BUT IT LOOKED LIKE A SALT GRINDER

I'm in heaven in Jimmie Nell's kitchen. She passed on in '07, but her kitchen is in tact here at Uncle Ben's. She loved to cook and has every pot, pan and utensil imaginable, plus counter space for two or more to work at the same time.

Last night I used one of her huge skillets to cook hamburger patties seasoned with Johnny's liquid seasoning. Sliced portabellas and beef stock were added. Looking for cornstarch, I found a tall, slim container with some kind of grinder handle at the top. I suspected it was salt, but had to find out. I thought I was removing the last section of the bottom, but I wasn't, and the whole thing came apart. The kitchen looked like a pre-school experiment. Contents went everywhere including down my front. It didn't taste like cornstarch. I think it was flour for dusting her daily biscuits. A powdered sugar sifter is what I'd use it for--carefully.

Speaking of powdered sugar, makes me think of cake, makes me think of walking for an hour down around and up and over Enid Dam, not with a carrot dangling to entice me, but a piece of fresh yellow cake with chocolate frosting. What I won't do for chocolate.

We ate our hamburger patties with mushroom gravy over rice, had home cooked lima beans, cornbread and tomato slices. The blueberry cobbler was rubbery. Self-rising flour was called for, and we got into the wrong bucket.

Ben got up at dawn, and ahead of the coons, to gather 161 ears of his neighbor's corn. Friday the guys will bring down the grills, fire them up, and so they don't go hungry, as if they could here, they're boiling craw fish with corn, potatoes, portabellas, smoked sausage (Boudan is too expensive) and Zataran. The world really does move on its belly.

Today we make the grocery list for Ben and scour the freezers for squash, beans and whatever else we can cook for the 4th. I saw a bag of pears marked for pie and found a recipe for a French open face. We'll labor all day tomorrow in the kitchen making potato salad, boiling eggs for deviling, a vanilla cream cheese pie, and probably a dozen other foods. I hope Jimmie Nell looks over our shoulders and gives us directions.

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series

NO CABLE IN THE PASTURE!

Last week we moved our covered wagon/motorhome three hundred miles from TN to Uncle Ben's in MS. It took two days with the heat index at 110 and JB without AC.

Grateful for shade, we parked in Uncle Ben's pasture where the 4th of July picnic takes place. The area will be cleaned off and wet down. Grills, tables and chairs will be brought in for the near 100 guests.

While we setup, Ben searched for eggs. Imagine this: he's 6'4", weighs 285 lbs., was shirtless, in khaki shorts, docker shoes, no socks and carrying pullet eggs in a flowerpot with a short rope handle. All he needed was a floppy hat.

With the help of great-granddaughter, Abbe, late afternoon we began clearing the pasture. Five, six pick up sticks, seven, eight lay them straight we did in the two-wheeled trailer attached to the Rhino. In low gear we poked across the pasture to unload on the burn pile.

At daylight we heard pounding on our door, looked out the window and didn't see anyone. The pounding continued. Must be Uncle Ben. JB got up, went to the door and found Ben's Barbados ram most unhappy we were in his pasture. A few claps and a "Git!" sent he and his five ewes on their way.

Ben has an variety of large and small roosters that out number the small hens by seven to one. Those girls are constantly running away. It's a wonder they have time to lay eggs.

Our cats love being out doors. The roosters must have held a meeting and a small one drew the short straw. Apparently he was elected to let us know they also did not approve of our intrusion. I caught him cussing the cat.

The Rhino fascinates me. I call it "the imagination maker." Like I need any help. I decided to take it on safari, look for elephants. In first gear I ambled around the pair of long-necked geese, past three ducks, three noisy guinea hens and a lone tom-turkey. His mate passed on last year.

In the open pasture I found the carcass of the nanny goat. Coyotes got her baby last week. Around the burn pile to the far edge of dense trees, I searched for wild life. No elephants either. Between trees I spotted a clearing wide enough for my Rhino. Must investigate. LBJ used to say I was too curious. "You'll be sorry someday." Cresting the hill I froze then slammed on the brake before going headfirst into the pond with the Rhino. Ben wouldn't be amused. LBJ would say, "I told you so." Out of gear it eased to a stop. My heart pounding, and no room to turn around, I eased backward until I could turn into the woods. Now I know why it's called a Rhino. It went over branches and stumps, through tall grass and brought me home safely. I'm giving my imagination a rest. If you believe that...

