Sunday, July 19, 2015

"Life is just a bowl of butter beans"

Life is just a bowl of butter beans
Pass the cornbread, if you please
I don't want no collard greens
All I need is a bowl of butter beans


And so It begins ....

Ma'maw Cordie's black-skillet cornbread with Not'cho Daddy's dirty beans.


.... with a pan of Southern cornbread and a pot of beans.

Original FB post, July 16, 2015 ~

Something I had never -- as in NOT EVER -- done before; made my Ma'maw's Southern Iron skillet cornbread. This is traditional, down-home cornbread of corn meal, a touch of flour, baking powder, salt, pinch of white sugar, an egg, buttermilk, bacon fat and butter.

What's your favorite cornbread recipe?
 — with Annie Miller..

Lifted from Doug McCoy
This summer of 2015, I tell you, is not the best of times for a Son of the South. Often times I imagine sitting down with my Elders going back to Knoxville, GA, in the 1830s. The crooked little man with the bushy beard is John Sanford Saunders, Great Grandfather on Mom's side, CSA combat veteran, and my oldest Patriarch. Next to Old John is his last-born boy Wiley Preston Saunders, my Grandfather; and at his right side, his last-born baby girl, my Mom, Gracie Ellen Saunders.
We all know "The Look", don't we.

As I was saying .... That little post on cornbread and beans provoked more than a few comments:

"I like a buttermilk recipe, too. It's very close to yours, but I've never added bacon drippings before. I, too, use my grandmother's cast-iron skillet."

"Martha White (lol) with a bit of sugar and chopped jalapenos. Pour half batter in a hot iron skillet, spread shredded cheese, then pour rest on top & bake."

"I have my great-grandmother's skillet," the widow Vernon allowed. There's a character! Regular readers will, no doubt, be reading more from Liz by the by.

"The best comfort food will always be greens, cornbread, and
fried chicken." ~ Maya Angelou

 Elise over at Simply Recipes offers this take on Southern cornbread.

2 cups cornmeal OR 1 1/2 cups cornmeal and 1/2 cup flour

  • 2 teaspoons baking soda
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 to 2 Tbsp sugar (optional)
  • 1 1/4 cups buttermilk
  • 1 egg (optional)
  • 6 Tbsp unsalted butter, melted
  • 1 Tbsp bacon drippings

This is a solid base from which to set out and explore, but keep in mind these two essential points:
     1. No two cooks make the same cornbread, and 
    2. No cornbread baker worth his salt measures.

I like the three-to-one (3-1) cornbread-to-floor ratio; makes for a good crumb. Really old school cooks will insist on leaving out the flour altogether. This harkens back to cornbread's early people .... <Cue the Dream Weaver music!"

First Cornbread was whooped up by Native American Peoples using only ground corn, salt and water many moons before there was a Columbus to dream of a New World. Different regions of the New World to-be had differing varieties of corn. Blue corn, for instance, was favored in the Southwest, while yellow corn grew best up North. Down South folks, naturally, were used to white corn. White corn likewise would give The South grits, hominy and that shameful feeling of white supremacy.

No sooner had the White Eyes arrived to discover a plethora of great cornbreads when they went to monkeying with the indigenous, native mixes. Northern insurgents soon were fortifying native cornbreads with honey, molasses, even white sugar when they could get it. Below the as yet undiscovered Mason/Dixon, however, no backwoods redneck would be caught dead with sweet cornbread in his poke.

Sweet vs Not Sweet remains the basis for many a Great Unpleasantnesses to this day! Note the "(optional)" appended to the "1 to 2 Tbsp sugar" in Elise's recipe above. Even in a Southern savory bread, a pinch or two of white sugar helps make the other component flavors pop without a sweet taste coming through.

Now, Mom's people were all solid South. Dad's folks, on the other hand, were Upper Midwest, right along the Ohio-Michigan line. So my own personal favorite cornbread mix is 3-to-1 yellow cornmeal-to-floor and a healthy handful of sugar. Yeah, it's sweet, and Mom always swore I never got it from her!

Buttermilk by all means. I mean, buttermilk to drink ain't worth the spittin' out, but it is essential in cornbreads, biscuits and all kinds of cakes.

To my way of making it, the egg is NOT optional. Don't skimp on the butter, neither! If half a stick is good, the whole damn stick is better!

Now to the bacon drippings. Do NOT add this fat to the mix! Every precious last drop of it goes into that large, black cast-iron skillet you should have prepped before you ever started mixing up a batter. So set the oven on 400F, put the bacon fat in the skillet, and set the skillet in the oven. NOW go to making a batter.

