Category Archives: Original stories by Kate

Oliver The Miracle Dog Part 2

continuing…….

Day 8

Oliver looked like half the dog he use to be. He had lost a lot of weight. He slept restlessly because he knew the coyotes were nearby. What did they want? Pull on the chain until exhaustion set in. Once again that night the owl hooted in the tree above him. It sounded like a death knell in the quiet woods.

Day 9

It was a day of reckoning. The coyotes had found Oliver. There were two of them, a male and a female. Both were thin from lack of food. They had been hunting for days for something to eat. They saw in Oliver a chance for a good meal. They had dealt with dogs before and knew they could be dangerous, but this one looked weak and tired with not much fight in him. Should they try for a kill? They lay in the forest, waiting patiently for their chance. Oliver knew they were there, but he could not see them. His heart raced. He could not go to sleep, but waited for the attack.

Day 10

Oliver knew the coyotes meant him harm. For the first time in his life he felt real fear. The coyotes drew nearer and nearer, crawling stealthily toward him. Closer and closer they came. Oliver stood up on his three good legs and pulled on the chain. He didn’t know it, but the chain was rusty and had been weakened as he pulled against it. He lunged and lunged. The coyotes stepped back With all the strength he could muster he growled a warning growl. As fierce a growl as he had ever growled. Oliver had never growled in his life. He showed his sharp teeth. His eyes glittered. He was not going down without a fight. The coyotes were patient. They could wait. Night fell. A strange stillness fell over the forest.

Day 11

It was them or him. Oliver knew by instinct that he was in for the fight of his life. Oliver was not a fighter. He was a sweet, patient and loving dog. But today called for a new Oliver. A warrior dog. His very life depended on it. The coyotes came in for the kill, circling him, snapping their sharp, little teeth. Growling growls Oliver had never heard before.

Two against one. Oliver lunged at them snarling and snapping his teeth. He grabbed one of the coyotes by the nape of its neck, shook it hard and threw it from him. It got shakily back on its feet and slunk off into the forest. The other coyote, the female, followed its mate. They knew they had met a dangerous dog. They would have to find a less aggressive prey for their next meal. Oliver didn’t know it, but he had saved his life that night.

Oliver lay down with his head on his paws watching the coyotes leave. Would they be back? He didn’t know, but he did know he hadn’t much fight left in him. He was so tired, scared and hungry. And the thirst. It could not get worse. Or could it? The night came and the owl hooted. This time Oliver welcomed the company.

Day 12

Oliver was so tired and hungry. He just lay all day. He could do nothing else. It was a beautiful Winter’s day. Was he going to die all alone in the forest? Would his buddies get a new dog to replace him?

High above in the clear, blue sky turkey vultures were circling.

One stretched its wings wide, sailing on the wind, catching the updrafts as it searched below for carrion. It’s beady eyes looked back and forth over the landscape for a dead animal to eat. Suddenly, it spied something next to a tree below. Lower and lower it floated toward the ground until it reached a treetop. It landed on a tree limb directly above Oliver. It sat there staring for a long time at the seemingly dead animal below it. Believing it had a meal ahead, it flew to the ground and moved closer.

Suddenly, the animal came to life. Oliver awoke and saw the big bird next to him and he rose tremulously on his three legs. The leg in the trap just hung limply and useless. The vulture looked at him with interest. Oliver found his voice and let out a series of barks that startled the bird and sent it flying back up into the branches to safety. This obviously was not a dead animal and not his next meal. Flapping his wings, he flew away up into the air with the other vultures still searching and searching for another dead animal.

Oliver sighed and lay back down wondering if this horror would ever end.

Day 13

Oliver awoke strangely rested and with a new sense of courage he had never felt before. He had thwarted the coyotes’ attack. He had chased a big bird away. He felt like he could do anything. Now he must get free. He knew his buddies were waiting for him. He just knew it. He wanted to see them so badly.

He rose on his three good legs, the fourth dangling uselessly, held fast by the wicked trap. He began to pull and pull. He pulled all morning, stopping only for little rests. He panted, but there was no moisture left in his mouth. If he did not get water soon, he would surely die. One more time, he gave a mighty pull and suddenly, freedom! The chain around the tree had finally broken. But Oliver could not walk. He would have to crawl. So, he did.

Day 14

Oliver had crawled all night. It was slow moving through the forest. Crawl, try to walk a bit, then crawl again. He didn’t know whether he was headed home, but he kept moving. He crawled all day. He came upon a creek where he got the first drink of water he had had in days. Oliver drank the cool, fresh water and felt invigorated. It tasted so good. Best water he had ever drunk. He lay there enjoying the Winter sun upon his back, but he knew he must keep moving and find safety because the forest is a dangerous place for a wounded animal. He crawled some more until he saw a road. He knew humans traveled these roads. His buddies traveled them all the time. He crawled as close as he could to it and collapsed. He lay there quietly waiting.

