Mindy's Blog

I must say, I am not one who has much trouble making decisions. 

I think during this past week I've decided that (no pun intended) regardless if the decision turns out to be good or bad, the joy of committing to a thing is worth the risk of being wrong. 

This is not to say that one should not seriously consider the consequences, to the contrary, it's the ability to intelligently weigh the consequences that makes the decision possible.  When it's a bad decision, you take responsiblity for it, you suck it up and learn what you can from it and move on.  On the other hand, there are few things more satisfying than taking a risk and having it turn out to be a blessing. 

 The losses must be tabulated- but only on paper.  

 Not in stone.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

I have to say that life is just so much better when you are awakened in the morning by the faintest first light of day instead of an alarm clock and the thoughts in your mind are those that are so inspiring that you bounce out of a warm bed, into the chilly air with little envy for those still sleeping.

I quickly dressed in my ratty farm clothes and measured the coffee grounds, poured the water and flipped the switch.  I pulled on my rubber boots and big coat and stepped out into the frosty morning.  The old mare nickered as I poured the sweet grain into her bucket and pulled curly dock from her mane.  I put my face in close to her neck and breathe deep.  I do love the smell of horse.

The dogs show little interest in going any further than the barn on this dark and cold morning so we head back inside and I stop to pick up a few twigs on the way so that I can hopefully coax those remaining hot coals in the fireplace to start up again without chopping some rich pine.

I open the door and smell the hot coffee and hear the sound of the morning news coming from the television.  The man in the suit is talking about such things as consumer sentiment, insurgents in foreign lands, the latest election polls, and why you should never eat gluten.  I shove my gluten laden bread into the toaster and then lean on the countertop to look out the window at the finches in the feeder.   

I don't intentionally mean to be disconnected from what's going on in the world.

Oh, that's a lie.  Yes, I do.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

I've got my new 2012 Farmers State Bank Day Planner, my new calendars, new files for the file cabinet, a fresh yellow stack of legal pads, steno pads, and two new sketch pads-one large, one regular (because you just never know) and a dozen new multicolored pens and pencils.  I have already made notes in the planner and circled dates on the calendar, all in pencil because I like to change my mind.  The new year is here and I'm ready for it.  On paper, anyway.

I've bit the bullet and had my after Christmas weigh in and I survied the humiliation and filled the kitchen with my favorite things like fresh fruit, chicken, and lots of Greek yogurt.  It's time for endless glasses of lemon water, hot green tea and getting the dust off the treadmill.  If I have a new year tradition, this is it.  You'd really think I'd be a lot better at it by now.

I opened the big closet and brought out my favorite white china bowl and filled it with oranges and placed them along side colored glass bottles and glass vases in pretty ocean blues.  My favorite chair by the fire now sports a heavy cotton slipcover and navy blue throw.  Beside it is my new stack of books with topics ranging from healthy cooking to bloody murder to the wonders of the sub atomic world.  This is where I hope to be on those dark and rain filled days and I hope there are plenty of them before spring.

I think I'm pretty well set for the first few months of the new year and the worst of what winter will have to offer us.  I'm looking forward to cold and cozy nights with dreams of a beautiful spring.  I have no idea what the year will bring and I don't plan on trying to figure it out too much because the not knowing is the really fun part of living.

At least that's the way I like to think of it.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

Here we are again.  The crisp short days of January which will pass so quickly and what color remains in the tree tops and fields will soon revert to mellow browns and grays.  My perennial bed is full of broken shrubs and clumps of dead foliage.  With the sunshine at my back, I decided today was a good day to start pulling out the rubble.  I make a quick count of lost camellias.  I consider giving one of the beds back to the lawn. 

Will the drought be over and the summer give us back our roses, lillies, and lush grasses?  The mailbox is filled with seed catalogs and gardening magazines and one could make big plans and prepare...if only one knew. 

I think the world of gardners is made up mostly of "horses" and "dogs".  Horses have an excellent memory for anything painful.  If they get hurt once, they won't forget it and will forever hold you responsible.   Dogs have an excellent memory for anything enjoyable and seem to forgive and forget anything hurtful almost instantly in favor of living with hope.

