Lisa R. Howeler's Blog, page 117

Looking back at April in photos

April was a strange month weather wise at times. Warm sun, rain, gloomy days, snow, then warm sun again. In other words, it was a typical April for our state. I thought I’d look back on the month in photos since, as usual, my life wasn’t super exciting and there isn’t much to write about it. There were some playground trips, running in the backyard, Easter, weird medieval helmets and blooming spring flowers. Who knows what May will bring that will be worthy of a photo or two.

My No News in May Challenge. Want to join me? Wait. Hear me out.

So I am sinking into a deep depression and have lost a lot of motivation off and on for the last year. You know why. Todays news is depressing, demoralizing, and creates insane amounts of division. Prop that on top of other life stressors and many of us have the making of a good ole’ fashioned mental breakdown.

Of course we are in control of how we allow the things we read and hear affect us but we are also responsible for what we allow in our ear and eye holes and I don’t know about you, but I’ve allowed too much in off and on (not consistently) for more than a year now.

I’m ready for a break during which I hope to accomplish some other goals in life including, reading my Bible more, praying more, finishing writing book two in my series, planting my garden, reading more, closing out my children’s school year, visiting some local parks, picking up drawing again, and searching for UFOs. The last one is a joke, but who knows. With all the free time I’ll have on my hands, I may just do that.

It isn’t that I like news sites or visit them because I’m really invested in what is happening in the world. It’s a way to distract myself, procrastinate, and, quite frankly, it is easy to become addicted to what I call panic or drama porn. Our thoughts are inexplicaply drawn to the negativity of life and where can we find the most negativity today but on a news site.

We can easily fall down rabbit holes, even without meaning to.

Anyhow, I digress. The point of this post is to try to hold myself accountable and to see if anyone else would like to join me in a news fast for the next month. This is not a total news fast. I am keeping myself at one hour a week which can be broken up however I like but for now I think I will allow about 8 minutes of news a day. This will include quick scans of one site and no more sinking into rabbit holes or checking Twitter (which I don’t even have an account on. What in the world am I doing? The place is a sink hole of depression and the worst society has to offer, in my opinion.) or any other social media accounts related to news.

You can keep yourself to more hours a week if you want, but I am curious to see if less news will make some of us who are susceptible to all the different messages overwhelming our brains feel less anxious. Join me if you like, cheer me on, or just ignore me. I’m okay either way but I hope by posting here I will feel guilty if I allow myself to be sucked into a media/news-induced hysteria. Let’s see how it goes. I’ll post some updates later in the month and in June. I’ll see if I utterly failed or at least had a little success.

Sunday Bookends: Reading novellas and Watching Spring Bloom

Welcome to Sunday Bookends where I ramble about what I’m reading, watching, listening to, writing, or doing.

***

What I’ve Been Reading

I finished a couple of novellas in the last couple of weeks that I’m not sure I mentioned or not previously. One was Avoiding Marriage by Karin Beery. The other was In Sheep’s Clothing by Pegg Thomas.

The description of Avoiding Marriage is:

Two years ago, Jessica Miller made a mess of her already confusing life. Now, she’s back in Boyne Heights, and she’s determined to fix her reputation. She can’t seem to avoid the past that haunts her, but that’s the joy of small-town life—word spreads and people remember. Intent on her mission, however, she faces her past head-on, taking a job with her ex-boyfriend while avoiding her grandmother’s attempts to find her a new one.

The description of In Sheep’s Clothing is:

Yarrow Fenn, the talented spinster sister, was passed over when her intended walked out on her years before. She’s content with her life – for the most part – until Peter Maltby arrives in town. A journeyman fuller, Peter comes to Milford, Connecticut, not to woo the young women, but to rise to the rank of master fuller and return to Boston for some unfinished business. When their lives intersect over an orphan lamb, sparks are kindled. But their budding romance will have to survive revealed secrets when someone else shows up in Milford.

`

I will offer reviews of both of them later in the week.

I am currently reading Kindness Goes Unpunished (A Longmire Mystery) by Craig Johnson,

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee, and I’m going to start The Number of Love by Roseanna M. White as part of a Goodreads book club.

Little Miss and I finished Little House on the Prairie and are now reading On the Banks of Plum Creek by Laura Ingalls Wilder.

The Boy is still reading To Kill A Mockingbird.

What’s Been Occurring

The weather was nice most of last week, except for Thursday when it rained and stormed, with high winds, bringing with it colder air. Despite the nicer weather, we really didn’t do much other than schoolwork and playing outside and at the little playground down the road from our house.

We also explored our back and side yards to see which flowers are blooming this week. By yesterday the leaves were starting to come out in full force on the trees around our house and I’m guessing they will all be out by the end of this week.

I hope to start planning our garden this week, including figuring out where to get the topsoil. We will see if I can get myself motivated enough to actually do it.

What I’ve Been Watching

This past week I watched The Secret: Dare to Dream with Katie Holmes and Josh Lucas. It was a very sweet, clean movie and is currently on Amazon prime. It was fairly predictable plot wise, but it was okay.

I also watched a few episodes of the old All Creatures Great and Small show and a British comedy game show called Would I Lie To You?

What I’ve Been Listening To

I listened to a lot of the Unashamed podcast with the Robertson family from Duck Dynasty fame this past week and also a live album from Needtobreathe.

What I’ve Been Writing

Last week I shared a post asking if Laura Ingalls Wilder was racist and a new chapter of The Farmers’ Sons in two parts (one Friday and one Saturday).

That’s my week in review. How about you? What have you been reading, watching, listening to, or doing? Let me know in the comments.

Special Fiction Saturday: The Farmers’ Sons Chapter 6 Part 2

Here is part two of the chapter I posted yesterday. If you read down to the end you’ll also get a sneak peak of next week’s chapter. If you would like to read the story of Jason’s sister, you can learn more about The Farmer’s Daughter HERE or at the link at the top of the page. If you don’t have a Kindle or Kindle Unlimited, I’ll have options to order digital copies of the book other ways in June. You can also order a print copy on Amazon or Barnes and Noble.

***

Jason glanced up at the tops of the trees as he drove, noticing the limbs bending in the wind. Wind and fire. Never a good combination.

He saw the smoke before he saw the fire. Dark clouds rose up in plumes against a backdrop of the blue and green hillside, over the roofs of the homes he passed. When he rounded the corner, he saw flames ripping across Lester Franklin’s side yard and the dry-yellow field next to it. Lester, a truck driver for a local heating oil business, was standing a few inches away from the flames, beating them down with what looked like a wet burlap sack used to store grain.

Cody was already there in his blue Ford pick-up. The fire truck hadn’t arrived yet.

“Controlled burn that got out of control,” Cody called as Jason jumped from his truck. He handed Jason a shovel and a hoe. “Lester was burning some old brush and branches. The grass was dryer than he realized. Let’s try to keep it from going toward the house until the truck gets here. We’ll dig a buffer zone and hope it doesn’t jump it. If it does, we may need to light another fire, but hopefully the guys get here first. If a flame sprouts up in front of you throw some dirt at it or take one of the soaked bags over there and try to beat it back.”

Cody briefly explained the concept of a buffer zone and how to create one, demonstrating it as he began creating a line between the field and yard.

The heat from the flames hit Jason full force as he started digging behind Cody. He dug quickly, hoping the flames would keep their path on the other side of the line. Cody grabbed a stack of sacks and soaked them under the outside spicket then returned to digging the path, beating back the flames with a soaked sack every few minutes.

Twenty minutes later, drenched in sweat, Jason heard the sirens of the fire truck blaring about a mile away at the same moment the wind shifted and sent flames slamming toward him and around him. He stepped back fast but not fast enough to keep the fire from jumping from the ground to his jeans.

