Thirty Acres Out in the Boonies

© Jeanne E Webster – All rights reserved

I always wanted to own about 30 acres of land, way out in the boonies, fenced all around…with lots of animals…chickens, cattle, horses, donkeys, every lost and abandoned dog and cat in the county. I’d give them all good homes and take care of their needs.

I’d have a big garden, plant lots of tomatoes, corn, beans, squash, cukes, spinach, potatoes, peanuts, and all kinds of berries.

Once a week I’d open the gates and let all the hungry townspeople inside so they could take home fresh food. I’d fix a banquet and fill the tables with hearty cooked meals, with enough good conversation to go around for all.

But I’m older now and won’t quite make it to the 30 acres and all the animals. The neighbors will have to care for others the Lord provides.

On the other hand…I’m not too old for the parcel that Jesus has prepared for me. I’m almost old enough! I’m looking forward to it. Maybe heaven has a garden…lots of animals around. I sure won’t need the fencing! Everybody is welcome that knows the Savior, our Redeemer. What a table of splendor will be set out for us weary travelers! “Welcome home, you good and faithful servants.”

Ah…just a touch of heaven…
I can almost see it now…
I hear the rush of angel’s wings …
I sense an old familiar touch on my shoulder…

My touch of heaven awaits me.


My Sacred Refuge



© Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved and observed


Psalm 55:8 (KJV) “I would hasten my escape from the windy storm and tempest.”


Everyone occasionally needs a place to escape the cares of this world, be it a quiet room, a shed, a nook in the barn, a fence post, or a piece of land where nothing intrudes into one’s thoughts and feelings. The burdens of the soul shall melt away whenever one slips into this serene, sacred realm.

For many a year, my place of refuge was a tiny chunk of land resting beside the Flint River. It was merely half an acre, but my, what a busy patch of green!

Squirrels scurried here and there burying their nuts for the long cold winters while frolicking rabbits waltzed around the grove of prickly crabapple trees. Gorging on bugs and grubs by the thousands, fat and sassy moles punched the rich, dark loam upward into long tunnels crisscrossing the grassy field. Various ducks and geese nestled alongside the banks of the rippling, cool water, displaying their beauty and serenity, whereas the feisty kingfishers zoomed overhead, diving into the murky river for their catch of the day. In the early morning dew, occasionally a deer would come tiptoeing along the lower bank, tenderly chomping fallen acorns.

Whenever this idyllic wonderland beckoned to my sagging spirit, I’d mosey on down and head for a special old tree alongside the riverbank. Snuggling down next to its weather worn trunk, I’d silently sit for a while and spiritually blend in with the land.

I sensed the spirit of the trees and the grass, the leaves and the dirt, the river and the animals, the wind and the rain, the snow, the fog, and the mist.

Within my soul came healing as I rested and communed with God. I’d tell Him all my troubles, my needs and sins, mention folks in need of prayer, praise Him for all His blessings, and thank Him for His grace. Sighing softly as the tenseness within my weary body slowly ebbed away, my spirit was restored, fully refreshed and strengthened to face anew the matters at hand.

Thank you, Father, for that mystical plot of land that served so faithfully as my refuge many years ago. Those memories shall be treasured forever.


Purty Writing


© Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved and observed

“Write sum’fing purty,” da good Lawd said,
Nuff glum and gloom out dere a’ready.”
So I plopped on my tinkin’ hat…reflectin’
So hard I got tired and went to beddy.

Let’s see now, springtime is here,
Dere’s lots a’ purty colorful shrubs
Forsythia, lilacs ‘n redbuds so pink
Colorin’ the yards like pinwheel hubs.

Yards are full of sparkly dashin’ birds
All decked out in nature’s brite hues.
Courtin’ one ‘nother, startin’ families
Dey got no time fer chasin’ da blues.

Red-breasted robins, how stout they be
A’building nests and gobblin’ up worms;
Thru wedder so cold or floodin’ as seas
Dey fights back like fightin’ some germs.

Look ‘it da lil’ squirrels a’flippin’ der tails
Hurryin’ here an’ dere like hopscotchin’ toys
Dey start–dey stop–den skitter up a tree
Wid a sassy attitude sorta like lil’ boys.

Bluejays do lots of screechin’ ‘n hollerin’
I tink dey jes’ like to boss everything aroun’
Maybe dey’s the neighbo’hood policin’ men
Flittin’ here and dere from trees to da groun’.

I can’t fergit dem purply house finches
Wearin’ dere finest feathers of rosy red
Dey brighten up the feeders so color’fly
As dey peck at the seeds til dey’s well-fed.

