Tea in the Garden with Prudence

2005-09-11T22:09:00.000-04:00

A walk in the garden with God

The Lady and the Cowboy

2005-09-11T21:53:00.000-04:00

I am having second thoughts about being a senior citizen. If anyone knows where that fountain of youth is I wish they would let me know. Not that I want to be young again. Heavens no! Not for all the tea in China. Somewhere around 45 would be okay. It was right after that I started falling apart. Blood pressure went sky high, eyes that were already bad started getting worse, weight went even higher than it was, knees got suddenly very painful and stiff, just not what I had planned on when I thought of being middle-aged. Little did I realize this was as GOOD as it was going to be and would get a lot worse in a short time.

Why doesn't anyone tell you that when you are in your twenties? Oh right! I think someone did and I thought they were just whining. Well of course they were. Wait till you are told you are too young and too fat to have knees replaced but will be in a wheelchair in 10 years without them. I whined to. Actually I think I did more than whine, and still am. I always thought I would age gracefully.

I had visions of driving my Haflinger pony until I was at least 75 yrs. old. No one told me I wouldn't be able to lift the harness, let alone do all the grooming and clean hooves besides! Once you get all that done you must get the cart out, wipe the dust off, pull it down to the pony and then put him to it. That's the easy part. Now try taking those stiff, aching knees and actually climbing up into the cart. I was 60 when I threw in the towel. I gave that precious pony to my granddaughters along with the cart and harness. I want to stay as close to the ground as I can in case I have to meet it fast. Now I'm forced to watch others do what was my true passion in life. Riding and driving horses.

A few years before I retired from life I took my pony to the Haflinger Horse Show in Harrisburg, Pa. My family thought I was crazy and only my sister in law and a friend of mine went to see me. It was truly a day I will never forget. After a big dramatic catastrophe involving torn harness, a total stranger came up to me as I sat on a bale of straw bawling my eyes out. He said he was sorry I was having such a bad day. He was to. His cart never arrived and he couldn't show his pony either. He was entered in both the Ladies and Men's Pleasure Driving classes and now he didn't have a cart. Without hesitation I said, "Well for heavens sakes, take mine!!! It won't be doing me any good!" Wah Wah Wah! He said only if I would show his pony in the Ladies Cart Class. Well, the lady and the cowboy both got to show that day. He got a 5th and I got a 3rd. Not bad for an old lady on her last big adventure. I was delighted and he and I had a great time laughing about our dual win afterwards. I never saw him again but I the memory is sweet and so was he.

2005-09-08T21:30:00.000-04:00

September Harvest

When the Fair came to town

2005-09-07T22:06:00.000-04:00

Each year as the summer slowly slipped away, a new scent filled the air. Anticipation and excitement stirred into a pot of savory, youthful glee sent a most delicious fragrance through the air that country youth everywhere can smell. The York Fair came to town each September and it was, indeed, a time of rejoicing. Every year we looked forward to buying a bunch of cotton candy and candy apples, going on scary rides like the caterpillar and the wild mouse, the hammer and of course the Ferris wheel.

I lived in the country, so to get there I had to get up really early and ride to York with my Daddy when he went to work. He would drop me off at my Aunt Emmy’s house. She and Uncle Curvin lived about a block from the Fair. It was a long, painful wait till 10:00 a.m. came and I was allowed to go to the Fair by myself and meet my girlfriend, Joan Abel. Think about it people. I was 9 years old and my parents left me not only cross the busiest street in town, but they left me go to the fair unattended except for another child who was a year older. My Daddy was at work and Mom was at home and didn’t have a phone. It was a different time. Children didn’t have to think about talking to strangers, being kidnapped or molested. Somehow we were kept safe, in a dome of protection, blissfully free to be who we were, children on one of life’s great adventures.

The Fair was the third best time of year, following closely behind Halloween and the best, Christmas. Easter wasn’t bad, but after the egg hunt and wearing your Easter clothes to Church it kind of fell off. Usually the air was cooler at this time of year, and you could smell the wood smoke in the air.

Just saying the Fair made you feel all tingly inside. The smells, sounds and sights were almost more than I could stand. This was the year my one room school teacher, Mrs. Herman had entered my pencil drawing of a Mocking Bird in the Fair. I couldn’t wait to go to the school exhibition hall to see if I had won anything. I didn’t expect to. There were always so many entries. It was a big deal to everyone to enter something at the Fair. I was impatient with Joan to get there. It seemed so far from where we had met. Our little legs were tired crossing that huge Fairground. As we entered I could feel my breath filling my lungs. I couldn’t breathe as we looked at all the exhibits. Finally, we came to the 4^th grade entries. My Mocking Bird was there, and hanging on one corner was a blue ribbon. I remember standing frozen in place for what seemed like hours as I stared at the shiny prize. I was stunned. Neither of us said a word. It was the first time I had ever won anything in my short little life. I wasn’t feeling proud or entitled. All I felt was numbness, the slow kind that creeps over you like fog over a slow moving stream. I had told myself that it was just a picture. I drew much better horses than birds. I guess I never entertained the thought that there was even a remote chance I’d win.

I could have left the Fair then. I didn’t need anything else. Joan didn’t say anything and we left the Hall to find a ride to get the Fair officially off the ground. It was the best Fair ever. The bright autumn sky was filled with promise and our $5.00 allowance seemed to last forever as we explored this exciting and strange world.

I never even thought about buying one of those Chameleons on a string, The ones that walked all over the man’s shirt as he trudged along with his big sign full of the crawling prisoners who were safety pinned to the sign. I always wanted one, but my Mom said as I was getting into the car with Daddy,” and don’t bring one of those dirty Chameleons home either!” I bought a whip instead. Something I came to regret when I jumped out from behind the outhouse cracking it and screaming at my brother Rod at the same time. He chased me all over the farm trying to get a hold of me or that whip. It must have been a pretty bad scare for him. As I lay in bed that night, I could finally laugh about it. His face was red with anger as he tried to grab the whip from my grubby little hands. No sense of humor. He never did have one, and I never learned. Like the time I got my aluminum saucer one Christmas for sledding down the hill behind the house. He asked me how it worked. What was I to do? He asked, so I had to show him. When he was sitting just right, I gave him a shove and spun him around. It was wonderful! Down he went, spinning out of control and going so fast I just knew he was going to go straight through the house. His voice had a tinny kind of sound to it, like he was screaming through a piece of rain gutter. I know now it was pure, unadulterated terror I was hearing. I know, because once he hit the bottom and was on his feet he was after me, and I heard the very same sound coming from my throat.

The Fair left town after a week, bringing to an end the fun we had. It would be back next year though, and I would be ready for it. Right now I had corn to shell for Halloween, my costume to get together, black cats and bats to cut out of construction paper and of course, we had to plan who we were going to take along trick or treating. But that story is for another time.

Great Gypsy Tea Gathering

2005-09-01T12:35:00.000-04:00

Now I'm excited!!! Final preparations have been made for Prudence's 'Great Gypsy Tea Gathering' on Friday October 14, 05!!! We have a genuine Gypsy Vanner Horse coming to Prudence's Tea Room for all to admire and make friends with. He was imported this past Spring from Great Britain and was bred by REAL GYPSIES. He is a superior example of the love and care they put into breeding this rare breed of horse. Gypsies have always been know for the knowledge and expertise needed to breed horses of excellent conformation and stamina. They needed these qualities for them to pull the heavy caravans over endless miles of rough terrain. Valentino is a real charmer and as close as we will probably get to a really handsome Gypsy boy at this event. Unless you know of one who would want to come and be fawned over and admired by a group of wild, tea crazed women in loud and colorful costumes.

I have made arrangements for Genevieve, the Jingle Gypsy, to come and entertain us with dancing, singing and storytelling. She travels the country participating in Renaissance Fairs and other such things and will delight us with her wonderful tales of Gypsies and the dances they perform around the campfire. If the weather and the mood is just right, we may sit around a campfire in the woods after our meal to hear her stories and see her dance. She also does tattooing, ( henna) but that is only for the brave at heart.

I am ready to order the special Gypsy tea which I will be serving you and need a final count so I can order the tins of Gypsy Tea you will get to take home with you and enjoy, on cold Winter nights when the fire is burning brightly and the North wind is howling.

The cost for this very wonderful and special tea date at Prudence's Tea Room is $30.00 each. I'm sure you will agree it is something you won't want to miss. Spread the word and plan on coming for a great meal, entertainment and excitement. With all the news of high gas prices and terrible problems in the South caused by the weather, I think we could all use a day out to get our minds on something fun and out of the ordinary. Call or email me right away as I have quite a few reservations already.

2005-08-23T13:25:00.000-04:00

A quiet corner to reflect on life

Savannah goes to college

2005-08-23T12:41:00.000-04:00

School is starting and kids are getting back again to the serious side of life. Learning how to do the things they will need when they are grown up. I just wish they would teach things like making the right decisions for my life, recognizing people who aren't good for me, having fun without breaking the law, treating others kindly and with compassion, finding a path that will use the talents I am personally blessed with, learning how to continue working with people who don't like me or don't accept my own individuality, how to forgive peoples shortcomings, appreciating differences in our beliefs and letting others have them, how to be satisfied with what we have, saying thank you for all our blessings. Of course we need math, english, and the rest, but life is so much more. If our parents weren't prepared to teach us these things how will we ever learn without suffering so many setbacks that we are beaten down before we even begin.

My granddaughter has gone off to college. She has concerns about living in a dorm with someone she doesn't know. Well, so does the other girl. She'll be fine because she is a friendly, sharing, compassionate young woman and was brought up with good morals and she knows about responsibility and teamwork. Both to herself and others. I have been so melancholly thinking about her growing up. She is the first of my grandchildren to leave the nest. I want her to succeed in everything she wants from life. I am a realist though. I know that can't always happen. It's so exciting watching her mature and grow. I hope all her dreams are worthy of her. She's pretty incredible, even if she weren't my grandchild. Good luck Savannah! My prayers are with you and angels are surrounding you wherever you go.