Dry mixes with dry and wet with wet. Combine wet and dry in a large mixing bowl (prefer glass) just until the blend is uniform and a bit bubbly. Don't over-stir it.

When -- and not until -- your skillet is screaming hot, carefully remove it from the oven and dump all the batter straight way into the smoking fat. Yeah, it's gonna bubble and sizzle like Satan's own tea around the edges, but never you mind that. Get that skillet back into the oven immediately, if not sooner.

Figure on 20 minutes, but your oven will vary. Keep an eye on it, but don't go opening that oven door no sooner than 15 minutes. We're looking for a rich golden brown top. Once out of the oven, let it set off-heat in the pan for another good 20 minutes.

IF you can wait that long ....

Photo stolen from Rick Ross








Saturday, July 4, 2015

A Simmer Down Saturday, Fourth of July Eve Rag

gimme a A.
EY!
sound of a G chord strumming....

We're on the bed, there, like we NORMALly are
She's Hulu hoppin', I'm on the Umpteenth Plain of KLONDIKE
Wishin' I had a car. Not sure why. A car would be totally useless up
on Klondike Falls except to rhyme with "are"!

Waitin' for it to come around again like Arlo taught us to....

.... wishin' I had a car.
A Ford, a Lincoln, ev'na Merc'ry would do
Will chop and stroke and bore it into a Rescue
For Wayward Sensi Plants and Homeless Hemps, too

When 'cross the street the bombs start bursting in air!
The dogs cut loose, of course, givin' Cisco a scare ~
A foster dog, transient in the pack who'se never before seen nor heard tell of carryin' on like this before ~
We're up and at our windows; glad it's so dark
Save for the Rainbow Glow over Hamiltion Park!

and that's a whole 'nother song I haven't wrote yet,
the Rainbow Glow Over Hamilton Park
love me some scotus, HONK! HONK!

THEY're getting off, over at the Country Club.
THEY're shootin' a wad with rockets in the air!
The SWELLS are gettin' it on over at THE Country Club
While the Law allows we commoners cain't do that!

2 bee, or knot too B
continued
U
decide
by keeping it going
add a verse, a line, an aside
tag me back,
Jack!

By Dawn's Early Light


Two hundred, thirty-nine years and counting of We, the People striving for a more perfect union.


Friday, July 3, 2015

Throw It Out Thursday

Throw It Out Thursday

I’m looking at three big boxes, side by side by side.


Box #1 is marked, “SELL.” Box #2 is labeled, “GIVE,” and the third simply says, “BURY.”

broken-down-box.jpg


Donald Trump bounces into Bin #3 for all eternity or until I leave this world, whichever comes first. Bless his heart.  Needs his hardened human model replaced by a baboon's heart, provided said baboon died of natural causes unrelated to heart diseases. Maybe then he’d find some compassion.

Call it the 3-box solution to clearing out clutter. As you move about your particular enclosure, grab crap at random and ask yourself, “When was the last time I used this?” If you cannot answer immediately, if you have to think about it more than a couple or three seconds, whatever it is goes into a box. #1. #2. or #3.

If nothing else, you'll soon learn to look and think before touching!

Speaking of looking and thinking better: How long has it been since y'all've dropped in at Juanita Jean's, The World's Most Dangerous Beauty Salon, Inc? Might wanna think about gettin' yourself in there, now that the political season is a simmering.

Friday of the Fourth


Friday of The Fourth ~ I'm hearin' Sgt. Joe "Justh the facths, ma'am" Friday with a lisp

It’s dark out, yet, at ten to six of a morning. Both windows, north and south, reflect on the black beyond with ghostly, shadow-like images. There’s my shadow self, looking for all the world like Gollum in an electric yellow tee, pecking away at his precious.
"Gollum" courtesy
 Dragonstooth Miniatures.

Good Friday morning, good friends and neighbors. Can you tell I was listening in on LR, The Liberal Redneck, yesterday? Normally I am not a fan of talk radio, because I've usually got my own channel booming through my head, making it difficult to hear someone else's bullshit above my own. But LR's hour yesterday with that Pee Dee, The Pagan Goddess, was an ear opener, to say the least.

"The Christian Right is gulping down the Kool~aid!"

"This must be the end of times!!"

"God cannot possibly allow this to pass!!!" 

But He has.