Well, Lawd, I did my best to write purty today.
No dismal tings, no gloom or grumpy glums;
Da trees and shrubs declare Yer glory
From da sassafras leafs to dem purply plums.

(Where’d You get all those purty colors, Lawd?
Musta plucked ‘em strait from dat glor’ous rainbow!)



Aah . . .Tumn

Fall Leaves on Branch

©2013 Jeanne E Webster.  All rights reserved


Hot arid airs

Fill autumn days

Stifllin’ up senses

Stuffin’ up noses.


Cicadas buzz electric

Gnats whirl swirls

Skunk skits skulk

Midnight closes.


Spiders spin maze

Doilies atop grasses

Hornets stick nests

Split eaves affix.


Pine cones sprout

Squirrels scout out

Butterflies flit fit

Dip, flip their kix.


Coon-littered roads

Bug-smeared cars

Bloated dead bodies

Life long gone.


Trees scale leaves

Prelude music cue

Winter trumps flat

Life’s like that!






Ever After



© 2013 Jeanne E Webster.  All rights reserved


I will remember the works of the Lord; surely I will remember Your wonders of old.  I will also meditate on all Your work and talk of Your deeds. 

Ps.  77:11, 18


My spirit stands in awe of Your creations, O God.  (Genesis 1 through Genesis 2)  You spoke and they were so. 


“Let there be . . .




Dry land


Grass, herbs, seeds and trees

Lights in the firmaments

Marine life

Flying creatures

Beasts of the fields

Man & woman.

Vs.  31. And God saw every thing that He had made and, behold, it was very good.”


This is like a Once Upon a Time story. 

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”  John 1:1  

How awesome is this God, this Creator! 

Just imagine what is in store when “ they lived happily forever and ever.”












Annie of Tamaroa


© 2013 Jeanne E Webster.   All rights reserved


[An ekphrastic poem written about my new dog, recently adopted from the local Humane Society]


Lovely small female rat terrier mix

Short legged, stocky, sturdy, squatty

Mostly white with large brown splotches

A few freckles scattered here and there

Both ears brown, flopped over when relaxed

Tucked back tight when alert or excited

Piercing eyes, framed in black masking

Expressing intelligence and a smile

Head brown with black muzzle and nose

White tipped nose with black freckles

White back semi-saddled with brown

Hips resemble the dachshund family

Tail medium length, curls over back

White flagged towards the rear end

Short smooth bright coat with sheen

Nice dog with friendly demeanor.

Her name is Annie of Tamaroa

From the Apple Dumpling Gang.


Day 9 NaPoWriMo




Friday Morning-Coming Down

© Jeanne E Webster


Enjoying a swing on the patio

Sitting in our little “Rose Garden”

Looking at that pale blue sky

Rain’s a no-show, I’ll pardon


Blurred with white chalky scrapes

Overhead is a see-through image

Last night’s leftover half-moon

Must ’a lost the rest in scrimmage


Hummingbirds all a’ squeak

A winged rush hour traffic jam

Zooming like mad robotic bees

Deftly loving the ambrosial jamb


Gum trees shake off their sleep

Casting shade all over the hills

Cicada males not yet awake

Dreaming of their mating shrills


Melodious call of an oriole male

Not yet sipping of my nectar

Crepe myrtle in fuchsia regalia

Rose petals, the sun rays detector


A blue jay is squaring off afar

Probably out protecting his mate

Neighborhood roosters a’ crowing

Pleased that the night did vacate


A dull thumping of railroad cars

Mulishly moving down the tracks

Loaded with sooty coal, I guess

Heading up north, a’ clickity-clack


A hummer just flew past my nose

Stopped on a dime then returned

Saw my bright red shirt, I reckon

Inching closer, drooled and yearned


Ready to propel even closer now

Till I uttered, “I don’t think so!”

Off it flew with a squeak and snip,

In a blaze of its slinky chapeau


Bathed my two Cavalier Spaniels

Got my front end as wet as they

But I can’t run around the yard

And shake off and loudly bray


Certainly I knew I had better not

What would the neighbors think?

An old lady romping with dogs

Surely needs to visit a shrink


But when those baths are done

Oh, to become a little girl again

I’d chase my tail and play dog

Bark and run after the mailmen


I’d dance the day away… maybe

But I’m afraid this tired ole body

Would give out fast and furious

Put me to bed with a hot toddy


My knees would grate and grit

My hips would start to grumble

The hard ground would beckon

And I’d surely take a tumble


But jes’ for the tiniest moment

I would be all tickled and pink

For I’d soon be soaring home

In just about forty odd winks!