A woman was driving on this particular road that day, singing along with some music on her car radio. Enjoying the perfect Winter day. Then she saw what appeared to be a large animal laying beside the road. Was it a deer. Deer were hit by cars quite often in this part of the country and were seen alongside the roads regularly. She slowed her car and looked down at the animal. It was a dog! An emaciated, dirty, dog with a badly matted coat and there was a trap on one of its legs. She got out of her car. Was it breathing? She walked slowly toward Oliver and he lifted his head weakly. Yes! It was alive and she began to cry at the condition of the poor dog. She called 911 and they contacted animal control who came and they tried getting the trap off Oliver’s leg, but it was so strong they were unable to get it off him. They had to find his owners. Oliver had ID on him and they quickly found his buddies on the big hill.

When his buddies saw Oliver they were so glad to see him, but were shocked at his condition. Mama buddy called Papa buddy who took Oliver to the veterinarian where Oliver’s leg had to be amputated. The vet was very unhappy about this because she had seen other animals in her office who had been caught in traps. Just a few days before Oliver, she had had to remove the toes of a Great Horned Owl who had been caught in a trap.

In a few days, Oliver was back home with his family. Laying on his warm bed with food in his stomach, he could almost forget the ordeal he had gone through, but not quite because some things startled him now that never startled him before. Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome is possible even with a dog. He still had to learn to walk.

And he did.

The End

Trapping is one of the cruelest ways of hunting animals. Even at that, the trapper is supposed to check his traps every few days. This particular trapper had not checked his traps for at least fourteen days and probably longer, leaving a poor, defenseless dog to suffer for days and lose a leg. Stop all trapping.

Oliver the Miracle Dog Part I

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This story is based on what happened to our daughter’s dog, Oliver. I have taken literary license with some of it, but a lot of it really happened. This is illustrated by my grandson, Tristan, who is an aspiring artist. He is also one of the “little buddies” mentioned in the story.

Oliver, a beautiful Golden Retriever, lived at the top of a tall hill with his buddies, the Larsons, his goofy son, Farley and Lily, the mother of Farley. They were a wonderful Golden Retriever family.

It was a wonder life. Eating, sleeping, running after thrown balls, exploring the forest all around. There were head rubs and playing with his little buddies as they rode their bicycles in the driveway or played in their hideout in the woods.

One cold Winter’s day Oliver awoke and went to the door to be let outside. Now Oliver was a roaming dog. At one time he disappeared on one of the coldest nights of the year and didn’t return home until the following morning, no worse for wear. It had worried his buddies greatly. Big buddy had called for him for a long time. He heard him, but the smells of the forest were too enticing.

This particular day he lifted his nose into the air and grew giddy with the wonderful odors that wafted on the breezes. “I must see where all these smells are coming from,” he thought to himself. So off he bounded.

Oliver ran quickly on his four sturdy legs, his tail like a plume, stuck in the air. There was a squirrel smell. The squirrel had not been there for a long while. Move on. There a possum smell. Not much to Oliver’s taste, but playing with a possum as it played dead was great fun.

Then Oliver smelled coyote. These were ones with whom he did not want to cross paths.

Deeper into the forest Oliver ran, nose to the ground. Suddenly, he saw movement. A rabbit! Off Oliver went chasing the rabbit among the trees until the rabbit reached his home in the ground and popped inside. Oliver sniffed around the hole and would have dug around it if the ground had not been frozen solid. “Hmm,” Oliver thought to himself. “I’m hungry, must go home.” But which way was home?

The day was coming to an end. Oliver had been in the forest all day. His buddies would be home fixing supper and doing homework around the kitchen table while the dogs would be eating their final meal of the day and settling down for the night. The sun was lowering in the sky Oliver ran and ran, so full of life and happiness just being alive when suddenly, SNAP! He felt a great pain in his back leg as a coyote trap snapped its ugly jaws around it. He yipped in pain, trying to jerk away from the trap. But the trap was attached to a chain that was wound around a tree. Whoever had set this trap meant to keep his prey right there.

Again and again Oliver pulled and could not get free. Blood gushed from the gruesome wound. The sun went down. It was cold. Oliver was all alone. He whined and moaned. The pain was great, but nobody could hear him or knew where he was. The pain was almost too much to bear.

Day 2

Oliver had managed to sleep a bit through the night, but the pain and his hunger would not let him sleep very long. He also was beginning to feel a terrible thirst.

All that day he pulled and pulled to try to get away from the trap, but it just held on tighter. The pain was so great. Where were his buddies? All that long day Oliver felt sad and lonely and scared. it was cold and night came again and the forest was quiet all around except for the rustling of the night creatures and the birds who were settling in for the night.

Day 3

Another long night for Oliver. He had heard an owl hooting in the tree above him. A sad, lonely sound to Oliver. He missed his buddies. He missed his soft bed and the warm house. Most of all he missed his food and a cold drink of water. He spent part of the day trying to pull free, to no avail. He lay panting and feeling very sad.

Day 4

Snow fell gently on Oliver as he lay with his nose on his forelegs. A tear fell from the corner of his eye. He had been forgotten. He didn’t realize his buddies were looking for him and calling his name into the forest, but Oliver had traveled so far from his home, he could not hear them. He only felt the pain of the trap on his leg. He pulled and pulled on it. His beautiful golden coat had become dirty and stuck through with dead leaves and twigs. Night came. Nobody came to save him.