Once upon a time, Friday of the Fourth kicked off Camping Season, usually somewhere on Arrowhead ~ the state park or the backside of Hippie Beach, Pawnee Point in a pinch or all the way out to Tree in the Middle of the Road Park (TMRP).

I could tell ya where TMRP is, but then I'd have to get you into a witness protection program.

You know you're getting old when your youngest cub says, "Dad, it's too damned hot, muggy and buggy for that shit! 'Sides, NASCAR's on the TV!" I think that kind of let down The Kid, #2 "He Tries Harder" grandson, who's been looking forward to Camping With the Guys since landing back in his native state. He'll get his night out with the boys all in good time, but on the old men's terms. Don't tell The Kid, but I'm thinkin' somewhere down in Brewster County, maybe out around Christmas Mountain, some weekend come this fall.

Photo courtesy Sam Houston State University


Of course, I knew by a couple days ago, at least, we weren't going camping. Not this weekend of all weekends. I'm just relieved the boy backed out first.




Finally...maybe...if I don't run across something else. You HAD to know this was coming:

Photo courtesy Paws In The City

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

New Study Finds Chocolate Good for the Heart


"Chocolate Heart Blues"

Well if I had money,
I'd tell you what I'd do,
I go downtown buy a pound or two.
Crazy bout the chocolate,
Lord I'm crazy bout the chocolate,
I'm gonna buy me some chocolate & eat it ever’day from now on.

Well the girl I love,
I found her by the Bay.
Took me down to Ghirardelli’s, and here I stay,
Girl knows her chocolate..
Lord she's crazy bout the chocolate..
I'm gonna buy us the chocolate & share it with her ever’day.

Hey now mama, is that special dark?
Put it in a blender with some coffee bark.
Crazy bout the mocha now
Lord I'm crazy for a choc’late cow!
I'm gonna buy a ton of See’s & eat it ‘till the cows come home!.

Well my baby went out
To the local Sugar Shack,
Got the chocolate shakes, and brought ‘em home in a sack.
She's crazy bout that chocolate,
Yeah she's crazy bout the chocolate.
Lordy, we’re high on the chocolate & cruisin’ up & down the road.
(Ahhh cruise now)

Well if I had money,
I'd tell you what I'd do,
I go downtown buy a pound or two.
Crazy bout the chocolate,
Lord I'm crazy bout the chocolate,
I'm gonna buy me some chocolate & eat it ever’day from now on.


Friday, March 20, 2015

TGIF First of Spring International Happiness Day

Welcome to Spring!

According to Peggy Browning, it is also International Day of Happiness. Whoop-dee-do-dah day I still gotta go to work. But it is Friday, Bay-Bee, so all in all, it's a damn fine day to be thrivin' an' jivin' above ground.

Grand Duchess Maura J

I really should be getting The Writer's Room switched out to Maura's Studio Crib. Princess Diana and Her Grand Duchess arrive in Brook Village April 7, y'all, and I am hardly ready to be formally introduced to Ms Maura Jane Sodeman, daughter of my daughter's daughter, my one and only blood great grandchild. Talk about having skin in the game on CLIMATE CHANGE, Florida!

Room re-purposing aside, The Journal would be remiss not to mark this TGIF first of Spring International Happiness Day. Put that in you Holy Trinity!

We have been seed collecting, starting seeds in pots and in ground, and just this morning learned of a new-to-us plant for the butterfly beds. We're out to make a milkweed crop from seed to seed...successfully...for the first time. Should that project come through, look for guerrilla milkweed gardens to begin exploding everywhere!

Why milkweed? she asked. Oh, honey, go do your Homework!

"Save your pill bottles!"

Is the rallying cry of Jan Herzog, Wagon Master for The Falls' LOW Riders, as it is Fecal Test Week for the next batch of dogs heading North to New York March 30.

Monday, March 16, 2015

Dinner With the President

Washington's Who's Whos, Wannabes and Waistrels attending the 130th Gridiron Club Dinner Saturday night heard this from the President of the United States.

"Despite a great performance tonight, Scott (Walker) has had a few recent stumbles.  He said he didnt know whether or not I was a Christian.  And I was taken aback. But fortunately my faith teaches us forgiveness.  So, Governor Walker, as-salamu alaykum.

"Scott also punted on a question of evolution, which I do think is a problem.  I absolutely believe in the theory of evolution," pregnant pause, "When it comes to gay marriage.

