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Thank you for stopping in! Please check weekly for new posts. Who knows... YOU might even show up in a new story! 

I sincerely hope you enjoy my stories!  Happy Reading!! *
11/12/2010..Added a new "box" to click after reading each story.  Thanks!





*Dates are not always accurate, because I move stories around occasionally.
*The number of checks in the boxes don't always represent the number of readers.  For some reason, when I make changes to the blog, I lose some.

ADAM'S APPLES

When daddy looked for a good horse, or a good hunting dog, he looked for the right markings.  You don't get to do that with kids.  You get what you get.  I remember my cousin Emma was born with a big black birthmark in the shape of a boot on her left cheek.  (I saw it one Saturday night when we took a bath in the # 3 washtub, and she stood up and turned around).  Cousin Harvey had a peanut on his shoulder which was brown, and he charged a penny for a look.  Now, if you do happen to be born with a birthmark; you only get one, that's the rule.  That was not the case with my friend Adam, who broke that rule for sure.  Adam entered this world with perfectly shaped tiny red apples stamped all over his newborn body.   He was utterly besplattered with them from head to toe.  Some said it was because he was born in a hot air balloon, and it just wasn't natural to get "borned" that high up.  Others said his mama worked the apple orchard too close to birthin' time, but I think his folks ate too many apples, and that's that.  I say it's a darn good thing they weren't raising rutabagas, 'cause Adam wouldn't of come out looking nearly so good.  All the girls thought he was cute, and the boys thought he was bewitched, so he got along fine at school.   Whether Adam liked it or not, he was still somewhat of a sideshow.  Folks who met the boy for the first time would ask him about his apple marks, and he would just laugh and say he guessed he must have been baptized in apple juice.  He was real good natured about it, and that added to his charm.   Oh, he was a charmer, that Adam.  His Maw and Paw never turned anybody away who came to the house to have a look at their boy.  Turned out it was real good for business.  They sold more apples after Adam was born than they could have ever dreamed or imagined.  Eventually, a fella from the city was hired to come out and take a picture of Adam.  Next thing you know, the photographer got rich off of the photo, and went back to the farm.  He put up the money for Adam's folks to build a big two story house, and some good size woodstove sheds.  The family sold apples, apple pie, apple cobbler, applesauce, apple dumplings, apple butter, apple fried pies, apple fritters, apple cake, apple seeds, and apple trees.  With help from the photographer, they also got labels printed with Adam's speckled face on it, and the words, "Adam's Apples" in big red letters.  Of course, like everybody does, Adam grew up and got married.  Two years later he had a son, born with one birthmark. It was always told that the baby was born with an apple in his hand.

DUCKS IN THE FAMILY BIBLE

In every family there's some relatives, which have  gotten misplaced.  These are not the ones who got shot, run off, or put away, because likely as not, they'll show up right before you die.  Sometimes though, you just don't know all your kin folks.  For instance, for most of my life I thought I had three missing cousins named Caladonia, Pocahontas, and Phidelia.  I remember clearly the day that I "found out" about them.  It was after the first snowfall the year I turned twelve, and our family was loaded in the sleigh headed for "yonder field".  We were off to visit Aunt Etta and Uncle Junius again, but daddy never said that;  just always said, "We're going to yonder field".  When we got there, Aunt Etta had set us a big table!  We loved her cooking, well, all except for the gravy.  You could stand a wooden spoon right straight up in the middle of it.  Mama stopped daddy from hanging his hat on it once, and dared us not to let on to Aunt Etta.  Right over beside the old sideboard there was a small table with a crocheted doily and a great big family Bible.  I was particularly curious that day, and the grown ups weren't looking, so I sneeked a peek.  Aunt Etta had carefully recorded pages of births, deaths, marriages, and baptisms.  I found locks of hair and dried flowers in the Old Testament.  When I got big enough to tell mama that I  handled Aunt Etta's Bible after the gravy, I asked how come I never got to meet my cousins; Caladonia, Pocahontas, or Phidelia.  I can't even describe what mama did right then;  it was like she was delightfully insane, laughing hysterically for several minutes.  Come to find out, the three "cousins", were three DUCKS!  See, Aunt Etta was real partial to ducks, and only wanted to raise them for pets.  Uncle Junius had other plans.  The first time he decided to have one for dinner, Aunt Etta cooked it, but she grieved herself to tears.  After, she went over to the family Bible and wrote the duck's name down, hoping that Uncle Junius would take notice.   That first one was Caladonia, then next time was Pocahontas, and last was Phidelia.  Since there weren't any more entries,  I guessed that she got over it, but mama said that Uncle Junius figured if Aunt Etta was going to fill the Bible up with ducks, it just wasn't worth it, so he swore off!  They never ate duck again.  I was real disappointed after all those years to find out I never did have three more cousins.  I had the same feeling the day I found out I got born.  Mama didn't really find me in the bottom of a flour sack...and daddy really didn't have to wait for hot biscuits before she told him.