No doubt, I'm a dog.  I honestly thought I was going to be a horse back in August, but getting my hands down in that moist cool dirt today was enough to get me barking again.

Certainly, the drought was a killer but if I don't at least try, I could possibly miss out on some of the most beautiful creations on earth.  If you question this, I ask you to go out and look at your daffodils.  Mine are starting to bloom and now, as with each and every January I ask myself  "why, oh why didn't I plant more?"

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

The first day of winter has arrived and the next two months will be that delicious time of year when I take refuge by a burning fire with a steaming cup of tea, a big down blanket, merino wool socks, and that book that I've been saving.  The sparkle and  music of the Holidays has passed and life comes to a comfortable crawl.

I love this season.  There is plenty of time to think and plan.  The cold and damp can be felt in your bones and oddly this gives a certain comfort.  The best entertainment is the comings and goings of chickadees and titmouse from the feeder outside the kitchen window and the frequent raids by one of the gray or fox squirrels.

I decide I've had enough time inside and I put on my orange paisley rubber boots and head out to the bottom field with the dogs and my hat.  The drizzle is fabulous and is just enough to get you wet but for retrievers like Cooper, this is the weather that dreams are made of!  We both love the mud puddles and we splash through each one and look up into the falling spray and are thankful for the rain.

I really do love the cold, gray, damp days of winter.  They have their own special beauty and on days like this you notice the most beautiful things that otherwise escape your attention.  The perfection of the acorns cap.  The bark of the white oak.  The ultimate perfection of pine needles dripping rain water.

Not everyone is blessed with winter.  That's really too bad.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

This week more people will be smiling.

They'll be lined up at the local Walmart with wonderful things like a furry snowman squeaky toy, Pumpkin-Eggnog-Gingerbread-Cookie coffee creamer, thickly iced sugar cookies with red and green sprinkles, sixteen pounds of pork in the way of bacon and sausage, pecans, sugar, powdered sugar, pounds of real butter, and at least a dozen packages of cream cheese because you know there isn't a single Christmas recipe that doesn't call for cream cheese. 

This week, more people will be happy.

It's cleaning out the refrigerator to make room for all the feast fixin's and giving your husband a spoon and the last of the Blue Bell and telling him to eat it because unless he does, there's no room in the freezer for all of the frozen fruit juice (for making punch and margaritas).  It'll be hard to find a parking spot at the Bottom of the Hill because of everyone needing lots of ice and perhaps a few adult beverages and telling your husband to get extra Spumonte because Aunt Moo is in a much better humor once she's had a few.

This week, more people will be kind.

They'll prepare meals for those who don't have family, they'll give a gift to one who has very little, they'll make sure a bill is paid, a blanket is provided, medicine is available, and food is delivered.  They'll say something nice to your parent, your child, your friend, your dog and you'll appreciate it and be grateful to be surrounded by such kindness.  You'll be thankful that you live in East Texas where Christmas is seldom white, instead it has that special warmth that makes it home.

Or is it because the old folks just keep the heat up so high?

Merry Christmas.

 Oh well, back to work.  ~Mindy

I've closed up the shop, wrapped my scarf twice around my neck and nestled a full mug into the cup holder as I rub my hands together and wait for the engine to warm.  It's after dark now and all of Shelbyville is quiet and softly aglow with the lights of Christmas.

The heat starts to arrive through the floor vents and I smile, remembering the day, the people, the whole wonderful silly season.  Oh my, but doesn't the bank look pretty all in red bows and white lights.  I sit slurp down some hot coffee as I await for the truck to pass and I get a friendly honk from someone I must know.

I drive much slower at night because I'm leery of the deer who like to graze on the roadways this time of year and there is seldom an evening that I don't see at least one on this trip.  I turn up the stereo and shake my head at that big dusty orange moon and the trailing clouds and that comforting feeling of being very small and insignificant.

Another stop sign, a few more miles and I turn into my driveway and see the wood blinds are still open and Cooper is waiting at the window, looking for me.  I see her jump up and grab up her toy so that she can meet me at the back door.  I slip my truck into park, kill the engine and finish singing "Christmas Waltz" without Frank and sadly out of tune.  Just as I gather my things the back porch light comes on and I hear the barking of dogs.

