Blog Design

I'm sure you can tell by my frequently changing layout, that I am just as interested in the appearance of my blog as I am in the contents of it. Hours have been spent trying to make it look like I see it in my head, but I just don't know a whole lot about html code or any other type of cyber silliness.

I am entering to win a blog design by fabulous k creative. I simply LOVE her design and "look". It is just so simple, so fresh, so so pretty!

One of the ways to enter is simply to blog about it, so here it is. Yes, it is shameless but I really really want to win this.

The winner will be announced Saturday. Keep your fingers crossed for this ol farm girl.

Mystical Elixir

Now I know you all have heard me whine and cry about my terminal case of the winter blahs, but that isn't what I've come to blog about today. I've come to give you good people a remedy for winter blahs, or seasonal affective disorder, or seasonal depression, however you choose to call it.

Dr. Oz piqued my interest on his show a week or so ago when he was talking about remedies for this dreaded affliction. I was actually just happy to see other downtrodden, winter-beaten souls. It's a misery loves company thing.

One of the suggestions was ginger tea.

I like ginger.

I like tea.

Perhaps I'll give this a try

I tried straight ginger. I don't recommend this.

So here is what I came up with. Please feel free to try this for it has helped me tremendously.

First of all you'll need some ginger root. I've always seen this in the produce section and watched Martha Stewart grating away at it, but never has it ever graced my kitchen until now.

In doing my research, I found out that ginger is not only a great combatant against the doldrums, but is also a wonderful anti-inflammatory, aids in the digestive process, controls chronic pain, minimizes allergy symptoms and limits flatulence! Glory, glory hallelujah!

Since the ginger alone was just too weird for me, I decided to add some cinnamon. Guess what I found out? Studies have shown this magical spice to help with arthritis pain, regulate blood sugar, and boosts cognitive function and memory. Glory glory hallelujah.

Of course, it has to be sweetened right? I decided to go the natural route in concocting my elixir and went with good-old, beautiful, God-given, honey. Well, you're just not going to believe this. Honey is full of gloriously wonderful incredible stuff!! Lets just set aside for a minute the MIRACLE of how it is made, for this is a topic all in it's own. Plus, if I start talking about how much I love and adore the honey bee, I'll start missing spring again. So here are just a few of the benefits of squeezing some of this golden nectar into your diet.

Honey contains as many antioxidants as spinach.

It's free sugar molecules make the brain function better since the brain is the largest consumer of sugar, thus, reduces fatigue.

It aids in keeping the skin soft and fresh and slows down old age.

The ancient Egyptians paid their taxes with it. (ok, I know that wasn't a benefit although it would greatly benefit me if I was allowed to pay my taxes this way)

You will have to steep your ginger (about a tablespoon of grated ginger root) with the cinnamon in boiling water. I just happen to have the most darling husband that buys me cute tea pitchers because I say I really really need one for my seasonal depression. You can use whatever you have, a glass measuring cup works nicely.

This is probably the most important ingredient in the recipe. The tonic MUST be consumed out of a pretty cup. If you skip this step you might as well just forget about the whole thing.

Honey goes in first, don't ask why, it just does. Don't be stingy. Forget about calories and think of the benefits.

Poor the nice scalding hot tea over the honey, and stir.

And, there you have it. A beautiful, magical, healing cup of tea.

Enjoy.

Lessons in Musicals

Rodney and I were sitting at the breakfast table a couple of days ago drinking our coffee and watching the birds. The weather was very cold and the birds were very busily going about their feasting. Quite a large crowd of those sweet little birdies showed up this particular morning. They were fluttering about in and out of the branches of that big-old oak in my back yard.

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes just watching. Then the following conversation took place;

Me: I wonder if that tickles?

long pause...

Rodney (hesitantly): You wonder if what tickles?

Me: All those birds flying around and hopping up and down on the branches of that tree.

Rodney (bewildered): huh??

Me: Well, it just looks like that would tickle. If I had birds climbing all over me and fluttering around in my hair and hopping up and down my arms...it would certainly tickle!

Rodney: You are such a little freak.

