Stick Horse Cowgirls

Well, after two years of nursing my hurt feelings over the divorce, Son has decided to take a job two and a half hours north.  It is a good opportunity for him to combine work with his passion for outdoor skills.  Much as I know it is time for him to go (and he has been good to stay as long as he has), I will miss him.  He has seen me back on my emotional feet, good son that he is.  I am thankful that he’s not out of reach, at least. My mother is worried sick.  My mother’s job in this family, however, is to worry—especially about her grandkids.  My sister and I think she’s adopted “worrier” as her identity.    She has called me with all kinds of “what ifs.”  I reminded her that not too many years ago, young men (at what? 18 or 19 years of age?) would kiss their mother’s on the cheek, saying, “ I’m off to seek my fortune” and go off into the sunset, their belongings tied in a rag on a stick. At least it’s not that bad…at least we...

I was walking down my drive way yesterday from MIL’s home to my own.  It is a good walk.  We are within “sight” distance, but still it takes me a fair few minutes to make the trek.  Let me put it this way:  she’s almost to one end of my 11 acres; I’m almost to the other end. MIL had fed me with one of my favorite comfort  meals: meatloaf and English peas.  She knows I love the little Le Sueur peas.    Ummmmmmm .  (No, I did not snap this picture, but it sure looks like her meatloaf!) As I walked, I spied my neighbor, Midlife Countrygirl , out doing her usual gardening.  I’ve written about Mary before, and all her industry.  My hat is off to this woman.  She cans, she gardens, she mows, she keeps up her pool, her house is spotless…SuperWoman if ever there was one.  One of the things I love about talking to Mary is that she brings me up to speed on what’s happening in the area.  “ You know we’ve got a bear out he...