It's good to be home.

Merry Christmas.  ~Mindy

I remember, as a child, visiting my Great Grandmother Green a few weeks before Christmas when she conveyed her hopes that I should receive "some fruit, and hopefully even some oranges" as a gift from Santa.  I was a bit horrified at the thought of getting fruit for Christmas!  Had I really been that bad?  It was explained to me that in Mommies day, receiving fruit was one of the grandest and most extravagant gifts one could receive.  As a kid, I still didn't really understand.  I would pass up an orange for a Hershey Bar any time.

Christmas past is best remembered for the little things.  You don't so much remember the trees and gifts, in fact as we get older most of the details get muddled but what you will always remember is the way Christmas made you feel. 

For me it's best summed up from a child's view beneath the Christmas pine, cut from the field behind the barn, loaded with multi colored lights and splaying a kaleidoscope upon the sheetrock ceiling.  Wrapped closely in a Pooh sleeping bag and feeling warm inside from hot chocolate and marshmallows, with a contented heart and mind, free to dream.  I knew I wouldn't get all that I wished for, but I knew that anything was possible.
 
This, in itself, is a pretty great gift.

Merry Christmas.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

When I was a kid we had this big, old console television set that stood in the corner of the living room on pointed legs made of wood.  It had fabric covered speakers on either side of the picture tube with an on/off knob and a missing dial where only a semi-circular prong remained.  We kept a pair of pliers on the top in case we had to turn the channel but since we were hardly ever able to pick up more than ABC, these rarely got used. Sometimes we could see a picture, sometimes we could hear the audio and sometimes we could even do both.

The Christmas specials were almost my favorite part of Christmas.  They would usually come on at 7:00 on a Tuesday night and it's something Mark and I would look forward to for weeks.  It was a very special night!  We would get our baths early and Mom would make us supper and let us each have a Coke and eat in front of the television in our pajamas on those metal fold up TV trays. (Remember those?)  Later we'd be laying on the gold carpeting, just inches away from the screen with our chins in the palms of our hands and our feet in the air. 

I know that today everything is available on demand.  Waiting for a 50 year old rerun must seem a bit lame.  All I can say is that one of the finest joys in life is having something wonderful to look forward to.  Like Christmas itself.

I, for one, will have my hot chocolate and Christmas cookies ready when "Rudolph" comes on again this season.  I'll have all my chores done early and be nestled in my pajamas and fuzzy slippers. 

Don't call.  I won't answer the phone.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

"Happy Holidays!"
Lately, it seems that to some folks, this greeting is some sort of code used by heathens across the world to stick it to the Christians on Christmas. 

Really?  Is this what we're down to?  Fussing over a greeting?  I just can't find it in me to be angry with anyone who wishes me Happy Holidays. 

This is the time of year when I really try to extend that short fuse of mine.  It's the time of year to do good things for yourself, your family, your friends,  those you've never met and those you never will. 

It's another reminder to count your blessings and appreciate how small your own problems truly are.  To indulge yourself in treats like Mrs. Betty's fudge, Joann's fruitcake, and Grandmothers chicken and dressing because one day they won't be there and you will miss it.

In my opinion, how you greet people isn't a measure of your faith. 
How you treat people is. 

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

The November sun was well up in the eastern sky and it's weakened rays poured in from the south.  It was around about ten or eleven o'clock in the morning, and this was the day and time to stop and look.

The maples with their brilliant golden yellow leaves laughed in defiance of the harshest summer on record.  Had I ever seen the hickory and elm and sumac more fabulous?  Why, just when I thought the gum trees were outshining the post oak I had my eyes put out by the glorious Virginia creeper and poison ivy billowing burgundy and gold trappings on the trunks of the stately pines.  The auburn leaves on the muscadine vines were like floating polka dots running accross the youpon tops in the shade of the white oaks.

The gnarly little ironwoods with their tiny sawtooth leaves were glowing orange and amber against the feathery white blooms of the cypress myrtle in the roadside ditches.  The short grass pastures adorned with colonies of school-bus-yellow bitterweed flaunted the new, fine hairs of the greenest rye and winter grasses.

