Chickens!

This one's for Willie!

Yesterday I stopped at my favorite Amish vegetable and fruit stand to fetch my corn ON the cob and my tomatoes, a favorite summertime supper. The young man who has helped me in the past was there again behind his usual box of small change.....the box that makes the pine plank into a makeshift store. Barefoot as always, and with a weathered straw hat propped haphazardly on his head, he told me that this year he would be in the 8th grade, normally the end of Amish schooling. "But now," he moaned, "we have to go to school for about an hour once a week until we're fifteen." (I think I got his story right.....the Amish have a Pennsylvania Dutch accent that is sometimes difficult to understand.) Moving on after thinking about that additional schooling and scratching his head, he began to figure the tally on my purchases. Sometimes it takes a while.

Just then, in a furry of feathers and a gaggle of giggles, around the corner came a Latino family screeching in Spanish while running after a large chicken/ rooster/ poulet of some sort. I don't know much about chickens.....could have been a Rhode Island Red or a Pennsylvania Purple....but it was huge,,,,,as winged creatures go. Yes, it was bigger than a sparrow, but okay, smaller than an eagle or a condor.....maybe. I dodged the darned thing while the trio of family members tied up the feet and away they went to the car with their prize. I should have asked if it was dinner.....or a pet.....but I was too stunned and more than a bit scared. Those creatures flap around and have sneaky beady eyes and razor-sharp bills. Besides, Poppo was waiting at home with the cute corn holders, the red-handled butter spreaders, and the salt shaker.

The point of this blog is to shout out a hearty thank-you to the powers that be in Newport News for not allowing even one pet chicken within the city limits. Those things could be really dangerous if their feet came untied.

xox Mammaw

Andrew "Uncle Scott" Mears

I went through four and a half red lights to get to Chantilly, Virginia to meet Andy. Heart won.....no contest. An armful of giggle and a willing hugger-backer, Andy was a real keeper.....and my very first grandson.

Long ago his Poppo and I changed the name of Willow Road to Andy's Road because on it, from his car seat, he could see HIS donkeys, HIS lambs, HIS goats, HIS horsies, HIS cows and even two of HIS swans on Amish farms as we inched along. Once we stopped to chat with those cows, but they were non-committal. Drat.

Sharing cow talk was easy. Climbing up into the seats for high school and collegiate swim meets was terrifying. So.....I can't swim and I am afraid of heights. Try the University of Maryland swim-a-torium. It is a dizzying experience. (I only did it once.) Andy could churn up swim meet waters better than Grandmother Stone's egg beater. Not one bit of braggart in him, he kept most of his blue ribbons in the bottom of his closet. Meanwhile, as his unauthorized Pennsylvania press agent, I shared newspaper articles and online sport releases with friends, strangers and maybe even a cow or two.

Now Andy is too big for the swing in the front yard, and he is no longer interested in finding pine cones or pretty rocks. There is no way I could strap him into a car seat! Today I am most proud of the man Andy has become. He has grown into an intelligent, honest, and handsome University of Maryland graduate and accountant-to-be.

He can balance my bank book anytime.

All Great Men Are Named George

I have had shingles since January 5th. If you are saying, "Ohhhh, bless your heart, you poor thing," hang on a minute. Yes, I have had shingles.....a horrible, painful, fever-ful, wallow-in-self-pity disease....but I also have had George since 1954. Now say, "Ohhhh, bless your heart, you lucky lady."

Quietly, efficiently, and lovingly George has been with me every step of the miserable way. And now that there is this glorious light shining at the end of my tunnel....now that I can see with clearing clarity.....now that my real world is coming back to me...the light at the end of my tunnel is George....always has been....always will be.