Author: Shirleyjdietz

I'm still finding out what I'm about but I think it has something to do with writing and connecting with people and serving God. I don't believe I have to understand it all in order to do it and am pretty content with what comes my way, day by day. I believe there is a God who created all of us, the world we live in, the science we think disproves Him, well, everything. I know my natural tendency is to think I don't need God and I need to be saved from that. I know I need a savior and I'm thankful I have one. The small glimpses I get from the here and now of what my real home is going to be like when God restores it all - that's what fuels me, stirs my sense of adventure, and keeps me going. Until then, I write about what is.

April A to Z Challenge: Eager Children with Weapons

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Welcome to the April A to Z Blogging Challenge! This year my contribution is the story of my great grandmother Alzina. She lived in the style of “Little House on the Prairie”and kept a record of her life through letters to family and her own journals. I find her story fascinating and intriguing. Each post will start (sometimes strangely) with a consecutive letter of the alphabet, just because they have to. My hope is that we can “catch” some of her courage to help us face challenges in our present times.

Eager children armed with weapons confront a mad dog… What could possibly go wrong?

The Mad Dog Story, Part 2

By Sarah (Sadie) Pomeroy Postlewait

(Previously, the boys playing ball notice an animal under the schoolhouse and think it is a rabbit. They investigate.)

All the boys came running, one bringing a board with which to hit it. They put the board in the hole and lo, a dog came near and began biting at it! Immediately the boy dropped the board and yelled, “Mad dog!” And we all tumbled into the schoolhouse in a hurry.

The teacher used great wisdom and locked the door. The older ones raised a window and saw the dog lying in a fit by the side of the house. The teacher sent two big boys, who were young men, across a field to get a gun. After a while the dog got up and went around the house to the coal shed and there he had another fit. We smaller scholars were glad the dog had moved where we could watch it too. It was all so exciting that we could hardly realize the danger we had been in. When the big boys came back, the dog was curled up and they lost no time shooting him twice. The boys came in and the teacher locked the door again.

After a while someone looked out and announced the dog was not dead. The teacher let the big boys out again. This time they ventured a little nearer by walking along the hitch rack. Just as they aimed the gun, the dog sprang into the air but their shot brought him to the ground. This time they rand and got the ball bat and knocked him in the head until they were sure he would never come to life again.

There was no more school that day for us. Each of us went home to tell our parents the thrilling story. However, awful things had only begun to happen. My father killed poor Carlo, and every dog in the neighborhood was tied up or killed within the next few days.

A number of cows and hogs, and perhaps some horses showed the presence of hydrophobia in the days that followed. Occasionally a new mad dog was heard of, but a suspicious looking dog could not exist very long in that part of the country after that.

Some time after this Cherry, one of our best milk cows, went mad. They went out to milk one morning and found her running here and there bellowing constantly. Father and the hired man and older children managed to run her into a small yard where they could get a strong rope over her head and tie her closely. When Father and Alzie came near she would bellow so pitifully, but when strangers came she would paw the ground and lunge at the fence. Before night they had to shoot her. Of course Mother emptied out all the milk we had on hand, for we had been milking Cherry right along. Some months later another valuable cow went mad. (Continued in Part 3, next post)

April A to Z Challenge: Dogs and Animals

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Welcome to the April A to Z Blogging Challenge! This year my contribution is the story of my great grandmother Alzina. She lived in the style of “Little House on the Prairie”and kept a record of her life through letters to family and her own journals. I find her story fascinating and intriguing. Each post will start (sometimes strangely) with a consecutive letter of the alphabet, just because they have to. My hope is that we can “catch” some of her courage to help us face challenges in our present times.

Dogs. Dogs and animals were a great asset in pioneer days. Most families had a dog around the farm for protection, and as a companion, but these animals were part of the work force, not necessarily pets. They were not fed manufactured food and taken to the groomer. They were not even allowed in the house.