At daylight this morning we heard racket on the kids jungle jim by our house. The ram was playing with the rubber tire suspended on three chains. He butted it around for half an hour. Guess he's just a "kid" at heart.

We don't need cable in our pasture home, we have plenty of entertainment.

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series

BUNNY BUSINESS

On East Prospect, in Fayetteville, TN, I stopped at a home with a "Bunnies for sale" sign in the yard. I haven't held a baby bunny since I was a small child. Dad found one on the farm and brought it to the house. Soft and fragile, covered with down, breathing tiny breaths, its heart beat fast. We were concerned its mother wouldn't care for it once we'd touched it. He took it back to its nest with our childish blessings.

Jenny answered the door with a smile. I inquired about the bunnies. She was happy to give me a tour. Hutches of four cages on each side shaded adults and babies. I didn't know that mothers pull their hair out to make bedding for their babies. We pull ours out later. Rabbit hair looks and feels like wool. Newborns are hairless and pink, rat-like, with closed eyes. Several females had litters of nine.

They breed a variety of bunnies with ears that stand up, as if starched, and those that droop or lop: mini-lops, Dutch-blue, (grey to black and white markings), mini-rex, standard-rex (white with brown spots), Holland-lop, (small, golden brown with a bull-dog face), black mini (The sun bleached its black to hints of dark red.) My favorite was the Rex. It felt like velvet, the Velveteen Rabbit.

If you are in the market for a cuddly pet, call Keith and Jenny, 931-993-7898. You won't be disappointed.

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series

From the Deep South to the Midwest and back

I returned to the soggy South yesterday after a 2,000 mile journey to the Midwest and back. Wahoo lawns were dry as late July. If it had rained as much as in TN, I would have filled a four yard dumpster with landscaping weeds. Sprinklers are great, but not the same as Mother Nature's magic. Grass seed responded; it sprouted.

Alabama peaches rode north and rhubarb south. I will chop and cook it down sweetened with the organic cane sugar Sucanat. On the net I'll find a whole-wheat bar I can mix up and pour the cooked rhubarb over. Flavors will mingle and marry when baked in my large cast iron skillet.

Ryker and Aja came for welcome hugs. He said, "Work is so much fun, what can we do?" They cut the suckers off the crabapple stump and were paid in fresh pineapple.

We celebrated Aja's 6th birthday by making chocolate chip, oatmeal cookies and drinking lukewarm green tea from French demitasse cups. She called her mother and asked, "Would you care to join us?" Of course my camera battery was dead. Our afternoon is burned into my heart.

Seven-year-old Eli came to the door and asked, "Can you come play "Monkey in the Middle" with Aunt Shelly and me? How often do you get an invitation like that? I went out and threw the ball over the one in the middle. Close to noon Eli asked if I'd like to go to Burger King with them. Sure.

Sarah, 6, came and asked if she could wash dishes. Glad to have her. Payment was a banana. Such comings and goings. I love that the kids want to come.

Jani got a purple cast on her left arm, and she isn't old enough to wear purple. I suspect it is well decorated by now.

My high school class had a meeting to discuss next year's reunion. We expected three or four. Twelve showed up. We are kinder than in high school. Life has knocked us all around.

It is strengthening and comforting being on home plate. I talked with everyone I needed to, saw old friends and was properly hugged up. Many pleasant memories were made and others maintained. I'll be back in August. Don't know why yet, but I know I have to come back. Time will tell.

On my 885 miles in one day return trip, I noticed cars abandoned by the side of the road. Know how to tell? No license plate. Poor lonely, lost, forgotten, or stolen cars wait, wait for someone to see some worth in them and haul them off to rest among more of the same. Maybe a radiator or tire will be a transplant, useful. Nature wastes nothing. An empty vehicle is open season for rodents, snakes, homeless people and animals.