Me: psshht! I am not! how do you know that trees don't get tickled? Have you ever been a tree?

Rodney: No

Me: well, then you don't know do you?

I enjoy torturing him just in small increments. I have to be careful not to push it too far for fear he might actually have me committed. I simply feel it is my duty to bring a little whimsy into his stoic life of duty and work. I'm not sure he has ever heard a tree giggle. The only use Rodney has ever had for a tree is to climb into it's branches to better see wildlife in hopes to blow some poor creature away. This is why God gave us to each other. He keeps me grounded and feeds me lovely wildlife meat, and I...well I try to make sure that he knows that trees have feelings (among other things).

You see, Rodney had a horrible childhood. I found this out after we had been married only a little while. I said something like "we represent the lollipop guild", which completely confused him. I said, "you know, from the Wizard of Oz". And this is when I found it out, the heinous injustice that befell my darling husband. He had never seen the Wizard of Oz!

How is that possible?

I rectified the situation as quickly as possible. I'm not sure how well received it was but I couldn't imagine him going through life without having had his mind filled with song and dance and munchkins (and lions and tigers and bears, oh my!)

It became a quest over the years of our marriage to right all the wrongs from his childhood of hunting and fishing and working in his dads shop. I made him watch Oklahoma when he was down in his back, stuck on the couch and couldn't reach the remote.

My Fair Lady was a staple at our house when the kids were little. See, I started them off early before they even had an opinion of what they liked to watch. Brainwashing is a delicate task and is easier started when your subjects are very young. I can recall Kyle toddling around with a blanky in hand singing "Poor professor Higgins". Of course it came out more like "Poow profether Higginth" YES! My master plan is working! Muah ha ha ha!

And I'm not sure how ANYBODY can go through life without 76 trombones stuck in their heads. I could go on and on about The Music Man. Why my heart is just swelling thinking about it.

I have heard little bits and pieces of my success throughout the years. Rodney has more than once let things slip like pulling the ice cream from the freezer and in his lowest baritone voice singing "ice creeeeeaaaamm". I've also heard him singing "with a little bit of luck" in quite an incredible english accent for a redneck.

God knows that man needed me.

Farm-Style Romance

Rodney and I were up at the "butt-crack" of dawn this morning awaiting the arrival of our newest batch of chickens. It was cold, it was raining and I'll spare you my thoughts on the mud for now. There is something about those sleepy mornings, sharing coffee, quietly discussing the day's chores, going over how well we slept or didn't sleep, and chitchatting about exciting topics like...goat feed.

We dumped the chickens ourselves today. It isn't unusual for us to find ourselves without help, and so my darling man and I unloaded 4 houses of chickens, just the two of us. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with chicken farming, each house holds 29,000 chickens which come to us in crates of 50. That's 2320 crates that have to be lifted and "dumped" into the house. Of course there is much more to it than that, but I can't go into it right now.

Rodney and I love this farm, we love to work together (most of the time) and we are still crazy about each other even after almost 19 years of marriage. Living the way we do, sometimes romance is in short supply. Things just don't get real hot when the topic of conversation tends to revolve around cattle, chickens, hay and goats. Of course, Rodney isn't real well known for being a Casanova anyway. I married that hard-working man for who he is and I sure don't expect to change him. Why on earth would anybody want to do such a thing?

Oh, but there is a sweet sweet side to that man of mine. Earlier today, I was sitting at my desk and I could hear the tractor coming. I love when I can hear the tractor coming! I love the fact that I still get butterflies when I know he is near.

So, I peered out the window and saw two big red buckets coming down the road.

Rodney knows I like buckets. He brought me a bucket when we had only been married a few months. He handed it to me and said "look what I found on the side of the road!" It was probably one of the most romantic gestures I had seen coming from him up to that point...and I still have that bucket.

I had gone to the feed store on Monday and picked up two protein tubs for the cows. When the little dude at the feed store loaded them for me, I was already excited that those tubs just happened to be red and when emptied by the cows, I would be able to use them for planters or any little thing my heart desired.

I don't remember saying much to Rodney about it, just that I wanted him to be sure and not get rid of them when they were empty. Rodney minds me very well.