The next few stories are about some of those animals that belonged to the Pomeroy family when my great grandmother Alzina was a child. Her sisters Sadie and Emma were writers and told the stories well so I will not rewrite what doesn’t need to be rewritten.

The Mad Dog Story

By Sarah (Sadie) Pomeroy Postlewait

When I (Sadie) was a child, our neighborhood was visited by a mad dog. By neighborhood I mean exactly that, for it seemed in one night’s time, every farmyard was visited by this creature. Cattle, horses, and hogs as well as dogs were bitten by him, while chickens and geese were greatly disturbed, and a number of them killed by this rabid beast.

I shall never forget that dark, cold night in the dead of winter when we were awakened by some dog fighting our dog Carlo. They were going round and round the house with poor Carlo yelping at a great rate. Carlo had two little pups in a box in the coal shed, which was a lean-to built against the north side of the house. Father went to the door and called, “Carlo, Carlo!” As the dogs came near Father opened the shed door and went back to bed. But soon he heard Carlo barking and whining again so pitifully. He again went to the door. As the light from the lamp shone out, he saw this strange dog run away. It was not Carlo at all.

Again Father began to call Carlo, and going out to the shed, he found both puppies nearly chewed up. One was dead and the other barely alive. He brought the box into the kitchen. The strange dog came near the door but seemed to be dazed by the light. Father kicked the dog aside and it ran away. Soon Carlo came in answer to his call and he turned her into the kitchen also and shut the door, never dreaming that the visiting dog was a mad dog.

The following morning is indelibly stamped on my memory. As we reached the road on our way to school, we saw the Gardner children and they waited for us. Then we saw the Ellsworth children coming behind, and we waited for them. All were very talkative concerning a strange dog that had made great disturbance around the houses and yards the night before.

At recess the older boys ran out to play town ball, while we children played around in the school yard. Almost everybody had been telling dog stories, and some children declared their papa believed it was a mad dog. This added new thrill to our stories but I was sure it was not so, for my papa did not say so!

The ball game was going fine and the first runner was standing on third base, just ready to make his home run, when he heard a noise under the house, for third base was at the southeast corner of the schoolhouse. One stone was out of the foundation, so he stooped down and looked under. It was too dark to distinguish what was under there, so he called out, “Oh boys, there’s a rabbit under here!” All the boys came running, one bringing a board with which to hit it. They put the board in the hole and… (Continued in the next post!)

Weighing In

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It’s Sunday, which means it’s a day off from the April A to Z Blogging Challenge. Instead I want to update anyone who has wondered whether or not I accomplished anything with my December walking/fitness goals.

10,000 STEPS

For a while there, the 10,000 steps a day thing was at the top of my list. It was hard to make it happen. I got tired of it and was glad when the month was over. But, guess what? It became more of a habit than I anticipated.

It was a challenge, and not meant to last forever, but I loved the activity and have kept it up, with a few alterations.

First, I lowered my daily expectation to around 8,000 steps, which I have heard is just as beneficial as the higher number. Who decides? I think I heard it was a somewhat arbitrary number that sounded good to someone in charge of a program.

Second, I don’t reach that number seven days a week. Realistically, there are days when it’s just not going to get done because something else is more important. But if I go two days without walking, I know it’s time to hit the road again. Now that the snow is gone it is so much easier, and so interesting to be outside in the spring!

Ooops, did I say the snow was gone? Well, it was, and then it wasn’t.

FITBIT

In December I frequently found myself looking at fitness trackers and smart watches. Carrying my phone for GPS and counting steps was always an uncertain thing. I was always wanting to walk at the low end of the phone battery life. But I thought I could hold off getting one – maybe someone would get me one for Christmas?

So that’s what I finally did, bought myself a Fitbit Versa 3. I spent about a month wearing it 24/7 and got addicted to all that good information it was giving me. Then I noticed a reddened area on my wrist under the band that looked very unusual to me. Being a nurse, I immediately googled the problem and found scores of reports of allergic skin reaction and possible EMF sensitivity. I was very disappointed and stopped wearing it all the time.