The fence rows along the roadways were covered with the loathsome tallow but all was suddenly forgiven with their spectacular show of colors that ran the entire spectrum from red to green.

A fine fall breeze has been busy the last few days scattering this beauty in delicate masses along the forest floor, roadside ditches, back porches and the dry creeks.  Nothing lasts forever no matter how delightful it may be. 

 Again we accept that everything is temporary.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

Due to circumstances of my own making, I have not been outside at all for the last 10 days so this morning, the dogs and I coudn't wait to romp.

I got up and took out the back door with 5 dogs at my heels and the western sky in my sights.  I saw the little deer that has taken up with Maggie hiding behind the barn as I gave the old mare her breakfast.  I knew in a few minutes the fawn would be at the feeder to pick up the leavings of oats and pellets covered with molasses. 

We passed what remained of the pond being little more than a ditch now, so dry that the Man took the tractor to it and made it a bit deeper and wider in anticipation of the coming rainy season.  I stopped and noticed the tracks at the edge of the small puddle of water and looked around cautiously for hogs and coyotes.

The dogs were already well on their way to the back woods as I took time to re-tie my shoe.  The field was glossy and green with the swaying shoots of sparkling ryegrass amid the short bahia, the morning sunshine giving it a special glow.  Not many birds out this morning, even the crow was suspiciously absent.  All I could hear was the distant scream of a Coopers hawk, a couple of fussing squirrels and a distant gunshot.

I decided not to go into the woods as I'm a bit leery lately of the falling oak limbs not to mention the fact that I don't trust some of the wandering deer hunters on neighboring lands to keep to their boundaries.  We toured the fields and sat a while on the downed tree in the back corner of the hayfield.  The dogs were trekking the dry creek and I sat alone and picked at the bark and breathed the sweet air of November and once again decided I was just about the luckiest person on earth.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

Good and Tired.
Perhaps one of the greatest feelings in the world. 

The day is done and my forehead is tender having been mopped a dozen times by a gritty forearm, sleeve and shirt tail.  I smell like a goat and have the patience of a rattlesnake.  As I open the back door and frown at the unswept floor I am greeted in a manner more grand and deserving than that of the Queen herself by 5 joyous quadrupeds and my demeanor instantly begins to improve.

The humble supper of peas and buttered cornbread settled a roaring stomach and the warm and fragrant suds did as much to soothe my mind as my feet.

I flip on the television and nestle back on the pillows in my favorite baby soft pajamas and make room for a snuggling dachshund.  I am mostly aware of the muscles in my shoulders but they do not ache, they are simply still awake from the days chores and I love the fact that I can feel every ligament and bit of sinew.

As I await the late night news I drink my tea and slide my bare feet back and forth on the crisp cotton and debate getting into the Man's stash of Nutter Butters.  Tomorrow will be a bit more of the same, only different.

I finished the tea and decide against the Nutter Butters and head to the pantry for my favorite Cabernet.  On the way I stop and prepare the coffee pot for the morning brew and smile at the thought of another blessed day.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

Reprint from October 26, 2009

I have a special fondness for Halloween.  These days it's been tagged as a demonic and evil day and so many people go out of their way not to celebrate this holiday and in fact to make sure that other people feel guilty and immoral for doing so.
 
I think that is a crying shame.

Not so very long ago when I was a kid growing up in Shelbyville, Halloween was the most fun that a country kid could have, with the sole exception being Christmas morning.

It would start with a trip to the Center square and Perry Brothers to pick out a costume which was a transformational cheap scrap of material accompanied by a plastic mask with a flimsy elastic band and two too small eye holes. But it was AWESOME!

About half an hour before dusk, Mom would drop us off in Shelbyville and Mark and I would trot happily from house to house collecting candy in our paper grocery sacks. We always got so irritated when the "old ladies" wanted us to take our masks off so they could see "Lera & Elmo's Grand kids". Didn't they know we were incognito? Didn't they know that was the fun of Halloween? Being a princess or ballet dancer for just one evening? Being a super hero or gruesome monster instead of just a clumsy kid? 