And now I love him even more. Just the fact that he was out in the rain feeding cows, saw the empty buckets, thought of me, loaded them and sat them at my door, why he is a romantic after all!

With all this cold and rain, I sure needed a little something to heat things up a bit. I think two red buckets delivered via tractor could be just the spice I needed.

"Anytime baby"

Snow Therapy

I've heard people say all my life that time goes by faster and faster the older you get. While this may be true on the grandfather clock of life, I'm convinced that each winter I've lived through has progressively grown longer. I am also completely sure that I suffer from "seasonal affective disorder". The symptoms are...

• Afternoon slumps with decreased energy and concentration
• Carbohydrate cravings
• Decreased interest in work or other activities
• Depression that starts in fall or winter
• Increased appetite with weight gain
• Increased sleep and excessive daytime sleepiness
• Lack of energy
• Slow, sluggish, lethargic movement

• Social withdrawal

Oh, this is me for sure. And I know I'm not the only one who is plagued with this cursed disorder. Do I have to call it a disorder? I think I'll just call it a phase. When bears crawl into their caves for the winter and sleep for months, we don't slap a label on them and consider them to to have some stupid disorder...it's just the way things are.

Although the weather may cause my mood to change somewhat, I am a perpetual optimist and will do whatever I can to see the rainbow in the storm. You know, that "silver lining" that people speak of, that is what I'm after. Thankfully, God helps me out and gives me much to be happy about, however, I am the one that must find it.

So, last night, the skies broke forth and showered glorious snow upon the earth. When you live somewhere like southwest Arkansas, snow is completely thrilling. We usually get a little every year, and we have had years that have given us more than our fair share, but it is just enough to keep us all on the edge of our seats when the forecast predicts winter precipitation.

It's amazing how cathartic a little snow can be for someone in the throws of seasonal depression. I almost couldn't wait for the sun to come up and reveal what mother nature had been up to while we slept. My camera and I were sure to have much to do.

So when the sun did come up, I set out with the only other person in my family that shares my excitement of the snow...Kyle. It helps to have a friend that is a thrilled as you are about something so simple.

I might get excited about the snow, but Kyle literally embraces the stuff. We had only been out for a few minutes when I shot this picture and look at how covered he is in snow already! I don't know how he does it, but whatever he finds to do, he does it 150%.

We were trudging through "The Big Woods". To the east of my house are the Big Woods, to the west of my house lie the Little Woods. We love the Big Woods. They're big.

I was in search of evergreens with snow atop the foliage and Kyle insisted that we go to what he had deemed his favorite holly tree. There are so many things that I loved about that statement. He is fifteen, he's been in those woods enough to know which trees are his favorite and there is a holly tree standing in the thick of the woods that is loved by a boy.

Every little thing seems magical when it is dusted with snow. I love rattan anyway...the sheer audacity that is has to wrap itself around anything in it's path is amazing...add a little snow to it and it is truly a thing of beauty.

I wondered how many times I've walked past something as brilliant as moss growing on a stone and not noticed it. I should be ashamed of myself.

A hike through the woods in the cold and snow were just what I needed, but I passed on the tree climbing. I also reminded Kyle that our health insurance has still not gone into affect and if he broke his arm, it was going to have to stay broken. He assured me that this was not the first time he had climbed this particular tree and explained in some scientific detail about the make-up of a cedar tree and how it would be nearly impossible for him to break an arm.

Eddie joined in our thrill of hiking and frolicking through the snow.

Kyle and Eddie have a love/hate relationship. You will never see Eddie voluntarily curl up next to Kyle to snuggle or rest his head...Kyle is rarely still enough for snuggling of any sort. He is also a bit unpredictable and you never know what he is going to do, something that dogs really aren't crazy about. But playing outside, this is where Kyle and Eddie are suited perfectly.

I don't think a dog could ask for much more than a boy to play with

I couldn't tell if this was merriment or aggravation, but it sure made me laugh

Let us all pause momentarily to admire the perfect specimen of dog that Eddie has become.

When we returned home I was even taken aback at how my little double wide cottage even looked so whimsical and quaint with the roof top dusted white.