Made myself a little cuff, for when I’m not wearing long sleeves. Zeb can’t figure out the new gadget.

I still use the Fitbit for shorter periods of time, and I always wear fabric between it and my skin. So far, so good – no new skin inflammation. It can still read my pulse and count steps, and give me notifications from my phone. I’m not using it to track my sleep though. I’m being cautious and giving my arm some free time at night. Basically, the Fitbit is now an expensive pedometer.

NOOM

There’s more. I saw a trial offer for Noom on Facebook and decided to go for it. I like learning about different approaches to weight loss and wanted to know just what was so unique about this one. They promised I could lose what I wanted to lose by mid April, and they were right! I did it. I am back down to a weight I can easily live with, and I think I can keep myself there. Here’s why.

I’ve been made so much more aware of why I eat (overeat) and this understanding has made a lot of difference. The psychology around weight loss has taken some pretty big leaps. I was surprised by a lot of it, but it made sense. The daily lessons were short (I chose how long I wanted to spend on them). They involved some snarky humor, which helped it be interesting. And who doesn’t want a couple coaches and a group of fellow Noomers available for encouragement and accountability, right there in your phone, whenever you need them?! Again, a little addicting.

Gonna miss the #NoomNerds

Apparently I wasn’t keeping track of when my trial period ended, and was a little surprised when my next monthly charge came through. I decided not to renew, even though the program was good and effective. Daily weighing and logging of meals raised my awareness of what I was doing to myself which was helpful, but also time consuming. It was like a long range project. I don’t need another project in April. They refunded the charge and cancelled my account with no hassle. I still have use of the free app, and I learned a lot of good stuff.

BOTTOM LINE

I feel pretty good about my general health and have added some new tricks to my “already pretty good lifestyle”. Everything isn’t perfect, and I’m still feeling wear and tear on my aging body, but I’m not dead yet and I’ve lived through 2020 without getting COVID 19! How great is that? Feeling blessed, just sayin’…

April A to Z Challenge: Can I Ever Forget?

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Welcome to the April A to Z Blogging Challenge! This year my contribution is the story of my great grandmother Alzina. She lived in the style of “Little House on the Prairie”and kept a record of her life through letters to family and her own journals. I find her story fascinating and intriguing. Each post will start (sometimes strangely) with a consecutive letter of the alphabet, just because they have to. My hope is that we can “catch” some of her courage to help us face challenges in our present times.

1879

Can I ever forget? This day has made such an impression upon me, and upon the whole family I felt I must record it. I think we will all remember it.

It was the day of the Fair, not for our county but the neighboring one. It’s such an undertaking to travel to something like this, especially with the four children but Emerson and I (my name is Philena) know that we have to take a short holiday and put something positive into our lives. It has been a hard year farming our small homestead and we are definitely stretched, both in our finances and our faith. But that’s what faith is for, and it grows through the stretching. I am less sure about the finances, but we will do our best through working hard and trying to remain positive. That’s why we decided to go to the Fair.

We went in the wagon, of course, our usual means of transportation when we have the whole family. Alzie, our eldest daughter, surprised me by being up and ready to help quite early. She’s only eight, but she tries so hard to help. She probably had the most curiosity about the day ahead, since she remembered a previous fair. The younger ones didn’t know what to expect, but they were cheerful, cooperative and willing to be bossed around by “big sister”.

The Woodson County Fair in Neosho Falls is the closest fair, the one we look forward to every year. Emerson had a few things from the garden that he was taking to show, and I had a knitted shawl that had turned out nice enough to exhibit, but there was another reason we didn’t want to miss going today. We had heard of something special to happen. The president of the United States, Rutherford B. Hayes, had been talked into visiting us here in Kansas! Who would have thought that would ever happen?