"And, finally, Governor Walker got some heat for staying silent when Rudy Giuliani said I dont love America. Which I also think is a problem.  Think about it, Scott. If I did not love America, I wouldnt have moved here from Kenya."
Bah-dump-DUH!
It's like Barack's speech writer guy was stealing off Bob Hope! The good Bob Hope. When he was funny.
We here in Texas might have some small call to be upset with the President's remarks. The late, great, longest-serving governor of our state, Dick, I mean Rick Perry was all but overlooked. What's that? He's...he's not dead yet? Wishful thinking on my part, sorry.
Congratulating Gov. Walker on whatever "great job" Gov. Walker did at the dinner Saturday night--I wouldn't know; I wasn't there--President Obama said, "Governor Perry, don't you think he did a great job tonight? I noticed you weren't clapping that much."
That's three solid jabs to Walker with hardly an elbow to Perry. Seems the POTUS doesn't think much of Perry's potential for 2016, what?




Monday, February 23, 2015

Everett Miller Turns 20 Today

Coolio's Gangsta's Paradise topped Billboard's Hot 100 that year. Couldn't prove it by me, so I'm taking Google's word for it. 1995 I was cruising the streets of River City playing rent-a-cop and listening to the likes of David Lee Murphy. Couple years later, grandson Everett Miller lit out for Colorado and I went to explore the Pacific Northwest. Our paths again converge here in River City on his 20th birthday today. Some of us are a bit surprised you made it this far.

Everett Miller at his father's knee (left).
We held a simple yet manly celebration in Everett's honor Saturday afternoon; "we" being this writer, Brian Miller, Ev's dad, and Uncle Dean Porter. Libations were shared, six-string guitars were picked and passed, Birthday Boy was appropriately and thoroughly ridiculed as "The Rookie", and required burnt offerings were made.

His Sunny side!

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

Where there is Despair, HOPE

From "A New Hope for a New Wild"
In the New Wild ranchers are learning that livestock can improve the health of grasslands. Courtesy nature.org
"The New Wild is upon us. It's a place where livestock can be good for grasslands. Where humans value every part of the ecosystem. It's a place where these fragile landscapes work because we are a part of them. Join us in the New Wild, where humans and nature are thriving together."
And DON'T miss the PBS companion series, EARTH A New Wild starting tonight at 8 pm on KERA, public media for North Texas and the World.



Mongolia's Nomads

Mongolian pastoral herders make up one of the world's last remaining nomadic cultures. For millennia they have lived on the steppes, grazing their livestock on the lush grasslands. But today, their traditional way of life is at risk on multiple fronts. Alongside a rapidly changing economic landscape, climate change and desertification are also threatening nomadic life, killing both herds and grazing land. Due to severe winters and poor pasture, many thousands of herders have traded in their centuries-old way of life for employment in mining towns and urban areas. Most herders who stay on the steppe push their children to pursue education and get jobs in the cities believing that pastoral nomadism is no longer a secure or sustainable way of life.
Read more about these herders at Global Oneness Project. TEACHERS! Find more stories and free lesson plans on the Global Oneness website as well.

Friday, January 9, 2015

Longing for the Dark Side

Texas Parks & Wildlife magazine
Used to a boy could slip off to the back yard after evening chores and stretch himself out under a Texas sky. There, with a soft summer breeze or biting arctic breath, she could watch and wonder at the Greatest Show Above Earth.

Earthling Ancients were lousy at dot-to-dots. A seasoned veteran of countless dot-to-dot books before I was 6, the figures I found overhead were far better than the classic constellations.

Explosive urbanization this last half century has robbed kids today of a back yard full of stars. Our artificial light is eating away the last of the dark places.

But not quite all of Texas' best night spots are losing to the light. Just up US-287 N 'bout an hour and a half is, to my mind, one of the best little state parks in Texas, Copper Breaks State Park

"Texas state parks remain among the few public places where the starry heavens can still be viewed in all their glory with minimal intrusion of artificial light," Rob McCorkle writes in the cover story for the current issue of Texas Parks & Wildlife Magazine.

Just this past summer Copper Breaks and Enchanted Rock State Natural Area were the first two parks in Texas to be designated as International Dark Sky Parks by the International Dark-Sky Association (IDA).

What say we slip off to Copper Breaks for a little dot-to-dot after dark?

“Some praise the Lord for Light,
The living spark;
I thank God for the Night
The healing dark.” 
Robert W. Service



Saturday, November 1, 2014

It's National Novel Writing Month!

Frost nailed the punkin this morning for the first time this 2014 fall season. This is the kind of weather that makes you want to fill a thermos with hot cocoa and make camp around a roaring fire, even if it's just in your own backyard. Of course, such fire worship goes much better if you've a little something with which to lace and brace that thermos besides chocolate.