" HANK'S HILL"

Hank packed up and moved to "Calvey's Corner" right in the middle of a long dry dusty summer.  Folks sure were having a hard time having a good time back then.  The old "Boston Mill" was barely running, and there weren't any peas up on "Peace Ridge".  Water wells were drying and whole fields of crops dying.  The sun felt like it was somehow closer to the earth, but Hank was a brick maker and the sun to him was a willing and friendly "baker".  
With so many farmers out of work, Hank soon had plenty help, and built his house on top of a hill.  That's when things began to change for folks in  Calvey's Corner.  Once his field was plowed, he began to sow seeds in the dry ground.  After all, a man has to eat, so he just went on and did it.  Hank said there was enough water in the ground.  There surely was not any water, but Hank believed it, and his seeds began to sprout.  Word got around, and everybody from town came to see.  Soon families started camping on the hill, sharing what little they had, and waiting for the crop.  At night Hank would sit on his porch and whistle.  He would always wait until the crickets began to chirp and the whippoorwills were calling. His melodies seemed to get caught up in an unseen breeze and carried throughout the countryside.  When he whistled the old hymn, "He Hideth My Soul", trees would sway as if the wind was stirring.  Hank would stop and say, "Listen, do you hear the trees singing?  They're praising God."  It made him chuckle when the children's eyes got real big, and they cleaned out their ears so as to hear.  The moon was so bright at the top of that hill, and folks got to talking about how beautiful it was up there.  Day after day more people would come, and with them, more supplies.  Cabins began cropping up all over the hill, and more fields planted in the parched earth.  Water was too scarce to use on the fields, but somehow there was enough for drinking, and even a little washing.  Hank started making bricks again, and even the old folks gave some of their water for the mixing.  Travelers would stop and buy the bricks, and before long, the whole town was making bricks and selling them.  Stores got built, and the crops matured.  People were happy again, and changed the name of the town to "Hank's Hill".  It rained  after the harvest, and Hank's Hill continued to be an enchanting place where the trees sang, and the children grew.  

MISS MAYHALL AND THE DIRTY EGGS

Miss Mayhall was born in a barn, and got dropped on her head shortly thereafter.  It didn't hurt her bad, but it did make her friendly.  She didn't have a care in the world and was always smiling and singing.  Her favorite song was "Hold The Bell Cow".  You could hear her singing it while she was tending her chickens.   ♫ "Went down to the cornfield to pick a mess of beans, along came the bell cow pecking at the greens."  ♫♫ "Hold the bell cow, catch her by the tail, hold the bell cow, milk her in the pail."  The hens loved it, and laid lots and lots of white eggs.  Miss Mayhall would take her eggs to the General Store and sell them for three cents apiece.  She was secretly saving up for a wedding dress, but would never have told it.  Now most everybody knows that the color of a chicken's earlobes predicts the color of the eggs.  You learn that the same way as how to milk a cow, or how to dress a goose.  (You don't use calico to dress a goose)  These things are just passed down from those who know to those who don't know.  However, for some unknown reason, nobody for miles around had ever raised anything but White Leggerns, and those kind only lay white eggs.  Not one person in the whole county had ever laid eyes on a brown egg, or a dark chicken; that is, except for Miss Mayhall.  She was good at keeping a secret, and had recently discovered a reddish brown hen, which must have escaped from a traveling wagon.   It was a mighty fine looking hen, but at the same time very curious, as far as Miss Mayhall was concerned.  Why, what would it do?  Would it eat corn, lay eggs, cluck, fly, nest? Well, it "certainly must need a nest", she thought, so reluctantly she pitched it in the coop.  None of the other chickens seemed to mind, and the roosters were happy to accommodate the new lady.  She took right to clucking, and eating corn, and laying eggs...very BROWN eggs!!  Oh, what a sight!!  Miss Mayhall gasped as she looked in that nest, and screamed, "Look how dirty!!"  "How shall I ever sell those dirty eggs?!!"  "What will I ever do with them?"  "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!"  She decided to wash them.  I heard she even tried to white wash them, until her conscience got the better of her.  There was nothing to do but see if any of the town's folks would be curious enough to try the dirty eggs for themselves.  Miss Mayhall had already eaten a few, and since she didn't die,  figured they were safe enough.  Of course, the price for the dirty eggs would have to be less than the white eggs, so two cents apiece would be fair.  Off she went to the General Store, where to her surprise, she completely sold out!  Folks were so curious, they drew a big crowd, and everybody wanted the dirty eggs more than the white ones!  After that, Miss Mayhall could charge four cents apiece because, of course, the dirty eggs were richer and had a better flavor.  It didn't take long for the dark hen to hatch a brood, and then they started laying, and so on, and so on.  Nobody would have ever guessed that Miss Mayhall would have had enough sense to start her own business, but she did.  She quit selling eggs at the General Store, and opened her own store.  She called it, "Miss Mayhall's Eggs And Goods".  I went in there one time and there was a new wedding dress hanging in the back.  The tag read... "Not For Sale".

