Trying to Keep Up.

 Trying to Keep Up.

 

We have an election coming up; in fact, we can go vote early right now. Here in WF, a nice man who used to work in an area that dealt with IRA funds is running for mayor of WF. The man has common sense, so he will have my vote. Meanwhile, it took a little research to try to get some inkling of the meaning behind the fourteen propositions that our state legislature has committed to our ballots. Ten of those propositions rate a yes from my little scrambled brain; yet four of them rate a resounding “oh, Hello, no!” Here’s hoping that the wording of the propositions has not completely negated their meaning on the ballots.

 

My hens are happily scratching around out in the yard and side lots for whatever they can find. The nearly two inches of rain has made the ground so very nice and soft. It is amazing that the ground is like brick before a rain, and then it softens and crumbles after a slow down pour. Praise God for every drop! Waiting to see if we get enough to help the ranchers and their stock tanks. Really thought about writing about the Rain Song that came last night and into the morning. If you have ever listened to the ground, it makes its own music when it gets drops of rain to splash into the leaves and other surfaces. The underlying thumps of caressing splashes just make me happy. A short time from now we will undoubtedly get some frost to create the crackle of grass and leaves for the autumn chorus, but right now, it is simply rain song.

 

Got a nice message from Sharon Dickerson. She and a friend went shopping and also got a burger on one of those BOGO things with onion rings. Whataburger has that going on right now. Love their onion rings and the white chocolate raspberry milk shakes! Only once a year do they do those shakes. Have to have at least one before they are gone.

 

Isn’t it wonderful to have a friend with whom to go shopping or just go running around and doing things together. Connie Cooke is a friend like that. She knows of different little stores and places to find things. Don’t necessarily need anything at all, but it is fun to look. Right now, have a sack of dog jackets that are much too small for my two critters. Some dog at the shelter can use these. No sense letting them go to waste. Also, need to remind my friend Roger that Mark O. wants to meet with our Route 66 group in November, but not sure he will feel like going to Bill’s Catfish place in Oklahoma. Will suggest that Roger speak to him. This old gal is staying in Texas.

 

Next to the wonderful gift of rain, so many folks here in Texas are all excited about the Rangers winning a ball game. Baseball is a bit of fun. Much more civilized than those guys running at each other and knocking the crud out of their body parts for a stupid leather ball. Not sure what other countries do to play with bats and balls, but have a feeling that the ones on the ground are much less dangerous than the ones on ice or horses. Horse athletes are beautiful and collected when doing dressage—and sometimes even in the jumping arena, but those steeple chases are horrifically dangerous for both riders and horses.

 

Music goes around in my head so often that it never even occurs to me at times what the song may be, but last night, the old woman had to get up and get out my hymnal to look up the musician and the words: The Lord Is My Shepherd, Thomas Koschat. Think the Scottish Presbyterians, the most educated of those of their times, sang this one rather heartily years ago. But then The Lord’s My Shepherd by W. Baird Ross is the version that we sometimes sang at church. Look it up on your computer and you will understand why my friend AnnaBeth Graf thought that my taste in songs was a bit too high in timbre for my voice. Another version of Psalms 23 is by Willaim H. Havergal—the one sung at Queen Elizabeth’s funeral. No matter which version stays with you, all these words still hold so much significance after all these years.

 

My neighbors across the street should be home tomorrow sometime late in the night. Hoping that they have a safe trip and feel relaxed when they return. Meanwhile, our neighborhood is just its usual quiet and comforting space. So blessed to have peace and quiet—well, despite the road noises when everyone is going to work across the road. Just small concessions to our modes of transportation.

 

May you all have peace of mind and find joy in life. We are really so very blessed in our little corner of the world. May we show kindness and compassion for others and be protected from the evils that Satan has cast upon this world.

 

Rest well, my friends. You are loved.