Cody was next to him in seconds, patting his palms against Jason’s pants, down near his ankles.

 Once flames were no longer slithering up his legs, Jason grabbed one of the sacks as Cody pointed toward the Franklin’s house.

“It’s spreading toward the bush by the back porch!”

The truck pulled into the side yard a few minutes later and blazed toward the back field, siren blaring. Behind it were three more trucks with blue flashing lights on top, volunteers jumping out as soon as their trucks were in park.

“Get the hose and soak the porch!” Cody shouted.

The hose was being rolled out as a smaller truck pulled in behind the larger one.

Brittany Manahan’s arm bumped Jason’s as she pushed past him with the hose. “Hey, rookie, back up before we drown you.” Her arm shot up as she gestured toward the firemen back at the truck. “Let ‘er loose, boys!”

Water shot out across the top of the porch, doused the blazing bush at the same time. Jason moved back to the field where spindly patterns of fire were reaching toward the woods behind the house.

He hit the flames back with the wet sack until the hose from the smaller truck was pulled his way, then grabbed the hose, joining Denny Ward and Jacob Beecher. The three men dragged the hose through the burnt grass toward the flames that still hadn’t been tamed.

By the time the fire was out a half an hour later, Jason’s face and neck were slick with sweat and any skin showing was smeared with soot.

He staggered toward the house with Denny and Jacob, dragging the hose behind them.

“Good job for your first brush fire, Tanner,” Brittany said tossing him a water bottle. “Drink up, I don’t want to have to try to carry your big butt to the ambulance.”

Brittany was a paid EMT for the Tri-County Ambulance service, which covered the county Spencer Valley was in and two others. When she wasn’t riding with the ambulance, she was responding to fires as a volunteer member of the Spencer Valley Fire Department.

Jason caught the bottle, twisting the cap off. “Thanks.”

Brittany tossed her head back, releasing dark curls from a hair tie with one hand and yanking the rest of the strands from where they’d been shoved under the collar of the fire suit.

She drank down half a bottle of her own before focusing her gaze on Jason. She leaned one arm against the trunk of the tree next to her. “You’re a natural at this. You knew what to do without any of us telling you.”

Jason shrugged a shoulder. “Just a quick learner. But Cody did give me some pointers”

Denny walked up to stand under the shade of the tall maple tree with them. He winked at Brittany. “His being built like a Greek god doesn’t hurt any either, does it Brittany?”

There was no mistaking the red that flushed up Brittany’s cheeks, but she didn’t give the men time to harass her about it. “I hadn’t noticed, Denny. Something you need to tell us, or maybe Heather when you get home?”

Heather was Denny’s wife. Jason had graduated with both of them.

“Very funny, Manahan. Don’t try to deflect. You’ve been checking out Tanner since he signed up.”

Brittany tossed her empty water bottle toward Denny, slid the jacket of the fire suit off and turned back toward the rig. “Sounds like maybe you’re deflecting your own obsession with Tanner,” she called over her shoulder.

Denny elbowed Jason in the ribs. He nodded toward Brittany, now across the yard by the truck. “Watch out for that one. She’s a man eater and she’s definitely been checking you out.”

Jason laughed softly, shook his head. He didn’t know if what Denny was saying was true or not, and he didn’t really care.

 “Not worried about it.” He took another long drink from the bottle. “I’m steering clear of the opposite sex for a good long while.”

Denny leaned back against the tree they were standing under. “You and Ellie still on the rocks?”

Jason nodded, finishing the water in the bottle, and crushing it in his hand.  A cool breeze slid over his skin and he closed his eyes briefly to enjoy it.

Cody walked over, leaned one arm against the tree, and shook his head. He looked at the charred scene around them as he guzzled a bottle of water.

“Last year we had too much rain, this year we could use some more. I’d love a year where we’d get just the right amount of rain.”

Denny and Jason agree with quick nods of their heads.

“It would certainly make farming a lot easier,” Jason commented.

Elizabeth Franklin stepped out on the porch with a tray of lemonade and a plate of cookies. She placed the tray on a small table and cupped her hands around her mouth to call across the yard. “Come on over, guys. Have some refreshments before you head out.”

Cody grinned, patting Jason on the shoulder as they walked. “Volunteers may not get paid in money, but we do get paid in baked goods.”

Jason patted his stomach, still flat, but knew it wouldn’t be much longer if he didn’t stop taking ‘thank you’ gifts of food. He would need a couple extra hours in the gym this next week.

Elizabeth poured glasses of lemonade, waving over the rest of the fire fighters still on scene. “Goodness, boys, that was scary. We can’t thank you enough for saving the woods and the house.” She looked up as Brittany walked over, now out of her fire gear. “Sorry about that hon’. I forgot our fire department has a young lady now. No offense meant.”

Brittany waved her hand dismissively, taking a glass of lemonade with the other hand. “No offense taken, Mrs. Franklin.”

Elizabeth propped a hand on her hip. “Brittany, you know you can call me Elizabeth now. I haven’t been your teacher in ten years.”

Brittany made a face. “I’ll try but I can’t make any promises. Just seems weird.”

Jason laughed. “I didn’t even have you as a teacher and I don’t think even I can call you Elizabeth.”

Gray streaked the older woman’s dark blond strands pulled back in a ponytail. She folded her arms across her chest and looked down at Jason, standing on the ground next to the porch. “That’s right. I never did have you in class, did I? I do remember having Molly. One of my brightest students. How’s she doing these days?”

“Good. Working hard at the country store, managing our website, and of course, still working on the farm.”

Elizabeth pressed her hands against her lower back and stretched back slightly. “She’s not married yet either is she?”

Jason’s chest constricted at the question, though he knew Molly’s former English teacher had no idea she’d struck a painful chord.

“No. Not yet.”

Elizabeth smiled affectionally and winked. “Well, you both better get on it and give Robert and Annie some grandchildren to cuddle. They’re just going to love being grandparents. I know Lester and I do.”

Being reminded of not having children yet at his age, while wondering if he ever would, was making Jason wish that fire had consumed him.

Cody jerked his head toward the trucks after a few more minutes of chatting. “We’d better get these hoses rolled up and the rigs back to the fire house.”

The conversations broke up as the firefighters pulled off their gear and headed back to the trucks or their own vehicles. Jason dragged a hand across his forehead, looked at the black smeared on his skin, and grimaced. It was going to take a lot of soap to get all this off.

Brittany climbed into the passenger side of the larger fire truck and leaned her head out the window. “Hey, Jason, some of the guys and I are going to Mooney’s after we clean up. Wanna join us?”

He shook his head, wiping his hands on his pants. “I’ve got to head back to the farm but thanks for asking.”

He didn’t miss the wink she gave him. “Next time, okay? I’ll buy you a beer.”

He waved as the truck pulled out then winced as he watched the truck head down the dirt road.

Maybe Denny was right. He’d better watch his back with that one.

Standing in the shower fifteen minutes later, after telling his dad he’d be in the barn soon to help with the milking, he let the water run hot down his back. Exhaustion ate away at his strength. He leaned his arm against the wall and his forehead against his arm.

He hoped the water would loosen his muscles and wake him. He still had a farm to help run. When he thought about Elizabeth’s comments about grandchildren, he turned the knob further toward the hot, hoping the water would burn her words out of his mind like it was burning the soot off his body.

“Hey, Jase.” Alex’s voice from the other side of the door made him groan softly. “Any idea where the toolbox went? A hose on the milker broke again.”

