Sunrise
Dappled clouds
Owl hooting
Wren climbing
Later, I graded papers and watched part of John McCain’s funeral, some of which almost brought me to tears. I often disagreed with him but never did I question his passionate love of country, his courage, his willingness to buck the norm, to defy convention when he thought it was the right thing to do. I think he and I shared certain values on which this country is based even if the country as a whole rarely lives up to them. These include the conviction that all people are equal, that everyone deserves justice, and each person carries the right to find his or her own share of happiness without judgment and condemnation from others who may think differently.
Later, while working on the latest book I am writing, I found handwritten recipes written by my grandmother, my mother’s mother, Nellie Narcissus Duke (Kaiser),whose father came here from Switzerland as a child. One, for dumplings, remains readable. The other written in pencil on the front and back of thin paper is fragile. It is for Strawberry Shortcake. If Grandmother Duke ever made dumplings, I do not remember it. Mother did–chicken and dumplings. I wonder if she used this recipe. I do remember conversations about the shortcake because Dad did not like strawberry shortcake even though he liked strawberries. I took photos of these two recipes written decades ago in my grandmother’s handwriting.
This is he house where I grew up north of Fillmore, Missouri. My dad lived here in this house from 10 year old to 90. He died in the month after his 90th birthday. The house stands on the land my great grandfather established after he arrived from Switzerland in the mid 1800s.
This is the only building left at the site of my grandparents original house and barns. It is an old carriage house. In this photo my daughter and grandson are taking a look. One of the original stained glass transome windows from the house hangs in my own house. My grandparents were Lilliebelle Werth and Pleasant Lightle.
When I was a child, this was once a chicken house but mostly the farrowing house for our registered Hampshire hogs. Later I learned that when first built during Prohibition, Dad held dances here which the sheriff checked to make sure there was no alcohol.
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