We walked through the agriculture exhibits and all the home goods exhibits. We let Alzie and Phebe have their first photograph taken and what a treat that was! It was so good to be Kansans, and around others who loved the land as much as we did. I have to say it has always picked up our spirits to have the fellowship, taste all the good food, join in the fun of contests and see what others have managed to accomplish. I’m not so keen on the horse races and the betting, but the animals are so fine and majestic looking that I love to see them run. Emerson might have gone in for the corn husking competition but frankly, I needed him to help me keep watch of the children. There was such a crowd it would have been easy to lose the little ones.

We were glad to finally go to the amphitheatre, where we were able to sit and rest before the parade. Even I was not sure what to expect from a presidential visit but the fair board made a good show of it. Of course, all the schools took the holiday so families could attend, and I don’t know how they managed it, but even the rail companies gave special pricing so people and exhibits came from far away. I could hear the noise and clamor increasing as the parade came past the amphitheatre and then, there he was, President Hayes. He was standing in a fine carriage, drawn by four white horses. He was waving his hat above his head and smiling at the crowd, amid much clapping and shouts.

But I will admit that what struck me most was looking down at the faces of the children, even the little ones who hardly knew what they were seeing. Alzie has had some schooling and she especially had a look of awe and wonder that made me guess at the feelings she was forming for her country and its leaders. It made me think a short prayer for those who stand for us in government. I don’t really know much about President Hayes except that a lot of Kansas people seem to like and respect him. I know the kind of courage I respect. I heard at Temperance Meeting that his wife Lucy was the first President’s wife to refuse to serve liquor in the White House. That took some “standing up”.

It was a long day, but I am so glad we went. I never thought I would see a President, and who knows, we might never see another one in our lifetime.

Phebe (left) and Alzina (right) at the Fair. Their first photo.

April A to Z Challenge: Better Stay Close

Shirleyjdietz6 Comments

Welcome to the April A to Z Blogging Challenge! This year my contribution is the story of my great grandmother Alzina. She lived in the style of “Little House on the Prairie”and kept a record of her life through letters to family and her own journals. I find her story fascinating and intriguing. Each post will start (sometimes strangely) with a consecutive letter of the alphabet, just because they have to. My hope is that we can “catch” some of her courage to help us face challenges in our present times.

1874

“Better stay close to the house Alzie.” Philena told her young daughter. Alzie was a husky three year old, her sister Phebe was two and number three child was due in a month. Philena wondered what she was doing out on the prairie in a make shift shack, trying to take care of the children and feed Emerson and the hired hands for days on end while they harvested the hay crop. If they hadn’t needed someone to cook, she could have been back at Prairie Home and a whole lot more comfortable.

But grass was one thing that grew on this Kansas prairie, even on bad years when farming didn’t provide what they needed. It was thick and sometimes as high as the horses’ backs. If enough men could be hired to do the work, the grass was free for the taking. It could be cut in June, and again in August if the weather cooperated. The market would be good for it later in the year. They would get by, and she was helping, doing her part.

But cooking for the men and keeping an eye on the children at the same time was a challenge, especially since Alzie was old enough to disappear in no time flat. Philena had given the child a paper with alphabet letters on it and she could hear her practicing their names as she sat just outside the doorway of their hut. She was a quick learner, and Philena knew she would have to start schooling her soon, maybe in the fall.

Probably because she was thinking about that, it was several minutes later that Philena realized that the recitation of letters had stopped and all was silent outside. Philena glanced over at Phebe who was napping on the cot in the corner, gave the pork chops she was frying a quick flip, and went to the door to see what her daughter was doing.

Alzie was on her way to the closest of the haystacks that were lined up on the prairie, her little legs going as fast as she could manage. It wasn’t that there was much danger in letting her play there, but there was one peril that made Philena diligent and that was the possibility of prairie fire. Thick, dry prairie grass could go up in flames easily and there was no way of stopping it once the wind started pushing it. People could get caught in it with no way of escape. Even if she could manage to pick up both girls and waddle with them, she wasn’t really sure where she would go.

Fortunately she could still go faster than Alzie and soon got her turned around and headed back to the hut. In one instant Philena noticed two things that set her heart racing. One was a slight curl of smoke coming out of the door of the hut and the other was the sight of the thick layer of hay that was serving as roofing over their living space. Why had she left her cooking on the stove, and her Phebe was in there!

Philena picked up her skirts and ran as fast as she was able, stopping only at the doorway for a moment to assess the situation. Even with the smoke in the air, she could see that the fry pan was aflame. The heavy smell of burning grease and smoke was nearly choking her as she crossed the room and grabbed the container of baking soda and emptied it on the pan. The flames shot up, nearly reaching the hay ceiling, and then died down completely as the smoke doubled in thickness. Philena pulled the pan off onto the dirt floor, gathered up the sleepy, coughing Phebe and stepped outside where they could breathe. Alzie was wide eyed with fright, but soon sat down on the ground with mom and Phebe and asked questions as they hugged.

In the distance, Philena could see one of the hay wagons coming. The men would be there soon for their noon meal, but some of them were going to have to share their pork chops this time. They were definitely going to be one pan short.

April A to Z Challenge: Life of Alzina Boone

Shirleyjdietz4 Comments

Welcome to the April A to Z Blogging Challenge! This year my contribution is the story of my great grandmother Alzina. She lived in the style of “Little House on the Prairie”and kept a record of her life through letters to family and her own journals. I find her story fascinating and intriguing. Each post will start (sometimes strangely) with a consecutive letter of the alphabet, just because they have to. My hope is that we can “catch” some of her courage to help us face challenges in our present times.

1887

Alzina saw the last of her students leave the schoolroom and head for home. Watching them walk the lane away from Triangle School, she wondered whether teaching would be the constant in her future. It was the fall term and this being one of her first positions, it was still exciting. At sixteen she was working and earning her own money! She was independent!

Well, maybe not completely independent. She was still living at home with her parents and siblings, and father had secured the horse and buggy for her, but she was paying for it herself. She watched the horse wandering around the schoolyard, grazing as far as its tether would allow. It was quite a fine animal.

Alzina gathered up her lunch pail and some papers she was grading and went out to get her steed harnessed up to the buggy. The five mile ride home through the Kansas countryside, in beautiful October weather was going to be relaxing. She needed it.

Her intentions of putting aside the day’s troubles were quite soon forgotten however. She found herself worrying about one of her students and the discipline she might have to apply to his case. It was an aggravating situation, one which she wanted to avoid. Her brow furrowed and she could feel her shoulders tensing as the buggy bumped along the lonely road.

The horse, as yet unnamed, was being a little unruly. It might have been something about the harness, or a biting insect that was provoking it to kick. At any rate, it was no trouble at all for Alzie to impose her irritation from the student to the poor animal. She picked up her buggy whip and flicked it at the horse’s rump. The kicking stopped immediately and turned into a wild and frantic rush down the road. The buggy careened into the grassy ditch and the bordering fence. Alzie saw the harness straps snap, and that was the last she remembered.

There is that moment that people speak of, right before they experience impending tragedy, where their life passes before their eyes for them to consider. Alzina was allowed that instant and the thought that she could perhaps have payed more attention to the horse and her driving. There was also that longing to have the moment back when she could have chosen not to use the whip, or perhaps to have checked the harness more carefully.

It was nearly an hour later, and a mile closer to home when Alzie, returning to the conscious world, found herself walking behind the horse, holding the driving line. Panic having wiped her memory clean, she continued walking and reached home where her concerned father met her and took the horse. A hired hand was sent back to find the buggy.

Fortunately there was no major injury to the girl, and the buggy was promptly repaired and was, in fact, ready the next morning for the trip to school. Five miles was a long way to walk and there was no one able to take her. But Alzie was made of tough stuff and did not scare easily. She was ready to try it again. To her great relief, her dear, understanding father had already found her a different horse. And it could be supposed that she also was now a different girl.