While he would have liked to have been able to shower in peace, he couldn’t deny how grateful he was that there was always something to keep his mind off what he didn’t want to think about.

Sneak peek of Chapter 7 for next week:

Chapter 7

Ellie winced, curling her legs up against the heating pad pressed against her stomach. A burning pain had started in her lower stomach an hour earlier and was curving around to her back. She’d finally given up and taken ibuprofen. It hadn’t kicked in yet.

Was it the stress of the last few weeks causing her pain to be worse?  Maybe her condition was simply getting worse. Either way, she prayed for the pain to end soon. She had Bible study in a couple of hours. They were studying Proverbs 31 and she needed to be there, not only to lead the study, but to focus on something other than her deepening depression.

She drifted off into a fitful sleep for 20 minutes before a knock on the door woke her.

Fiction Friday: The Farmers Sons Chapter 6 Part I

As always this story is a fictional serial which I update every Friday. it is also a work in progress and will be turned into a book once I’ve posted the chapters here on the blog and once it has been edited and maybe even rewritten.

I will share part two of this chapter tomorrow on the blog.

Let me know what you think of the story so far in the comments. What do you think should happen next or what has happened so far? And if you would like to read the first book in this series, you can find it on Kindle Unlimited or order a digital copy on Amazon. You can also order print versions on Amazon or Barnes and Noble.

***

Robert set a steaming mug of black coffee on the table in front of Jason and another in front of himself. Sunlight was trying to peek through dark clouds outside and the light in the kitchen cast a warm glow across the wooden table Ned had made 20 years ago.

“I’ve been thinking of some other avenues for revenue for the business.”

Jason laughed softly, reaching across the table for the creamer. “So that’s what happens when we leave you alone too long.”

“It certainly is.” Robert slid a sheet of paper across the table at him. “We’ve got a group of results from the genetic testing on the jerseys. It looks like we have enough with the A2 gene that we can start producing A2 milk once we build a bottling plant to process it.” He pointed to some figures at the bottom of the page. “That’s going to be the cost which part of the money left over from Alex’s mom will cover the majority of.”

Jason read over the paper. This move would definitely be another source of income for the business if it all came together.

His eyes fell on a few words at the bottom of the page that raised his eyebrows. “Goats? You want to add goats?”

Robert stirred creamer and sugar into his coffee, turning it a light brown. He nodded as he sipped. “The way I figure it,

Robert laughed. “But their milk is. It’s just another product we can add to the inventory of the store. Not to mention, we can make soap from the milk.”

Jason grinned and cocked an eyebrow. “Who’s going to make the soap?”

“Your mom and Molly are interested.”

“Molly? Making soap?”

Robert sighed. “Focus, Jason.”

Jason looked back at the paper again. “What’s this over here?” He squinted. “Should have been a doctor with this handwriting of yours, Dad. Corn maze? You want to set up a corn maze in the Fall?”

Robert sipped his coffee. “Yep. Diversify. Landon Bennett from the Lycoming Farm Bureau is going to put me in touch with a maze designer he’s worked with the last three years.”

Jason rubbed his chin under his bottom lip thoughtfully. “And this brought in some revenue for Landon?”

“Double what he makes in six months with milk sales, but he also added rides, crafts, and set up a pumpkin patch, which we have more than enough space for.”

“Have you talked to Walt yet?”

“Briefly. He agreed we need to get some figures together before we make any decisions. Maybe it won’t be plausible, but at this point I say we try everything and see what sticks. The alternative is —”

“Something we don’t need to think about right now,” Jason said quickly.

Robert set his cup of coffee aside and picked up a pen. He drew an arrow to a figure at the top of the page. “The money from Cecily was an amazing, appreciated boost for us and I think we need to capitalize on the breathing room it gave us.”

Jason nodded. “I agree.”

Robert set his pen aside, folded his arms on the surface of the table. “Now that we’ve got the business talk out of the way, maybe you’d like to talk about some more personal issues.”

Jason shook his head as he stood, the paper in his hand.

He leaned back against the kitchen counter, looking at the paper and taking a long gulp of his coffee. “Nope. I’m good. Plus, we’re not done with business talk. We still need to figure out where and how we’re going to build a shed or barn for the goats you want to buy. Not to mention where to buy the goats. Then there’s the need to get some plans together for the bottling plant. I can talk to Greg Stanton at Stanton Designs about that tomorrow when I’m in town if you want.”

Robert nodded. “We can figure that all out in the next few days. Your Uncle Walt is scoping out some of the space near his barn for the goat barn. We’ll see how that works.” He folded his hands in a triangle in front of him and propped his chin on the tips of his fingers, his eyes narrowing. “Jason, I know things have been rough between you and Ellie. If you need to talk —”

“Dad, I appreciate it, but I’m good. Really.”

“Are you? Really? Because you don’t look good most days. You look pretty beat up. It’s honorable of you to offer to help out the fire department besides everything else you’re doing, but do you think that maybe all of this is just a way to avoid dealing with the situation with Ellie?

Jason shrugged, placed his empty mug in the sink. “It’s not a situation. It’s moving on.”

Robert leaned back, draping an arm over the back of the kitchen chair. “So, the relationship is over?”

Jason shrugged again. “Maybe. I don’t know. It seems to be what she wants.”

“Any reason she wants this?”

Jason slid the paper onto the kitchen table, leaning his palms against the edge of the counter, trying to decide how much he wanted his dad to know. “She thinks she can’t trust me.”

“Did something happen to make her feel this way?”

“Not recently, no.”

“Jase, you know I love you, no matter what. You can tell me what’s going on.”

Jason blew out a breath. “I screwed up, Dad. Okay? I screwed up in college and I never told Ellie. Can we just not talk about this right now?”

Robert didn’t appear to be getting the message. “Okay, well, how did you screw up?”

Jason pressed thumb and forefinger against his nose and closed his eyes.

“Dad, I don’t want to talk about it, okay? I just —” He gestured with his hand, clenched his fist closed. How long was he going to hide his shame from his family? “I was down in college. I started drinking. It didn’t last long, but . . .”

“You fell in with some wrong people?”

Jason smirked. “Well, Alex, for one, but yeah…one person in particular. A woman.”

Robert sat back in his chair. “Ah. I see. And you never told Ellie about this woman and whatever happened between you two?”

Jason nodded. “A few months ago, she overheard me and Alex talking about it. I was going to tell her before that but when I tried to, she thought I was proposing so —”

The squeal from the scanner hooked to Jason’s belt startled them both. Jason twisted the volume knob.

“Sorry.”

The voice on the scanner broke through the static. “Department 12, brush fire. Corner of Drew Road and Pine Creek Road. Fully involved and spreading.”

Jason stood and reached for his cap. “That’s just up the road. It would be a good training opportunity for me.”

Robert nodded, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Okay, but be careful and let’s talk about all of this again later.”

“Yeah. ‘k.”

Out in his truck, starting the engine, Jason was glad for the excuse to leave. He was tired of talking about his past life, his mistakes, Ellie. He was tired of thinking about them, too. Luckily, he now had a brush fire to fight and later he would have a bottling plant and a goat barn to figure out how to build. Plenty to keep his mind off the thoughts burning painful paths through his heart and mind.  

***

Robert envied how quickly Jason rushed out the front door. He couldn’t do anything quickly anymore. He lumbered like a bear shot with a tranquilizer dart most days, staggering across the pastures like a man 20 years older than he was.

It was amazing Annie still had anything to do with him.

It was a silly thought, grounded in self-pity, he knew it, but the thought was still there. Annie was vibrant, active, beautiful. She deserved more than a hobbling old man.

He winced, standing and placing his empty coffee mug in the sink.