My son, preserve sound judgment and discernment, do not let them out of your sight; they will be life for you, an ornament to grace your neck. -- Proverbs 3:21-22

2005-08-21T18:33:00.000-04:00

Won't you come into my garden?

Lost Customer Email Address

2005-08-18T22:52:00.000-04:00

I had a major disaster last week. My computer experienced some sort of seizure and went into a coma. I lost all my email addresses from the Tea Room I had accumulated over 14 years. Also gone are my many wonderful photos, stories and poetry. I feel like my house burned down and I lost all my treasured possessions. If you are a customer, or would like to receive my newsletter, please email me at the email sign below to sign up again. Thanks.

Now that I have a new computer I feel energized! This is wonderful! I had a very old computer as computers go. Wow! Flat screen amd all the bells and whistles. Life is good. Thank you God for this great gift.

Mysterious Crop Circle at Prudence's Tea Room

2005-07-23T22:37:00.000-04:00

Authorities are baffled by the sudden appearance of a complex crop circle just beyond Prudence's Tea Room in her pasture. Vast numbers of experts in the field have been trying to find the source of a large, intricately patterned circle in the center of Prudence's pasture with a beautiful capital P in the center of it. What is just as unusual about this crop circle is that there are no crops in the field. Usually they are seen in grain fields or corn fields. This mystery is also compounded by the fact that a note was found on the site saying it would only last until Friday this week and then it would disappear spontaneously leaving no sign that it was ever there. Of course these same authorities can't believe it would even last that long. It could disappear long before that! Prudence is trying to discourage the large crowds who are clamoring to see this most extraordinary site, fearing she won't have room for her customers who are, she feels, more entitled to witness this than ordinary strangers. She has asked that we alert them all so that if they want to experience this bit of ephemera they make reservations at once on Tuesday or Friday! Hopefully it will still be there!!!

Sailboats, Dreams and Following God's Will

2005-06-12T15:59:00.001-04:00

How often have you thought about running through a hose this week? Remember when we used to do that when we were kids? I'd have no problem stripping to my underware like I used to, but the thought of slipping and falling down has managed to restrain me. Boy do I hate to fall! I always say I would probably never hit the ground because I'd be hovering like a helicopter from flapping my arms and legs so fast.

My cousin Ted used to come spend a week or so at our farm when I was a children. We had a wee small stream at the back tobacco shed where the 'barn owl who ate childrens' lived. The only thing that could make me spend any time at that part of the creek were the matchstick sailboats Ted used to make and float over the little dam (3" hi at best) I used to wonder what people thought about them when they bounced out of our creek and into the ocean. I trully believed they made it the whole way to the ocean. I longed to follow them on their adventurous journey to the sea. Actually, my cousin Dawn and I took tobacco lathes from the barn and assorted other lumber and had a raft well under way until Rod, the grumpy big brother came upon us landlocked sailers. So much for following the matchbox sailboats to the sea.

How we were going to find the river I don't know, let alone get over Holtwood and Safe Harbor dams. The important thing is to START! I have never been one to think a plan through to the last detail. It's much more fun to START, and see where the river winds. It's that way with the Tea Room. I can't help but wonder where I will find my next adventure. God will lead me and I will try to follow His path. My problem has always been waiting for the next part of His plan to unfold. It's sort of like that great movie that's out now 'Pirates of the Carribean'. My dear friend and fellow adventurer Jenny Emmons and I have been smitten by this fun movie. Out of all my many friends and aquaintences she and I are probably the most alike in having a romantic's heart when it comes to life. We LOVE thinking about pirates and the high seas, Indian warriors, cowboys and cattle drives. Gypsies and firelight. Knights and white horses (or big black Friesian stallions)

I never give my age a thought when I am dreaming. I hope I never do. Maybe because I was in pain for so long I held onto my dreams longer than most. I couldn't do the things I would have liked for real, but nothing was stopping my imagination from going there. How do people live that don't have a vivid imagination or are so fearful to make a decision that they are paralized and do nothing? How sad to have been given a terrific mind by God and not trust Him enough to step out in faith. When God closes the door to the Tea Room for me, I pray He will have planted the seeds to my next adventure and I can say goodbye to all of you knowing there is more for me to do for Him. I pray He will choose the one I turn the key to the Tea Room over to and that they will love this farm as much as I do, and will continue this ministry of love.
I pray that the dreamer is being awakened and that the way will be clear.

Boy, where did that come from? See how these things happen? I have no control over what I write. It's true. I never know what is going to appear when I sit down at the puter. Today I was hot from sitting at Savannah's horse show. Kaboom! That's where the hose story came from. And so it goes ;-D

Entertaining Angels Unaware

2005-06-12T15:20:00.000-04:00

One Thanksgiving a few years ago we had the most delightful guest at our
dinner table. I met her one day at Mummert's Carpet Shop. It used to be
Lynn's Grocery Store, in New Oxford, Pa. Greg Mummert, a neat young man who was
a fan of mine, opened his store there and asked me to come work for him.
Thought I might be able to help people make color choices etc. Sort of a
decorator.

One day the door opened and a tiny little old lady came bursting
in. She stormed around a few minutes and then she yelled "Where the H--- are
the potatoes?" After I picked myself off the floor from laughing, I
explained it was no longer a grocery store, and the only potatoes in here
were growing in Greg's ears. We got to talking, and I found out she was a
horse woman. She was a trainer and horse dealer when she was younger, (she
was 92 at the time). We talked horses for a while then she said she was
alone now. No children, husband or any relatives. The only people that keep
in touch with her are the Budweiser Horse crew. They come and get her any
time they are in the area. They call her about once a month she said.

I asked her what she was doing for Thanksgiving. "Nothing" she said. I asked
her if she would be my guest at our house. Her blue eyes twinkled and she
said she'd LOVE to come. I said my husband would come for her, but she
ruffled her feathers and said she could still DRIVE!!! I told her how to
get here and she left. She had on a wild looking old red coat with a huge
white fur collar and a purple checked scarf. She had on short black anklets
and for the life of me I couldn't help but think she was one of the most
beautiful women I had ever seen.

I never expected her to come, didn't even tell my kids about her. Imagine my suprise and delight when she pulled into the driveway in her rickety old car. She never even knocked on the door. She made a bee line out to the barn to see our horses first. How she loved them. That would have been Thanksgiving enough for her.
(Once, I brought old John Snyder from the Brethren Home out just so he could SMELL horses once more before he died!!!) I had shrimp cocktails and she ate two whole
servings herself. Thank God I had an extra made up. What a great time we
had. She was so entertaining. You know, I can't even remember her name, but
I can see her flashing eyes and that smile.

She told us she takes her mailbox in every night. That way, when the mailman comes, if it isn't out he will know something is wrong and get help. She was afraid of laying there and dying on the floor. Imagine living like that. So alone. She's gone now, but I will never forget the Thanksgiving we spent together. She gave me a
box of Budweiser Clydesdale playing cards for a hostess gift. Great memory.
Great lady. I always think of 'entertaining angels unawares' when I think
of her.

Chicklet Express

2005-05-31T09:30:00.000-04:00

They left the incubator motherless, alone, except for their own fuzzy cell mates. Packed into a shipping box before they could blink, they were off on a cross country adventure that would change their lives forever. Go East young hens, go East! And so they did.

It was to be a one day trip, but because I live in 'rural' Pa. it took 2 days. I got on the internet and tracked their journey across the land. Their little chicklet tracks started in Wisconsin and their first stop was in Cleveland, Ohio where they got Cleveland Indian Baseball caps to help stave off the cold. By morning of the second day they arrived in Philadelphia, Pa. Insisting on seeing the Liberty Bell at Independence Hall, they got little Liberty Bells as souvenirs to show me when they arrived. I think they lied when they all said in one voice that "No, we didn't have lunch at Bookbinders Mom!" Their next stop was in Lancaster, Pa. They were overjoyed to hear about all the Outlet Malls they could visit while waiting for the truck to leave again. Warned to stay away from Lancaster's Farmers Market lest they end up in Pot Pie they weren't happy until they all got Amish aprons and homemade brooms. York was the last stop before arriving in New Oxford, Pa. and someone advised them to get protective gear if they were going to be pecking about.

At 6:00 a.m. the phone rang and the post mistress said to come get this rowdy gang of fuzz busters immediately! They were screaming and upsetting all the postal workers and they couldn't afford to have that happen! There was already one causality in the box and they wouldn't be responsible for any more. Evidently one of the chicks spent all his money in Lancaster and couldn't afford to get the protective gear he needed.

A memorial service will be held, time to be announced, and I will be accepting donations to create a memorial garden where you may visit his grave when you come for tea. In lieu of flowers please eat beef this week. We appreciate your condolences.

They are now settled into my claw foot tub in my bathroom (of course) and are admiring all the treasures they acquired on their trip East. They are a heavy drinking gang of egg beaters. They eat their crumbles, grab some grit, take a drink or two and then head for the heat lamp to sleep it off. Of course I will have to monitor their drinking.

They look like turkeys compared to the tiny bantam chicks out in the garden. I'm not accustomed to full sized chicken babies. Come see them when they are older. They aren't allowed visitors in the house ;-D My husband is still acting resistant to the idea of converting the tackroom, beside the barn, into a Peep Palace, but once I get my handling gloves on and sincerely WANT him to, he will of course do a fantastic job on it.

I have to laugh at them. When I go into the bathroom all of their little heads come up like a herd of emus and they look at me very intently, necks extended so they can see over the tub, whenever I go in the room. This doesn't say much about their manners, but at least they are friendly!

Saving the Old Mill

2005-05-01T16:43:00.000-04:00

I am on a mission. I've been thinking about it for a long time. The Feed Mill up at Hampton, Pa. is for sale. That's the little town about a mile north of us. It's been for sale for over 3 years now. Since we have moved here at least 6 old mills have closed down. That's in the 28 years we have lived here. Each time one closes I get all melancholy and sad. They performed such a vital service for our community and no one seems to even think about the loss.