Day 5

Oliver felt dizzy and sick. Where was he? Why wasn’t he in his nice, warm bed? Where were his two little buddies who lay on top of him and scratched his ears? He slept and dreamed of playing with Lily and Farley in the yard with his buddies all around. Would he never see them again? Pull on the trap chain again and again, but it remained securely wrapped around the tree. Night time and danger was lurking.

That Night Oliver heard strange noises in the forest. He smelled smells that worried him. He must get free. Pull harder. Lunging and jumping with every bit of strength he had. The chain moved a bit, but still was attached to the tree. He did not want to give up. His buddies were waiting

Day 6

Oliver was so tired from the last night’s exertions. He felt so helpless. Suddenly a squirrel came close to him and sniffed Oliver. Seeming to know it had nothing to fear from the sad looking dog, the squirrel proceeded to gnaw on a nut it had just dug up from a hole where it had hidden it in the Autumn. Oliver just lay there and watched it listlessly. “I’d bite you in two if I could get to you,” he thought about the cheeky squirrel. It made him angry. “If only,” he thought. Oliver was in that poor, thin, starving dog somewhere. He was so cold, hungry and thirsty. Why was he here? Did no one love him anymore?

Day 7

A day of rest from pulling on the chain. By this time Oliver had grown use to the pain. His leg was growing numb. If it wasn’t attended to soon, gangrene would set in. Luckily, Oliver knew nothing about gangrene. All he knew was that he wanted the trap off his leg. He wanted out of the forest and into the arms of his buddies. What was that? He heard rustling in the brush. He smelled what he didn’t want to smell. Coyotes were close. But the worst had not yet happened.

To be continued………

Sleds and Santa

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I am sitting here and it’s Christmas Eve remembering the wonderful Christmases I had when I was growing up. Christmas always centered around the Christ child. There was church and nativities and carols sung and candles glowing. Packages under the tree. Trips to the department store to see Santa. How I wish I could relive those years again. They were the best of times. I heard that some people don’t even think of Christmas as a Christian holiday anymore. I don’t know what they think it is or what the word Christmas means to them, but for me, it always is about Jesus. Years ago I wrote a story about Christmas and I will share it with you now. It’s as true as I can remember it. Most of it really happened and some may or may not, but that is for you to decide.

Sleds and Santa Claus

A heavy blanket of snow covered Daddy’s Indiana farm. Katie looked out the kitchen door and saw drifts of snow on the sidewalk and back porch. Daddy came in the back door stamping his feet and carrying an armload of wood to put in the big black iron stove that sat in the kitchen. As Katie ate her breakfast of hot sweet tea and cinnamon toast, she felt warm and cozy. Daddy sat at the head of the table and Mommy sat next to him. They were discussing what needed to be done that day on the farm

Katie’s brother’s came down from the cold bedrooms upstairs. The window in Katie’s room had had frost on the inside of it that morning and she had not wanted to leave her warm nest in her bed.

“Hey! Let’s go sledding this afternoon,” cried Andy. That sounded like a great idea to all the children, but first all the chores had to be done before play. On a farm the livestock comes first and all the animals must be fed and watered before anything else. The eggs must be gathered before they froze in their nests. That was Katie’s job. Soon they were all bundled up to go outdoors to do their chores.

The cold wind whipped Katie’s face as she walked to the chicken house. Inside it was warm and the chickens began to cluck. Sometimes Katie would have to reach underneath a setting hen to take her eggs. The hen would not like this, but it had to be done. Eggs were never left to be hatched in the henhouse. Mommy used many of them in her baking each week ad the ones she didn’t use were carefully washed and crated and taken to the grocery store to be sold to the grocer for him to sell. Mommy’s chicken eggs were especially good. They were fresh and the yolks were almost orange. That was because the chickens were allowed to scratch and peck outdoors and to eat a lot of different things like juicy bugs and worms besides the ground corn Daddy fed them. The grocer was always glad to get them.

After a good hot midday meal, Katie and her brothers dressed in several layers of clothes and snow boots and went out to Daddy’s workshop where the sleds were kept. They walked down the road to a hill owned by a neighbor, Mr. Bond. They climbed over the fence and trudged through the deep snow to the top of the hill. The first few times sledding down was not very good because the paths had to be made through the snow. After a few rides down the hill, it became slicker and slicker until you were absolutely flying! At the bottom of the hill was a little grove of tree that you had to steer your sled through. It was dangerous, but fun at the same time. Sometimes the neighbor boys, the Clevengers, would join in the fun. The boys would throw snowballs at one another as they slid down the hill.

All too soon for Katie it was time to go back home. She was chilled to the bone but hadn’t noticed while she was sledding. Back in the warm house Mommy made hot chocolate and Daddy made popcorn balls. After all the exercise, it all tasted so good!

Sometime in the winter, Daddy and Mommy would begin whispering to one another and hiding things from the children. It was Christmas time, one of the best times of the year for a child. Soon after Thanksgiving, the tree would be put up and decorated and Mommy would put up the red plastic wreaths with the red candles in the windows. A plastic Santa riding a white reindeer and that lit up was one of Katie’s favorite Christmas decorations. The nativity that Daddy had built was put in a place of honor where Katie would look at it every day. It had a blue lightbulb that gave the holy family a heavenly glow.