I have to mention this one house in Shelbyville. A small red clay brick home on a back dirt road that always used the honor system on Halloween. I'm not sure if the occupants weren't home, were physically unable to come to the door or simply didn't want to be bothered with polyester Elvis's or what, but they'd always put small individual sacks of candy with a sign that said, "please take one". And we would. Take One. One year I remember it was a big bowl of pennies and we were encouraged to "take one handful." Today, I would so love to be able to thank those people for this memory.

Mark and I would pillage from the towns folk until we'd made all of the front porches with lights on and then we'd kick our masks back on top of our heads and walk about a mile down Highway 87 to Grandmothers house to check out the loot!

It was fun. It was great. I'm sorry that so many children will never be able to experience the true spirit that is Halloween.

They say that the times have changed since then.

"Things do not change; we change"
-Henry David Thoreau 1817-1862

Ah well, back to work. Come when you can. -Mindy

I admire genius.
Those who are celebrated, misunderstood, admired, and even ridiculed because their mind works in such extraordinary ways that most people cannot comprehend it.  Those who have the capacity to envision what could be from what is, even if it is something unseen, unthought, and still unproven.

When I think of brilliance, I see Einstein, Curie, Bohr, Planck, Bonaparte, Michelangelo, Van Gogh, DaVinci, Freud, Plato, Aristotle, Shakespeare, Beethoven, Galileo, Darwin and Newton - just to start. 

These people weren't born from riches and given every indulgence although many had the advantage of an expensive education.  Many struggled greatly with physical anomalies and handicaps and others suffered for their sanity.  They weren't given every convenience and luxury and many had downright awful families and sad and tortured lives.  Yet true brilliance seems to thrive in the heart as well as the mind.

There was one who recently passed.  He was the adopted son of a used car salesman.  He had the brilliance to anticipate the wants and needs of the future.  To realize what would make people happy.  He knew that by making life more enjoyable, people would rush to buy his "better mousetrap".  So he kept making strange and wonderful things that at one time, not so long ago, would have been unperceivable, silly, useless to the masses.

I will miss him.  Somehow, you just feel better having such people around.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

A few years back we had a drought.  It turned many of the oaks and elms prematurely brown and yellow.  The grass was short and the powder deep.  Deer crept in close to houses fearing hungry coyotes, the muscadine failed to fruit and hung sad dog along with the beauty berry and remaining forest under story.

Along came a little storm named Rita.  The winds were strong but because the ground was harder than concrete the trees could not be uprooted.  Because the creeks and drains were dry the 10 inches of rain turned into a blessing rather than a flood.  The rain gave back life to the forest and fields and I learned yet again, not to question nature. 

I crossed Tenaha creek bridge yesterday and stopped briefly to look at the lake bottom.  On grounds where normally there was a dozen feet or more of water now boasted a thick covering of weed and scrub.  Not merely a bit of grass here and there but sapling trees and thick stands of broom sedge, rosinweed, and cypress myrtle.

There were no boats.  No old men with white buckets and cane poles.  No cranes and kingfishers, no carp or crawfish, no mallards or coots.  Just a vast, undulating terrain filled with promise for the future.  For when the rain comes and the hollows are filled, the fish will return with the nutria, the cormorant and the dragonflies and the unsightly brush and nuisance weed will then be an underwater paradise the likes of which have not been seen for years.

Nature works on her own time. 
Just because we don't like it or understand it really makes no difference.  We simply must accept it.

Nature is not for sissies.  

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

Saturday I found myself obsessed with finding the perfect oatmeal cookie recipe.  I haven't even thought about oatmeal cookies since Christmas and all of a sudden- thwack!  I need oatmeal cookies baking in my oven.  There is just something about the coming of fall, the early days of October and the cool mornings that makes me want to get into the kitchen and become friends with my mixer and bake ware once again.

I found myself walking through Walmart the other day and somehow making three passes by the candy corn bin.  Each pass produced another pound of candy corn in my cart.  I bought canned pumpkin and pecans...just because I might need them.  Ooh, and there's the Eagle Brand milk, chocolate chips, powdered and brown sugars, real butter, buttermilk and eggs that might also be necessary. 