THE ARGUMENT

It was early and a most lovely day!  Old Mr. "Clum" Thompson  was headed over to Old Mr. Amos Walter's place.  Everybody knew without  looking because Old Clum's wagon had a real bad squeaky wheel, which he did not intend to fix.  I could hear Mama in the kitchen singing "Beulah Land", and there was a symphony of familiar sounds going on outside. Between the old squeaky wheel, birds, dogs, and crows, it sounded like "squeak squeak, tweet tweet, yip yip, caw caw", "squeak squeak, tweet tweet, yip yip, caw caw".  I laughed at the thought of it, and danced all the way outside.  Old Clum slowed down when he saw me and said I could come along.  (He was an excellent judge of character and knew how nosy I was).  When we got to Old Amos' place, he was skinnin' a rabbit, so I didn't jump down right away.  Old Clum asked me if I was just gonna "set there like a flapjack waitin' for some butter", so I got down.  I was thinking to myself how they sure did look old, and I asked which one was the oldest.  To my surprise, neither one knew exactly how old he was! At the time each was born nobody around those parts could read or write.  It used to drive the census takers crazy, so most times they just made up something.  Old Amos guessed that he was the oldest, but Old Clum disagreed, and they spit and sputtered about it for a good fifteen minutes, got tired and sat down.  After they caught their breath they decided to settle the matter for good.  "Here we go", I thought, "they're takin' it behind the barn"!!  Old Clum had a better idea.  The old bridge over Watson's Creek needed a good fixin', so whichever one got to the middle first, was finished, and therefore was the oldest.  Old Amos thought it was a fine idea, and went to fetch his mule.  Old Clum asked him why, and Old Amos didn't like it, so they spit and sputtered about it for a good fifteen minutes, got tired and sat down.  After they caught their breath that time, they discussed what size boards, and nails, and how much rope they needed.  If one said three feet of rope, the other said different.  If one said one size nail, the other said different, and every time, they would spit and sputter about it, get tired and sit down.  Well, the sun went down finally, so it was too late to start anything that day.  They decided to try again another time, and Old Clum and I left.  Old Clum certainly never did fix that old wheel, and for a long time, most mornings, I could hear, "squeak squeak, tweet tweet, yip yip, caw caw", and I laughed at the thought of it.