Soon it was Christmas Eve and the children were all excited about Santa’s coming visit. The boys wanted Davy Crockett coonskin hats and Katie wanted a doll. Her older sister, Joanne, wanted new clothes. Katie wanted to stay up and see if Santa really was the one who brought the toys each Christmas. She begged Mommy to allow her to stay up if her sister stayed up with her “You may stay up, but you will be asleep before Santa gets here,” Mommy told her.

That night Katie and Joanne each picked a chair to sleep in. With pillows and blankets, they settled in and prepared to stay up and see old St. Nick bring their presents. Everyone else went to bed and the house settled down into a deep, dark quiet. Not a thing was stirring. Katie was so excited. She waited and waited until her eyelids became heavier and heavier. All at once there was a soft glow in the room. Katie rubbed her eyes because she could not believe what she was seeing. Right in front of her, so close she could have touched him was a short, round little man in a beautiful red woolen suit with the whitest fur trim. He was bent over putting something under the tree. It was Santa! Katie was afraid that she might get in trouble for being there, but suddenly, the little man turned and looked right at her with his kind eyes and said, “Go back to sleep, honey.” The next thing Katie knew she was waking up in her own bed. It was Christmas morning!

The children all had to wait until Mommy and Daddy said it was okay to come down the stairs. When they did there was a mad dash to get to the Christmas tree and see what Santa had brought them. Katie doesn’t remember what she got that year, but she does remember it was the year she saw the real Santa Claus.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. Bye.

Jack and the Beanstalk My Way

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Once upon a time in a land that is no more, but lived for many years in the Black Forest of Germany there lived a boy named Jack. He lived with his mother and father in a little cottage in the forest.

His mother and father loved each other very much and all was happy for several years. Then Jack’s father passed away leaving Jack and his mother penniless because he had not invested his money wisely in mutual funds.

All Jack and his mother had left was one tiny cow who had gone dry and gave no milk. So Jack’s mother told Jack to go into the village and sell the cow to get money to buy some food. Jack was all excited about getting out of the house and going into town even if he didn’t have any money to spend. He and the cow walked down the dusty road toward the village and along the way Jack met a strange little man.

A little man with soulful eyes and a big, wet nose who carried with him a sack of beans.

“Would you like to buy these beans?” asked the little man. He held them in front of Jack’s eyes. “They are magic beans,” said the man. Jack, not being the brightest bulb in the chandelier, thought this was a pretty good deal so he agreed to buy the beans with the cow.

A full sack of beans. “What a deal!” Jack thought to himself. “I wonder what is magic about them? I forgot to ask.” He turned to look and the strange little man and Jack’s cow had disappeared. “Oh, well,” said Jack and he turned to go back home.

Once home Jack ran to his mother to show her the magic beans. Needless to say, she was not happy. Nor was she too bright either as she threw the beans out the window instead of making a good bean soup that would have staved off starvation for a while. “We may as well go to bed,” said Jack’s mother. “We will have to think of something tomorrow.”

So Jack and his mother went to bed. While they slept, the magic beans began to grow. They grew higher and higher until their tops reached clear into the sky and beyond.

Jack awoke the next morning and went outside and to his amazement saw a giant beanstalk growing in the yard. Without further ado, Jack began to climb the beanstalk.

Up and up he went, into the clouds and beyond. After climbing for hours, he came upon a magical land in the clouds and there stood a giant castle. Jack ran up to the castle door and knocked, but no one answered, so he slowly opened the door and peeked inside. There he saw a table groaning with all kinds of good food to eat. He climbed the leg post, onto the table and began to feast upon the delicious food.

Suddenly, Jack heard the castle door bang open and a loud voice yell, “Fee, Fi, Fo Fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman. Be he alive or be he dead, I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.”

Now Jack, not being an Englishman, but a German from the Black Forest did not fear the giant even though he was very scary looking.

The fact he had no clothes on was a little disconcerting, but Jack rolled with the flow and decided to make friends. Before he spoke the giant called for his chickens.

He had several chickens who he had named. Dorcas, Beatrice, Penninah, Jemima, Freedom and Phoebe. They all laid golden eggs. Every last one of them. Sadly, the giant could not eat their eggs, but he could afford to buy lots of eggs at the grocer. He began to sing to his chickens and they clucked back to him.

Jack suddenly popped out from behind a salt shaker and said “How do you do,” to the giant. Well, that giant almost fell out of his chair, but soon Jack realized the giant was not friendly and would, indeed, grind his bones, if he didn’t get out of there.

So Jack grabbed one of the chickens thinking at least he and his mother could eat it, and ran for the beanstalk.

Jack heard the giant running after him so he climbed down as fast as he could as he heard above him the crashing of branches as the giant slid after him.

Once down on the ground Jack ran for an ax and chopped the beanstalk down. Down, down fell the giant and with a huge crash landed on the ground. Jack stood over him, thinking the giant was dead. But he was only gravely injured, so Jack and his mother bandaged him up and cared for him until he became well. In the meantime, they all became good friends. With the one chicken and her golden eggs, Jack was able to buy his mother a castle, beautiful clothes and all the food she could want. As for him and the giant, whose name was Fred, they became close friends and built a cozy cabin in the woods where they raised a herd of milk cows and raised beans. None of which ever grew as high as that first beanstalk.

