The Never-ending Song

The sun met me, rising in the East when I took Hannah out.  The last sunrise of the decade, it spoke of troubled years and delightful ones as it appeared in rosy red blushes on fluffy gray clouds.  I watched until it had turned golden, flooding the land with a sudden warmth and promise. "Goodbye 2019", it whispered, " look forward to tomorrow, 2020."  My Mother would be pleased.  I have finished writing and posting my thank you notes for the many thoughtful  Christmas gifts I received from family and friends, before the midnight hour.  Mother insisted that my sister Patty and I write thank yous for all of our gifts before the turn of the year. They could not be generic notes saying "Thank you for the gift.  I liked it", but must mention the gift by name.  The note must also contain bits of news such as what we were doing in school and/or 4-H.  If the gift was one of cash, such as my Dad's Uncle Russell sent (a man we girls did not even know!) we w

Christmas Eve in Virginia.  So warm outside, even though the sky has turned from mauve to black, that I just too Hannah out while wearing only my Grinch tee shirt. As I waited for Hannah to finish her business, I looked into the blackness above.  One brilliant star--in the East at that--and no others showing yet.   Of course, being technical, it is not actually a star, but rather a planet.  Still it is so very bright against the very black that it does radiate a sense of awe. So many Christmas eves in my past.  I even got engaged on one notable Christmas Eve when I was 23. My "baby" sister (13 plus years my junior) wrote that the thing she recalls best is having to wait to open the gifts until after breakfast and milking done and all the family was gathered in the living room. However, the stockings hanging on the mantle over the fireplace were fair game as soon as we reached them.  She loved the stocking, maybe more than all the wrapped packages, because there was always

I began writing this a week ago--when the miserable event occurred. Here we are, almost Christmas, and I guess that is about the only excuse I have for such a long delay in putting fingers to  keyboard. Anyway, back to Stink bugs. For those of you who live where these ghastly creatures have not yet made their presence known I will only say how very fortunate you are.  As far as I can see they have absolutely no use.  They also have only one enemy (other than man) and that is the Praying mantis.  The Stink bugs are not native to Virginia.  They were brought here to solve a previous problem and like so many things that were relocated to solve a problem, they have themselves become a problem.  They have multiplied  without fear as there are far less Praying Mantis to eat them.  We had a mantis here who sat at the laundromat door all summer and became huge.  I have never seen one grow to such proportions.  Her diet consisted entirely of Stink bugs.  She had positioned herself in the

Tis the season of mysterious boxes.  Boxes of varying shapes and sizes arrive with the mail carrier, the UPS truck and the bright Fed Ex van.   The brisk sharp rap on my apartment door sends Susie flying beneath the recliner. Hannah rises from her nap and appears from the depth of her crate to inspect the box as it is hauled through the door.  Hannah recognizes the boxes which come from Chewy.  Almost as if she could read the lettering on the side which declares "Oh Boy- a box".  I suspect; however, she may actually be detecting the scent of delicious items contained within.  She is, after all, a bird dog, with a nose always pointed into the wind to capture the distant essence of BIRD.  But in that box she detects a carton of Milk Bones and YES- some of those yummy Pork Chomps. Susie, after recovering from her initial fright of stranger bearing a large scary object, crawls forth from her hiding place to observe this thing being emptied is actually---Oh Boy-a box--and a

Thought perhaps you might want to see what Ginger looks like.  She is a very feminine kitty-fine boned with delicate triangular face.  When she rolls on the sidewalk she displays her perfect bikini, a small white bra and little white panty.   She is not easy to photograph, being very suspicious of anything with which she is not familiar.  My neighbor did capture a few moments of Ginger's life this summer on film.  She sent them to me last night so I am passing a few along to you. It amazes many of us living here how one small cat who does no harm could have created such a furor.  Now as the earth settles down to winter, the cold wind blows (And how!), the thermometer drops, Ginger spends more time curled up inside the little house on my porch.  I have a heating pad inside on the floor covered by a bath towel which I adjust according to the outside temp.   She comes indoors to eat.  She is extremely cautious, poking her head in and scoping out the room before she slinks in.  Once