AUNT BITSY'S FRECKLE POTION

Aunt Bitsy came down with an "old sore leg" one summer.  I knew she did because I heard folks ask Aunt Reba how her sister's "old sore leg" was doing.  The only income Aunt Bitsy had was from the homemade elixir she made and sold for twenty five cents a bottle.  I don't know what all was in it, but it was guaranteed to keep the freckles away, and the womenfolk bought it so fast, it was hard to keep up.  Mama told Aunt Bitsy it would be all right if us kids went to stay for a week to help out.  She made us promise not to be a burden, and started packing our things right away.  We were about as excited as a cow lookin' at a new gate.  
First thing I heard next morning was the swish swish of Aunt Reba's skirt as she flew through our house gathering food and clothes, and...us.  We kissed Mama goodbye and left for the cottage in the wildwood.  The wagon was so loaded down, I declared it would take us two days to go ten miles.  My brother rode on the back, and my sister and I were on opposite sides,  (usually the case with us anyway).  Close to Watson's creek  my brother yelled he could see two people gettin' baptized down there!  We bowed our heads 'cause we were scared not to! 
When we got to Aunt Bitsy's, she was out on the back porch busily making her Freckle Potion.  After we all hugged, my brother asked to see the "old sore leg".  I knocked him in the head for doin' it!  Aunt Reba wouldn't hear of her sister standing up one more minute on that bad leg, and promptly ordered her to sit down.  That's when we kids went to work.  I never saw so many bottles to fill in my life, but we got 'em all done; and then somebody let the dogs out.  They licked the whole porch off and slept good that night.  
It turned out to be a pretty good week after all.  We all pitched in while Aunt Bitsy took it easy.  At night we would sing "Sally in Her Shimmy Tail", "Strut Miss Lizzy", and anything else we could think of.  In the daytime we would haul bottles of elixir to town and collect what money there was.  Aunt Bitsy was real happy the whole time we were there...sometimes downright giddy.  The "old sore leg" healed just right, and as long as she lived, she never had a freckle.
       
     
 

Aunt Pauline and the "Sweet Magnolias"

Aunt Pauline's front porch was shaded by the huge Magnolia tree which daddy had planted for her years earlier.  (He got it from a cutting off Uncle Jesse's tree).  The limbs were close to the ground, and when the grownups weren't looking, we would kick off our shoes and climb all the way to the top, carefully avoiding the big white flowers.   Aunt Pauline would cut some of the blooms and float them in the old washstand by the spare bed when she knew company was coming.  The sweet citrus scent would waft throughout the house creating a warm, pleasant, and inviting atmosphere.  In the beginning (for a long time after it got grown), that big old tree just wouldn't  bloom,  and daddy thought maybe it never would.  Then, the first spring after Uncle Jesse died,  lo and behold, there was one bloom at the very top!  The next year there were so many flowers, it weighed the tree down.  We all said it was Uncle Jesse sending Aunt Pauline "Sweet Magnolias".

"Going To Aunt Della's"

Aunt Della was "giggly" and fun. She lived across the back pasture from us, and years ago we cut a trail leading to her place. Likely as not some critters would cross our path as we kids hurried to Aunt Della's front door, but the dogs chased them away. What was waiting for us was worth the trek. I'm talking hot biscuits and homemade pies! You name it! We always got a big smile and a hug, then it was off to the kitchen in search of treasure. If you were lucky, the biscuts would be hot out of the oven and you would get the one in the middle (it's the best one). We never went home empty handed either. Sometimes we would spend the night and sleep in the canopy bed. Since she didn't have indoor plumbing, we had chamber pots in case we had to "go" in the night. Aunt Della always laughed and said she had a "canopy" over the bed, and a "can of pee" under the bed!

"The Crying Drawer"

I heard my brother yell, "Papaw's hitching the wagon!!"  Oh boy, we jumped off the porch and took off for his place.  He and Granny already had the wagon loaded, but there was still room for us, so we piled in.  It was a nice day, so Papaw and Granny had decided to call on Miss Izora Mae.  She lived about two miles from us (as the crow flies), and she didn't have a husband.  Granny felt sorry for her and said it was pitiful.  Papaw carried some tools in case something needed fixing, and Granny had a basket of eggs because a fox had gotten another one of Miss Izora's hens.  My brother hopped off the wagon along the way and pulled a clump of wildflowers so we kids could be proud that we had something to give.  Miss Izora was at the clothesline when we got there, and she was so glad to see us she made a big fuss about it.  Granny gave her the eggs and Papaw went off to fix the barn door.  We gave her the flowers and she laid them on her window sill.  Over in the corner there was a small chest, and that's where Miss Izora Mae kept her "crying drawer".  She would pull it out on a cloudy day and carefully handle the beloved "treasures" she had tucked away for safe keeping.  It would often make her cry as she touched her first pair of booties and her grandmother's favorite scarf.  Granny told me later that when the wildflowers dried up, Miss Izora Mae put them in her crying drawer.