms Alda Franklin stepped forward.  I will take it.  She and I shared so many memories… All agreed.

 

When Alda finally settled down into her rocker with a cup of tea, she opened the cover and began reading each page. She chuckled, cried, gasped, and sighed until she read the last page:

 

My life had meaning and gave me reason to exist.  Touching others, being kind and generous, loving those who are unloved: that is the essence of life.

   

To all who turn these pages: Go!  Make your life count! 

 Journals paint lives in ways that simple words cannot. When we moved, I unpacked 10 family complete diaries and a few not so complete. The bold underlined words are from Wednesday Words, 2015.  Delores started this challenge for bloggers to try other genres. Please go to these marvelous sites:  

 

                             River  and  Elephant's child

 

 

 

Back home, In Pleasant Hill, Illinois

 

Switzerland in the fall 

Every October, the blog world is bedazzled by posts with autumn photos taken by the blogger her/himself.  It makes me hunger for and a little bit jealous of the world “back where” there is such a thing as autumn.

Here in Wildfire season in California, the fall colors don’t exist, except for a sweet gum tree that also sheds little spike balls. What I do have are photos taken in late October 2009 on a walk with my brother, Don.  The photos taken were put into an album to give as a Christmas present for my mother who was in fading and failing health.

So, here are some memories of Autumn and a small town, Pleasant Hill in Illinois in 2009:

An old house next to the bank

Mom's neighbor.  Mom could tell me who they are, who their parents were...

Small rental apartments next to the train track.  This

used to be a veterinarian office when I was young. 

A house near the local funeral home

After my father retired from farming, he visited with at the John Deere

store almost every day.  Sometimes he drove to another John Deere store to pick

up parts.  These was pre-computer ordering.

The Methodist Church (which is in the sidebar).  Young couples 

would meet on benches (out of sight) and talk/kiss.

This log house was saved and then moved to this site.  It dates back to 1820 

and across from Stark Nursery, where the first Delicious apples were

created by someone who brought up a "scion" from Kentucky which

was grafted and cross-pollinated.

This house was restored and is now occupied by some very hard working 

people whom my mom knew.  Yes, she could cite their lineage. We

stopped and peeked in the windows while it was still

under construction.  Mom had no shame, and was friendly with everyone, who 

also knew her lineage.

Somewhere this road will come to an end, in Calhoun County

These are Autumn memories from a past shared by Mom, brother Don, and me.The roads roll on for ever.

WB Yeats: Horseman pass by

 

 

...loved the Pilgrim soul in you.

WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

 

We visited the Cemetery in Dundalk, Sligo, Ireland, 1985.

 

 

 

Farmer, a difference makes.

                                                                    By Paul Harvey

Farmers are the base of food production in the world.  The Great Plains of America and the rich land of the Midwest are the sources of that food.

My childhood was spent on a farm in Illinois, where my folks farmed for about 60 years. The things I saw, did, and learned have been invaluable.

What some may not realize but farming is a 24/7 way of life. The money that goes into harvesting grain and taking care of livestock is unbelievable. Money spent on grain and feed has to provide livestock nutrition and the cost of livestock sales has to be factored into costs.

John Deere combine. Great equipment.

Deere + Massey Ferguson + International Harvester.....
 

Rising Feed $$ + Vet costs + cost of tractor equipment maintenance + fuel + unpaid labor are seen in the cost of meat. When the money is lost at the bottom of the food chain, the loss has to be made up by increasing meat costs or reducing herd numbers or both.  

Who wins in this battle?  Not the farmer.

I learned this whenever I needed a new pair of shoes or winter coat.  When you have to pay for your needs, you just get less for more money. 

So, Don't ever blame farmers for the cost of living. They are doing the best that they can, given the circumstances they face.  When a person opens a can of corn or other vegetables, the farmer was there growing them.

 Each clip is about 1 min. long.  Jackson has been in the fields since he  was in elementary school. Catch him in action at 

facebook.com/profile.php?id=61556973080308&sk=reels_tab

Going to see tractors on an field, farmers,  

My home town, Nebo, Illinois, pop. 427

 

T racy Chapman and Bruce Springsteen "My hometown"

 It is July and harvesting is stirring things up in Pike County Illinois. Tractors are on the road; pickers are going down rows to collect the summer's corn.  Hay balers are out in the sun, stacking bales, and sweating up a storm.

My mother always spread a table of sweet corn, meat loaf, mashed potatoes, tons of foods.  And then, she laid out her pies.  Four pies?  I don't know.  I was the bus boy, the dishwasher, and the general cleaner.

What wonderful memories.

                                        Crosby, Stills, and Nash  1970s

 Our home.  Our house, Our hometown. Even though we have grown, moved on, have our own house those videos are in my mind.

 Jason Aldean   Try that in a small town.

 I grew up on a farm surrounded by corn fields, and a smattering of small towns. Without a doubt, every farm has at least a double barrel shotgun, a rifle, and maybe a handgun. Wild animals and wild dogs roamed and attacked livestock throughout the year, even a farm wife could stand with the farmers.

I once joked that if the BLM (2019) black lives matter came rolling to our town, there would be roads of tractors and trucks blocking every entrance. On those and on buildings throughout the business town there would be hunting rifles in the hands of farmers. 

Now, I have no jokes about this being cast as offensive, "Try that in a small town".

See what you think.  I am curious. 

 

In Witch Creek the first dance

 

Source

Sun burnt sun

Streaked with

Gray and pink....
Wisp to wild.
Grasping, consuming.

Billows of ashes and dust

Swirl upward—

A gift to fires

Of all fires.

Witch Creek,

Cedar Creek,
Mount Palomar,
Esperanza: 

Burn to the ocean

Or stop at the crest?

Waiting for an end.

 

 

 

                          Witch Creek, San Diego, County, 2007

Impassive walls, lying and
Fiery tongues lick cold
 

Gusts transport feathery remains

of homes and trees

To rest, layer upon layer,

White and Gray.

Green life, now absent, 

Becomes moonscape

In moments, in hours.

All from

A sun burnt sun.


                            Fire at its witching hour from 2013.