I open the door, look at the vine, and say, "Today is the day I will cut you down," but the day takes me elsewhere, and the vine lives to greet me again.

We live our lives outside, in what has become our creek valley sauna. At day's end, when we return inside, the heat and humidity are there to greet us. Outside or in, we live off the grid with the creek valley weather.

It was hot and humid, but not so hot that if I held my arms out to my side to cool and tilted my head back to look up at the sky, I could see a lone turkey vulture soaring high above the creek valley, and think that I felt just a wee bit cooler. I imagined that I too was flying.

The neon greens of spring have deepened into the dark greens of summer. The valley's wooded hillsides are now thickly covered with verdant growth. The energy fills my soul.

Queen Anne's lace is a lovely lady, but poison hemlock is wicked. He contains toxins that can be fatal if ingested, and if they sneak into your bloodstream through a cut or rash, they can cause serious illness.

Greg has kept the clock running for these past 20 years. By my calculations, Greg has lovingly wound the clock for over 400 weeks. As for me, I have been the lucky lady who basks in the time that my father created and that husband now carefully tends. I am fortunate indeed.

There is a large flat stone in the side yard of a small home in Georgetown, Ohio. The stone is estimated to weigh about two tons. Georgetown, according to the last census, has a population of about 4,500. It is a small town by any standards, and has always been a small town, but within its borders lies this very large stone.

I am learning all the time, but I am surprised that I had never before noticed how, almost overnight, for the past 23 years, the dandelions were suddenly gone.

They are so pretty, cascading out from the edge of the woods and flowing into the fields. Honeybees love them and gladly gather their yellow pollen. And so it seems that they do have some redeeming values. I, however, consider them my archenemy. 

I always enjoy this turtle time of year. Perhaps it is because I am somewhat turtle-like, for you see, like the turtles, I know that there is nothing quite like a good back scratch!

I often wonder as I pass by folks in town what stories they could tell of growing up in the country. I grew up in the city where there wasn’t even any space between the houses, and blades of grass were few and far between.

The morning wind kept blowing. It blew blades of straw out of my hands as I carried it over to spread under the rabbit hutch.

When my grandmother came to visit, I could hardly wait to show her my latest accomplishments.

When Greg mentioned that he really needed a 1966 El Camino, I smiled and jokingly told him that I agreed. I knew that he needed one just about as much as I needed four beautiful red tractors. I did, however, add the provision that it was only OK with me as long as the El Camino was red to match my tractors.  ... I should have known.

She loved them, and yellow was her favorite color. Every spring she would decorate her wide brimmed straw hat with newly cut daffodils. She'd carefully sew them on so the thread was hidden.