When I was getting my chick starter last week I told the owner I was going to think about this and try to find a buyer who would keep the mill in service. She laughed and said '"you go Prudence". I know she thought I was crazy. Well, think about it I did, and I contacted Rodale Institute about enlisting their help thinking of a use for it that would reach more of our community than just the farmers. I told them I thought if I could get some of the farmers in our area to start farming organically, the mill could be used to produce and sell organic animal food to them and others. They wrote back and gave me the number of a man who is doing just that in Lancaster County. He has a huge business dealing in organic feeds, fertilizers etc. It's a long story and I won't bore you with all the details.

I contacted my County Agent with the Penna. Dept. of Agriculture. He is now a little better informed regarding what he should be doing to earn his check. What would we have to do to get farmers to switch to organic methods? He said he is afraid I would hit a brick wall there. You know, I only get more fired up when someone says it can't be done. I got online and found tons of ways this mill could be a real asset to the community dealing with organic food.

I can't believe there aren't any young farmers out there who would jump at the chance to modernize and get into Niche Farming. I found all kinds of websites telling how other states are dealing with changing how farmers think about their small farms. There is actually lots of training available to help them make the transition if they only knew about it. I stand to gain nothing from all this other than the satisfaction of saving a dying industry. That's pretty big in my book. I can see the mill buying organically grown grains and producing feeds that would feed animals that would end up being sold to customers interested in eating healthy, organic meat. They could sell all sorts of food items to customers interested in living a healthier life style. The manure from these animals could produce methane gas to heat their homes and fuel their tractors and trucks. The mill is centrally located along Rt. 94 and within easy driving distance of Carlisle, Camp Hill, Harrisburg, York, Hanover, Gettysburg and beyond.

I would love to see someone with an eye to the future buy it and turn this little community into a haven for progressive thinkers. The magazine 'Mary Janes Farm' http://www.maryjanesfarm.com/ that is publishing the story I submitted, sent me a box of wonderful organic dehydrated foods this week. Mary Janes Farm, in Moscow, Idaho has done just that with her incredible vision. Why can't someone do that with this old mill. It isn't pretty, YET, but it is a working feed mill in great condition just waiting to be discovered by someone with some money and some fresh ideas. Talk to me. I will help in any way I can.

What bothers me most, is thinking it will be sold and torn down and replaced by yet another car lot. What a waste!

Cowhands and Traildust

2005-04-22T15:28:00.000-04:00

Last Spring I went to my first Cowboy Auction. No, not a place for fat old cowgirls to get a Cowboy, though that might be interesting. My friend Craig Colflesh is the ultimate collector of things Cowboy, and he has started doing auctions selling very collectible and interesting items to collectors around the world. What a wonderful place to people watch! I tried the whole time I was there, to get a picture of an old hand who was just priceless. I wanted to add it to my 'photos from behind' collection. He was about 5'tall and had seen a lot of cowtails in his day. His wide tooled cowboy belt was worn and dark with stains from a hundred cattle drives. He wore the silver buckle like a purple heart. I'm sure it was his badge of courage. His legs were so bowed that 2 loose Catahoula cattle hounds walked through side by side without brushing his knees. All they did was duck their heads. His jeans were tight and faded and dust billowed as he strode into the pavillion in his knee high, cut-under boots. The shade from his hat kept the buzzard on his shoulder cool as it rested there waiting for it's next meal. Yes, he was a legend in his own mind. The unlit cigar stub that jutted from his crease of a mouth told the story. Try as I might I couldn't get a shot at him without someone blocking the camera. Maybe he was just a mirage........ Perhaps he wasn't even there......it was just my imagination conjuring up the old hand who wiped a tear from his eye as an old high pommeled saddle with a cantle that reached his waist was brought up for sale........... Okay! So I embellished a little. How often do you run into characters like this anyway?
I am happy to report that the things I took brought a right respectable sum and I am now ready to hit the Cowboy trail in search of more treasures. Not exactly what I had in mind but it is sure neat. Pistol Packin Prudence

Frogs! You've Gotta Love Um!

2005-04-18T22:24:00.000-04:00

Everyone always loves my frogs in the garden, so I
thought you might get a kick out of this. I must tell you, today while walking
to the barn I heard a strange, weak, wierd sound coming from the direction of
the pond in the garden. I walked over and noticed Ed, the grey, skinny barn
cat lying flat as a pancake on the big rock by the pond. His arm was
extended over something strange looking. It was a frog! It was so puffed up
I hardly recognized it. Ed would stretch out his arm and gently push down on
the silly frog. When he did, it let out a tortured croak as it deflated. When
it got flat, it would puff up again, and the whole scene was repeated. I
have no idea how long they were doing that! So funny!!! I picked up Mr. Frog
gently, dipped him in the pond and held him for a second. Once he realized
he wasn't swimming in cat stomach juice he deflated and swam away. Frogs, you
gotta love em!

Save a dog, eat chocolate cake

2005-04-12T23:50:00.000-04:00

When all else fails, eat cake! Ever notice how much better you feel after you gorge yourself on a piece of cake? It's not the chocolate! It's not even how moist it is as it slides down your face and into your mouth. The reason you feel so much better is because you have now put your troubles on the back burner and are concentrating on getting EVERY CRUMB of that cake you can find into your body. Who cares if the gas man is screaming at the door to read your meter! There's a crumb on the edge of the table and you've got to get it before the dog does. Chocolate is DEADLY to dogs, you know that! What kind of person would you be if you let the dog die? Another reason you feel so good is because you were strong enough to say YES! Why should someone in a lab coat dictate to you what you should or shouldn't eat? Do you realize it may be that very piece of cake that keeps you out of the home? The way I see it is the years I add to my life depriving myself of that cake may be the ones I spend in a wheelchair drooling on my hospital gown in a urine scented hallway at the Brethern Home. I'll take cake!!! I've made my stand. Ladies of Prudence's Tea Club unite! Fight overcrowded retirement homes and bitter children who can't wait to get you there! I say eat cake and die young, while you can still enjoy it! Actually, you may as well come to my place and we'll do it together. I'll kill you with kindness (or good food) pick your poison!

Computer Technicians and my sanity

2005-04-10T23:28:00.000-04:00

My computer was standing under a tree during a thunderstorm (not really)and of course you know what happened. You'd think as smart as they are they would come in out of the rain! I lost my modem,and other parts I've never personally met, but the technician called her "mother". This was a major setback for me. It took me a week to find out I could retrieve my messages from another computer, then I kept forgetting to take my reservation book along to respond right away.

Now I've learned a few things. I'm teachable, but not quick!!!

I've learned that insurance companies are wonderful friends to cultivate. You must pay them for favors, but they do come through for you quickly. I love them.

Next, I learned that computer technicians are very determined to keep you humble, or MAD. No, they won't fix your computer before anybody elses!

No, bribes won't work. They NEVER keep obvious parts in stock for such an occasion! Every part must be ordered on a separate day, and you MUST call each day to be sure it's been ordered, received, checked for fit and that he has the return address of supplier! This keeps their egos fed. You know how women are! They want everything right away! I offered to inventory his supplies and stock it in a feminine way. You know, with parts used most often in the most obvious assortment of configurations. Having a supplier in my pocket with whom I could get rapid turnaround of parts, instead of searching the country with a tonka truck on the backroads of the county. I'd make businesses a priority. Phone customers would have to wait till the people who actually spent their money on gas to see him in person were finished with him. Anyone who dropped in the shop before he left for a scheduled appointment would be told to come back another time. HE WOULD NOT KEEP PRUDENCE WAITING!!! After all, she 's on a low carb diet and you never know what will set her off. Missing meals waiting for him is high on the list though. Another thing! After it's fixed, it should work, right? Am I being a dumb blonde to think if I paid for it to be repaired I should be able to get on line? Silly me! Here I waited almost two weeks for it, paid him a ton of money, stood in his store with my knees hurting because there were computer parts he couldn't use piled on the chairs, waited for return calls he never made because he was busy with other customers and I actually expected the darn computer to get on line when it was finished. I AM a dumb blonde!! My brother and I spent all day Saturday trying different things to make it work. We even called an electrician. We put wires everywhere but up our rectums. We spent an hour on the phone with a technician from my isp. Finally, I called the repairmans wife. Now I meant business! In a half hour he was here, and guess what? He just realized the modem he had put in was TOO FAST for my phone lines. It couldn't scale down that slow. Thank you Sprint. I spend an average of $150.00 a month to have antiquated phone lines. I now have the fastest computer I can get with the slowest phone lines allowed! GUESS WHAT!!! He said he'll order a new modem for me. Of course you know what I told him. I said that's great, when can I expect you to bring YOUR PERSONAL COMPUTER for me to use till you get the part from the rain forest? Some of the above was embellished, some was true, some was thought about and some was said but not recorded!!!

Tea Fans and Ear Horns

2005-04-10T10:32:00.001-04:00

Hello Tea Fans. I'm going to be needing a lot of you as the weather warms
up. We have the ceiling fans going, and they work really well, but without
you it just won't be summer. I've been digging out the old hand fans to.
Remember going to church when you were a little snip and fanning yourself
with those paper fans from the funeral home down the street? How about that
for hitting the ball with both ends of the stick. The preacher is telling
you you're never going to die and the mortician is saying 'but if you do!!!'
I know, I know, your physical body will die, but who wants to think about it
when you're so hot you need a piece of cardboard to cool you off? I am still
holding off getting air conditioning for the tea room. My husband thinks I'm
crazy. I just don't want to close the windows and not hear the birds, smell
the plants and herbs, feel the breeze. I guess when you are as deaf as I am
every sound is precious. I now have a 98% hearing loss in my left ear. My
friend 's husband is a coppersmith and is making me an ear horn. How cool is
that??? I don't want a hearing aid. Some things I just want to miss. When I
want to hear I will have my nifty ear horn hanging about my neck. You know
you'll want one to when you see it. I wonder if he can put a whistle in it
so I can get people's attention, like when I'm getting groceries and can't reach something. Those coupon shoppers need to wake up! Maybe an air horn!
Course, who wants to put a horn in their mouth after jamming it in their
ear? Hmmmm!

