Hometown

A John Deere combine sits at the end of harvest.  It's been cleaned up and is ready for next year.

My father spent a lot of time at this place.  Retired farmers don't really retire.

The Methodist Church is surrounded by golden trees in the fall.

Log cabins are never allowed to crumble into pieces.  They are reworked, added to, and made into a home for the next generations.

These homes are down by the railroad tracks, next to broad fields.  Harvest is done, so it is much quieter, and has less corn-dust.

This lovely home always, always has a seasonal display with an American flag.  I have seen this home for more years than I care to confess, and every year it is lovely.

I wish I owned this trike.

These owners are such talented gardeners.  From Spring to Winter, their yard has color.

Migraines have robbed me of several days.  So I will instead share some autumn photos of my mother's hometown.  It is a 'pictures and a thousand words' sort of thing.

Food, Glorious Food!

From the movie "Oliver Twist"

“Open this door right now!”  Sunshine pounded on the pantry door with all the fury a three-year old can muster.  She glared up at me, the towering Grandma, and waited. 

Looking down at this little blonde blue-eyed monster girl, I burst out in spontaneous laughter.  Her eyes grew bigger, and her chin trembled just a bit.  I scooped her up with a hug and kiss, taking her to Grandpa’s lap. 

"Please, sir!  May I have more?"

Sunshine was an eating machine three-year old.   She wanted something every 15 minutes or so.  I guess the 15 minute mark had passed, and that pantry door was supposed to open and give her what she wanted/needed:  food.

More?  Sir?  More?

Food is perhaps the only thing in life that is work in obtaining, essential for living, and pleasure in consuming.  Very few activities we do contains all three elements.

Dating back to early man, the hunting and gathering of food was done most effectively as a community.  Greater numbers meant greater success, fed the whole community. 

Who wants seconds?  Anyone?  Anyone?

Then that community would prepare/cook the food as a group.  They all hunkered by the fire and ate.  During this process, bonds of friendship and support were formed.  Stories were told with great embellishment, children fell asleep in the mothers’ arms, and people survived.

Today is World Food Day.  There will be many discussions regarding food, each from a different perspective, each pointing to the central fact:  everyone needs food to live. 

If a man hungers, you give him food.  If a man thirsts, you give him something to drink.  If a man needs shelter or clothes, you provide for him.  If you do this, even the lowest of man, you are doing it for God.  When the opportunity to provide food arises, what should our response be?

When my other granddaughter Bright Eyes was hungry, her mommy once asked her, “What kind of food do you want?”  Her answer?  “Nummy food!”

Please go to the following links to find more blogs about World Food Day:

#BAD11    and/or Global Discussion about Food 

The Waiting Bride

See*Photo*Write

Dorothy had seen the phantom bride of Bog’s Creek many times.  She was only six when she had skipped towards the creek, seeing the shimmering white form with lighted candles in a silver candelabra.  “Whatcha doin’?”  Dorothy had called.  The bride had disappeared in a mist.

Over the years, Dorothy had called to her.  The bride would hesitate for just a second.  Then she began to turn her head ever so slightly.

Each time, the bride remained just a little longer, turning her head just a bit more.  The candles flickered and glowed.

When Dorothy was almost 20, she again went to Bog’s Creek.  Twisting and turning the diamond ring on her finger, Dorothy’s steps were heavy and reluctant.  The ring was heavy, a burden almost, and a reminder of her looming wedding.

As Dorothy stepped within arm’s reach, the phantom bride turned, looking full into Dorothy’s eyes.  The candles illuminated her pale visage.

Dorothy gasped in recognition.  “You!  Your face is my face!”

The bride gestured to the water and then held out her hand.  Hand and hand, Dorothy and the phantom bride descended into the water’s depths.

p.s.  This is the third story in the Bride stories.  It has been greatly entertaining, and challenging to look at the same photo three ways!  Susan