There she was now. He watched her walk across the side yard toward the clothesline.

He listened to her often complain about the wrinkles she was finding, the gray hairs that were cropping up here and there, what she saw as extra skin under her chin. He saw none of those things, though.

To him she was still the 17-year-old girl he’d fallen in love with, the 19-year-old who had given birth to his son and then four years later their daughter. There had been a loss in between, a son they’d named Joseph even though he’d been born at 28 weeks, not old enough to breathe on his own, not strong enough even when the machines breathed for him.

A breeze blew stands of her dark brown hair across her face. She pushed them aside, behind her ear, and propped a clothespin in her mouth.

How was it that the sight of her still sent his heart racing in his chest, his muscles tightening with a desire to hold her close? They hadn’t had a lot of time alone together since the accident and before that he’d been working hard to pay off the loan by the deadline. The last several months had been filled with her waiting on him, especially when he’d first come home and slept in a bed downstairs until his pelvis and leg healed more.

He enjoyed waiting on her instead and had hated not being able to do for himself. Now he could get his own breakfast, his own coffee, do some work around the farm, and take showers without her helping him undress and dress again, though he had to admit that part had been fun in some ways. He smiled, thinking of her helping pulling off his jeans each night and how he’d chased her from the bathroom before she tried to remove anything else.

It was ridiculous, he knew, but somehow he had felt less of a man with his leg all mangled and in a cast. The way he winced from the pain in his pelvis each time he’d moved didn’t make him feel very masculine either. Even with the cast off, he still felt like only half of a man.

Annie hooked a sheet over the line, pushing herself up on the tips of her toes to reach. He grinned, his eyes traveling down her legs, exposed thanks to a pair of denim blue shorts.

Robert’s physical pain was better now, but there were still too many things he couldn’t do that he wanted to, including climbing onto the tractor, lifting heavy objects, dancing with his wife under the stars. Not that he’d danced with Annie under the stars regularly. It had only been that one time, three years ago, after they’d helped on of the pigs give birth and he hadn’t wanted to go back to the house yet.

He’d like to try it again, though. Hopefully soon the pain would be all the way gone and his leg wouldn’t be so stiff. He tried to bend the leg, now free of the lighter cast, and grimaced.

Hopefully then he wouldn’t feel as old and helpless as he did now.

He wondered if his dad had felt this way when age, and later dementia and heart failure, had forced him to slow down. Ned had been cognizant enough before the dementia took over to realize he was losing his mental faculties. They’d talked about it one day sitting on Ned and Franny’s front porch, rocking in the chairs his father had built for him and Franny to rock in when Ned retired.

“I’m not of much use these days, Robert,” Ned had said, his cloudy blue eyes looking out over the yard where chickens scratched at corn and a barn cat rolled in the grass. “Not to you boys. Not to your mom. Not to anyone.”

“Don’t say that, Dad.”

“It’s true. I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast yesterday.”

Robert had laughed. “I don’t even remember what I had for breakfast yesterday.”

Ned shook his head. He hadn’t laughed. “Who’s going to take care of your mom when I don’t know who I am anymore?”

Robert had reached over and done something the Tanner man rarely did. He’d squeezed his father’s hand and looked at him until he looked back.

“We will dad. Your kids and grandkids. And most importantly God will.”

Ned’s eyes glistened. “Do you think I’ll even know who God is when I forget who everyone else is?”

“Yeah.” Robert clutched his dad’s hand tighter. “Yeah. I do. And if you don’t, it doesn’t matter because he knows who you are.”

Was Laura Ingalls Wilder racist?

As I have mentioned in my Sunday Bookends posts recently, Little Miss and I have been reading Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder before bed. I read the books as a child and I’m guessing I either didn’t understand how horrible the references to Native Americans in the book sounded back then. It is also possible my Mom explained to me what I have been explaining to my daughter this week, which is that the fear the Ingalls had of the Indians was really a fear of the unknown. They were drawing their views of the Native Americans from stories they had heard and not personal experience.

This past week, I made reading the book an educational experience in addition to being an entertaining one. I also explored the reason behind the racist-leaning language in Wilder’s books by doing what so many of us do these days — I Googled it.

As an adult re-reading Little House on the Prairie, I was taken aback by what Wilder wrote about the Native Americans. I didn’t remember the negative descriptions from when I read it all those years ago. Part of me had considered abandoning the book, so I didn’t have to discuss such a difficult topic with a 6-year-old, or at least skipping those sections. It was hard to skip the sections, however, since so much of the book is about the Native Americans and the Ingalls encounters with them. I’m glad I didn’t abandon the book, because then I would have missed those moments where the fictional version of Wilder challenges the views her mother and others living on the prairie have of the Native Americans.

One reason the real Laura couldn’t have questioned the negative views of the Native Americans when her family lived on the prairie is because she was actually only 2 when they moved to Kansas and around 4 or 5 when they left. In the fictional children’s book, she portrays herself as around 8 or 9. She also writes that baby Carrie was alive, but in reality, Carrie had not even been born yet.

 Laura Mclemore points out on The Little House on the Prairie website that it is important to understand the history behind Wilder’s story when considering how she writes about the Osage. For one, Wilder’s mother held a fear of the Osage people because of a massacre which occurred in Minnesota, near where the Ingalls had lived before moving to Kansas, around 1862. That massacre occurred when the Sioux and Dakota tribes rose up against the settlers after many of the men left to fight in the Civil War.  Laura’s mother and their neighbors, the Scotts, remember that massacre when they express anger and fear toward the Osage people, even though they are a different tribe.

It’s also important to remember that Wilder wasn’t actually writing an autobiography when she wrote her children’s books. While there were some authentic life experiences, as well as actual people, in the books, Wilder was actually writing historical fiction using her real family as the basis for the stories.

In 2018, Wilder’s name was stripped of a literary award named after her by American Library Association in 1954 because many believed her depictions of both Native Americans and African Americans were racist. The decision to remove her name bothered some people, including Amy S. Fatzinger from the magazine The Atlantic.

“The books indeed include several pejorative passages about Native people that reflect ‘dated cultural attitudes.’” Fatzinger wrote. “At times, they also work to dispel myths about American westward expansion; some scenes illustrate the complexity of race relations on the frontier and remind readers that countless families like the Ingallses were illegally occupying Native lands. As a result, Wilder’s approach can leave readers with conflicting messages about Native characters, requiring a more nuanced consideration of the texts themselves.”

While reading the book this week to Little Miss, I could see what Fatzinger means about scenes showing the complexity of race on the frontier. The various descriptions of Native Americans are definitely shocking by today’s standards and show how misguided the Ingalls family and other settlers were about the tribes living around them. While Wilder relayed some of the more prejudice comments she heard about Native Americans while growing up, she also did something other writers of the time didn’t do, Fatzinger wrote, and that was to point out that white settlers had illegally moved onto land occupied by the Osages. Charles Ingalls tells his family they are moving to “Indian Country” because politicians in Washington had sent word that the land would soon be free of Native Americans. Yes, just like today, politicians were adept at stirring up trouble and leaving people hurt in the wake of their ineptitude.

“Even readers who find such scenes troubling might assume that Wilder was simply repeating the attitudes of her time,” Fatzinger wrote in her article. “A closer look, though, reveals that she usually presents misconceptions about frontier life only to later challenge them; similarly, negative views of Native people are often juxtaposed with more favorable ones. In Little House on the Prairie, young Laura listens to various perspectives about Native people uttered by the adults around her and questions them. Laura asks her Ma, for example, why they’re traveling to Indian Territory if she doesn’t like Indians. It’s a question that highlights the absurdity of the events that follow, like when the Ingallses huddle in their house petrified of the Osage neighbors whose land they are attempting to appropriate.”

Through questions she asks her parents, Wilder also showed that her younger self had doubts about whether the Native Americans were “evil”, even though she had a very obvious fear of them and referred to them as “wild”, “smelly,” and “savage.” She writes that Ma was always leery and upset by the Native Americans, especially when they entered the home uninvited, but Pa was much more laid back, saying more than once, “As long as we are peaceful toward them, they will be peaceful toward us.” Of course, he also had a prejudice view of them because at one point he almost calls them devils, but Ma cuts him off so he doesn’t make the children afraid.

I believe Wilder wrote her books from the perspective of a child who had a fear of the unknown which included Native Americans, but also from the perspective of a woman born in 1867.

Credit: Little House on the Prairie blog/site

Her writing mainly focuses on what others thought of Native Americans and she relays their views through the eyes of a child trying to make sense of it all. She doesn’t leave those racist ideas to sit there alone, without explanation. She addresses them again as you progress through the book. When the neighbors say, “The only good Indian is a dead Indian,” Laura’s father disagrees, especially when Soldat Du Chene, a member of the Osage tribe talks the rest of the Osage people out of declaring war on the white settlers.

“No matter what Mr. Scott said,” Laura writes. “Pa did not believe the only good Indian was a dead Indian.”  

Keeping in mind the need to offer context to Laura’s story and instead of throwing the baby out with the bath water, I took Mclemore’s suggestion to use the books as a teachable moment. One night before bed,  told Little Miss who the Native Americans were and how they lived in our country before the white Europeans.

I wasn’t sure how she would respond to my story of how the white Europeans chased many Native Americans off their land. I hoped she wouldn’t demonize either side.

Little Miss,6, is sharp, though, so I really shouldn’t have been surprised when she said, “I’m guessing the white people started the war.”

Ouch.

I hadn’t even mentioned war. I would imagine she heard about that in a cartoon or in lessons I’ve taught to her brother about similar subjects.

I told her that sometimes the white settlers started the war because they wanted the land and sometimes Native Americans started the wars because they were upset that the white settlers had taken their land and hurt their people.

I also explained that what the white Europeans did was wrong, that some of them may have been our ancestors (especially on my dad’s side where we have traced our family back to very early settlers in Connecticut), but that doesn’t mean we are to blame for what happened. We do, however, need to remember that dark part of our history so we don’t repeat it. We also need to recognize that the land we now live on was land was once occupied by people who settled this land long before our ancestors did. Although, we actually may have some Native American ancestors on my mother’s side, but we have not been able to officially connect us to the Cherokees my aunt and mom believe we may be related to.

After I told her, that the land we lived on now was probably where members of the Iroquois nation lived and that we would study them soon in our history, her curiosity was piqued.

“You have hooked me,” she announced. “Now I want to know more.”

Five minutes later she was asleep with my promise that we would soon learn more about Native Americans. The next day we watched a video by a Native American woman on YouTube about the Native Americans of the northeast and those of the Midwest. Little Miss enjoyed it but looked up after the woman talked about the women of tribe cooking and cleaning and scraping the buffalo hides and said, “I’m guessing this is when the men thought women couldn’t do the same thing that men could do, right?”

She’s a little too smart for her own good at times.

I agree with Mclemore’s suggestion for parents who would like to teach their young children about life in the 1800s and that is to not ignore Wilder’s books.

“I suggest that rather than banning books or refusing to read them, we use them as a platform for examining the history of the United States,” she writes. “What better way to learn our history than by reading a classic like Little House on the Prairie and using it as a platform for discussion?”

Incidentally, I am taking this same approach with To Kill A Mockingbird which I am reading with my 14-year-old son for his English class.

I also agree with Fatzinger to not remove Wilder’s references to Native Americans from her writing, or in fact remove any references to races that we disagree with. By doing this we are effectively removing any mention of the race at all, which closes the door to discussions about why stereotypical views of a race are wrong.

You can learn more about Laura Ingalls Wilder at http://www.littlehouseontheprairie.com and more about Fatzinger’s view of Wilder’s work on The Atlantic site.

Sunday Bookends: Awesome weather, little houses, sheep, and Brits out of place

What’s Been Occurring

The weather was cold here at the beginning of last week but warmed up in perfect timing for our 45-minute drive south to pick up my son’s new glasses. It was perfect timing because after finding a Weis store, which was my excitement for the week, sadly, we found an amazing playground for the kids to play on. For almost two hours my kids played with other kids and not one of them was wearing a mask. Only one parent was wearing a mask and it looked like a spring day from 2019. It was amazing and the best day I’ve had in a very long time.

The kids also had a blast. Our car was full of fresh fruit from Weis, the sun was shining, we had an awesome playground (with a zipline!) to play on, and my son could finally see again.

About the supermarket trip, listen, we live in the middle of nowhere without large supermarkets so this was exciting to me. This was more exciting than finding a Target or Trader Joe’s. Well, not more exciting than a Trader Joe’s. There are no Trader Joes anywhere near us – like even 100 miles near us.

So, don’t judge my sad little life.

The store is like a small version of Wegman’s if you have one of those or Whole Foods. Or if you are in the South, maybe it’s a small version of Food Lion. I don’t know. But they have fresh fruits and produce we can’t get near us.

What I’ve/We’ve Been Reading

I am reading the third book in the Longmire series, Kindness Goes Unpunished, by Craig Johnson right now while also enjoying a lighter book called In Sheep’s Clothing by Pegg Thomas. I’m also reading a few chapters of Anne of Green Gables a week in a hardcover copy I bought many, many years ago. I’m old enough now that I can write things like “many, many years ago” and still be referring to my own life. I’m not sure I’m very happy about that.

Little Miss and I are still reading Little House on the Prairie before bedtime and encountered some harsh language about Native Americans last week that I had to address. I will be posting a blog post about this development later in the week. I’ve already started writing it and asking the question, “Was Laura Ingalls Wilder a racist?”

I’m very sick of the “r” word being thrown around so easily because it takes away from people who actually are, so here is a little spoiler for the upcoming blog post: no, I don’t feel she was and I’m not the only one. I will expound on it more either tomorrow or Tuesday, depending on when I get time to sit down and write it.

The Boy and I are continuing to read To Kill A Mockingbird, a few chapters a week for me, two for him, but I’ve told him he needs to pick up the pace so we can finish it before our school year is over.

What I’m Watching

This past week I watched a movie called Main Street, starring Colin Firth and Orlando Bloom. I did not enjoy the movie for a variety of reasons but the biggest reason being that the movie featured two Brits speaking in Southern accents. I mean, come on. The director seriously couldn’t find any actors from the South to play the parts? Hmmm. Okay. It isn’t that Colin and Orlando couldn’t pull off their accents. They certainly could, but hearing anything but a charming British accent come out of Colin Firth was unnerving. Orlando was so natural in the role, I really didn’t mind hearing him speaking in an American accent. Plus, I’ve never been a huge Orlando Bloom fan. He’s okay, but he’s no Colin, in other words.

My other issue with the movie is that I simply didn’t understand the plot. It was boring beyond belief and none of the stories really resolved themselves in the end. It was fairly clean, however.

The last couple of weeks have been somewhat stressful here for a variety of reasons so I watched a lot of comfort TV the rest of the week, including The Andy Griffith Show and Lovejoy.

What I’m Listening To

I am listening to a few podcasts these days including one by Chip Ingraham and another called Unashamed by the men from Duck Dynasty.

I have been staying away from the political podcasts and politics or news in general, with only brief looks at news sites during the week. My nerves are shot. I can’t take it anymore.

I’ve also been listening to this song because it’s been stuck in my head. I like this The Voice UK contestant’s version because I’ve never heard the original. Steve McCrorie won in 2015 and he is back to his original career as a firefighter now, but I’d rather listen to him than most artists who are out on the radio today. He does release some independent music that you can find on Apple Music. He’s a Scottish lad so maybe that’s why I like him so much. I have a thing for Scottish men, probably because my family’s ancestory is Scottish.

So there was my week last week, how about you? What are you doing, watching, reading, and listening to? Let me know in the comments.

Fiction Friday: The Farmers’ Sons Chapter 5

To catch up with the rest of this story (a work in progress presented in serial form), click HERE. Let me know in the comments what you think and what direction you think the story should take, or if there are certain characters you would like to hear more from.)

They were the perfect couple.

At least that’s how everyone at church saw them. Ellie and Jason had always sat together during the service, led Bible studies together, and even volunteered for the same church events.

Their break-up had sent a ripple of shock through the congregation, though most were tactful enough not to say anything to Jason or Ellie about it.

Most anyhow.

“Ellie Lambert, what’s the story with you and Jason Tanner? Have you called it quits or what?”

76-year-old Sandy Murphy had lost her tact years ago. She pursed her lips, tilted her head back, and looked down her nose at Ellie, waiting for her answer.

Ellie informed her she and Jason were taking a break and suggested Sandy pray for the situation, if she felt led to.

Sandy scowled for a few moments, her eyebrows knit together, then offered a quick, mischievous smile. “Which direction should I pray for things to go?”

Ellie laughed. “As Jan Karon suggests in her Mitford books, pray the prayer that never fails: ‘God’s will be done’.”

Sandy had winked, squeezing Ellie’s hand. “That sounds like a plan, but I must admit I’m praying God’s will is for you two to work things out.”

Sitting now with her parents in a middle pew of the church, Ellie tried her best to ignore the strange sense of loss stirring in her chest as she starred at the back of Jason’s head. He was sitting next to his parents and sister, four pews in front of her. What was God’s will for her and Jason? She wished she knew because right now she didn’t feel led in any direction, even after praying the “never-fail” prayer.

She and Jason had always sat next to each other before the break-up, his arm around her shoulder, rubbing his hand along her arm absentmindedly as he listened to the pastor, or her fingers intertwined with his, her thumb tracing circles along the top of his hand.

Now she sat alone with her parents and he sat alone with his, if he ever showed up at all. In fact, this was the first time he’d shown up since their shouting match in the parking lot three weeks ago.

Ellie’s eyes shifted from Jason to Molly. Her curls were hanging long down her back, unusual for her during the week when she usually kept it in a messy bun or a ponytail while working the barn or at the country store. The only time Ellie actually saw it in all its reddish brown glory was on Sunday. Ellie had always thought Molly was beautiful, but knew Molly didn’t feel the same about herself.

She also knew Molly had been oblivious to the way Alex Stone had been watching her for months when she wasn’t looking. Ellie had noticed Alex’s gaze more than once, but had never said anything to Molly. She hadn’t wanted to encourage a relationship between two people who were what the Bible called “unequally yoked.” That could create a lot of conflict in the future.

But now Molly and Alex were romantically linked. Ellie didn’t believe that was a good thing. Molly was a Christian, and based on what Ellie knew about Alex, she was sure he wasn’t. There was no future in that type of relationship, which was why Ellie had always been glad that she and Jason were on the same page when it came to their faith. But now . . . well, she wasn’t sure what page she and Jason were on, but it definitely wasn’t the same one.

Her gaze drifted across the rest of the church, across the rows of chairs and familiar faces as the congregation stood for the singing.

Pastor Joe’s wife, Emily was sitting in her normal spot in the front row of chairs. She’d styled her honey blonde hair in curls around her face this morning. That was different. She usually kept her hair pulled back with a headband, a style that Ellie thought made her look twice her age, which wasn’t a good thing since Emily was only a couple years older than Ellie.

Behind Emily were Ginny and Stanley Jefferies. Their daughter Maddie and son-in-law Liam were sitting next to them, visiting from Washington, D.C. where Liam worked as a press secretary for his brother, a United States senator. Next to Maddie was Ginny’s youngest daughter, Olivia, who must have been home visiting from college. Ginny’s son Clint lived out of state with his wife Tiffany and their four children. Or was it five now? Ellie had lost count.

Liz Cramner, Tiffany’s younger sister and Molly’s best friend, was a row over from the Jefferies family, yawning as she sang. Ellie had always thought it was interesting Liz attended Grace Community since her parents were leaders at Encounter Church, the small town’s equivalent of a mega-church. Liz’s dress stretched tight against her stomach, swollen from eight and a half months of pregnancy.

Ellie had mentally scolded herself more than once in the last several months about her judgmental thoughts toward Liz, knowing her jealousy was tainting her view of Liz’s situation. Here was Liz, single and recently out of an abusive relationship, but even she was going to be a mother before Ellie. It was ridiculous to think that way, of course; to believe that a person had to act a certain way for God to reward them and that those who made mistakes would, or should, be punished. Still, the thoughts crept in, and she had to constantly ask God to forgive her for her warped thinking.

As the singing ended and she sat back down, her gaze slid back toward the front of the church and she glimpsed Walt Tanner, his wife Marcia, and sitting next to Marcia, Brad.

She looked away quickly as Brad glanced at her, winked, and smiled. Embarrassment and shame rushed through her, even though she had nothing to be ashamed about.

It wasn’t a lie. You just never told Jason about it. What he kept from you was much worse.

“Good morning! How are we all doing this morning?”

At the sound of Pastor Joe’s voice, she realized she had done everything that morning except pay attention to the actual reason she’d come to church.

She pulled a journal and pen from her purse. If she took notes during the sermon, it would keep her more focused. That was her hope anyhow.

“Today we will be reading from Psalms 103:12.” Pastor Joe paused to wait for the congregation to find their place in their Bibles. “Let us read together. ‘As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us.’”

Ellie’s pen glided over the page, looping patterns of leaves and vines and roses around the verse. The pastor’s voice faded into the background as her mind danced over another topic she had never discussed with Jason, another secret she’d kept from him.

Her mind shifted to that day in the doctor’s office all those years ago. She’d been 18, scared, hands cold, hoping that clenching and unclenching her fingers around the sweater she’d laid across her lap would help bring feeling and warmth back, but it hadn’t.

Ellie’s mother had reached over and taken her hand as the doctor spoke. When he finished, Ellie’s lower lip quivered under the weight of reality.

“Does this mean —”

“We really don’t know,” the doctor had said. “If your condition worsens, then, yes, it could be harder for you than other women.”

Glancing at her journal, her eyes traveled over the doodles scribbled around the only words she’d transcribed from the sermon.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

She sighed, leaning on her hand. She was glad that God knew the plans He had for her, but wishing He’d share them with her.

***

After church she was grateful she’d decided to keep the tradition of spending Sunday afternoons at her parents, even though she had moved out. It was better than sitting alone in her apartment, replaying her conversations with Jason over and over in her head. Driving the 20 minutes to her parent’s, though, she thought about the day she’d first seen Jason at the farm store after he graduated home from college.

She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off of him.

Standing across the store, close to the new display of spring flowers, he was talking to his Uncle Walt, one hand on his hip as he gestured with the other.

Ellie was mesmerized.

Has he been working out? Even more than before he left for college?

She shouldn’t be looking at him, right? Was she lusting? They’d just talked about this at Bible study. Taking a deep breath, she’d closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again to take in the full view of him.

She wasn’t lusting. She was simply — she pulled her lower lip between her front teeth, then released it again, her eyes drifting over his muscular upper arms — admiring God’s handiwork. Right? She drew in a sharp breath, wishing she had a fan to cool off the heat rising up from the center of her chest.

She’d seen Jason over Christmas break a few months before, but his muscles seemed even larger, even more well-toned now. Overly muscular men had never interested her so she was glad Jason had never been, and still wasn’t, overly muscular. He was simply the right amount of muscular.

Light brown whiskers dotted his jawline and that coupled with the faded blue jeans, a nicely fitting gray T-shirt and a blue and white checkered flannel shirt gave him a rugged, should-be-on-the-front-of-magazine vibe. A magazine called Hot Farmers or Steamy Country Men or Real Men, Real Good Looking. If there were such magazines. She couldn’t believe she was even thinking this way. She’d never say it out loud, especially around any of the women she met with for Bible study.

She felt like she was in high school again, wishing he’d look her way, flash her one of his drop-dead gorgeous smiles.

A customer had stepped to the counter, stepping into her line of sight, blocking her view of him temporarily. Those thirty seconds felt like a lifetime but when Mrs. Jenkins stepped away from the counter, Jason was gone. Disappointment settled like a hard rock in the center of Ellie’s chest. It really was like high school again.

“Hey.”

She’d gasped and turned, slamming into solid muscle and soft flesh. She realized he’d stepped into the back office area. Probably to talk to his aunt Hannah, the store’s manager.

“Oh gosh, sorry,” she’d mumbled. His chest was solid under her hands, as he caught her under her elbows to keep her from losing her balance. That brief touch lit a fire of memories of tender moments together. The memories had overwhelmed her then and they overwhelmed her now.

“Whoa. You okay?” He smiled at her. That smile. The smile she’d wanted to see.

She stepped away from him quickly, her face flushing with warmth. “Yes. Of course, I’m fine.”

He’d leaned one side against the doorframe, crossed his arms across his chest. “Didn’t mean to startle you, but didn’t want to miss the chance to say ‘hello’ either.”

Warmth spread from her chest to the top of her head.

Good grief. This was ridiculous. She’d dated Jason from her senior year of high school up until two years before. It wasn’t like he was someone she didn’t know. She knew him. Very well. And she wanted to know him very well again.

They’d started chatting until another customer came and then he’d left, saying he’d stop by again the next day.

He did stop by the next day.

And the day after that, until he finally asked if she’d like to go to the movies.

She’d agreed and their relationship was on again, almost as if they hadn’t taken that two-year break starting at the beginning of his junior year of college.

The knock against her car window startled her from her thoughts, yanking her back into the present. How long had her dad been standing there? She rolled the window down, lightheaded, still emotionally caught in the past she’d been remembering.

“You okay, kid?”

She laughed softly, hoping her face wasn’t giving away the emotions the memory had brought back to her. “Yeah, sorry. I guess I zoned out a bit while I was waiting for you guys.”

Thomas Lambert held the door open for his daughter, smiling. “You can go right into the house, you know. We still don’t lock the doors and we still consider you a part of the family.

Ellie accepted her father’s embrace as she exited the car, closed her eyes, and breathed in the smells of the farm, freshly milled corn in the silo, flowers blooming, her father’s old spice mixed in. It was strange not living here anymore, but somehow it made her appreciate it all even more.

Her mom slid out of the passenger side of the dark blue sedan and gave her a quick, one arm hug, her Bibles cradled in her other arm. “Hey there, hon’. So glad you came for lunch today.”

 Dust billowed up around a truck driving down the road in front of the house, and Ellie watched as it turned into the driveway, parking behind her dad’s old blue Ford.

She tipped her head to one side, squinting against the glare of the sun, curious about who was behind the wheel. When she spotted the driver between the reflections of the trees and the barn on the windshield, her heart sank.

Oh. Perfect. Just perfect. Could this day get any worse?

“Good afternoon, Lambert family.” The driver was speaking to the family through the rolled-downed window with his naturally flirtatious charm. “Ellie. Hello. How are you?”

She answered curtly, eyeing him suspiciously. “Good.”

“Brad.” Her dad stepped into the sunlight and reached out, taking Brad Tanner’s hand as he slid out of his truck. “What brings you by today?”

Brad was still wearing what he’d worn to church — clean brown work boots, a pair of new-looking dark blue jeans, and a black t-shirt tucked in, fitting snug over his chest and arms, which weren’t as muscular as Jason’s, but close. His light brown hair was cut short, his jawline smooth shaven. The familiar Tanner dimple appeared when he smiled at her.

Brad jerked his head toward his truck, turning his attention to Thomas. “I’ve been carrying around that engine part we were talking about and when I saw you all outside, it reminded me. I can unload it in the barn if you like.”

Thomas nodded. “Thanks, Brad appreciate it. The small shed there would be a better place.” The men walked to the side of the truck.

“How is it going?” Thomas asked. “Back for a visit?”

Brad nodded, dropping the tailgate. “It’s going good. I’m back to stay.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, the words slipping out before she realized it. “Discovered city life wasn’t for you, huh?”

Brad held his hands out to his side, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “The city couldn’t handle all this beauty.”

Ellie groaned inwardly. Yeah. He’s definitely a Tanner.

She had already turned toward the house, so she knew Brad and her dad couldn’t see her when she rolled her eyes.

Ellie’s mother followed her daughter toward the front porch, paused and turned back to face the men. “You’re probably headed home for lunch, Brad, but you’re welcome to join us when you’re done if you like. I’ve got plenty of roast and vegetables.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Ellie scoffed softly. She was glad she was too far away for anyone to hear her.

Rena Lambert waved her hand dismissively. “No intrusion at all. We’d love to have you. I’m sure Ellie would love to catch up too.”

Standing on the front porch, Ellie scowled at the front door, her back still facing her parents and Brad.

She opened the front door, turned, and forced a smile. “Sure, that would be nice.”

The scowl returned when she walked into the house. Jason’s cousin, back in Spencer Valley for good.

“Wonderful.” She tossed her purse and sweater onto the couch and blew out a frustrated breath. “Just what I need. More complications.”

During dinner Ellie shot her mother looks, hoping she’d look up and catch a drift of how uncomfortable she was with Brad being there.

Unfortunately, Rena was clueless. She smiled at Brad like he was the prodigal son. In some ways, at least for the Tanner family, he was.

“So, Brad, what did you do during your time away?”

His smile was clearly captivating, like Jason’s, but it didn’t send a giddy ripple through Ellie like Jason’s. Still, she couldn’t help looking at him as he conversed with her parents, admiring the square jawline, the small, attractive lines at the corners of his eyes when he laughed.

“I had a job at a warehouse along the docks in the city.” Rena spooned more potatoes on his plate as he spoke, and Ellie wondered if she should remind her mother that he wasn’t a starving refugee. “We were in charge of sorting packages from overseas.”

Rena kept asking questions, oblivious to the evil eye Ellie was giving her. “Well, that sounds interesting. What made you decide to move back?”

Brad took a sip of his ice water. “Honestly, I just missed farm life. I missed the open air, the slower pace, the quiet nights.”

Ellie smirked. “And your family?”

Brad’s eyes shifted to hers, an amused grin tilted one side of his mouth up. “My family, yes. Them too.” He kept his eyes focused on hers as he spoke, which left her time to notice, once again, how his eyes were almost the same shade as Jason’s. “And other people back here in our little county.”

She pulled her gaze quickly from his, cheeks flushing warm.