The Tea Room Weather Agitator

2005-04-10T10:32:00.000-04:00

Did you get any rain this week? Aren't you glad you didn't send your child to college to be a meteorologist? I can't imagine that, with the sophisticated equipment and intensive studies man has done, we are no better off than we were when we checked caterpillars coats and asked the groundhog if he saw his shadow! Really! Think about how accurate those old almanacs have been. At LEAST as accurate as the local weather man with his doppler radar and his accu-weather report. When I was having my Sheep Festivals here about 20 or so years ago, I'd have my brother Terry check his weather journal to see if it rained on the date I had picked in previous years. He'd go back five or six years, and if it hadn't, we'd set the date and we never got rained on but a sprinkling the first year (before we thought to check!). Think about it folks! There were no satellites involved, no computer generated predictions or anything. Grandfathers have always had weather ankles and knees. Maybe I should hang onto my bad knees and start forecasting.

'The Tea Knee Weather Report'
brought to you from Turkey Pit Rd.
It looks like we're going to have a clear night tonight. The fluid around my knee is down, we won't be seeing any rain. Around the first of the week there may be some clouds as my ankles are starting to swell and my shins are shiny. Any chance of showers will be later in the week, or not at all, depending if my knees start to ache. The frogs are sitting on the shady side of the pond, so it will be hot and humid. If we do get rain it will be north, south, east and west of us. When the horses are nibbling maple leaves you can be sure the ground is dry. Other than that, it will surely rain by Christmas. My weather guarantee! Free 'TEA for all' if I'm wrong. What other weather forecaster will do that for you? And I didn't have to get my degree in fooling people at a fancy school either!

I guess I get carried away, but we've been promised rain for so long now. My garden is so dry. I miss the lush soft grass and the smell of worms. I want a lazy, rainy day. The kind where you can stay in bed till eight, get up and keep your nightie on till noon and then sit by the window and stare out at nothing. No guilty feelings about not being out there pulling weeds. No frantic planning your day so you can get back by 2 so you can finish cleaning and then start dinner. Yes, I really DO want a rainy day. If you get one can I come to visit you and be lazy at your house?

Miss Easter, The Tea Chick

2005-04-03T21:05:00.000-04:00

It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that 'Miss Easter', the big white chicken that was dropped off on Easter Sunday a few years ago, has passed away. As far as we know there was no 'fowl play'. She was lying peacefully beside the holly tree with not a feather out of place. She loved it there. I guess she felt safe there from the marauding hawk who terrorizes my girls. It would have served him right if he had clamped onto her big bustle. She must have weighed 15 lbs. He would have dislocated his beak! I can see it now, eyes bulging, talons barely able to get a grip on her regal neck. Thank God she was spared that frightening experience.

She was quite a character. She loved strolling up to the window in the fairy room and
peering in at the customers, like she expected to see someone she knew. 'Oh
yes, there's Monna! Hello dear! Helllllo!!! Out here, under the bush!' Not
every chicken can steal your heart like she did. It's a fact. Most chickens
are rather cool customers. They act like they're your friend while you have
scones in your pockets, but as soon as the last crumb drops they're after a
June bug or running off after a beetle in the grass. Miss Easter just plain
loved people. In the morning, as soon as Phoebe and I opened the door she
would come through like she just KNEW it would be a great day.

What a girl! She was a Christian chicken. I never saw her gossiping with the other girls or swinging her bustle at Mr. Ruppert, the rooster. She didn't lust after
anyone elses bugs or steal scones from them either. For her size she was
quite graceful to. She will be missed, indeed. You may send contributions,
in lieu of flowers, to the 'Aged Tea Chickens Benevolent Society' at this
address. Please be generous, there are a lot of old hens out there in need
of teeth. Your donations will be put to good use. A memorial service will be
held later, date to be announced.

Somewhere
Somewhere, somewhere in times own space
There must be some sweet grassy place,
where June bugs crawl and crickets sing
and hens and roosters live again. PKR

Dr. Tuttle and the fat girl's knees

2005-04-03T10:59:00.000-04:00

Last Wednesday I needed a day away from the farm. What to do! I decided to
take my husband and brother along and take our driving harnesses over to our
Amish harness makers shop to be cleaned and oiled. I love the trip and Sam
Esh, the owner, immensely. He's a giant of a man. Very unusual for an
Amishman. They are usually quite short. After lugging all the harness from
the trunk and onto his porch we went inside to enjoy the smell of leather
and see what fun things he was working on. He is always in the midst of
creating wonderful sets of harness for all kinds of horses. This time he had the
smallest horse collar I have ever seen. It was only about 10" high. It would
fit a miniature horse he said. So cute!

I love looking at all the bottles of harness oil, wormers, saddle cleaners
etc. I pick them up and smell the containers. They are so pungent and
mysterious smelling. I came across a bottle of 'Dr. Tuttle's Elixer'.
Hmmmmm! It said it relaxes tired muscles. I have those! It relieves the pain
of cramping muscles! I have THOSE TO! It reduces SWELLING!!! I have THAT!!!
It's $4.95! I have that TOOOO! Great! I couldn't wait to get home and elix
myself. I asked Sam if it worked on people, and he looked at me like I had
started to strip or something. He said he couldn't say if it did. After
doing all my chores I pulled up my skirt and settled into the elixing
bottle. It smelled so vile it HAD to do something. It says it contains
alcohol, oil of hemlock, eucalyptus, ammonia and kerosene!!!!!! Now I don't
expect you all to understand why a sane woman would risk putting something
so noxious onto herself, but then again, how many of you have had knee
replacements? Nuff said! I slathered this slippery stuff onto my virgin
knees, let it dry while I blotted my eyes, trying not to use my slathering
hand on my eyes. This was baddd. I felt nothing. It didn't burn, it didn't
do anything but stink. I've stunk before though,(I also use Absorbine Horse
Liniment on my knees) My ailing husband hickled into the living room.
Before he got to his chair he was gasping for breath. I kid you not, he
couldn't stay in the room. He forbid me to EVER use it in the house again.
Now it's pretty dangerous to forbid me to do ANYTHING ,you have to know, but
I believed my fate, if tempted, could be ugly. I had it on about an hour
total. After a coughing fit that left me in a heap in the corner of the
sofa, I decided Dr. Tuttle had his way with me long enough. I took a bath.
In the shower I was carefully washing my knees so as not to get this stuff
into any places where darkness might strengthen it's action. I noticed
something strange going on. I put my glasses on so I could REALLY inspect
the results and noticed my SKIN was skurfing off in little rivulets. Hmmmm!
Hmmmm! My legs didn't burn or anything. They weren't pink even, but I was
skurfing skin. I don't know about YOU, but I never skurf skin. Sure, I get
dandruff, but it's DRY. This was coming off WET! I finished bathing, got on
my nightie and went into the living room to see if I was still skurfing. You
won't believe what I saw!!! Maybe I shouldn't tell you. You are probably so
repulsed by a woman who would let Dr. Tuttle see her knees you wouldn't even
want to know what happened to them. It was getting curiouser and curiouser.
First I noticed how very SOFT my knees were. I mean baby behind soft.
Luxuriously soft. I glided my hand over those big fat knees for a while,
just enjoying them. They aren't pretty, but they are brand new. I had asked
Dr. T. (my surgeon) to give me a nice pair of LITTLE round knees, but he
just looked at me and smiled that sweet smile he has. He should see these
big honkers he gave me NOW! Okay..... I'll tell you, but if there are little
children looking over your shoulders please ask them to leave the room.
........Are they gone? EVERY HAIR HAD DISSOLVED OFF MY LEGS!!! YES! It's
TRUE!!! I couldn't believe my eyes! My knees were still stiff. They still
ached, but they were BALD!!! Since no one ever wants to look at my legs, I
go au-natural a good deal of the time. They had a lot of insulation on them
in the way of hair. It was a BIG shock to see them shining in the middle of
my legs. I think I'm onto something. I have discovered a new depilatory.
I'll get a spot on TV and sell my new product " Knee's so Bright". What do
you think? For $23.95 you get a bottle of Knee's so Bright, and if you
order right now for just one penny more you'll get a garage for your car and
luggage for your trip to Botswana. Tell your friends and I'll throw in a
free bottle of " Ankle Trim", every legs best friend. Okay, I'll quit!

Thank you God, for husbands and brothers!

2005-03-27T13:22:00.000-05:00

I found out something. Just because you have carefully trained
your husband to stop the car the moment you start to say lo-o--k at that----
doesn't mean every male will do that. My brother Terry drove my husband and me to
Coudersport, Pa. for the great golden anniversary party for our brother Rod and his sainted wife Faye. Just outside Gaines,Pa. at 65 mph I thought I spied something interesting. I spotted a large terra cotta birdbath at a garden shop. Look at that birdbath I shouted as we sped past. Yeh! was his response. Well aren't you going to go back? No, did you want to? We are now 10 miles down the road and I KNOW he isn't going back. Maybe we can stop on the way home, I throw out. If you have a well trained husband like mine, it's a sure thing.

We had a great time at the party. Ate ourselves silly, and about 6:00 start back towards home. Corgi girls demand our attention. I'm all tense, thinking about the birdbath waiting for me down the road. I place it all around the garden in my mind, getting more excited as we go. I'm not sure where the garden shop is, so I am looking hard and not talking, as I don't want to get distracted and miss it. Just then I see a blur of terra cotta on the right side of the road. STOPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!! I
screech. Why, Terry says? For my BIRDBATH!!! He keeps going! You don't even
know how much it IS he says. Well, I guess NOT. You didn't STOP! He laughs
good naturedly and continues down the road. All is not lost. Granted, I
never even got a good look at the darn thing, but I KNOW I WANT IT. Please
God, don't let it be plastic!

