Peevish Pen

Ruminations on reading, writing, rural living, retirement, aging—and sometimes cats. And maybe a border collie.

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Location: Rural Virginia, United States

I'm a retired teacher turned writer. Ferradiddledumday (my Appalachian version of the Rumpelstiltskin story) and Stuck (my middle grade paranormal novel) are available from Cedar Creek Publishing.

Friday, December 01, 2006

Ill Winds

This morning's high winds blew the birch tree over. Since it's broken at the root, there'll be no saving it. Luckily it missed the tractor parked nearby.

I'll miss the birch. The other one died a couple of years ago, but part of its trunk still stands. I liked seeing the birches at night, their white bark contrasting sharply with the pines—kind of like ghost trees.

The wind didn't faze the pumpkin, though. It still stands—er, sits—on its rock. Last night, under cover of darkness, two trucks pulled in across the road.

This time, the rednecks didn't hang a deer. Instead, they positioned three metal folding chairs facing the pumpkin and my driveway.

Is this an attempt at harassment by metal furniture, or are they really interested in contemplating that pumpkin closer?


Or are they just going to play a redneck version of musical chairs?

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1 Comments:

Blogger Raimunde said...

Becky: Hate to leave this charming site with no comments, you certainly have a full page (!) of commentary. I really must update my own little spot as you have been nagging me to do for lo these many weeks. But after the holiday rush is over I'm going to sit down and have a nervous breakdown. I've worked for it, I've earned it, and by God no one is going to deprive me of it. RR

9:13 AM  

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