tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-177799192024-03-13T04:36:21.528-04:00WelcomeUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-77063961574867121432016-10-24T23:52:00.001-04:002016-10-24T23:52:36.012-04:00The Spider And The Fly A Sequel To Camping Out
Old memories never die and I love hearing my daughters chatter about life as they knew it before boys were men and girls were women. Here are their responses to my memory of their backyard camp out.
Riverdancer, aka Mama
Little Blond haired girl comments.."Hey everyone! This is one of the little girls the author has mentioned....yes, the youngestUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-17127526748026365722010-08-31T10:24:00.002-04:002010-08-31T11:09:45.245-04:00Goodbye Old FriendGoodbye old friend. I know you're packing your bags. There has been such a closeness between us that when you cried I tasted the salt. Jes' yesterday I noticed a change in you. I shudda' seen that ramblin' fever coming on. There wuz a snake in the grass, too. I see sheddin his skin signs all over the place.If you'll stay I'll rub your back and we'll tawk about when you'll be coming back again. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-32422421319270996072010-03-29T09:58:00.001-04:002010-03-29T09:58:56.078-04:00On Writing"Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."Cyril Connolly(1903 - 1974)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-47104523264157410232010-03-27T18:17:00.006-04:002010-08-31T14:35:57.179-04:00A certain Southern man prefers to rise before dawn, take a warm bath and a long walk down the driveway for the morning paper on an empty stomach. Dawn is when men of reason (depends on your definition of ‘reason’) go to bed. Dawn is also when my husband's year-round yard work and drama at the rabbit saloon begins.I like watching the breakfast crowd through the kitchen window. A big-hearted saloonUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-42567002242577116032010-03-27T18:07:00.001-04:002010-03-27T18:08:30.515-04:00ListenMy favorite coffee cup, a wicker chair and a quiet, sunny, cool morning on my west entrance porch: a train whistle - dew falling from the sweet gum trees....and there, in the sky was a H-U-G-E, black bird with a white head and throat and a HUMONGOUS wing spread. It appeared to me he/she was clutching something that trailed. Could this be an eagle??? Please don't tell me it was a vulture. I know Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-66888826383843742082009-08-22T14:44:00.005-04:002009-08-27T11:48:47.022-04:00Big Hair of the 60's - A True StoryMind you my husband is a genuine Florida Panhandle cracker born and raised in a western hammock at the head of Mule Creek named Booger Bay. What saved him from a lifetime at the wrong end of a mule was flaming red hair, piercing brown eyes, a magnetic personality and three half-crazy sisters whose sole aim in life was to torment him.Trusting no one and allied only with himself he steadily climbedUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-46919280956821897232009-08-21T10:00:00.006-04:002010-03-27T18:04:17.721-04:00The ReunionDear Florida High Old-Timers:This morning there is a promise of shorter, cooler days and repeated circles with variations to be absorbed in the whole of future Septembers.Looking back in time I see the only girl in the FHS 1952 class of six. There is no escaping high school juvenile categories. She was not popular even though she did enjoy a fair amount of recognition.In the school library is a Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-88619052280032011092009-08-19T14:01:00.019-04:002009-08-20T18:08:37.786-04:00Life And Times~The Water Boy~My other brother, Broward Franklin’s first job in the 1940’s was stacking chunks of coal outside Grandpa Green’s blacksmith shop. He was the youngest of three born to the youngest of Grandpa’s brood. He was barely out of diapers when he stopped the little train system dubbed ‘The Watertown Northern Railroad Moonshine Line’ with his slingshot and glass marble.On its way from Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-39839553375557988542009-08-18T12:27:00.006-04:002009-08-19T10:09:45.545-04:00Alone In My Kitchen With A Bag Of Rice Not too far from here is a place with a name you won’t believe. It's not a city. I guess you call it a nickname? There's one highway, one traffic light, a church, a convenience store, horse doo-doo, kudzu and more armadillos than Texas has.The place belongs to the people born there. Transplants don't count. The natives call the place 'Coonbottom'. Everyone else calls it 'Concord' in public but 'Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-8300700281675562102009-07-28T17:19:00.009-04:002009-08-20T06:19:49.575-04:00Prom NightProm night must be upon us here in north Florida. Last night during my evening stroll I detected the smell of hair spray, styling gel, perfume, spray starch, blings, fear and hormones in the air…..and that’s just the boys.There are no students in our neighborhood but an elite private club (called Rooster’s Rundown by some) is only a quarter of a mile down the road so the wind must have been Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-40729746717029672342008-09-19T13:38:00.002-04:002008-09-19T13:42:39.248-04:00Goodbye Old FriendGoodbye old friend. I know you're packing your bags. There has been such a closeness between us that when you cried I tasted the salt. Jes' yesterday I noticed a change in you. I shudda' seen that ramblin' fever coming on. There wuz a snake in the grass, too. I see sheddin his skin signs all over the place. If you'll stay I'll rub your back and we'll tawk about when you'll be coming back again.