PUMPKINS MEAN OCTOBER
I think this October is going to catch on fire. Hope I am wrong. Given the current crazy, seems it is time to start ramping up all the hate and hurt the Left can sum up against anything, good, happy, traditional or normal living. A gut feeling.
The new Texas home is now set in stone. Life and living is happening. Guest bedrooms are fully furnished but being used as staging area for the rest of the house. Kitchen full function among some mess and items finding their final drawer or cupboard. TV unpacked and resting on the couch. A dozen pictures hung and others set close by.
Two more truck trips to the storage unit and will close that down. Most all small boxes marked, "Garage."
Our go to cooking tools have been the small Dutch oven and the cast iron frying pan. Meats, seasoning, sliced onions and sliced potatoes. She always forgets adding the carrots. A gentle smile and "oh I completely forgot. Sorry." Blinky eye, blinky eye. She is not a fan of cooked carrots. I will only be concerned when she forgets to add the cube steaks, chicken or pork chops.
The smell of food on the simmer, no mess dinner serving and double the flavors of the left overs are reminders of both our early years growing up in families who cooked for larger families. There is a sense of warmth, homjeness, security, safety and well being within the smell of activity in the kitchen. I talk about this, damn near every post. Part of making this new house a home.
The smaller size of the new home mandates throwing things away. I pick it up put it down. Pick it up, put it down. The third time I try heading to the garbage bin. This has to become a new habit.
Most all of the outside construction and add-on's complete. Her found 20 (twenty year old) boxwood trees on Facebook. Dug up and delivered. She had them planted the next day and has gone out to visit with them everyday since. So far, so good.
We love East Texas. Our back woods home. Local small towns. Weather. Thunderstorms. The promise of good years ahead. Quiet. Just being her and me. The satisfaction of work of small accomplishments. Exceptional nearby restaurants. New friends/neighbors. Everyday politeness. A good night's sleep. The adventure. Not the poison ivy!
We are also learning how to become part of the community. Saturday morning market gets us out of the house early and walking through local farms' products. Finding out how to keep in touch with some of the vendors after the market closes at the end of this month.
We are getting a dozen fresh eggs every week now.
This October brings barrel-racing, parades, flea markets, swap meets, car shows and other activities that bring folks to town. These have been on going for years and years and a few minutes spent with locals tells of stories of how big it use to be. Parades of 500 hundred horse and riders now (no stallions) used to be thousands.
Found this on Ace of Spades last week.
JUNK YARD DOG?
We have been under surveillance these past weeks from JYD (Junk Yard Dog). First from the woods, then from the far yard and recently, laying next to the far tree pictured here.
My wife and I have talked to the dog while out side. Friendly talk, a whistle to make her ears perk up. We have been able to go about our chores, but advancing towards JYD sets her moving to distance.
It appears she has a routine through our yard. Also appears to always return towards a small group of neighbors south of us. Yet there is something about her visits. She has spent hours just laying near by. Baby steps. NO!! we are not giving JYD a name. No we are not feeding her. No we are not looking for a pet. We will not be adopted! No, No, No!!! I do like that floppy ear.
PLAYING WITH DOUGH