The End. Bye.

“

Sleds and Santa

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This is one of my Hoosier Girl stories. Things I remember. It may not be what other members of my family remember, but I’m sticking with my story.

Sleds and Santa

A heavy blanket of snow covered Daddy’s Indiana farm. Katie looked out the kitchen door and saw drifts of snow on the sidewalk and back porch. Daddy came in the back door carrying an armload of firewood to put in the big black iron stove that sat in the kitchen. As Katie ate her breakfast of hot sweet tea and cinnamon toast, she felt warm and cozy. Daddy sat at the head of the table and Mommy sat next to him. They were discussing what needed to be done that day on the farm.

Katie’s brothers came down from the cold upstairs. Katie’s bedroom window had had frost on the inside of it that morning! She had not wanted to leave her warm nest in her bed.

“Hey, let’s go sledding this afternoon,” said Andy. That sounded like a great idea to all the children First all the chores must be done before play. On a farm the livestock comes first and all the animal must be fed and watered before anything else. The eggs must be gathered before they froze in their nests. That was Katie’s job. Soon they were all bundled to go outdoors to do their chores.

The cold wind whipped Katie’s face as she walked to the chicken house. Inside it was warm and the chickens began clucking and stirring when they saw Katie. Sometimes Katie would have to reach underneath a setting hen to take her egg. The hen would not like this, but it had to be done. Eggs were never left to be hatched in the hen house. Mommy used many eggs in her baking each week and the ones she didn’t use were carefully washed and crated and taken to the grocery store to be sold to the grocer for him to resell. Mother’s chicken eggs were especially good. Thy were always fresh and the yolks almost orange. That was because the chickens were allowed to peck and scratch outside and eat a lot of different things besides the ground corn Daddy fed them. The eggs purchased in grocery stores today have very light colored yolks and are not always as fresh as they could be.

After a good hot midday meal, Katie and her brothers dressed in several layers of clothes and snow boots and gloves and hats and went out to Daddy’s workshop where the sleds were kept They walked down the road to a hill owned by a neighbor, Mr. Bond. Sometimes he would have cows in the field where the hill was, but they never came near the children.

They climbed over the fence and trudged through the deep snow to the top of the hill. It seemed gigantic to Katie. The first few times sledding down were not very good because paths had to be made through the snow. After a few rides down the hill it became slicker and slicker until you were absolutely flying! At the bottom of the hill was a small grove of trees that had to be maneuvered through. It was dangerous, but fun at the same time. Sometimes the Clevenger boys, who lived across the road, came over and joined the fun. The boys liked to throw snowballs at one another as they sled down the hill. Katie liked it when they threw snowballs at her even though she cried for them to stop.

All too soon for Katie it was time to go back home. She was chilled to the bone but hadn’t noticed while she was sledding. Back in the warm house Mommy made hot chocolate and Daddy popped corn and made popcorn balls. After all the exercise it all tasted so good.

Sometime during the winter season Daddy and Mommy began whispering to one another and hiding things from the children. It was Christmas time, one of the best times of the year for a child. Soon after Thanksgiving the Christmas tree would be cut down and set in the front room and decorated and Mommy would put the red plastic wreaths with the red bulbs in the windows. A plastic Santa riding a reindeer was one of Katie’s favorite Christmas decorations. It lit up and looked so merry.

Katie became so excited that she was about to burst with excitement. There would be a Christmas party at school and a special Christmas program at church to celebrate Jesus’ birth. It was all wonderful.

As Christmas drew nearer Katie could hardly contain herself. What would Santa bring her this year? Then, finally, it was Christmas Eve. One year Katie wanted to stay up and see if Santa was really the one who brought the toys each Christmas. She begged Mommy to allow her to stay up if her older sister, Joanne, stayed up with her. “You may stay up, but you will be asleep before Santa gets here,” said Mommy.

That night Katie and Joanne each picked a chair to sleep in. With pillows and blankets they prepared to stay up and see old St. Nick bring their presents. Katie waited and waited until she felt her eyelids becoming heavier and heavier.

All at once there was a soft glow in the room Katie rubbed her eyes because she could not believe what she was seeing. In front of her, so close she could have touched him, was a short, round little man in a beautiful red wool suit with the whitest fur trim. He had a grand beard that covered his chest. Katie sat in silence for fear the man would notice her. It was Santa Claus and he might be angry to see her watching. Suddenly he turned around and looked directly at Katie and smiled at her and said, “Go back to sleep, Honey.” Katie felt no fear, but a feeling of love surrounded her. The next thing Katie knew she was waking up in her own bed. It was Christmas morning.

The children all had to wait until Mommy and Daddy said it was okay to come down the stairs. When they did. there was a mad dash to get to the Christmas tree to see what Santa had left them. Katie doesn’t remember what she got that year, but she does remember it was the year she saw the real Santa Claus.

The End

I remember this as though it were yesterday. It is as real to me today as it was when I was a little girl. I believe. Bye.

Bees and Honey

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I am going to include another Hoosier Girl story from my past, but before I do I would like to show a few pictures of the goings on at our house.