Honestly, fall wouldn't be quite so enjoyable if it weren't for the warm scents of nutmeg and cinnamon coming from the kitchen and being able to offer a few friends a homemade cookie after lunch.  And fall would be a lot less fun if there were no cupcakes topped with candy corn and sugar pumpkins?

I'm still looking for that special oatmeal cookie recipe.  I might have to make batch after batch to find that one certain recipe that puts all other oatmeal cookies to shame, but I've got patience.  Even if I have to eat hundreds of cookies, I will see this mission through. 

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

I've always said that dogs are the poster children for living in the present.  They are unconcerned with what happened yesterday and they have little interest in what will be happening in an hour, much less tomorrow.  Dogs are all about right now. 

While I love to make plans and have a pretty good track on where I'm going not only in the next few hours but next few years, I do think that the dogs might just hold the secret to living happy.

Sure we have a drought going on, there is a lot of fear about the economy, what will Congress do?  The DOW?  Israel and Palestine?  Lady GaGa?

Regardless as to what is being said on the news, Cooper is always ready to play some ball or go for a romp and she's never too upset to share some ice cream or take a nap. 

We walked down in the field today and admired the trumpet vines blooming fearlessly on the fence rows and brush tops.  The wind was blowing the leaves through the woods and the air was sweet with the smell of tea olive and cut grass.  The jays were busy cracking acorns and the dead oak was beautifully adorned with sunning buzzards stretching their wings toward the south.  The field was still green from the last bit of rain and the warm breeze set the Bermuda tops waving gracefully in the sunwaves where the gnats hovered in mass.

I wish more people had a good dog.  They have a wonderful way of putting life back into the day.

Cats can do this too, only they won't.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

For me, football is synonymous with comfort.

It's that sound.  Turn on the game and the house is filled with that incredible sound.  It's unlike anything else and it makes me feel warm and cozy.  It brings to mind that old cypress plank house, parched peanuts, low murmurings from my Dad and Grandfather, heat from a wood stove and Sunday dinner.  Laying on the floor with your chin in your hands and listening to the folks talk of who died, the price of gas, the hay field, and plans for the holidays.

The Dallas Cowboys and the Green's were like family.  We've personally struggled through each of the Cowboys quarterbacks, were stunned with the firing of Landry, delighted over Emmit and Moose and Troy, confused at the hiring's and firings of coaches, and disgusted with the addition of Owens and each little drama that makes the Cowboys the Cowboys.  In each case, just like family, we've always remained loyal.

Today when I turn on the game, there is a feeling that comes over me as I hear that sound!  The noise behind the announcers, shrill whistles from officials, cheering fans in the background, bits of music, thumping feet,  and muffled voice of the loud speaker.  I suppose it's a feeling of being completely grounded.  Completely at home.  Solid. 

Now, if we can just get through the fourth quarter with Romo.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

September is a transitional month.  We have already started a delicious cool down in temperature, the sunrise isn't seen until nearly 7 am and the evening sets on us earlier and earlier.  These days the idea of chicken casserole and biscuits sounds better than burgers and fries and there is more time to sit down and enjoy it with the family than it was only a couple of weeks ago.

I find that I'm drawn to doing such things as cleaning the ceiling fan blades, flipping through my cookbooks, burning spicy candles, and stocking the pantry with broth, dry beans, canned tomatoes and oatmeal.

I've abandoned the nightly faux tan applications and leg shaving and welcomed back my jeans.  I'm seriously thinking of donating every piece of summer clothing in the closet and just starting new next year.  I've always been a bit fashion challenged for spring and summer but I dearly love fall and winter because of the turtlenecks, sweaters, jackets, and button downs.

In another week or so it should be time for the glorious fall mums and pumpkins to make their way onto our porches and replace the depressing remnants of summer flowers that really just never had a chance against the brutal heat of this past summer.

Perhaps September will be the month that brings us days of cold rain, dark skies, and perhaps, just maybe we will all be content to simply carry our umbrella, make soup, and be content with our good fortune.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy