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Snagged these prints at St. Peter’s Craft Fair Fundraiser, Cypress TX.

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Setting up mobile 

Today I was setting up my phone for my blog.  My son helped me as he was learning as well.  His blog is the link below.


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Glorious September

                                           Glorious September    

My new year starts in September, not January. September is filled with hope. This month is alive with new books to read, new friends to make, and new dreams to dream.

When I lived with my grandmother on the farm near Louisville, KY, September was the beginning of horseshows, antique auctions, and stopping at the side of country roads to buy bushels of apples. She always asked about the farmer’s mama, and if the report was that mama was doing poorly the next time we stopped a jar of apple butter or a fresh apple cake was sent up to the house. That was considered just doing the proper thing. Grandmother was big on doing the proper thing.   

Those apples replaced the summer peach cobblers and became pies topped with thick slices of cheddar cheese, and generous lectures on doing the proper thing. When her old fashioned farm kitchen smelled of cloves and cinnamon, I knew it was the beginning of autumn and soon it would be time to put the farm to bed for the winter.

Living on our ranch in South Texas delays the season by a good month, but this morning we were able to drink our morning coffee on the porch. Until now, it was way too hot by seven in the morning, and I admit I’ve turned into a real sissy. Even the tack room is air conditioned. I told my husband it was to keep the humidity from ruining expensive tack. Hey, it’s true. Partially.   

People who live on the land live by the change of seasons. Last March, when my husband was asked the time, I heard him reply, “Jody’s been sleeping in the barn for a month. It must be foaling season. That makes it about March or April.”

It’s a good way to live. Who needs watches anyway?

What does September mean to you?  Anything special?

I’m just sayin’…





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                                              MOVING TO TEXAS? 

Are you moving to Texas? A lot of people are. We have jobs down here. Don’t worry. You’ll be welcome. Texans are a friendly bunch. They can’t help it. It’s programed in their genes.

You’ll be looking for a house, right? A couple things to think about here. Never buy a house next door to a neighbor with kudzu. It was a gift from Japan that has gotten completely out of hand. You’ll never be able to go on another vacation not even for a long weekend away from home. That vine will creep over to your garden and suffocate everything in sight. I don’t even let my dog out in the mornings until I see a safe spot for him to do his business.

We pride ourselves on doing everything the easy way. You can buy bait at the same store you get your hair cut and the oil changed on your car, but you don’t want to buy lunch there. Speaking of food, do not. I repeat, do not buy anything to eat from a vending machine. It gets hot fast down here, and a tuna salad sandwich can go bad in an hour. Real bad.  

Leaving the Rust Belt for the Bible Belt can be a jolt. First thing you’ll notice is everyone asks you where you go to church, not if you go, but where you go. They’re just being friendly and want you to feel at home. If you don’t claim some strong religious affiliation, beware! You’ll be converted and singing in the choir by next Sunday.

You probably know this already, but I’ll go ahead and mention it anyway. Don’t be making fun of our good ‘ol boys. You might hear us doing just that, but that’s our right, not yours. Besides, that cowboy in the jeans with a snuff can in his back pocket may own a ranch the size of Massachusetts.

Don’t worry if you can’t understand us when we talk. We can’t understand you either.

You’ll get the hang of it, right fast. I did. No, I wasn’t born here, but I got here as fast as I could.

All y’all come on down. You’ll be right welcome!

I’m just sayin’…


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