I still commune with my chooks although they haven’t been getting as much attention lately as I have had many things to do. See Penninah and Jemima at my feet? They stand there and chatter to me looking to see if I have brought any treats. All I had in my pocket this day was a dog biscuit so I gave it to them.

Of course when one hen gets something, they all gather to get their own treats.

I am Queen over all I survey and these are my subjects! Ha. You should be here to hear the clucking and talking they do when I am around. I don’t know if they are happy to see me or wish I would get out of there so they can go about their business.

This is Ada, the Australorp. Isn’t she beautiful? You can’t see in the picture, but she has the most beautiful teal feathers among the black ones. She has started to squat, as chickens who are getting ready to lay will do. I think she may have already begun to lay as I am finding some very small eggs in the nests.

Beautiful Abigail, the Silver Laced Wyndotte. She is gorgeous and I think she knows it. She is the biggest hen now. David says she looks like a nice roaster and I just say, “Not going to happen.” I don’t think she is laying yet.

Here is a normal size egg next to a new layer egg. In time the hen will lay bigger eggs, but she’s just a beginner. Their eggs still taste good. I have noticed the yolks are almost orange now. I have fed them the last of the marigolds and I think that is why.

Molly Marshmallow continues to grow. She is a very active little puppy. She drags up all kinds of things onto our back deck. She brought a huge board with a nail in it the other day and I was afraid she was deconstructing one of our buildings, but David said it was just a piece of wood she had found behind the shed. Nothing would surprise me with this dog.

She is so sweet and wants attention all the time. Still working on that nipping. See those teeth? They are like little razors and have drawn blood. Belle, in the background, has felt those teeth a few times and Molly gets a good nip back sending her whining.

When the weather starts to get cooler, I have the urge to bake. This is pineapple upside down biscuit. It is delicious. If you were here, I would give you a piece.

I cannot keep these in the house and it is not because I eat them. David is hooked on these and eats them all. I don’t really like them because I think they taste like paraffin. He has gone through three bags, but I’m not saying anything.

Now for my story. Remember, these are stories from my childhood and it is how I remember them. My brothers and sister may remember things differently, but this is my story and I’m sticking to it.

Bees and Honey

By Kate Pentecost Craig

Katie woke up to a long, warm Summer day ahead of her. She stretched in bed and lay quietly for a few minutes listening to the noises of the awakening house. Mommy had been up for hours. She always got up at 5 o’clock to read her Bible and drink her morning cup of coffee in peace before all the children came running down the stairs. Katie always wanted to be able to get up that early too, but Mommy discouraged her from doing so.

Now Katie got out of bed and pulled on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. She took the stair steps two at a time and jumped off the last two steps. “Good morning,” Mommy said to her, “What do you want for breakfast?” Katie had been fixing her own breakfast since she started school. It was almost always the same, tea and toast spread with peanut butter or tea and cinnamon toast. Sometimes she would have a glass of chocolate milk. While she was eating, Daddy came in from the barn. After washing his hands and sitting down at his place at the head of the table, Mommy poured him a cup of coffee and placed half a grapefruit in front of him and two slices of toast. Daddy almost always had the same breakfast too!

“What are you going to do today, Snicklefritz?”(Daddy’s pet name for Katie) Daddy asked.

“Play!” said Katie as she jumped off her chair and ran out the kitchen door. Once outside the whole big world waited to be explored. Katie began to run out to the the side yard when she saw a strange sight on the clothesline. A big black mass of moving objects hung suspended on Mommy’s clothesline. Bees were flying around this mass. Katie ran laughing right into the swarming bees. Back and forth she ran flailing her arms and hitting the flying insects. Not one stung her. She then ran into the house yelling, “Come look and see what is on the clothesline.”

Mommy and Daddy came out the back door while Katie made a dash toward the roiling mass again, but Daddy called her to get back to him. “Those are swarming bees,” said Daddy. “There must be a queen bee in there. They were too busy swarming to bother stinging you, but you are a very lucky little girl.” Katie wanted so much to run among the bees again, but she was not allowed. Her brothers came out to look at the swarm. It was a very strange sight to see so many bees piled on top of each other. In the center of the mass somewhere was the queen bee.

Daddy went back inside to call a man he knew who kept beehives and sold honey. soon the man arrived to collect the bees. He put on a big hat with a mesh face protector. He wore long sleeves and gloves. He had one of his wooden hives with him. Carefully he put the mass of been into the hive and closed the lid. “Your little girl was very lucky the bees were swarming,” said the man. “She could have been very badly stung.” Katie hung her head, but inside her mind she was thinking about how much fun it had been to run through all those bees!

Several weeks later the man came back to their house bringing a gift. He had jars of fresh honey, some of them with the comb in them. Katie stuck her fingers into one of the jars and pulled out a piece of the honeycomb. The sweet golden honey dripped from it. She stuck it in her mouth and chewed the delicious sweet comb. When she had sucked all the honey from it, she threw the comb away. She was glad the bees had chosen their yard in which to swarm and she was glad to have some of their sweet honey to eat all summer long on her toast and ice cream.

Hope you have a wonderful day. And don’t get stung by any bees! Bye.