Passing at 70 mph I caught a glimpse of a maroon Chevy with it's right front tire missing. A lanky jack held up the right axle like a long-legged, boney dog. Did you know a gray hound isn't necessarily a greyhound.

My car's air-conditioner faded out. The fan cooled the air a couple of degrees reminding me of my empty bottle of Nantucket Rain -- a hint of what was.

Large perfectly round bales lay scattered in a hayfield. Some stood on end, bow and arrow target practice style. Others lay flat. I see a checkerboard in the making. It would take a forkift to make a king.

Tennessee, Kentucky and Missouri grow rocks, trees and water. Water has to come from somewhere, why not grow it?

Fifteen hours of driving brought me to Fayetteville in time to have Chinese food with JB. Back to the point of my other life in Tennessee.

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series

Is it a who or a what dragging the chain?

Roads are narrow here in TN and without shoulders. I parked my car at a vacant house to walk a half dozen homes hoping to find people I could help save money on their cable, internet or phone. Rare sunshine warmed my shoulders. I had had a fresh tomato sandwich for lunch and felt right as rain, except I shouldn't say anything about rain here, it's rained almost every day of May.

As I approached the second house I heard the clanking of a chain. Cause for pause. I turned to my left and froze. A large, grey short-haired dog was loping toward me. I knew I couldn't outrun it. Clutching my yellow work box to my front, I stood still and prayed. It kept coming dragging 7' of links as big around as my finger and two to three inches long. Time seemed slow motion. I shot a glance at the house to see if it had pulled bricks out. No.

Years ago a Rhodesian Razorback came at me meaning business showing all its teeth. The lady of the house stepped out just in time and shouted, "Don't go, I want cable."
I shouted, "Call your dog off!" She did. It wilted.

Chain-link dog kept coming without showing teeth. Oh, dear. Its jaw looked smaller than a pit bull. At my feet it stopped and bounced around wanting to play. It's head as high as my hip, I relaxed a smidge and remembered to breathe. Talking softly I told it what a good dog it was as I walked backwards to my car. It was determined to go home with me. I slowly drove away so as not to get tangled in its chain. A quarter mile up the road I looked back and saw it still clanking down the center line after me. I hope and pray it gets the care it needs.

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series

MEMORIAL DAY 2009

...remembering the brave who have kept us free, and do keep us free . . . to camp in the rain or not; to worship or not; to speak our mind, and do as we please. Life without suppression, the ultimate.

Thank you.

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series

Porch Posts & Penny Pillars

Life in the South.....

We moved to Huntsville, Alabama in April, the best time of year to read "Gone With the Wind." Nebraska's High Plains have few trees. Alabama's forests shelter and shade. White porch pillars stand out quietly shouting, "You're in the South!" Some homes have solid wood porch posts, capable, unadorned, doing their job holding up the red tin roofed porch. Other porch posts were turned and shaped proudly proving they can do their job and look beautiful. In the pillar category, new-built miniature pillars, penny-pillars I call them, are slim shadows of the regal, magestsic, statement of wealth, grand masters large enough to hide valuables and children.

A month ago we moved north across the border to Fayetteville, TN. Bumps on the horizon are distant mountains. According to the usgov site, "The wispy, smoke-like fog that hangs over the Smoky Mountains comes from rain and evaporation from trees. On the high peaks of the Smokies, an average of 85 inches of rain falls each year, qualifying these upper elevation areas as temperate rain forests." We could qualify for rainforest status. It rains so often we light a bic to light a match to light the stove.

LBJ's first visit to the East left him unimpressed with the Great Smokys. "I've leveled bigger hills with my tractor (Ford)." I see them as squaw's teeth worn down from gnawing buffalo hide to soften it. The Rockies are the incisors and the Tetons, fangs.

Nights are cooler at 647' above sea level. Our neighboring roadside stand has first Georgia peaches and peaches and cream sweet corn. JB likes his cut off the cob, cooked in the skillet with a little butter and finished with cream. Who wouldn't? Heaven!!! Fresh strawberries, yellow squash, small zucchini, peppers, okra, baby red potatoes, green beans, vidalia onions, cucumbers, round watermelon, cantaloupe, jams, honey and more keep us pleasantly and healthily supplied in the world of porch posts and penny pillars.

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series