“You came back at a rough time for us farmers, but a good time to help out your family,” Thomas said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s been good to see Robert back in church. It’s good to see him anywhere, really. That accident could have easily killed him.”

Brad nodded, his previously joking manner fading. “Yes, it really is a miracle. When I heard the news, I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. That weighed in on my decision to come home too, thinking about how much I’ve missed out on with my family.”

A cow mooed out in the pasture. Thomas stretched his arms up over his head and yawned. “There’s Marigold reminding me it’s almost milking time.”

Brad propped his arms on top of the table and leaned forward. “You milking all by yourself now?” He jerked his head toward Ellie. “Now that your help has moved away?”

Thomas winked at his daughter. “I hired some help. Young Patrick Mooney comes over twice a day and Ellie helps when her job and Bible studies aren’t filling her time” He stretched his arms over the back of the chair as Rena cleared the plates from the table. “Ellie is missed, but she couldn’t be expected to live here forever. Of course, I worry about her in the big ole’ city of Spencer.”

Brad snorted a laugh. “Yeah, with all the hardened criminals roaming the streets there, loitering, littering and jaywalking.”

Rena returned from the kitchen with a pie that she set in the middle of the table. “I don’t know. Matt McGee says there is more crime in this little county than a lot of us realize.”

Brad tipped his head in agreement. “That’s true, of course. How is Matt anyhow? I haven’t seen him in years.”

Ellie followed her mom to the kitchen to retrieve the plates. The faster they ate dessert, the faster she could say ‘goodbye’ to Brad.

“He was accepted to the state police academy,” Rena called from the kitchen. She handed a stack of pie plates to Ellie. “He will be heading there in a few months.”

Brad looked impressed. “Wow. He’s moving up in the world. Good for him. I always thought he was destined for somewhere bigger than the Spencer Valley Police Department.”

Another twenty minutes of chit-chat dragged on, with Ellie saying very little, wishing this “catching up session” would end already.

When Brad finally announced he needed to help back and help his dad with milking, she was grateful and even volunteered to walk him to his truck.

“That was nice of your mom.” He paused on the front porch, leaned back against the porch railing, and folded his arms across his chest. Apparently, he didn’t understand he’d already overstayed his welcome. “She’s still one of the best cooks around.”

Ellie nodded, staring past him at his truck. “Yep. Well, you don’t want to keep your dad waiting.”

He laughed softly. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Ellie Lambert?”

“No, I just —”

“Afraid I’ll ask what’s going on with you and Jason?”

Her jaw tightened, and she hugged her arms across her chest, as if a cold chill had suddenly hit her instead of a rush of aggravation. “I don’t care if you ask or not. I’m not going to tell you.”

She hated the way he was grinning. “Okay. Okay.” He pressed his palms against the railing, still leaning against it, crossing one leg over another. “You know, I still remember those dates we had all those years ago with a hefty amount of fondness.”

His attempt at a cute Southern accent did nothing to calm the anger bubbling up inside her. “Do you? So fondly you had to talk to Jason about them?”

He shrugged, still smiling, clearly enjoying the bitterness in her tone. “Hey, is it my fault you never told him? How was I supposed to know you two keep secrets from each other?”

 She scoffed and shook her head.

Wriggling her fingers at him, she worked to keep her tone calm and even. “Bye-bye, Brad. Tell your parents I said hello.”

She pivoted to go back into the house, pausing when she felt his hand on her wrist.

“Hey.” His tone softened. Her back was to him, and she stepped closer. His breath was warm on the back of her neck.“I’m sorry. I was just teasing, okay? Don’t be mad at me. I didn’t know Jason didn’t know. We were just chatting about some of our favorite times over the years and I joked with him about the time you and I went out. I figured he knew already, so he’d think it was funny.”

She yanked her wrist out of his grip, then immediately felt guilty for her reaction. She relaxed her shoulders, straightened them, and let out the breath she’d been holding. “It’s fine. Really. I know you didn’t mean to start anything.”

Brad slid his hands into his jean pockets. “I definitely didn’t mean to, but I could tell by the look on Jason’s face I did. He said he had a delivery to make and left. I hope that’s not what caused the issues between you two.”

Ellie shook her head. “There are other issues, but I’m not going to talk about them with you.”

Brad rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek and nodded, smiling. “Okay. I understand. I hope you two can work things out.” He turned toward the steps, then paused, and turned back toward her. “If that’s what you want, I mean.”

He kept his gaze focused on hers, his eyes narrowed slightly, a small smile playing across his lips.

Ellie rolled her eyes, turned her back on him, and opened the door. “Have a good day, Brad.”

Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it and blew out a breath. Were all the younger males in the Tanner family trying to drive her insane? Because if they were, they were definitely succeeding.

Bi-polar weather and other goings ons

The weather has been mainly nice, yet cold, for the last two weeks here. Then the snow came yesterday. Luckily it disappeared almost as soon as it arrived. I am not a fan of spring snow. This is the second year we’ve experienced it so late in the year. Last year we had been in our new house a couple of weeks when snow blanketed the trees and bushes that had been trying to bloom. (We celebrated a full year of living here last week). I did not take any photos of the snow that fell. I’m completely over snow. It did look rather pretty on the blooming forsenthye bush, however.

We’ve been enjoying playing outside in the backyard on the warmer days, even if there is a chilly breeze.

We are looking forward to warmer weather, though not too warm because we all enjoy cuddling under the covers at night with a good book or a good show.

I’m not a fan of hot weather but weather where we don’t have to wear a coat is nice. Once that weather hits, I hope to take the kids to a local state park to explore the lake and hiking trails.

In between enjoying some nice weather we have been continuing our homeschooling lessons. I have finally learned to chill out if my plans for the day get changed. If we have to push activities off for a day or two because we get interrupted by sunshine or a visitor or whatever, I don’t get all balled up inside with anxiety like I used to. We will get done what we need to get done one way or another.

I also remind myself that learning isn’t something we do only when the school books are open. Every day offers an opportunity to learn, even if it isn’t “traditional” or organized.

We hope to be finished with our homeschooling year the last week in May.

In addition to homeschooling, Little Miss and I are enjoying going out into the yard each day and discovering new trees or flowers that are blooming.

I’m sure we will have plenty more to admire this upcoming week and the weeks after that.

And I’m sure Little Miss will have more time to make her “yard salads.”

Socially Thinking: Which fear will you worship today?

Which fear will you worship today?

What will they tell you to fear and you will listen and obey?

Climate fear.

COVID fear.

COVID panic porn, I’ve heard it called.

How many can’t function each day without knowing how many “they” say have died?

How many start their conversations with, “I see cases are up?” while rubbing their arms as if it will rub their fear to live away?

How many worship a vaccine, a politician, a mask, a so-called social movement, instead of the God who made them?

How many who call themselves “Christians” bow to the shrines of tyranny, the kings of control, the queens of terror while their Bibles gather dust. They reach for the remote before they reach for The Word. Day after day.

“Can I go out today?” They ask. “What do they say? Is it safe?”

“The sun can give me cancer. I should stay inside.”

“The air can give me a virus the news told me is the deadliest virus we’ve ever seen.”

“Seeing people could pass it on, to me, to the world.”

Best to stay inside. Doors locked. Lights off. Life on hold for as long as they say.

Only come out to present the arm for the chemical juice they say will keep you alive until you die of something else anyhow. And next year, they’ll give it to you again and again and again, pumping who knows what into your veins, your chest, your heart, your uterus and out again. Always circulating within you what they told you was safe.

Ah, the great and all powerful “they.”

Always promising life without guaranteeing safety from death.

All the while your brain is shriveling in your skull because you make it wait to be told what to do, not by your own free will, but by the will of others.