The snow is all but gone now. Just a few hours of bliss, but it was certainly well received. Tomorrow is the last day of January. I've still got to make it through February and possibly much of March before the warmer weather returns. We have even seen freezing temperatures and snow as far into the year as April. I promise I will continue to seek out my silver lining. They have been coming in all shapes and forms, today just happened to be sweet snow.

The End of the Trail

The legacy of the Wickes Warriors is coming to an end.

After months of debate, confusion, anger, and much small-town drama, the desision to merge our school with another was decided last night. And so we begin the task of laying to rest our beloved warrior mascot and becoming...something new.

Change is always hard. Personally, I hate change. If it were merely stepping into something new, that would be one thing, but change always means leaving something behind. Some things are easily left behind, but this, my dear ones, is not going to be easy. You see, we love our school! It is the very heartbeat of this fine community, and we are finding ourselves wondering how we will survive without it.

Ironically, today is homecoming. Taylor spent hours last night at the kitchen table painting posters that exclaimed her junior class's devotion to their school. She awakened early this morning (and she is not a morning person) to go to a friends house to paint their faces to show their school spirit. They are, after all, warriors. There will be a pep-rally today that I can only imagine will be bitter-sweet for those valiant warrior students. My son, the captain of the cheer squad, will lift his megaphone and shout the call to battle, but his infantries fate has already been decided for them.

For those of you who were on the front lines of the battle to save our school, those whose hearts bleed blue and white, I commend your efforts. To those who helped to seal our fate, those who sold us up the river while our heads were turned, I say be thankful. Be thankful that not only are we a community of fierce warriors, but of compassionate ones. These next months are sure to reveal the true heart of this community and I am expecting nothing less than what I know it to be. I've seen these beautiful people make miracles happen and be a beacon of light in the darkest of hours.

It is tragic that the price must be paid by the children. They don't understand all the reasons why, they just know that they are loosing their school. For most of them, it is the only school they've ever known, it is their home. A day is coming when they will call somewhere else home, a day when they will cheer on a new team mascot, a day when they will walk the halls of a different institution. I pray for the future generations and that they will find solace and comfort among their new peers and that they may be as proud to be in their new home as they were to be in the old.

The thing about the end of the trail is this. We must be able to look back on our journey and know in our hearts that it was good. The trail may have been difficult at times, but boy did we ever have fun! I believe that our journey has been cut short. I feel that because of poor management we are paying a price very dear, but we must look forward to the future and treasure our memories.

Those whose hearts were touched by the spirit of the warrior will forever more be blessed because of it, and in that light, the warrior lives on.

Goat Parade

While sitting at my desk yesterday morning, Sophie began to speak to me. I know you think that dogs can't talk but mine do, ok. There is a window right next to my desk in which the window sill is just the right height for Sophie's little chin to rest and watch the birds or be on the look-out for anything out of the ordinary.

So she said to me (and I wish I could portray her voice here for you...it is sort-of a Scottish PeeWee Herman)

Momma, momma, there is mischief afoot.

So, peering out the window I found she was right...she is hardly ever wrong about such things. And what did I see? Those pesky goats headed up my driveway! A flagrant group those goats!

Then I'm spotted by the goats and they run faster.

It's Momma!!! Run! Run faster oh flagrants . Onward and upward.

Why they like me so much, I'll never know.

All the while, Sophie and Charlotte are barking (talking) like crazy!

Keep back dear Mother, we shall shield you from these shameless villains.

Schnauzers are bred to be varmint killers. There short stocky little bodies and keen smell are perfect for going to ground and sniffing out vermin. I've seen Sophie kill mice and rats and it is quite a site to behold. Just thought you might want to know this little tidbit of information.

Parading goats are parading...

Parading down the street...

Parading goats are parading...

Leaving little treats.

Be gone vermin! You have no powers here. (oh wait, that wasn't Charlotte, that was the good witch of the north).

My fearless guardians were not content until these ruthless bandits were properly incarcerated. It was after they were detained that those girls became very pleased with their selves.

And don't come back neither!

They'll be back though. Oh yes, they will be back.