Hoosier Girl Stories

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I am a Hoosier girl through and through. Born and bred on an Indiana farm smack dab in the middle of the state. For those of you reading this who wonder what a Hoosier is, it is anyone who was born in the state. Where the name comes from, no one can say for sure. Some say it happened many years ago when the settlers lived in cabins and when someone would be coming toward their cabin they would yell out, “Who’s yer?” There are other explanations, but no one knows the true meaning.

Over the years I have written stories about my growing up years on my daddy’s Indiana farm and today I will publish one here on my blog. It’s written as me as a little girl and the facts are as I remember them. My brothers and sister may remember things differently. I had a wonderful childhood and remember many fun things that happened while I was growing up. So here is my first story.

Ducklings by the Back Door

It was Spring on Daddy’s Indiana farm. New baby animals were being born every day. The one animal Daddy did not have on his farm was a duck, but that was soon to change.

One day Mommy came home from visiting a neighbor carrying a box in her arms. Inside the box were eggs. Not just any kind of eggs which Katie saw every day. These eggs were duck eggs that the neighbor had taken from a setting duck.

Mommy had gotten an egg incubator at a sale and had been wanting to try her luck at hatching some eggs herself. She carefully placed the duck eggs inside the incubator. It was round and had a lid that raised. It ran on electricity to keep the eggs warm.

“Your job will be to turn the eggs every day,” Mommy told Katie. “You will also have to sprinkle water onto the eggs to keep them moist.”

Katie was excited. She knew that if she did her job correctly, there would one day be some baby ducklings hatching from the eggs.

Every day Katie would go down into the cellar where the incubator was kept and she would turn the eggs a quarter turn. This was so that the eggs would get warm all the way around. She sprinkled water over the eggs then carefully closed the lid. She looked at the eggs through the glass top and wondered how soon the baby ducklings would be poking their beaks through the eggshells.

The days followed slowly one after the other. Each day Katie watched the eggs, but they just lay there. She knew that inside them ducklings were growing and would soon be too big for their eggshell homes.

Then one day it finally happened. Katie went down the cellar steps expecting to see the eggs just laying there as usual, but instead she found that the ducklings were finally being born. There were cracks in several of the eggs and she saw one tiny beak poking out of one of them.

“Mommy, come quick!” Katie called. “The eggs are hatching!”

Mommy hurried down the cellar steps and watched with Katie as each duckling emerged from its shell. The ducklings had to work so hard to get out of the shell that when they finally emerged they were exhausted. They lay on their sides breathing hard, their yellow down still damp from being inside the eggs. Soon they were standing on their tiny webbed feet and stretching and flapping their wings.

Not all the eggs hatched. “That is nature’s way of saying that the ducklings inside those eggs would not have been healthy,” Mommy told Katie.” “They did not develop enough to hatch.

Even though all the eggs did not hatch, there were eight baby ducklings to care for. They had to be kept warm, so Mommy fit a light bulb above a box and put the ducklings inside. Katie fed them baby chicken feed that Daddy bought for the hundreds of baby chickens he raised on the farm. Day after day the ducklings grew. They thought Katie was their mother because she was the first thing they saw when they hatched. They would come running to her to be fed.

Once they were large enough, they were put in the chicken yard with the chickens and lived in the chicken house. When Katie came out the back door they would run to the chicken yard gate and quack at her. sometimes she would take them out of the chicken yard and let them follow her all around the yard. soon their soft yellow down became snow white feathers. They became noisy and destructive and tore up some of Mommy’s flowers in the garden. Mommy said they would have to stay in the chicken yard.

The big white ducks lived for several years on Daddy’s Indiana farm. Mommy tried hatching chickens in her incubator, but never had any luck. Katie sometimes gave uncooked oatmeal to her pet ducks because they were spoiled and they loved oatmeal. The ducklings by the back door were her babies and she would always have a special place in her heart for them.

Hope you enjoyed my little story. Bye.

Two Desperadoes

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Two desperadoes rode into town on 350 horses with several compadres. These were bad dudes. Or dudettes as it were.

Look at her fierce look.

Now look at this sweet and sort of dorky face. Not a bad thought in her head. Or was there?

Angry dudette.

Sweet, wouldn’t hurt a feather on your head face.

Then these two met and feathers flew. It was a fight to the death. Jail was the only answer.

A well built, can’t be broken out of jail. Oh? The two desperadoes had other ideas.

The two desperadoes escaped and hid in a nearby bush. A bush that is as tall as a tree. Clear to the top. With much straining, cackling and scratches(and that was just David), they were taken back to jail.

More work was done on the jail to make it escape proof. Oh?

Up in the tree-bush again the next night. Let’s play find the chicken.

Back to jail with more wood, more sticks, and bricks to keep the prisoners inside. Finally, it worked, but the two desperadoes were not happy with it. They continuously looked for an escape.

Meanwhile, happy dorky chicken remains free to fight another day.

“Who you lookin’ at? I did nothing, I saw nothing. I’m innocent.” Ahem.

After contending with that, I decided to paint the floor of my shop porch. We removed everything off the porch.

When I saw all this I told David it looked like a really good garage sale or auction find. And it all belonged to me!

I got up really early on the hottest day of the summer so far and began to paint.

Then when it was painted and had dried, I had to put everything back, but in a better order. I am happy with it.