As soon as we get home I call my brother Rod of the golden anniversary. Rod, Terry wouldn't stop and look at a birdbath I want. Do you think you could check it out for me? Now Rod is the king of consumers. I'm the queen, following closely behind him. Where is it? I tell him it's somewhere around 'Rustic Cabins'. He promised me he'd go down Monday first thing and look at it. Monday afternoon I get the call. Prudy, they only have 2 left! If you want it I'll have to go right down for it. I'll bring it down when I come the beginning of July. Notice the difference! Only 2 left, I'll go right down, I'll bring it down! Of course I want it. How much? Ohhhhhhh. Well, needless to say I am getting the birdbath. The reason I thought I wanted it is it's so big and deep. Our other ones dry up in a day. This is more like a bird LAKE. With a small stone perch it will be perfect! He did say it isn't plastic. Please God let it not be plaster or some other dumb material like fiber glass. Men are funny. Terry will do anything for me regarding comfort or fixing things. He's great. Pret, my husband, is astounding. He enjoys everything I do and as a team we're pretty tough to beat. Rod will do anything for me if it involves a trip, eating crabs and spending. It's quite a team I have put together. I'm very lucky to have them all on my side.
Thank you God for husbands and brothers!

White Haired Woman Banned from Walmart

2005-03-24T11:38:00.000-05:00

I got in trouble in Walmart the other day. Next they won't let me in. Wouldn't that be a crisis? I was looking at Pepsid and Tagamet for the puppy when a girl who looked no older that 12 walked up to the 'trojans' (hard time saying that) and started looking at them. As I walked past I commented that she should get going, she was too young to even be thinking about them. I joined my husband and didn't think any more about it. Next thing you know an irate mother and daughter were coming after me and she was screaming at me to stay away from her daughter. I was stunned (but only for a short time) She said that I had no right to tell her daughter not to use those things. She asked if I didn't want her to have safe sex. I said well since you asked, I think she shouldn't be having ANY sex, safe or not at her age and that she certainly wasn't setting a very good example for her if this is how she reacts to constructive criticism. She screamed that I should mind my own business and be careful who I talk to from now on. Boy, I would have been thrilled if some old lady had told my pre-teen not to have sex. Times sure have changed. Maybe I was wrong, but it sure felt right. My newly retired husband and constant companion ;-D asked if this is how it's going to be now? He was mortified! So much for that 'village theory'.

I have had problems in Walmart before. I don't know if I ever told you my dressing room story. I was trying on clothes with a friend one time. She left as I was getting dressed. I had a long skirt on and after I finished dressing I went looking for her. I walked from one end of that store to the other and couldn't find her. After a couple of rounds I heard her saying "Oh my gosh!!! Prudence, oh my gosh!!!" I didn't know what was wrong. She ran up to me and immediately started pulling on my skirt. Here it was tucked into my underpants and my whole behind was exposed. I stayed away from that store for over a year. Talk about embarrassing!!! I must be a born exhibitionist .

2005-03-22T16:19:00.000-05:00

We had our Gypsy Tea here at Prudence's Tea Room recently and as usual it was just the most fun! Well it was! Everyone outdid themselves. I was delighted to find out that three different tables were horsewomen!!! One of them just got her very own GYPSY VANNER HORSE from Great Britian!!! These are usually paint horses in color and were used to pull the Gypsy caravans throughout the land. They are wonderful family horses who were very well cared for and loved by the Gypsies. I told her about a most wonderful Gypsy Caravan that is being offered for sale at Martin's Horse equipment auction in October in Lancaster. Totally restored and just a wonder of function and design. Guess who is lusting after it?

We were all enjoying our outfits so much I said I would love to dress like that all the time in the tea room. Why just have Red Hat Societies invading tea rooms? Why not Gypsy Tea Bags? Much more fun and no one telling you how to dress! After all, the Gypsies were reading tea leaves long before Queen Victoria invented afternoon tea. Don't worry. I know you aren't into fun here at Prudence's, well just a glorious few are. Just a fanciful thought on my part. Guess you can tell where my heart is in regards to tea room traditions. I personally enjoy the unexpected, non-traditional, breaking out of the cookie cutter tea room mold, rather than having to conform to rules made up by people I wouldn't want to be with anyway. Besides being too large, uh hum, to fit the mold, I am also too colorful. I want to do it MY WAY!

Adams County Gold

2005-03-19T09:35:00.000-05:00

People of Adams County, and every other County that has a County Fair, wake up before it's too late. Attendance is dropping at alarming rates among competitors at these fairs. While the general population seems to be more interested in having the loudest and most popular musicians, wildest rides, biggest tractors we are missing the whole point of HAVING these celebrations. It's to give the dedicated and knowledgeable people who grow our food, our very life's bread, a chance to compete and see who has grown the biggest ears of corn, the greenest hay, the best steers, sheep, dairy cows, goats, chickens, the largest pumpkin, the best coconut cake, the loudest zinnias, knit the prettiest afghan and yes, grown the best draft horse a chance to take a break from all their hard work in the stewardship of our great American heartland and stand in front of their peers and SHINE!!! How often do we get a chance to see those who are caring for us, losing sleep and millions of dollars so we can live in this great country and drive our SUV's?

I was watching the third class of the day at the Draft Horse Show at the Fair. It was a 'Gentlemen's Cart Class'. For those not familiar to Draft Horse Shows, this is a class where one horse is hitched to a cart with a man driving and the horse is driven in a circle at the various speeds of the walk and trot. They are to be in their best harness and the drivers dressed in smart outfits while the horses are trimmed with knotted and beribboned tails and manes. The sound of the jingling harness and the silver or brass trim is breathtaking, as are the horses. As I sat watching, anxious to see these magnificent creatures lifting their giant feet high as they pranced around the ring, glistening in the sun I saw something that absolutely stopped my heart. STOPPED MY HEART! An old man, approximately 75 yrs. old or more, wearing a turkey red shirt and sitting on an old matching red and black cart entered the ring. His horse was beautiful and healthy looking, but not gleaming like the other one just ahead of him. The harness didn't shine, but it wore the patina of years of use and it fit both the old man and his beloved friend in the most intimate and lovely way. It was dull and thin, from decades of plowing, cultivating the land and carrying the old gentleman wherever he had to go. It had been through the lean times when there wasn't enough to feed the growing family of children. It had taken him to church every Sunday, to weddings and funerals, baptisms and church socials. It had pulled logs out of fields to heat his home and rocks too large to move by hand. The old harness was wrapped and securely fastened to the precious friend and confidante of the old man in the ring. Yes, the young man and his horse were a sight to behold. They sparkled and shone and did the breed proud. They will do well in the horse show ring. They took first place in the class. To my granddaughter it meant the world to get the first prize in her class. To the old man, it meant the world to BE IN the class!!! He was still doing what he loved after all the years of hard work and sacrifice. He was still able to smell the sweat of the horses and harness and thrill to the sound of the squeaking leather and the bulge of the powerful rump of his horse. Perhaps even more important, he was passing on this tradition of 'love of the horse, not love of the ribbon' on to future generations. The next class was 'Ladies Cart Class'. His granddaughter, and her daughter drove the old cart and horse in this class, and the granddaughter drove it in the 'youth cart class'. And so it went through all the driving classes, from cart to six horse hitch. Children and grandchildren sharing in the love and life of this dear, precious Adams County treasure. He takes his horses to the horse pulls and his sons and grandsons help him in a most incredible ballet of teamwork and love.

Please don't let our County lose what people like this old guy have been enjoying ever since it was founded. Grow your gourds and tomatoes, knit your scarves and bring in your corn and alfalfa to be shown with pride among others who love the traditions we have developed here. Make it your aim to participate next year in this fair, and to attend those of other Counties so we aren't left with just a memory of how it used to be. Before there were museums, there were people who LIVED what they now preserve. Prudence Kinley-Ruth horse lover and memory keeper

Winning one for Emma

2005-03-17T11:27:00.000-05:00

last August I witnessed at the South Mountain Fair, what will be a most cherished and memorable moment in my life. In the true spirit of Country Fairs everywhere, it was something I shall never forget. I was there to see my son Tim and his 8 yr. old daughter Emma show their Belgian mare in the draft horse halter class for mares. Since our country was opened by draft horses and those who love them, I am so proud to have a wee part in celebrating this great breed of horses. This was Emma's first time 'running whip' at a horse show. It was also her first time actually taking part with her daddy in showing these giant animals. She was nervous but focused, and as she entered the ring behind the massive mare I'm sure she felt the spotlight shining on her head, (I know it nearly blinded me) even though it was bright daylight. She followed at a safe but proper distance, making sure Jody moved out at a brisk pace and never faltered when she passed the judges eye. She was part of a team that for this moment in time, depended on her to do her best to show the lovely mare to it's best advantage. It was all over in less than 15 minutes. All the anxiety. All the hopes and prayers in this little girls heart were waiting to hear what the decision of the judge was going to be. Finally, without fanfare, they announced that they had taken first prize. Emma never blinked until she came out of the ring. As she turned the corner, she came running to me, eyes shining, smile clear back to her ears. "I can't believe I WON!!!" she shouted. "I can't believe I won"!!!. You see, while she was showing the mare, what she was really showing was herself. For the first time. Doing something she had been waiting for, dreaming of. It was HER chance to shine. She proved to herself that SHE could pass the test and stand up in front of society and make the cut. What a great lesson to be learned at such a tender age. I know it will stay with her til she's an old 'self confident' woman. I'm so grateful to country fairs and other such opportunities where children can feel they won!

Lawn Ladies at Work

2005-03-16T17:43:00.000-05:00

What a glorious morning to look out onto my lawn and see the “lawn ladies”, our Cochin bantams, rushing about the gardens searching for buried treasure. I’m glad they feel so committed to that work, as it does make a difference in the amount of insects we see on the plants. Chickens are so funny. You wouldn’t think they were serious natured, but indeed, they are very focused on the work for the day they happen to choose. Sometimes it’s clearing the fallen tree trunks in the wood of ants and grubs. Another day it could be picking grain out of the horses road apples in the pasture, which is one of the reasons I prefer box eggs instead of gathered ones. Miss Easter, the White Rock hen someone left here on Easter Sunday, has chosen as her personal commitment to clear every insect she sees from the “garden of the Pussy Willow fairies”. She’s in plain view of the customers who sit at the table overlooking that garden. What entertainment she provides for city folk who never get to see a chicken that wasn’t fed marigold petals to improve the color of it’s flesh.

