Front Yard Recon Tour

© Jeanne E Webster – All Rights Reserved

Outside it looks like a milky-white afternoon, the white pine branches waving to me like green puppets on invisible strings, up and down…up and down…loosely dangling, at times bursting forth with a rolling simmer, ridding its branches of old pine cones and such. All the while the black pines stand staunchly like arthritic sentries, facing the early spring wind gusts boldly, almost stoically. I can almost hear them murmur, “Get it over with, wind, we’re ready for spring.”

I ventured outside, bundled up in sweats, hat, gloves and a resigned attitude. No way am I staying out here very long. I’m only here to get a bit of fresh air. Heading for the graveled driveway, I passed a majestic white pine being roughed about by the forceful winds. I look up to where its soft green head bobs to and fro in the chalky background. A rose-breasted mourning dove takes wing, aiming for a bare redbud tree nearby. Performing a high wire act, it awkwardly lights on a branch and takes a moment or two to settle in. “Well,” I said to the dove, “that’s what you get for leaving the shelter of that nice snuggly pine.”

Reaching the end of the driveway, I peered down into the ditch, half-filled with run-off from the road and nearby fields. You would never believe that crayfish live down in there. It looks so gravelly and stark, a scrawny weed of two for cover. But the grey chimneys offer real evidence that something is in residence. Perhaps they are ghost crayfish; “ponies” for little people to ride; visual echoes of the earth’s screams as the coal mining industry rips apart its turf. Who knows? But there they are, deep down, alive, viable, surfacing only in the shadows of time, doing what they must do in order to survive. Maybe they belong to the same locals as the moles and voles. Maybe they’re just shy. I ponder if perhaps the birds know who these chimney diggers are, but they’re not talking.

Whoops! I’ve just stepped into a soggy mole hill, up to my ankles and sinking down as I quickly flip forward towards solid ground. The front yard has been severely abused this winter. I don’t mind sharing the yard with moles if they would only be more mindful of those who come after them. Eat all the grubs you want, but put the dirt back where you found it. Oh, yes. They say they are copycatting the coal miners. Oh, well, what can I say to divert that?

Well, lookee here! The lilacs are budding out! I knew I came out here for some reason. There will be sweet smells on the south side of the house this spring. Also the yellow daffodils have announced their presence amongst the dried brown leaves. I remain amazed how a dried bulb can be buried in 4-5 inches of soil for six months and suddenly erupt with such glorious splendor. Which leads me to the greatest miracle of all…how a dead body can erupt into life eternal someday…when it is time.

Have a nice day. I’m heading for the house for a cup of hot chocolate.

Chop Suey Anyone?


Our English language is changing. We’ve come a long way since “Roger and Out” and “Pig Latin.” The written word especially is becoming so dumbed down I fear we’ll soon revert to the grunting stage. An extreme overuse of acronyms blended with fast paced Internet lingo makes for language chop suey.

Two people connecting on a chat site:

Chatter #1: “HF” (Hello friend)
Chatter #2: “HAWTLW” (Hello and welcome to last week)

Chatter #1: “HIG?” (How’s it going?)
Chatter #2: “K; U?” (Ok; You?)

Chatter #1: “NM” (Never mind)
Chatter #2: “J/C” (Just checking)

Chatter #1: “GAS?” (Got a second?)
Chatter #2: “EM?” (Excuse me?)

Chatter #1: “CICYHW?” (Can I copy your homework?)
Chatter #2: “WIIFM?” (What’s in it for me?)

Chatter #1: “DQYDJ” (Don’t quit your day job)
Chatter #2: “LOL” (Laughing out loud!)

Chatter #1: “NM” (Never mind”)
Chatter #2: “HINMP” (Hey, it’s not my problem.)

Chatter #1: “TAL” (Thanks a lot)
Chatter #2: “RWSF?” (Are we still friends?)

Chatter #1: “IDTS” (I don’t think so)
Chatter #2: “IDGI” (I don’t get it)

Chatter #1: “HTRJ!” (Hit the road jack!)
Chatter #2: “OW!” (Oh well!)

Author: “UGH; GRRR!”

Pillow Talk

© Jeanne E Webster – all rights reserved

My pillow is my best friend
Oh yes it sure ‘nuff be
It’s soft an’ so cuddly
So silky an’ snuggly
It helps make me sleepy.

Night or day or naptime
It’s always there for me
It’s lazy an’ so lumpy
So cozy an’ so comfy
How it pleases me.

When day is done I’m tired
Oh yes I sure ‘nuff be
Too daffy an’ so dilly
Silly an’ so nilly
Ole sleepyhead is me!

Thank you, Lord, for pillows
They’re the bestest things
For resting an’ for nesting
Jesting an’ for guesting
Oh, the joys they do bring!




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© Jeanne E Webster  All rights reserved

I looked up and there she was, smiling at me with a squashed-cockroach grin.

Amid the hustle and bustle of Christmas shopping, I had been browsing a department store’s offerings early one morning. Sale items were piled here and there on shelves and hangers, tempting buyers to unleash their monies and take them home. In a hurry, I wanted to get a few last minute gifts before getting back home ahead of the rush hour traffic. I admit I was in a tizzy that day and probably should have stayed home.

She didn’t say a word, just stood there staring right through me as if I were a ghost. My thoughts rambled into a frantic search for a name. Who was this woman?!

Search….search….search. Nothing solid…a few pauses, hesitations to process. No, that isn’t it…no, not her. Running out of data…. She looks so familiar but I can’t pull out a name. WHO IS SHE?!

Knowing I had only seconds before this woman would call my bluff, I shuffled my feet to change position, trying to shoulder her out of direct vision. I caught a quick glimpse of movement and shuddered. My bluff was over!

Pretending I had just noted her presence, I slowly pivoted my body full force towards her, ready to face a tongue lashing. Before I could utter a word, the woman chuckled out loud, “Oh my! That’s me!” (I hadn’t noticed the mirrored wall at all!)

Oh well, another senior moment. Have a nice day!

Hey Pete, Johnny, Tom . . .

©Jeanne E Webster – All Rights Reserved

A farmer who was out plowing with one mule kept yelling at it, “Giddap, Pete! Giddap, Barney! Giddap, Johnny! Giddap, Tom!“

A stranger, observing this, finally asked, “How many names does that mule have?”

“Only one,” answered the farmer. “His name is Pete, but he doesn’t know his own strength, so I put blinders on him. Then I yell the other names at him, and he thinks three other mules are helping him!”


In a serious sense, we sometimes feel we have blinders on when trying to plead our cause before the Lord. “We know not how to pray.”  

Reaching out to others not only strengthens us but deepens our zeal. There is nothing like prayer to bring hope to the downcast, peace to the anxious, or healing to the sick.

James 5:17b “The prayer of a righteous man avails much.”

Matthew 18:20 “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”


Saturday Satire

©Jeanne E Webster-All rights reserved


Once there was a lady from Big Creek
Who went to church every week
She always arrived late
T’was just her poor fate:
Though she hurried in like a streak.

The good folks were certain to peek
Things began to look bleak
As she walked the aisle
No one smirked or smiled:
Not even that nice fella, Zeke!

She swayed down the aisle so chic
Bouncing her shapely physique
You could hear a pin drop
As into the pew she’d flop:
With a thump, rumble and a squeak.

With a pungent perfume she did reek
Wore a neat hairdo and red cheeks
She would always complain
Whenever it would rain:
Her perspective needed a tweak.

One day the pastor did speak
To this sweet lady from Big Creek
He gave her some advice
The folks became nice:
She ended up marrying Zeke!