A little something about painting. David is a very slow, meticulous painter. He does a really great job, but takes a long time. I did this floor in about an hour. When David paints his shirt looks like this afterward.

When I paint I am more of a fast, kind of sloppy painter. My shirt looks like this after I paint.

I watch those remodeling shows where the perky, cute well dressed hostess paints a room in jewelry and white pants and doesn’t get a drop of paint on her. How does she do it? How does David do it? I keep this shirt for all my painting so I won’t ruin all my clothes. I also have a special pair of paint pants. I can roll in the paint and I wouldn’t worry. Sometimes it looks as if I did. I also have to take a bath after I paint and get the paint off my hands, arms, face and out of my hair. But even at that, I have painted every room of our house at least twice and some three or more times and they don’t look too bad for a messy painter because I don’t get any paint on anything but the walls and me.

I will leave you with a picture of a vintage tablecloth I purchased at an antique mall this past week. I collect these and it is getting harder to find any I like, but this one really caught my eye and was a good price.

Here’s to desperado chickens and the fun they provide. Bye.

Once

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Once there was a little brown house. A comfortable, modest, little brown house. It had a nice little porch on its front.

Well, it use to have a nice little porch on its front. The family would sit on the porch and watch the world go by. Children would watch the trains as they sped down the tracks. Visitors would come through its front door.

Then, an angelic contractor came and transformed the little house.

See, he even had a halo.

The little house didn’t know what was happening to it. Windows were being removed.

Rafter boards were being painted and nailed on it.

New, airtight windows were installed. Windows that would keep out the cold, winter air.

The little brown house was beginning to feel that maybe, just maybe it wouldn’t be the little plain Jane, little brown house any longer.

Grandchildren came to watch the building.

Grandchildren who have played on this porch and watched the trains go by.

Old men stalked in the shadows. Wait a minute, that’s David. He owns the little brown house.

Nice, wide, wooden steps replaced the cement steps that had been there for decades.

A big, wide deck replaced the little porch.

Birds liked the new porch so much, they began to set up housekeeping, not knowing that their nests would have to go. Poor birds.

There’s a nice birdhouse you birds could live in. In fact, there are several birdhouses to choose from. The big house belongs to people.

While the little house was transforming, the garden was changing too.

Rhododendrons, lilacs, redbuds and tulips were making the garden look so pretty.

And then there was light.

Two of these. One on each side of the front door.

And a fan. Oh, joy, a fan. The little house’s porch would always have a breeze if needed.

Now the little brown house sits and awaits a new coat of stain and rocks around its posts. It can’t wait. One day soon it will be the pretty little house it was meant to be. Bye.

My Last Cat

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Growing up on a farm, there were always cats around. There was always a litter of kittens to play with in the barn loft. I would sit for hours playing with the kittens in the cozy loft among the bales of hay and straw. Our cats did not lack for affection or attention. I would watch my daddy spray milk into a cat’s mouth directly from the cow. The cats knew when it was milking time.

I have always named all the cats I knew. Susie Sa Bette, Skitter Cat,(named for the Skitter Cat book I read as a child) Blackie, Fitzgigg, Cornflake, Muffin, Harley, because he had a harlequin look about him, and there were several more. My daughter always named her cats Melissa. We had a litter of cats and she had named them and we gave them away and she always was unhappy we gave away Melissa so we got a white cat and she, of course named her Melissa and that cat lived to be eighteen years old. I was through with having cats until a friend at church said she had a litter of kittens. I decided I would like to have one. She brought a box of cats to church and I picked one out and brought her home.

This little kitten was to be in my shop and was to never get out. We had lost most of our cats on the road, you see, and I couldn’t stand to lose another like that. We did have one, Harley, drown in our pool which was a tragedy. So I brought Prissy Pink Toes home and wrote a story about her for my grandchildren.

Prissy Pink Toes is black and brown with a white stripe down her nose and one white paw. She has blue eyes and pink toes.

Then one day Prissy’s owner, April, put her in a carrier and off they went in the car with April’s children, Skye, Austin and Neea.

They arrived at church where Grandma was waiting to pick up Prissy, It was love at first sight.

Grandma picked up Prissy and her motor began to run. “Prrrr,” purred Prissy as she settled in Grandma’s arms.

She decided she liked it very much!

We loved Prissy, who was, by the way, named after the Gone With the Wind character, Prissy. All my pets except for the chooks are named for people from Gone With the Wind.

Anyway, I tried my best to keep Prissy in the shop where she was cozy and safe, but as cats are want to do, she wanted to wander and slipped out of the shop door one day. I had to go somewhere that day and when I was driving home, I saw her lying in the road. I cried. I have not had another cat since because we live on a busy road and cats do tend to want to cross the road, like chickens. Why do we never see dead chickens in the road? Are they wise to the way of road crossing?

I have had thoughts lately about getting another cat for my shop, but I have my doubts that I could keep it inside.

Do you have a cat or cats? They are sweet lovable creatures except for one I heard about on the news just lately who was terrorizing its owners so much they called 911. He is now in an animal shelter waiting for adoption. Would you want to adopt him???

Here’s to cats and the people who love them. Meow. Bye.

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