The Snow vs the Easter Bonnet

2005-03-15T17:07:00.000-05:00

I remember when watching the snow drift on the north side of the hill across from our farm shrink to nothing meant I would be able to wear my whole new Easter outfit to church on Easter morning. If my mom saw snow ANYWHERE it meant winter clothes
(leggings and all) till it was gone. That woman was obsessed with keeping us
warm. I'd sit on the porch and pray my heart out for God to melt that darn
snow. It was always a close call, but I always got to wear my new duds.

Isn't He a great God? Maybe He was teaching me even in that, to turn to Him
for all my needs. I didn't get to go to town often, except for church when I
was little. Every Spring though, we'd walk to Delroy and get on one of
Leiphart's buses and go to town (York) to do our Easter shopping. I didn't
get many clothes growing up, but on that special day it was always new underwear (slip and all) a new dress, coat, hat, shoes and best of all --- a
purse. I preferred patent leather. Mom would give me a little hankie with a
touch of Vaseline on it to shine my patent mary janes and my purse. How I
would rub and polish them to a gleaming shine. Boy, I felt so good. I
couldn't stop looking at myself. BEEEUTIFUL! I had an aunt Florence who made
me feel so special. Every time she saw me she would tell me how beautiful I
was. I just loved when she came to visit. She had big thick glasses that
made her look like she had frog eyes, and blue hair that always was so
shiny. To this day, whenever I see young girls, I always tell them how
beautiful they are. It never fails to put a smile on their face. Girls need
to be told that they are beautiful. Big girls AND little ones. And do you know what? They are!

Poor people blue

2005-03-14T19:56:00.000-05:00

Right now my eyes are craving the sight of bright green things. Actually, my eyes are getting wierd in my old age. Have any of you noticed that your color pallette changes after you hit, say, fifty? I have always loved a pastel garden. Blues, pinks, lavendars and whites. Perfect! Well, the last few years I am loving bright purples, golds, wierd blues.

That reminds me, I suddenly had the need to have the bee hives in the garden
painted. When I was a tadpole, we used to visit a family that was poor. At
least I thought they were. Barefoot in winter, runny noses, stringy hair,
mouths a dull gray all around and a kitchen painted the most hideous shade
of blue you can imagine. You recoiled when you first went in, until your
eyes adjusted, then you shut them just to protect yourself. Flies decorated
the walls and oil cloth covered table like they were going to a rock concert. Your lips were tightly sealed lest the flies penetrate your mouth. Think of where all they had been. The smell of a slop bucket in the corner caused you to step back against Daddies leg and cling to it for protection. It was an assault against all your senses. The color was always 'poor people blue' to me after that. I detested it. Someone gave my daughter a sweater of that color when she was small and I never wore it on her. I threw it out. Talk about imprinting. Well, you guessed it. The bee hives are now a glorious shade of 'poor people blue'!!!!!!! It is electric!

Poor Liz, my garden helper, stopped by yesterday for a few fish for her pond. As she rounded the corner of the tea room she just about stood on my feet as she backed up to get away from the brightness coming from the far side of the garden. Not too
sure she appreciates the richness yet. She's not fifty you know. She'll have
to grow into it. Mature into wild colors. It's a gift for getting ancient!
My dining room looks like a gypsy caravan. All kinds of wild colors. When I
was recuperating there after my knee surgeries in the bed we set up by the window, I awoke every day, if I was lucky, to a riot of color. I adore it. Think I'll paint some crows walking across the top of the double doorway wearing poor people blue
scarves!!!!

Hives are funny people

2005-03-13T21:53:00.000-05:00

Hives are funny people. They can be small, they can be large. They can even run together in a bunch around your legs or your other parts. You never know for sure where they come from, how long they'll stay or where they're going next. You can be sure you're not going to like them. They grow on you, but you never become best friends with them. You'll want to look at them REAL close, to see if there's a spot in the middle or anything strange about them. I don't know why, but you always want to look at them good. Some are pale. They are the lurkers. You really want to keep an eye on those suckers. They turn dark real fast, and when they do LOOK OUT!!! You'll do anything, ANYTHING to stop the itching. Slide on the wall, smack yourself HARD with a wet washcloth, and you'll be amazed at how creative you can get with ointments and home remedies. Lemon juice seemed like a great choice till I put it on my legs. Don't do it child. Just ......don't...... do it! You'd never believe the dance steps a fat white girl with bad knees can do when painted with real lemon juice. It ain't pretty, and it doesn't do a thing. Another thing, you can be sure your Dr. will be on vacation when the hives come to visit. When desperation drives you to the emergency room, you'll want to pick a dark corner of the waiting room to sit yourself and the hives. No one wants to watch! Trust me, you don't want to be in the middle of a good scratch when you become aware of a great looking 25 yr. old guy staring in disgusted disbelief at the back of your leg, which is now above your waist and your foot is curling around your neck. Who knew you could do that? Life becomes one long blurry itch fest. First you try to ignore them. Teeth clenched, you resolve to not pay any attention to them. Everyone tells you it only makes them worse. Where did they get that? Some mothers manual that should have been banned back in the '30's? IT HELPS!!! TRUST ME, IT HELPS!!! Maybe it doesn't stop them, but it helps! At least you're getting some kind of revenge on them. You tear at your flesh till it's raw, you rub cortizone cream, itch stop, calamine lotion and vicks all at once into that son of a gun. No, it still itches, but at least it can't SEE! After your trip to the ER, you must now sit at the drug store and wait for the 3 prescriptions to be filled. Why did you think Vicks would help when it takes the hospital 3 drugs to conquer them? GREAT! you have those prescriptions. You can't wait to take them. What? Not on an empty stomach? RATS! What are those flashing lights? A wreck? The road is totally closed and it's rush hour. Officer, do you see that helicoptor? I need to be evacuated immediately! Medical emergency! Hives. WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S NOT AN EMERGENCY!!! LOOK AT THIS!!! IT IS NOT INDECENT EXPOSURE YOU JERK, IT'S HIVES!!!!! After an hour, and a piece of bread not on my diet sheet the pills are down. I kid you not, within 30 minutes they were on the run. Maybe it was the wonderful nerve pills they gave me, but I swear I heard them screaming 'we surrender' as they lost their color and faded into the depths of cellulite, now covered with strawberry bruises. And so another week in the life of a tea damsel ends. Battered and bruised, but always trying to please her loyal customers, she searches her files for yet another recipe they will want to try.

Goodbye Ma Baird

2005-03-13T21:30:00.000-05:00

A dear friend of the tea room died yesterday. Ma Baird. She was at least
87, I'm embarrassed but I don't know for sure. Her daughter was Diane Re. The
wonderful English garden bench, under the pussy willow tree, was placed there
in honor of Diane by her life long friend Linda Cleveland. Diane started
bringing Ma Baird to the tea room the first year I was open. How I loved
her. She was about 4'11 and packed with a sense of humor that far surpassed
her tiny size. When she came in she lit the place up. Her smile was spread
across her face and it cheered everyone who saw her. She LOVED tea, antique
dishes, people, telling stories and food. It all came together when she was
here. Linda Cleveland and her delightful grandaughters brought her after
Diane died. I remember last year on her birthday I wanted to do something
special for her. My mother had just died and I was feeling especially
sentimental. I bought her a little ' tea for one pot ' with it's own cup
underneath, some flowers, and a little tea book. She was so thrilled, she
went around and showed everyone! She said "and they're ALL for ME!"

Take the time to nurture these dear little treasures we are given. I get teary eyed
every time I see them come into the tea room with daughters and
granddaughters. You know, I never thought of my mother as 'dear' when she
was alive. I loved her tremendously, thought she was very intelligent, a
great Christian, kind, hard working, and all that, but I just didn't think
of her as 'dear'. The longer she's gone, the 'dearer' I think she was. Funny
isn't it?

Ma Baird had quite an exciting time when she left her home for the last
time this winter. I'll tell this as closely as I can, but some of the facts
may be a little wrong. Memory going you know. (mine, not hers) She had a
heart attack, called the ambulance to come get her. It was terribly icy and
she lived down at the bottom of a long steep driveway. The ambulance came
down, got her and was going to go up the hill. She said they had better go a
certain way, they ignored her and got stuck. They called another ambulance.
It came down, they transfered her and took a run at the hill. Somehow, they
started sliding down and slid right into her house, going right into the
living room. That was the last time she left home. She was in a nursing home
till yesterday, when she peacefully left for her heavenly Fathers home. Good
bye Ma Baird. I surely will miss your bright face shining in the tea room.

Things that go bump in the Tea Room

2005-03-11T11:45:00.000-05:00

My mother was great about reading stories to me at night when I was a child.. They could be really scary or very bland, but they ALL had a moral. I loved them, but there was a problem, I slept on the third floor of our old farmhouse. When Mom would read 'Little Orphant Annie'to me and got to the part about the little boy that wouldn't say his prayers, I was tight against her! She'd read these stories with great conviction, emphasizing the parts about the results of your misbehavin'. When she was finished I had to pry myself away and climb those stairs. The thing was, I couldn't get the thought out of my mind that I didn't WANT to say my prayers EITHER!!!! Oh boy! Talk about the FEAR FACTOR! I became obsessed with trying to think I
DID want to say them, but this little voice kept saying 'no you don't'. No
wonder I was a bed wetter! To top it off, in the attic, stored in his own
black wooden box, was a real, human skull. I was convinced the rest of his
body would one day be coming looking for his head, and it would come right
through my bedroom.

