“[There is] no furniture so charming as books, even if you never open them, or read a single word.” -Sydney Smith, in A Memoir of the Reverend Sydney Smith, by Lady Holland, 1855 I can spend hours looking at books. Absorbing the clever titles (My Lady of the Fog, mysterious, Their Yesterdays, intriguing), unique bindings…
The Egg and I by Betty MacDonald This tale from 1945 proved to be a hilarious read-aloud for these newlywed farmers. The Egg and I is the author’s own experience as a newlywed chicken farmer on the coast of Washington. I’d seen the movie starring Claudette Colbert and Fred MacMurray long ago, as my grandma…
(written November 6, 2001) I have a love for capturing memories on film, and then chronicling those pictures in scrapbooks. And it is not just a mediocre liking—this is something I am passionate about. I’ve filled many albums with my pictures and memories, and have many more to go. Jim Elliot, martyr of the Christian…
The sun is shining, the birdsongs drift in through the open window, and I don’t have to wear a coat and gloves every time I go out the door. Spring is finally acting like it might almost be here to stay! And Merritt and I are soaking in every ray of sunshine (though he soaks…
Every time Marlys and I brainstorm about the evening’s menu together, we are sitting out in the store. The beautiful, bright red, green, and orange jalapeno and habanero peppers in front of us most often inspire a Mexican meal. But the tempting aroma of the Walla Walla Sweet Onions always brings to mind my favorite…
If you wash on Monday, you have all the week to dry… If you wash on Tuesday, you’re still not much awry… If you wash on Friday, you wash in real need… If you wash on Saturday, you are slovenly indeed. -an early 1900’s skip-rope rhyme quoted in The Clothesline by Irene Rawlings and Andrea VanSteenhouse…
I hadn’t been to a book sale since the weekend before I was married. Not that it had stopped Merritt and me from adding to our book collection. The bookshelves we bought the week before his accident have been filled to overflowing in the seven months since. From garage sales, to all-too-frequent visits to GoodWill…
Our home is changing colors. As I write, I can see my husband and brother-in-law through the window, trekking back and forth in the mud, hanging hardi-plank siding on our house. It looks so nice, so proper and finished. But I can tell already, I’m going to miss the pink (“passion pink”, as Uncle Bill…
This weekend is my mom’s Creative Memories scrapbooking retreat. It’s the first time in ten years that I haven’t been there. I can see them all clearly, in my mind’s eye. Twenty or thirty ladies, pictures and colored paper and photo album pages spread on every bit of table space, in that retreat center cozily…
I love my down-to-earth farmer husband. He helps me see the Father’s hand in everyday things. He puts God’s truths in simple terms that I understand. When it snows at our house, I get excited. Merritt knows it means he has to plow the driveway, so he doesn’t quite share my excitement. But he still…
“The weather has been flirting with us, but no real snow yet. I’m ready for it. If it’s going to be this cold, I want there to be snow on the ground.” Though halfway across the country at Hillsdale college, my friend Emily captured my feelings precisely. Glancing out my window each morning I see…
Thanksgiving is still a month away, but for some reason as the strains of Classical music came from the radio early the other morning, I thought of the CD with Thanksgiving hymns my grandmother had given my family last autumn. The CD accompanied Barbara Rainey’s book Thanksgiving: A Time to Remember, and had a delightful…
The End.
The End.