My state and rain. The two are synonymous. I was born and raised here so I love it, though I’m accused of having webbed feet. But there’s nothing like the first rain of fall to remind me anew why I love the rain. It is so cleansing, so refreshing. The rain makes me think of…
Goodbye, Mr. Chips by James Hilton This is one of the few stories for which I am glad I saw the movie first. For then, as I read this short little book, I could picture the grey-whiskered little man of the 1939 movie. And the scenes that had touched me so in the movie, gripped…
Sometimes, one has to get reacquainted with old friends. And if you are not privileged to know Bill, Poetry, Dragonfly, Circus, Big Jim, and Little Jim, may I recommend that you spend a pleasant hour getting to know The Sugar Creek Gang. The last few evenings have found me too tired to do much housework…
Sitting here looking out the window on this rainy June morning in Washington, it is hard to believe that it was more than a year ago now, on another rainy morning in another state, that I became his wife. And what a year it has been! Finishing our little home, riding in the tractor together…
Uncle Bill must have every single book Louis L’amour ever wrote. He loves to tell me the plots of the latest cowboy book he’s been reading. But usually cowboy books aren’t the first thing I pick up when I want a relaxing bit of fiction. When Uncle Bill loaned Merritt the Fortunes of the Black…
My Great Great Aunt Ruth died on Good Friday. This July 4 would have been her 100th birthday. She almost made it to 100–she was sure planning on living that long. But she missed Uncle Charlie. And after being married over sixty years, who could blame her for finding the last seven years without him…
“[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…
The End.
The End.