Shotsnaps

If the apron hooks are empty, and all little feet are shod with ballerina slippers, it's easy to see that I interrupted s...

When one can't find a six dollar box of peaches to can, one settles for a five dollar box of pluots.   What are pluots, you ask...

We made gallons of salsa over the summer but ate most of it fresh.   The girls took dozens of pictures of each other with their lun...

During harvest and canning season, which always seems to stretch interminably long by the time October rolls around, I often measure the hou...

Here's yet another post to interest no one. Canning tomatoes. How exciting! It actually was exciting, considering all 65 plants I...

One of the most anticipated parts of summer are those days of warm, torrential rain.   If you've ever been bone-soaked by the same,...

Every time one dies, I'm thankful the current griefs are so small.  To the paragon of all roosterhood: R.I.P. Big Guy.  We loved y...

Like father, like son. After 34 years, Fleegle's a little worse for the wear, but at least the baby is new.

Sleepyhead.  

Sometimes delinquent blogging is like sorting through the basement.  "Heeeey, I'd forgotten I owned these shoes!" Or ...