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Looking at the lights on the corner of the front porch (from inside). Cold, windy, and chill-inducing. Even just seeing the picture.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
And there is much joy in Milford – for the tractor’s been pulled out.

My brother-in-law, kind gentleman that he is, offered to help us move some downed trees. Then his fancy tractor got stuck in our swamp. Older tractor to the rescue. Then the rains came, left, and came again. We stopped then, drenched, because discretion is the better part of valor.

Today is a good day.

We have been in the house for almost five years now.  We have pretty much figured out places where we made wrong design choices (little ones) and places where the builder or a supplier didn’t quite get it right (again, little things).

Now we are starting to get into beautifying the place.  Pictures are going up inside, and we’re thinking about retiring the tablecloths that have served as our curtains.

Bettie is doing a great job at prettying up the outside of the house, too.  We have morning glories

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(which are beautiful)

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and cardinal climbers

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which the hummingbirds love.  These are both self-propagating plants, meaning their seeds start new growth without us having to do anything.  At times, that can be good.  This, so far, is one of those times.  From the carport, both of these have spread to our driveway.  There is original farm field dirt under the gravel, and these plants are hardy enough to get roots down and shoots up, and then flower in the midst of the rock.

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And even spread!

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More power to ’em!

And what a beautiful day it was!  Crocuses and daffodils, sunshine and cold weather.

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God is faithful.

We live out in the country.  And a little farther than that, even.  The county we live in has a population density of 436 people per square mile, and the township we live in drops down to 195.  We’re less populated out here.

We can see lights from our neighbor’s properties, and rarely hear music or noise from those directions.  We’re much more likely to see deer or hawks than visitors on the property (and that’s counting package delivery folks).

We have a creek that runs right next to the road.  In the summer there are minnows and frogs there, and water skeeters galore.  It gurgles nicely.

In the wintertime, it looks different.  I don’t know where the animals go, or if the ones from last year have left eggs and then died off.  The water is still running, though.

That’s looking upstream, towards the road that is near the driveway.

And as much as I enjoy the creek, I’m glad I don’t have to do any work in it now.

I like this little poem, and blogged about it a couple years ago.  Now I found the pictures to go with it. So I present here the illustrated Fog.


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It wuz foggey.  It wuz foggey

evreywhare.  It wuz, in fact,

foggey over the hoal wurld.

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The fog icstendid unyuzialey hie.

It startid at the ground an went up.

Planes cood not get tu the top uv it.

It went aull the way up tu the moon.

Moon peepul sed, “It’s foggey.”

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The fog ixtendid out intu space.

The sun hisst az it swept thrue the fog.

Stars cood not fynd thair orbits

and began wonndering aimlisley, laust.

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By Rafeal Chambers, from Powums for the Immachure, Colectid by Cheops Dorn.  It is reprinted without permission.

(This is a booklet that I bought in Yellow Springs, Ohio, about twenty years ago, focused on phonetic spelling.)

Pictures from Sep 22, 2011, and unchanged except for cropping and resizing.

Provided by God.  From May 23, 2012.