Random Spring

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Today it is raining and blustery. Will it snow once more in the hours ahead? It’s possible. I never know how to dress for my daily walks – down coat, rain jacket, only a sweatshirt, hat? So I put it all on and take it off and carry it if I have to. For our spot on this planet, the month of March is never sure whether she is winter or spring, which leaves us waiting in various ways. Life is just a little more eclectic and full of random activities, waiting activities.

We watch the snow melt. I know it’s hard to imagine that being exciting, but when you’ve seen nearly five months of whiteness, a little bare ground is a big deal. It has disappeared from the roads and most of the yards except for the deep snow banks that the snow plows left. There are still patches of snow in the woods where the sun doesn’t shine. The lakes are still covered with rotten ice, but the geese are arriving and looking for any open water in the streams and marshes.

We are cleaning closets, emptying boxes long forgotten, and making decisions. Spring cleaning, it could be called that but it’s much more. It’s like taking trips down memory lane and we spend a lot of time talking about what we are remembering.

We (I) are finally putting December behind us. I turned off the winter lights on Daylight Savings day. The sun is coming up earlier and in a different place on the horizon. The patio furniture is out on the east porch and we are ready for the first day that allows us to sit outside for morning coffee, no longer in the dark and cold.

For some odd reason, I’m finding puzzles to be more than usually comforting. They have appeared in greater than usual numbers too, thanks to friends who have dropped them off. This is the first year that I’ve done puzzles alone since there is no one in the house who cares for them like I do. When my brain needs a break from daily duties, the puzzle is there waiting, demanding nothing, requiring a different kind of focus, full of color, visually interesting, solvable and just challenging enough.

Even the cat is waiting to be let outside. She watches the squirrels at the bird feeder and gets all excited, but only spends a few seconds in the cold when I let her out. She is waiting for the warm times she remembers, and as I watch her sitting in the sun I am reminded of spring window washing duties. I cleaned this window this week and it looks much better now.

Everyone’s chickens are laying eggs now and it is easy to get them fresh from the farms. I get a strange delight at boxes like this one from a chicken breed called Rainbow – for obvious reasons. I am having time to pay more attention to our nutrition and exercise needs. I feel healthier and ready for summer, ready for the sun, and work in the garden.

I am writing, although finding it hard. April Challenge is coming up and I would like to have my posts finished beforehand. It is slow going because my theme is so interesting and personal. Stories of my great grandmother and her family are so thought provoking and absorbing and I find myself spending days thinking about one episode before actually nailing it down. It is hard but I know it will be worthwhile.

And amid all the projects that didn’t get done this winter, there are a few that are getting done. I’m sealing the beautiful outdoor chairs that my uncle made for our patio, and I sawed the backs off my kitchen stools and painted the seats barn red. Now they fit under the counter better. I swept under the stove, vacuumed out the truck, and put away the snow shovels in favor of the rakes. I am even finding time to knit, and that amazes even me. I am grateful for all there is to do that makes waiting an interesting part of life, almost like a season in itself.

I can almost forget I’m waiting,… just sayin’.

Hope for Things Thought Dead

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What is the story here? I can see it plainly, but I never know how plain it is to others – we are all products of our past thoughts and experiences and it can make such a difference in our outlooks.

Last fall I put these amaryllis bulbs in the garage for their winter dormancy period. Their long leaves flopped over, turned yellow and dried up. They got no water, very little light, and no attention. One of them started pushing up a new leaf during the winter but there was no chance of it surviving and I worried about the untimely appearance. They were all dead looking, didn’t seem very stable or rooted in their pots, and were soft like they might be rotting. Nothing hopeful about them.

And then they came to life, like so many things do in the spring. Tips of the new leaves were barely visible in the dead layers of brown wrappings. I didn’t know if the early started would start again a second time, but it did. It was much later than the others and seems a bit tattered but it’s alive.

For me, it’s all about the hope that is built into creation that dead things come to life. It’s one of those plainly seen reminders of the intentions of our Creator. Seeing how life is embedded into the DNA of plants and trees and animals of all kinds, I can’t imagine that it isn’t also built into us. I do believe there is a creator God and that he’s telling me on a regular yearly schedule, that he is all about restoring, making new, and starting over, no matter how unlikely it might look to me. I love the sound of that and the spirit behind it.