My brothers found it one day at the bottom of an old outhouse, owned by a deceased doctor. Don't ask me what they were doing looking in there. It was a treasure for sure. Charlie (that's what we called him) went to school with me every Halloween. He scared countless children,and even was a part of a scary story my brother Terry told to my 4-H horse club one night at a Halloween party we were having over in the woods. After a scarecrow contest, where every child brought his own scarecrow to set up in
a circle in our pasture, to be judged by the good natured county agent, we
lit a fire in the woods and everyone sat in a circle around it. Terry was
disguised as an old woman. He told a really scarey story to these wide eyed
innocents who had never been scared by a professional before. At the end,
Shirley, his equally professional wife was dressed up and appeared out of
the darkness with Charlie perched on her head like it was really HER head.
One poor little fella was so scared he actually fell off his log and in his
terror to get away, fell and broke his arm!!! How's THAT for child abuse?
Charlie still lives here on the farm, but not in MY house. He is over at my
brother Terry's. Let him rattle around in HIS closet! There was talk that at
one of the Fall Farmer Teas, he was spotted in the garden, making his way to
the back door of the Tea Room. I'm sure it was just a rumor. Someone said
they actually saw two glowing eyes drifting over the bed of Anemones, making
a soft noise. It sounded like someone biting into a scone they said. Now I
can't say this is true. I didn't see it myself with my own little eyes.
Charlie has never hurt anyone in the past, as far as I
know........................

Christian snowballs

2005-03-10T13:41:00.000-05:00

Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people,
especially to those who belong to the family of believers.
-- Galatians 6:10

You know, I have read this verse countless times, but always marvel at the part that says "especially to the family of believers". I think a lot of Christians feel we are to pay 'especial attention' mostly to the unbelievers we encounter. We think our work is done once they invite Christ into their hearts. That is so untrue. We need to nurture all believers, lift them all up in prayer and encourage them in their walk with Christ. It's so hard living the Christian life when you are bone tired from working and trying to keep a family together. I try to do business with Christian businesses as much as I can. The money we spend at those places goes so much further than just the cash register. The tithes and offerings made by Christians in business goes to help missionaries here and abroad, Pastors and other Christian workers who feed the poor, clothe the needy, educate the poor in Spirit, provide a place where our youth can safely participate in sports and activities to grow good Christian minds and bodies. It's like a snowball. The little handful of snow slowly gathers more snow and soon it's a huge snowman. A Christian car dealer I know here in Hanover, Pa. with a lot of salesmen only hires Christian workers. When you buy a car from him, that money snowballs to lots of churches in the area. Christians who in turn tithe to their churches and so it goes. Something to think about.

Gone but not forgotten

2005-03-09T20:22:00.000-05:00

When we first moved to our farm, back in 1977, we were privileged to have in the little town of East Berlin, the most wonderful general store, restaurant and butcher shop in the world. They were all under one roof. Lau's Store. You went in the back door into the grocery store. To your right and down the aisle Wayne Lau had his butcher shop. He sold the best apple smoked bacon you ever ate. I mean it. It was just wonderful. He had great cheeses, sausages, even chorizo sausage.

There were groceries, and they even sold goat skin gloves that cost $4.95 and when you wore them they made your hands so soft you couldn't believe it. You turned left and at the front of the store Sonny Lau had his own little bit of heaven. He sold cheap perfume, watches, flashlights, jewelry and all things in between. It was so neat walking up and down the aisles. Each turn was an adventure. When you got to the front left, after winding past a row of soda fountain stools you came to some of the most astounding characters you have ever seen, perched like crows having a church service on the telephone wires. They were permanent fixtures, only changing with the meal being served.

Still further on was the dining room. Each table may as well have been reserved, because there were regulars who never missed a day and you had better not sit in there spot or you would be singed by the fierce glares they'd direct your way. I sat at the first table straight ahead, along with my friend Becky Mummert, Bob Linebaugh, and I sometimes we'd allow an interesting stray to sit with us. We'd sit, if the coffee didn't appear we would go behind the counter and serve ourselves. The Queen of the store, heck, the TOWN was Isabelle Lau. She was about 4' 10" and made of pure, unadulterated curiosity. How she loved to listen in on all the conversations going on. She would chip in if she got the chance, and then go off on a storytelling rant that was just hysterical. She was the mother of Sonny and Wayne. Her husband Bobby died the year we moved up here. We were a community. We knew what was going on in everyone's lives and we cared what happened there. The restaurant served honest if not sometimes wonderful food. On Friday night they had all you could eat Red Snapper (before the rich folks discovered it) and my husband often ate 4 plates piled high. You didn't have to place your order for breakfast. Rhonda, the waitress extraordinaire knew what we wanted. You just sat down and started talking, soon your eggs were on the table and all was well with the world.

Any excuse worked for beating a path to their door. It was where you wanted to be for some reason. As time went on we were all starting to get achy and stiff. The Lau boys had to close the store and that was the end of an era. We mourned it like a death in the family when they closed. The whole community went silent. We had no where to go for our morning meetings. No where to go for the apple smoked bacon. No more cheap perfume. There was a little old man that walked so slow that if he was at the back door when we came in he would just be getting to the front door when we had finished our meal. No kidding. He took these little shuffling steps. He was just precious! Where did he go after Lau's closed. I don't know.

Since then one restaurant after another has tried to win us back. We aren't easy. We try them out. Give them a chance, but the ghosts that walk those aisles are still haunting us. Now you walk in the back and are ushered threw a series of cattle shoots that lead you up a musty smelling dark hall to the front restaurant. It's decorated in a cutesy country decor that makes you want to stick your finger down your throat. Where are the tables that rock from the uneven floors? Where is Isabelle, and why aren't our friends here? It's gone, and no one is ever going to replace what we've lost or exorcize the spirits of Wayne, Sonny and Isabelle.

Rx for a Winter's Day

2005-03-03T09:56:00.000-05:00

The other week my husband, daughter Debbie, brother Terry and I went to Hinkles Drug Store in Columbia, Pa. for dinner. Strange place to eat dinner? Not really. They have been making great meals there for three generations. Food as good as my Mom's, and that's saying something. It's just a drug store, nothing tricky about it. They sell things like the old time drug stores used to sell. All kinds of neat ointments and salves. No Capilaris X (pardon spelling)though. Mom would smear that on anything from scabs (which I always had a lot of) to poison ivy. Soaps and smelly things. Prescriptions. Old time candy like sen-sens and chocolate babies. Best of all is the gift shop. Oh my! What a treat! When I was still making my dolls and Father Christmas Figures I got a letter from Mrs. Hinkle saying she wanted to buy some for the shop. I was rightously indignent about that. I sold to the best shops in the country. I didn't think they should be sold in a 'drug store'! That was before I saw the shop. Did I ever eat crow. I am their biggest fan now and have been for years. Take a little trip back in time and go to Hinkles Drug Store on the main street in Columbia. You'll be glad you did.

On the way home my husband took us on a nostalgic tour around the haunts of our childhood. We went to Long Level, along the Susquahanna River, where we would get jealous each Winter when the ice jams kept the 'river rats' off school for a week or so each year. We saw the Mc Mansions sprawling over the river hills where black angus steers used to pasture on a farm said to be owned by John Wayne at one time. What a view!!! I showed Debbie where I had my one cowgirl roundup of a neighbors cows that took them a few miles from home till I was done 'rounding them up'. Never told my Dad or the neighbor how they go that far away. :-( We showed her the hills where we used to sled for most of the Winter.
Canadochly Elementary School in East Prospect, where my education ended. I tell
everyone I have a fifth grade education. When they took me from my beloved Wills one room school house in fifth grade and planted me in this giant school, I didn't learn a thing after that. I never saw so many kids. Didn't have a clue there were that many in the WORLD! I had a job to do. Talk to all I could, no matter if it was during class or not. I was put in corners, behind pianos, in hallways, and any where as far from another child as they could get me. You'd have thought I had typhoid! I know I never learned anything after that. I still get weepy thinking of those days when I was on the farm in the valley. I loved that farm and my life there. I had such a wonderful childhood running free with my horse all day and having incredible adventures. (I know I told you this before, but I'm getting old) The only thing my mother warned me about was a neighbor named Mustard Kinard. She said I wasn't to talk to him EVER! This wasn't like Mom, and for some dumb reason I listened to her. Didn't question like I usually did. One day I was passing his farm on Flossy, my horse, and he said I should come with him and he'd show me his trick pig. I very politely said no thanks and rode off, kicking myself the whole way. I really wanted to see that darn pig! I must have been 32 before I thought about that again and I THINK I know what his trick pig was now. Whew! Years later he murdered his father in law, Davey Keller, the dearest little old man in the world. Davey was around 92 at the time. Mustard was drunk.

We took our time coming home and all had a great time reliving our childhoods and telling tall tales we have all heard a hundred times before. Such is the life of three retirees and a captive daughter.

Buried Treasures

2005-03-02T23:25:00.000-05:00

I bought a trio of Buff Cochins Bantam Chickens this Fall and another black Cochin hen to add to my dwindling flock. The young cockerel is very handsome, but is less than a year old, not fully feathered yet and he doesn't have the wonderful comb he will have at maturity. The other day my husband came in and said I must come outside at once. We stood in the driveway. Just then I heard this squeaky, pathetic sound like furniture being drug across the floor or a rusty hinge being opened. It was the first 'crow' of our new rooster. You see they are like little boys who grow up and their voices start changing. At first a little bit, but before long they sound like Josh Groban (to the girls anyway). How exciting to witness such a bend in the road in a chickens life. I'm sure it really ruffled the 'girls' feathers.

These are the things that make you realize why you need to be living at a place like this. I don't need fancy clothes, big cars or things like that. I was there when Moose, a young horse my son raised from a baby lost his first tooth. It was laying in his stall like a diamond waiting to be discovered. Of all the places he could have lost it. Anywhere in the pasture. He could have trampled it into the bedding or anything. No, it was laying there waiting for me. I have it in my kitchen cupboard to this day, 25 years later along with the plaster impression of my own teeth when I had my partial made.

My friend Nancy is helping neighbors whose cows are calving. We were talking today about the white of a newborn calf. They are a glistening white like no other white you ever saw. Perfect and precious and innocent. When I had sheep I loved watching my lambs first experiencing a little hill in the barnyard. They all took turns playing king of the mountain. They'd bounce up the hill, stop, turn around and then bounce down flipping sideways and just having a marvelous time. Then the whole little band of them would go cavorting recklessly all over the place like the wind was blowing them here and there.