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-65241742562847834282007-11-18T18:06:00.001-05:002007-11-18T18:06:52.124-05:00A good listener in the talking part of the SouthUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-86789675635849012712007-11-18T12:18:00.001-05:002008-01-15T19:37:28.480-05:00Click me!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-82774718536242936012007-11-12T19:14:00.001-05:002009-07-29T14:59:36.219-04:00I have always lived in never never land, aka 'Deliverance'. For the past forty years of my life I have lived across the street from the Easter Bunny, next door to Popeye, two blocks from a Lego factory and backdoor to two gnomes and the Wizard of Oz. I dress according to the weather, wearing whichever breeze happens to be blowing. I am a member of a large and powerful tribe whose activity is not Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-69976829974764866452007-06-02T09:53:00.000-04:002007-06-02T09:56:14.726-04:00Where to look in the Bible when,You need rest and peaceMatthew 11:25-30You WorryMatthew 6:19-34You are lonely or fearfulPsalm 23You need peace of mindJohn 14:27Philippians 4:6-8Men fail youPsalm 27You grow bitter or critical1 Corinthians 13You have sinnedPsalm 511 John 1You are discouragedPsalm 34God seems far awayPsalm 139The world seems bigger than GodPsalm 90You are sickPsalm 41You are Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-75765605202545473462007-03-23T07:43:00.000-04:002007-04-21T11:44:28.106-04:00Last night the past slipped in bringing sweet memories. This morning I'm taking all those old records off the shelf and listening to them all. Dancing away from last night into the morning - this glorious morning.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-67663700594804064842007-03-18T10:08:00.000-04:002007-03-18T10:10:32.904-04:00Good Sunday morning! A glorious day here. Cold and sunny. We are on our way to our weekend retreat and dinner with my cousin tonight. Put your troubles away today and enjoy life!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-92202338953212835692007-03-17T07:26:00.000-04:002007-03-17T07:35:30.744-04:00Saturday, again. A cold morning arrived as predicted. The wind is yowling and spectacular azaleas of all colors, wild honeysuckle and dogwood trees are awake. My yard is a cornucopoia of nature's generosity. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-38919041414081190212007-03-16T15:12:00.000-04:002007-03-16T15:16:51.163-04:00Today is Friday, bless its heart. I always did like Fridays - most of the time, that is. Back when Friday was date night instead of tv night I was hooked on a feeling of anticipation. Guess you can call it that. Is that a Southern saying? Naw. It sho' isn't but it'll do until something more fittin' comes along....bein' since I am "full of it" anyhow!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-4235201185387095242007-03-12T08:46:00.000-04:002007-03-12T10:12:49.069-04:00This Monday morning is very cool here in Florida. Don't you hate posts that begin with a weather report? I do. It's a permanent topic of conversation among persons whom it does not interest. We chatter about it because there's little else we care to share with strangers...like today. But make no mistake my friends, I know you are there. Stay healthy and happy.I am a self-appointed inspector of Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-66879410715850074552007-03-11T22:29:00.000-04:002007-03-11T22:51:18.721-04:00The 60's and 70's The main office was all grey tones of concrete block walls the color of fresh dug attapulgite clay. Grey dust flowed up from the sidewalks to cover my shoes and postage stamp grass: it had settled out of the air years before Clean Air Title I limitations. The front door bore clawmarks and tiny splinters left by the company watchdog's frantic search for human contact. Across the Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-59703488727682093072007-03-11T22:22:00.001-04:002007-03-11T22:22:36.291-04:00Today does not drive people to distraction - maybe mad. No. It's the bottomless pit of remorse and dispair for the things that happened yesterday and the dread for what tomorrow could bring. I was distracted yesterday: today I have hope for tomorrow and all of the tomorrows thereafter.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-66951087913974837612007-03-11T11:08:00.001-04:002007-03-11T11:08:52.531-04:00It is a dark and shadowed winter morning here. Crackling cold. The sun is like a fat watermelon backing the night down and down through trees so tall I have to tilt my head back to look. At last I understand my grandmother's ritualistic saying, "A woman rises of her own will in the morning". Stepping outside to measure my day the cold air steamed my breath in clouds. Bare tree branches are Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-8597331918471848242007-03-11T10:40:00.000-04:002007-03-11T10:41:53.360-04:00I am addicted to ghost stories which make me feel as if a stream of lizards fresh from the pond are streaking up my back and hiding in my hair. I cannot read ghost stories though without all of the lights on in the house.One especially dark night last week (well, really this happened last night) only one dim nightlight glowed in the dining room and it is putting it mildly that I was reluctant toUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779919.post-45291180376593697182007-03-11T10:34:00.001-04:002007-03-11T10:37:04.803-04:00At last! I can speak to the internet message boards, friends Groups, writing Groups and all the dot com journals, magazines, Southern humor and blogs out there.For the past two years I have surfed, joined, written, read, digested, disagreed and sat quietly on their benches. There were periods of time when I enjoyed being there. I concluded for the most part this activity is a device for promotingUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0