Funny thing, once I started believing that God was sending me personal messages through things I could see and touch, things he created for my environment, he became real and personal to me. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in science. Science is a process by which we study our world. But science is not a creator. Science is still looking for a creator.

I’m enjoying this season. I’m watching for green grass to come up through the dead, matted fields. I’m watching for the geese to come to the marsh to make nests. I’m looking at the lilac twigs to see how far along the buds are. I’m watching the sunrise shift rapidly from south to north on the horizon. There is nothing dead that doesn’t have some hope attached to it and it all feels very personal, now that I’ve decided it is.

#A to Z Theme Reveal

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April is nearly here. For me, that means spring and the end of winter, it means birthday month for me and youngest daughter, and it means the April A to Z Blogging Challenge.

Choosing a theme each year for the blogging challenge has usually been a chore. This year I have tried out several ideas and rejected them, because they required extra time in addition to the writing that I actually have started and want to continue. But wait! I can combine what I am already doing with the A to Z and maybe accomplish both at the same time. First, here’s what I am already working on.

My great grandmother was an amazing woman for her time, feisty, brave, resourceful and independent. And she was a writer. I have her story and will be magnifying her tales of midwestern life in the late 1890’s up to her death in 1954. I have to call it fiction because she leaves room in her story for imagination of the times and circumstances, but it is historical fiction. Hers is a story of family, of faith, of women’s place in society, of handling hardship and sorrow, even of living through pandemic times. I am proud of her and love her story. I think you will too.

The A to Z Blogging Challenge consists of a post every day in April, excluding Sundays, following the alphabet in some way – twenty six days, twenty six letters. Short stories from my great grandmother Alzie’s life will make up my daily posts and I’ll get the alphabetical thing in there somewhere. I look forward to any feedback from readers, because that has been my favorite part of the A to Z in all of the years that I’ve participated. The challenge has been a great tool to stimulate creative ideas, and to develop a consistent writing habit so I recommend it to all writers or readers who want to do something interesting in April. Follow this link (http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com) to learn more and see for yourself.

My favorite April picture from a print at youngest daughter’s house. Creator unknown to me, but I would gladly give credit if I could. Cute.

February Goodness: More Snow

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February had this one last day to show up with something good and it decided that snow would be its choice. I walked over to Mom’s to say good morning and the walkways were bare and dry. I came home an hour later wading through several inches of very loosely packed, huge snowflakes. It was clear that shoveling and plowing would have to take place again. February is known for being indecisive about its weather.

There are many features in this field, none of which can be seen. White, white, white.

It was worse by the time we traveled to the church. The highways weren’t completely plowed. The confusing thing about new snow is the way it seems to erase important things like where the roads and ditches are. Everything is just white and more white and even the air is full of flying white. The husband’s remark, “maybe we should have stayed home today?”

But I was kind of glad that I would have at least another day of skiing, possibly a whole week. We ended up with about 8 inches which was just enough to fill in all the ski trails I had made the last time I went out. It was a different kind of snow too – so very wet that I could not get the skis to slide at all. The walk was much like traveling in very large snowshoes. I only went for a mile but the scenery was amazing and the experience of being out while the snow was coming down was worth it.

No words.
My feet are kind of like snowshoes, right?

I knew this month would most likely be a difficult month, unless I purposely looked for the goodness of God in it. Winter seems too long in February, especially a pandemic winter. A good friend’s death seemed imminent and, indeed, has come to pass. I seem stuck in some patterns I want to move out of. There are things I want to do that seem out of reach. February is a month of waiting for change. I know that if I wait long enough, change is certain, and for that I am glad. Change is part of God’s goodness.

March 1st, tomorrow, in the year 2021 has never happened before. It is brand new, like our snow today. There are good changes to plan for, dream about, pray about, and bring about. Looking forward to it, just sayin’…