A few days after we moved here my daughter was in the back yard. She was sixteen, and not at all happy we had left town and moved to this God forsaken place. I heard her screaming for me. Thinking she surely must be under attack by a pack of wolves, I found her standing perfectly still, her bare feet covered with about 20 newborn ducklings. The former owners left some ducks here and one was hatching out a huge nest of eggs. Till all were hatched, Deb was their self appointed surrogate mother. They followed her all over the yard. After a while the mama came waddling over and claimed Deb's ducklings and life went back to normal again, but not for Deb. It was a gift from God she needed to see. A priceless little event. A moment she'll never forget.

During a winter storm we had about 23 years ago, the creek flooded and ice a foot thick was left on the lane coming in from route 94. The township had to spend the whole day with backhoes clearing the lane of mountains of ice. Frozen in the ice were Sunfish. I have pictures of 12' slabs of ice standing beside the road, and showing through the ice are these perfectly preserved 'Sunnies' as we call them. Buried treasures. Another time in the spring, our yellow transparent apple tree was lush with fruit. A mother raccoon had her 4 babies up in the tree eating apples. They ate so many that they fell asleep on the branches and were oblivious to at least 6 people under the tree looking at them.

Life is good. You have to keep your eyes open though or you'll miss some of the finer things. Across the road in our woods long about April there is a transformation that takes place. The whole forest floor is carpeted with the most heavenly blue you have ever seen. If you lay down among them you become disoriented. You feel as if you were floating somewhere between heaven and earth on a fragrant blue plane known only to you. Virginia Bluebells. There was never a human gardener who planted them. No frazzled housewife who wanted to brighten her corner of the earth and then complained about the weeds. God spread them all along this valley, and it's up to YOU to take the time to find them. He spreads His treasures at our feet all around us and waits. I know I see a lot of things, but oh the things I miss. Imagine the beautiful, magical things in the world we don't see, but they are there all the time waiting. My prayer is that we don't get so wrapped up in all the useless everyday things in life that we miss the first Robin of Spring or overlook a Box Turtle coming out of the soft mud after sleeping there all winter. There are treasures in this world, and you don't need piles of money to have them. All you need is curiosity and a will to smell the earth's breath. Sniff my dear's, sniff while your sniffer is still working!!!!!

Yesterday

2005-02-28T22:14:00.000-05:00

I was thinking about my childhood recently, well I do it a lot actually. My
first memory to be exact. We had just moved to the farm of my childhood. It
lay at the end of a long lane that wound around the barn, behind the house
and sort of petered out at the back tobacco shed where it turned into a path
to access the fields on the east side of the farm. In front of the tobacco
shed it turned into a sandy oasis. It was shaded by huge apple trees from
the orchard on the other side of the fence. This is where my brothers, 10
and 12 years older than me were found playing with------the mill!!! They had
a vast array of little trucks, wagons and tractors working at 'the mill'.
Mom had made them bunches of tiny muslin feed bags filled with sand to haul
around on these entrancing vehicles. I remember standing in the tall grass
along the lane, yearning to join in the fun. I was 3 1/2 yrs. old and far to
young to drive. I crouched there trying to imagine what it would be like to
make the put-put sound of those machines. How would it feel to load them and
haul them to 'the mill' where they were unloaded carefully and stacked
neatly for the farmers. My fat little fingers were locked together to keep
me from exploding from my hiding place. Rod and Terry were very serious
millers. They took care of their machinery. 3 yr. olds were strictly
forbidden from entering the work area.

Just then I heard a REAL truck approaching the barn. My brothers took off
like lightening to see the new tractor (our first) being unloaded. Now was
my chance. I darted out of the grass, looking to be sure the millers were
still in the distance. Oh heaven!!!! Down in the sand I lay. I carefully
touched the little bags of grain. I gently pushed the little tractors,
making tracks in the sand. Put-put-put. The trucks started a wiggly drive to
the mill. Every few seconds I'd check over my shoulder, looking for the
boys. They were too busy with a REAL tractor to bother with these little
imitations. How long I played I don't know. All I know was it was bliss. I
had many more blissful hours, days and years on that farm. For some reason
my mother had no sense of danger about her children. She swore she knew
exactly what we were doing all the time, but I KNOW she didn't know most of
the things I was doing. She was too busy keeping us in cakes, cookies and
wonderful meals to see me slide the top off the well in the back pasture and
stir it with a stick. As a 5 yr. old, I was given a large horse by my uncle.
I rode him miles a day. She never even questioned where I had been. Had she
known I had found farm sales to attend? Sitting on the high perch of my
horses back I could see every thing that was going on. Old men gave me
barbeque sandwiches made by the church women and sold at sales. I didn't
know them from Adam till then. Now we were fast friends. One bought me a
pair of civil war spurs. What a treasure they were. I didn't know the
monetary value, but they are in my living room today.

Mom didn't know that I rode my horse to all the tobacco shops in the little
towns sprinkled around our neighborhood. These were usually in the back of
the only street in town. Long, narrow white buildings with yawning doors. In
the darkness men and women sat at long tables making countless cigars and
packing them in wonderful wooden boxes that I craved. You see I had
treasures to hold. I needed such boxes to hold them. I amassed quite a stack
of them and filled them all. None survive. What became of them I will never
know. Mom swore she never threw them out. I KNOW I never did. These sweet,
hard working people took the time to talk to a child. To answer endless
questions and to watch out for me. A glass of cool water, a bologna sandwich
on homemade bread, taffy for the journey home. Thank God for my freedom as a
child. I have endless stories to tell, memories to keep me smiling till I go
to the home. Some time I'll tell you about the cattle roundup I went on and
chased the neighbors cows almost to the river. Whew!!! It's a wonder I am
still here to tell about it. All because of 'Covered Wagon Theater" on the
new TV thingy we got. Don't tell ME TV doesn't influence children!!!

A September Story in February

2005-02-26T20:49:00.001-05:00

He said so long and he was gone,
his visit it was short,
but should he come around again,
I hope it's to our port! P.

We had a most delightful visitor this week. I looked out the kitchen window and spied him with my own little eyes in his handsome dark green suit. His yellow spots behind his head set off the slender neck and accented his inquisitive black eyes. He arrived at the pond on Tuesday and appeared to be having a delightful time, at least I thought he was. Looking back on it now, he may have been making frantic attempts to escape instead of diving and covering the width of the pond in seconds out of pure joy. Perhaps the arms extended out of the water towards the kitchen window were pleas for help instead of friendly waves!!! When it comes to turtle talk I was way behind my class, getting very low grades indeed.

Funny thing about turtles. They never say much. Don't complain or disrupt your dinner. Never ask for their favorite desserts to be delivered at any certain time. Looking back on it, all he ever did was paddle around with his neck out of the water and sun himself on the flat rock in the pond. Long about Friday I thought, the poor soggy bugger has no way OUT of that pond. The sheer drop of about 8 inches pretty much cancels any attempt he may make to exit said safe haven. Hmm! It was about this time I decided I had a Bog Turtle in my moat. I know it is! I get really excited and decide to share my joy with the Game Commission who knows about these things and rejoices when one is found, or so I had it pictured in my tiny little mind. Well folks, they have let me down again. After talking to three different departments about my new friend, including a secretary who admitted she knows nothing, she just does her job, they have a man in the Boating department, yes it's truly true, contact me. Yes, I know he will be able to help me. Sure enough he said that it isn't a Bog Turtle. They have red strawberry patches behind their heads, not yellow like my dark eyed travelers. Well then, said I, you had better rush right into your website and change the description. Some fool, maybe the secretary, says that they have yellow OR red spots. Your secretary admits to knowing nothing, but surely YOU are right. I asked how much experience he has had in identifying Bog Turtles in the field, to which he responded that there are only 35 known sites in the state which HAVE any Bog Turtles.

Friends and democrats, this is where I tend to lose patience with people in charge of things important to me. I live along the Conewago Creek in a flood plane. I pay flood insurance to live here. That's fine. It's my choice to be periodically threatened by high water rather than be surrounded by people who can see me picking my nose in my living room and have front yards filled with every toy ever made out of petroleum by products.

In front of our house in the woods you could grow rice for 4 months of the year. Why WOULDN'T a Bog Turtle set up housekeeping on my farm??? I think perhaps we have our quota of endangered species in Pa. and our Game Commission is embarrassed to admit that we aren't taking very good care of our wildlife. Surely that's it. In any case, I decided to build a stone ramp so he could get out whenever he chose to. Well, bless his little turtle heart, he chose to get out and run........yes run as fast as he could into the woods. He is gone and he never looked back. Maybe it was all the talk of soup he heard coming out of the kitchen window. Or maybe he is telling the other 35 Bog Turtles that there is a most wonderful pond where a little, height to weight challenged tea lady lives. It will probably be an end to their journey like in Watership Down! Soon I will see them coming down the road. Hand in hand, ten abreast, smiling their little turtle smiles and cheering noisily

"Hurrah for Prudence's most wonderful Tea Room!!! Come ye fellow Bog Turtles! Come and find safe haven in the little pond behind the house where good food, delicious hot tea and the best scones around are made fresh 3 days a week!"

Now you'll have to be careful when you come for tea................ Watch the road for turtles heading towards Prudence's along with all the customers!

Waiting for Snow

2005-02-26T15:57:00.000-05:00

Another snow storm has been forecast for Monday in our neck of the woods. Living in the country, I find it so amusing watching people react to the weathermans words 'more snow on Monday'. Driving down any road, 3/4 of the vehicles are RV's with 4 wheel drive, yet the grocery stores aisles are jammed with people piling milk, bread and popcorn into their carts in case they get snowed in. They could save untold thousands of dollars on those cars if they ever thought about how ridiculous this behavior is. In south-central Pa. the longest I have been snowed in my whole life is 24 hours. The roads are always cleared and usable in 12 hours maximum, but fear of starvation runs deep in the Pa. Dutch heart. What if we couldn't get to the store? All of America is on a diet, but let it call for snow and they are all in survivor mode. It makes me laugh just thinking about it. I see women in jogging suits and men in sweats, ultimate atheletes, panicking about a dozen eggs and butter. Things they think will kill them on a sunny day. Snow cancels out cholesteral! Wouldn't it be great if all you had to do was change climates to clear up hardening of the arteries. A trip to Vermont would help unclog your heart!