With cooler days and chilly nights upon us, Mrs. Miller and I have launched into our respective fall projects. She is crocheting squares for a blanket for the daughter. I'd post pictures, but Mrs. Miller has a deep and abiding aversion to being photographed. Anyway, this will be the second blanket she has knotted together from various hues of yarn. She completed her first one some years ago while occupying the tourist seat of a cross-country freight hauler while I drove.

For my project I have taken the challenge to write a 50,000-word first draft of a novel in 30 days as November is National Novel Writing Month.

The idea is fairly simple and straight forward. All one has to do is bang out a minimum 50,000 words that more or less tells a story with a beginning, middle and end. Sounds easy enough, right? Try it, and get back to me.

This, of course, is not my first venture into novel writing. It did, however, seem to be an interesting vehicle to ride toward actually completling a first draft--rough though it no doubt will be--of a novel manuscript. This is something my alter ego, David Forest, has been nagging me to do for years, ever since I launched him on his first adventure (never finished) lo these many, many years ago.

If you care to follow along on this adventure, point your browser to my NaNoWriMo Page.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Pecan Fall, or, Check your gratitude to fix your attitude

Couple or three fall seasons ago, in a rather flippant mood, I posted on Facebook,

Anyone know how to break a dog from eating pecans?
Good, bad or indifferent, Beano hoovers up the pecans that fall
on our patio from the neighbors' tree.

Beano, for those of you who are new here, is our aging boglen terrier, and to this day he crunches and munches his way through pecan fall if I don't get to them first.

Within moments of posting the above, my country cousin commented,

Pick 'em up.

Nothing like being taken to school by a little girl, huh.  

What falls from our neighbors' tree are what Gran'dad Saunders called "no count" pecans. That is, they aren't worth the effort it takes to bend down and pick 'em up. They are the product of native trees, trees that go season to season without "proper" spraying for pests, "proper" fertilization or "proper" irrigation.

In other words, we're talking native Texas pecan trees that get by year to year solely on the gifts that fall from heaven. And as for being "no count", Ma'maw Saunders made killer pecan pies every Thanksgiving and Christmas from a solitary old tree that shaded their home on the corner of 14th and Grace Streets.

Those "no count" pecans wouldn't take any ribbons at the Wichita County Fair, but Ma'maw's pies were forever swathed in blue silk.

So drop by the backyard these days; the pecan can is out. The drought continues to take its toll on the crop this year, and squirrels are as relentless as ever about getting to 'em before they fall.

But Beano eats a lot fewer pecans.

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Just in time for Mrs. Miller's Birthday!

Coming to your neighborhood record store November 10

Three days after Anniepie's humpty-blimph birthday. 

I've been planning a trip down to Matagorda Bay for that weekend. Some might call that "slumming" for a San Francisco Bay girl, but Mrs. Miller has taken more than a few strolls on the wild side.

She's gonna kill me for this, by the way. Says, "I ALWAYS READ ABOUT IT IN FACEBOOK FIRST!" 

Last night, right in the big middle of GOTHAM, she mentions how we never made it to Memphis, TN, like we talked about once upon a time. Hmmmmm (I wondered), could it be I was looking for a road trip in all the wrong places?

So I am putting it to you, sports fans, just to see who might be reading this and STILL NOT FOLLOWING my blog!

Which way would you go on a four-day road trip in early November?
Please vote MATAGORDA or MEMPHIS and tell me why in 144 characters or less in the comments below.

She hates it when I call her "Anniepie" in public, too.

Lantana Arrives Amid the Redbuds

Texas Lantana


Lantana urticoides blooms where we least expected. 
Mom's house on York Street was anchored in Texas Lantana along front walk. This bed beside the postage-stamp sized porch was vigorous, to say the least, and I have trimmed it back into a sembelence of submission more than a few summers.

I took cuttings from this mass of Calico bush from time to time. There's a small patch of it, as I recall, on Pennsylvania Road where we lived before we went off touring the USA in a freightliner.

Lantana urticoides is a tough little plant that can take the heat and endure through dry spells. "Urticoides" comes from the leaves which resemble the Urtica nettles clan. Originally she was called horrida for her pungent odor, particularly when the shrub is perturbed. They say Lantana's smell can take out a sensitive sort of being, but butterflies and bees can't get enough of her yellow-orange-red flowers.

