Blizzard, sunny, rain

Since we last met on these pages last week, a lot has happened weather-wise here at Damphewmore Acres. We had a blizzard one morning that melted by early afternoon. Then we had a couple of days up into the high 70s. Then we had three days of nasty, cold, steady light rain that wonderfully provided enuf runoff to fill up my leaky pond again. That’ll provide me with enuf water to last another year in the pond.


On the subject of purposeful downsizing our lives, Nevah and I made a little progress. We found a 1.8-acre building lot about 60 miles north of here, and about a mile from where our daughter lives. We have secured the lot to buy, providing that the water well we have to get drilled proves to have enuf potable water for our proposed new home. The seller of the land assures us that hitting water with the well is all but assured.

To make that step, we found an experienced water witcher and driller, ol’ Dee P. Wells, who will do the job and we have secured the necessary drilling permit and the jars to get the water tested once the well is drilled. We also have to decide where we want the culvert located to start our hopefully-soon-to-be driveway.

Since our nearby daughter and family stand to eventually inherit the new home, our two families have been working jointly on deciding on a house plan and what color combinations we want our new metal home — or barndominium — to be.

If our plans don’t fall through, this upcoming spring and summer are assured to be interesting and exhausting for an old geezer like me.


The last two days have been a pure joy for us. Our married granddaughter from Tennessee and her hubby and new blue heeler puppy stopped for a first-time visit on their way enroute to see her brother and his wife and their new puppy in the foothills of the Rockies in Colorado. Hubby has never been west of Branson, Mo.

We had a great time catching up on our visiting, eating heartily, and playing several card games.

The good thing is that they are stopping by for an overnight stay this Saturday on their return trip to Tennessee.

Another good thing is our computer-savvy granddaughter set me up with an email “Dropbox,” which enables me to email episodes of my overly-ambitious oral-video life history to our daughters and all of our six grandkids.


A running-late team roper, ol’ Lupen Ketchum, wuz speeding down a turnpike in Oklahoma on his way to an arena for a roping when he was unknowingly caught in an automated speed trap that measured his speed using radar and photographed his pickup and horse trailer.

A few days later, he received in the mail a speeding ticket for $100, and a photo of his vehicle and trailer.

Wrongly thinking that he could get away with a little traffic ticket prank, instead of sending a check for $100, he sent a picture of a $100 dollar bill.

Several days later, ol’ Lupen received a letter from the turnpike authorities that contained another speeding ticket for the $100 — plus another picture of handcuffs. Lupen paid the ticket that time.


I keep reading about potential global food shortages if the next harvest by the global farming community falls short of normal. I thought of that when I ran across this poem in one of the file folders I was going through this week. I think the subject matter is appropro for the times, although I filed this poem more than 20 years ago. The author is Evelyn B. Ryan, Bel Air, Maryland. Her poem is called:

The Farmer:

What if all the grocery stores would suddenly become bare?

And you went to do your shopping and there were no groceries there?

And what if all the restaurants had to close their doors,

Because there was no food to cook, and none to buy from stores?

Just think! The lowly farmers would become our V.I.P.’s!

They’d be our latest millionaires and charge just what they please.

Our farmers feed the nations with little thanks or gratitude,

And often when they’re spoken of, the comments may be rude.

They bend their backs long hours — to plow and plant the earth;

They claim God as their partner, helping nature give new birth.

They sweat and pray and worry that the weather will be kind.

They thank God for His mercy when He eases troubled minds.

Then through the long hot summer, they weed and harvest, too.

They store, preserve and transport their produce on to you.

So, when you do your shopping, recall the toil the farmers bear,

Because with God as their partner, they feed the world with care.


Words of wisdom for the week: Lawyers creed: “A man is innocent until proven broke.” Have a good ‘un.

Milo Yield

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