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Showing posts from March, 2012

Pick-Up-Sticks Time!

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As sure as robins returning and ice thawing, playing pick-up-sticks was a sign of spring when growing up in the country! It didn't matter where we played. It could have been on a front porch or a side porch or a back porch. It could have been on a sidewalk rid of snow. Wherever it was, we always had lots of fun and lots of laughs. I can't remember if we kept score. I do remember taking my time studying the jumbled pile of thin sticks. I'd try to figure out which one would be the easiest one to pick up without moving any of the others. Of course that was my cousin's goal too. It'd be so nerve-racking when gently taking hold of one and trying to pull it out from the bottom. I felt rather talented when I'd press down on one end of a stick and the other end would lift up above the others. Then I'd have to move my fingers just so to turn the stick while it was still up in the air and move it over the others and then down. That was a major accomplishment when p

Beware Those Pies of March!

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Besides the flour, another constant when my Grandmother made her pie crusts was a can of Crisco. She never had to reference a recipe or use a measuring cup when making her crusts which always ended up heavenly flaky and the perfect texture. Every time I buy those prepackaged pie crusts in the store I think of how methodically she'd fold her ingredients in to the yellow mixing bowl until she had it all where she wanted it. After gathering the dough into a ball; then kneading it and working it, she'd divide the dough, flatten it out with her wooden rolling pin and then spread it out in her glass pie plates, fluting the edges of the crust in lightning speed. While prepackaged crusts cut down the preparation time to nearly nothing, their flavor and consistency lack what my Grandmother created every time she made one of her pies which included-apple, pumpkin, mince meat, berry. Of all the varieties she made, my favorite was her Lemon Meringue! Those pies were masterpieces of creati

A Picture Really is Worth A Thousand Words-or More!

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Over Thanksgiving and Christmas this past year some of us who'd gathered together spent time going through family photo albums. We had an aunt who devoted hours to organizing the photos chronologically by family. The photos represented a smorgasbord of family members-all ages and all situations at all times of the year. The attached photo is one I had to have. I figure it was probably taken by my aunt with her Brownie camera if Brownie cameras were even around then. I carefully removed the photo from the album and later scanned it and then returned it for others to enjoy. The photo is an amazing snapshot of an amazing moment, showing my grandparents actually sitting down and relaxing, enjoy a summer picnic on the side lawn of their farmhouse surrounded by daughters and their husbands and Pepper the dog. What I didn't notice at first was what was in the background, sitting in the field between the barn and the house. Looking closer I was thrilled to find our chicken coop cl

High Praise Review for "The Reindeer Keeper"

The Reindeer Keeper - Believe Again... by Barbara Briggs Ward Illustrated by Suzanne Langelier-Lebeda One of the most beautiful stories I have ever read. The embrace of the book, its tale of faith and love, yet mixed with sadness and resentment over past loss, touched a chord deep within me. This is a Christmas story, and yet it is a life story. A story of life that goes on through generations, through faith that doesn't fail and love that lives forever. Barbara Briggs Ward knows how to write magic that touches the soul and releases anger and sorrow. Abbey has grown up without her mother from a delicate age, but she and her father have a wonderful relationship. They live above a funeral home where her father is the funeral director. Abbey helps her father by cutting out all the obituaries for the funeral home file, copies enough for the families, and through her caring mind begins to think about the stories of the lives of those who have passed. Her father is also a caring man

It Was Bound to Happen!

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I've been in my glory for a few months now, relishing in my favorite season where the colder it is, the better it is; the higher the snowbanks, the higher I'd like them to go. But I realize all good things do come to an end-for awhile that it is until Mother Nature brings Winter back around in all its freezing and slendid, breathtaking glory. Besides the calendar there are hints everywhere that this natural flow of events is about to happen. I've discovered tulips and daffodils peeking out from their winter beds. I've heard the honking announcements from geese high above. I've seen their majestic flocks and watched them land in precision formations in fields and along creek beds. Streams are flowing. Tiny buds on trees are breaking through and suddenly, my winter coat's too warm and my winter boots unnecessary. I feel I'm in dire need of a haircut and I have absolutely nothing to wear! It'd be so much easier if we could just keep things as they are.

The Teapot on the Lace Tablecloth

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When I write about growing up in the country alongside three homes all full of relatives I am writing about my mother's side of the family. Her parents owned the barns, sheds,rambling fields and pastures surrounding their farmhouse. They had six daughters. A son died at birth. After their family grew up, my grandparents moved from the farmhouse into a smaller home they'd built on the property. My parents built a home on one side of them; another cousin's family built a home on the other side. In the farmhouse was yet another cousin and her family so needless to say, we were surrounded by family. We celebrated holidays and birthdays together. We shared suppers outside in the summer under my aunt's pine trees. After we ate, the little kids would sometimes play baseball. We'd alternate homes on Sunday evenings for supper during the fall and winter. For awhile my mother, her sisters, and their mother would get together one night a week to work on little projects. The