Like any true Texas native, Lantana thrives on abuse and neglect, and she can be down right aggressive. Some even say she's invasive.

I took a few cuttings when Mom died to transplant at our current location, here in Brook Village. For whatever reasons, the cuttings didn't make. I thought about going over to the York Street house to try again, but new folks are in there now. Still, bringing Lantana, even if not Mom's Lantana, into our yard remained on my mental to-do list.

So a couple days ago, I'm doing the morning routine in the back john when a flash of golden orange nicks the corner of my eye. I look out the window, and there in the far corner of the lot just under the Redbuds is a solitary Lantana head where no Lantana had been seen before!

Going on four years, now, Annie and I have staked our claim on this plot, and that plant never showed itself until now, going into October and under a blood moon.

Thank you, Lord!

Some old timers call Lantana urticoides "bacon 'n eggs" for the yellow-orange-red range of her flower petals, according to the folks at the Native Plant Society of Texas. Her agrobusiness-bred cousin they dubbed "ham 'n eggs", Lantana camara, whose colors are pink and yellow. So if you are looking for the true Texas native, pass on the pink and go with the red!

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Offering one small box of hope

South American refugees await processing in the U.S.
We've all read the stories, we've seen the images of thousands of children flooding the U.S. border from Central and South America.

This post isn't about immigration policy. This post isn't about debate. This post solely is about what we as compassionate neighbors can do for as many as possible of these kids while they are here.

Before you turn away, thinking this catastrophe is simply too much for one person to address, allow me to adjust your thinking. What if you and me, your friends and mine, our neighbors, co-workers, members of our congregations approach this challenge on a one-to-one basis?

The question then becomes: What are we willing to do for one child, one-on-one, one neighbor to another?

The Episcopal Diocese of Fort Worth has launched just such an approach, and a group here in River City is organizing to help. Follow the link for details of the aid program.

Here we will be collecting and assembling Welcome Boxes and gift cards for refugee children processing through Texas. Once we have collected a load, we will deliver the boxes and cards to the Fort Worth Diocese. How many runs we make to Fort Worth depends on you and the amount of goods you provide.

Here is the suggested composition for one Welcome Box:

  • 1 Plastic shoe box sized container
  • 1 Shampoo
  • 1 Conditioner
  • 1 Body Wash/Bar Soap
  • 1 Toothpaste
  • 1 Toothbrush
  • 1 Brush/Comb
  • 1 Pack of Hair Ties
  • 1 Deodorant
  • 1 Small Toy


The Diocese also requests that gift cards be donated rather than cash. Suggested are $25 cards from Walmart, Target, McDonalds, etc. so that volunteers can shop for specific, individual needs and a rare treat for these kids, most of whom arrive in Texas with nothing more than the clothes they are wearing.

We are in the process of ironing out details for donation collection here, and should have a central location for drop offs by next week. In the mean time, if you would like to help us with this neighbor-to-neighbor effort, you may send your name and contact info (email is fine) to jimtxmiller@gmail.com.


Sunday, May 25, 2014

Thoughts on Praying for Rain

Common sight around River City

THEY say rain is on the way. Ever wonder what folks in River City, your neighbors and mine, are doing behind all the Pray for Rain yard signs? Me, too. Walk with me ….

I’m sitting on some 100 gallons of collected rainwater, and that’s not saying much for a roof the size of ours. We could easily harvest five, six times that in one little thunder shower, given the storage capacity to handle it. Getting by on Social Security and two part-time pay checks, my catchment system is eight or ten 5-gal. cat litter tubs.


Where would we be without crazy cat ladies, praise the Lord.

[Crazy cat lady Annie waves]


Main storage is two 32-gal. “trash” cans, and I could use a couple more.

Don't get me wrong; I've nothing at all against prayer. But I was taught and brought up to ask the Good Lord's blessing, then knuckle down and do the work.


Western Wall and Rain Garden in progress

Excavation over here along the western fence is to remove hardpan clay for a rain garden catchment basin. What I take out of here is crushed and used as fill dirt for a small yet persistent sink hole over in the southeast corner. The clay stays on site in various other applications, as well, and is remixed into building soil.

Granddad Saunders was a Primitive Baptist deacon, as was his daddy, John, before him. His faith taught him to go to the Father and let his needs be known him. Then, get up off your knees, roll up your sleeves and deal with the situation at hand as best you can.

However, W.P. would have been the last man on Earth to put a sign in his yard about it.


"But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet,
and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret;
and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly."
Matthew 6:6 KJV