Sunday Songs.

 Sunday Songs.

 

The Scissortail Flycatchers don’t exactly sing. Their noise or production of sounds can be heard from a distance if you are listening. This morning before the sun came up, they were letting the world know that they were already listening to their own tales of challenges met and faced off. It sounded as if they knew it was going to be another of those days, but they greeted one another and the day all the same. It was refreshing to remember them from when we were young and spent the summer in Arkansas. Some Scissortails had a nest right outside my brother’s window in the big maple tree. Almost can bet the tree is gone by now, but the memory lives on. Sterling griped that they usually started about 2:30 each day fussing and carrying on. They would get quiet long enough for him to go back to sleep and then start again. And our days at the farm started early!

 

The summer we spent there together was one to remember anyway. Sterling was funny about playing with snakes. He had one he called Blackie. A black snake, naturally. He was sitting on the porch with Blackie when Granddad Kennedy called him to come help him with something. Sterling left Blackie on the swing there on the porch. Granny Connie came outside later to sit in the swing and cool off from working in the kitchen. Then she suddenly started screaming. Satchmo, their Leopard dog, was her personal protector and he ran to her—as did Granddad. She had put her arm up on the swing arm and had placed her hand on the chain holding the swing. Well, guess who else was on that chain. After that, Sterling was not allowed to bring snakes to the house even outside on the porch.

 

Then there was the job of cleaning up the jars that they put out for the first little chicks. Understand, this was way back in the 60s when they did things differently in the chicken houses. Sterling would put the truck in “granny gear” and have me steer it while he picked up stuff and put it in the back of the truck. Then he found a little snake. It looked like the one Granny Connie called a milk snake that we had seen early that morning. He put it in a jar with a piece of cardboard over the top and slipped it inside the glove compartment. When we got to the house, he showed it to Granddad. He told Sterling to drop it on the ground and Granddad killed it. Not a milk snake, but a baby copperhead. And it had tried to bite Sterling a couple of times and missed. God was watching over us a little closely that day.

 

The man who sold the farm in Arkansas to my granddad had planted fields of tomatoes all over the north field across from the kitchen. And then they had a drought and the well nearly went dry. Maybe it was just the last straw for that farmer or maybe he just wanted to try something else as a gamble—as that is what farming really amounts to. Anyway, Granddad used every bit of the stuff coming out of the chicken houses on his fields and bought some more land to be cleared across the lane from the house. He began to raise registered Angus bulls and sold them for a decent price. His bulls would come and rub their heads on his hands, but he always told us to never trust them. Pretty funny that Granddad Pollard raised Herefords and the Kennedys raised Angus. The Angus had small calves and the cows had no trouble with even their first calves. The Hereford calves were bigger and gave the heifers problems with their first calves. But both men thought their breed was the best. And both of them thought that those King Ranch cows were horrible, bony creatures that could not live on the grass without extra feed. And they were right. Nat Fleming had some of those cows that always pushed on the fence when Granddad Pollard was out on the hill feeding his cows. Nat did not feed anything! Granddad said something to Nat about needing strong fences when folks tended not to feed their livestock. Did not make a bit of difference to Nat. He still did not feed them, but at least he finally got rid of them.

 

Feeding critters is an ongoing situation around here. Fighting off the wild birds is just about as hopeless as trying to feed cows with other hungry cows separated by a barbed wire fence. Trying to scare them away has definitely not worked. Such is life.

 

Got busy this morning and took apart Sylvia’s crate and folded and put it away behind my bedroom door. She refuses to sleep in it for some reason. She will whine and carry on until let out and then fusses with Thompson about his bed next to mine. Cleaned the dust bunnies out and mopped the floor. Now her bedding is piled up under the AC. Will probably have to do that differently, but we will see what happens when her big bag bed is brought into the living room and the other flat dog bed is put in her corner of the room. She probably won’t like that either. But there is nothing like trying.

 

Got two eggs today. We may actually get a day of cooler weather with a chance of rain. That is almost encouraging except that the forecast is for more days of hot weather after that. It is almost time for schools to start this month as witnessed by the “back to school” sales and give aways of school supplies. No one can imagine how glad an old woman is not to have to deal with these schools here in WF. It is not that they are necessarily bad, but sometimes the situations that develop there are pretty scary. Working as a substitute teacher showed me the facts of life rather quickly when moving from one grade to another in various parts of town. Sometimes the schools that might be expected to be pretty rough were better than the ones where the students were financially better off. Strange. One class got a bit out of hand when an ongoing feud between some girls lapped over into my classroom. A pair of scissors in art class and a knife were the objects taken from some girls that yours truly was supposed to be helping. The school principal came to escort me to a reading class before the police came. She did not want a substitute to be involved in any way whatsoever. Smart lady. But can you imagine being there every day when these students had so much animosity toward one another? And these things spilled over into the public rather quickly sometimes. One of the drafting teachers who taught our oldest son was stabbed in the heart by a couple of teenagers while he was out walking. He lived, but it was a miracle!

 

Now the grands are all about to start back to college. Grayson only has one more class and a certification test. It makes me happy to think that the children/grands are getting to be adults and are responsible folks. Grayson says he never wants to ever have to cut grass again, but he would love to have chickens. What is funny about that is that the hens kept their back yard clipped down almost to the dirt while the old woman stayed with them in Mansfield. Gary did not even realize that my six hens were keeping the yard for him so that he did not have to mow! Maybe by next year the old woman will be able to get on the mower again. My back is getting better, but it does not take much to make me sore as a poisoned pup. Just mopping is a bit much sometimes. But isn’t it wonderful to have clean floors!

 

Sitting here thinking about the children in Kentucky and eastern Tennessee. Hope things get better quickly so that they will feel as if life can be normal again after all the flooding. Imagine trying to go to school without a change of clothes or a home with a washer and dryer—or even a bed! They do well to be fed right now with all the problems in their communities. Let’s pray for all the students everywhere—not just in those states, but all over the world. It is hard to grow up anyway, but having what is needed—food, clothes, safety, good teachers, and a home life that is stable—does not come for everyone. In Africa the children’s parents have to pay for school. Well, we do as well, but ours is in the form of taxes. They have something more akin to tuition. Anyway, let’s pray for the children and the teachers that they will have a good year.

 

Remember when the Israelites were complaining to Moses about not having any cucumbers or melons when God gave them manna. Well, summer comes here in Texas with its problems, but the cucumbers definitely make some days worth the trouble. Not going to gripe too much except that we can’t grow things here in this heat and dry weather. But God has definitely blessed us to be able to bring in fruits and vegetables from Mexico or other countries. Lowry Mayo’s sister Debra said that she could not buy a ten-pound bag of decent potatoes, but she finally found a 15-pound bag of larger potatoes. Such is the problem of supply when the border gets closed down for drug interdictions. And yes, some of these dealers bring in drugs in vegetable containers. Sigh

 

You all rest and keep cool while enjoying what life has to offer. The best thing we can look at for this red-hot moment is the fact that all things change eventually. God has blessed us. Let us be grateful. And remember: you are loved.