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Archive for August 17th, 2007

Evening on the Farm

Aug
17

Leaves in sun and shadow….. This would make a really hard 1000-piece puzzle, don’t you think?

Terrible storm last night! It was 100 degrees yesterday then storms–wind, hard rain, lightning, booming thunder, the works……which cooled things off nicely but put out our power for hours. A power outage here brings everyone out to sit on the big farmhouse porch–even the kids, who voluntarily interact–due only to lack of TV and computer, of course. All the cats and dogs join in to get out of the rain, so it’s a porchful.

Here on this farm, where we live in the 100-year-old farmhouse while we’re building our new house on our own farm a couple miles away, there are three houses. My cousin, with his wife and their 15-year-old son, lives in a big two-story house next door. He’s the local prosecutor and his wife is an OB nurse. His 77-year-old mother lives in another house on the other side of his. It’s very much like our own little community–and the old farmhouse porch is the hub.

Last night, my cousin’s mother came over in all her rain gear–rain boots, rain jacket, umbrella. She’s got an outfit for every weather event. She’s very spry for her age and basically runs the farm, takes care of everything. We saw her walking over and I said, “Watch her, she’s going to pick up that fallen branch and take it to the brushpile even though it’s dark and pouring,” and of course she did. My cousin came over looking for food that can be eaten without being cooked, thinking I’m such a little baker I might have some goodies onhand–poor man, he must have forgotten I have a deadline. His wife, a 4-H leader and walking musical, started singing camp songs. We pored over the newspaper with a flashlight–the Princess did a dance when she found her class list in the paper and all her best girlfriends in her class, and the one boy she can’t stand in the other. We lit candles and the children played with flashlights. 14 came home from football practice, dropped off by a neighbor. A very wet practice. After hours of “interacting” we set upon him like starving people who’d spotted food. He tried to go inside. “No!” We all but tackled him. “Stay here. Tell us about practice. TELL US EVERYTHING.”

The power came on sometime during the night. I feel lucky to be online this morning! On tap this weekend–more work at the farm, and writing, writing, writing on my book that’s due in September. How about you?

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The Slanted Little House

"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....



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