One thing about cold: it drives folks indoors. But in some cases, it also can provide entertainment, enlightenment, laughter and education. We’re not talking your local PBS station, here, but Alphonse “Windy” Wilson.
This time of year, . . .
Herb tried on the Santa suit this morning. Couldn’t button the middle button on the jacket, but fortunately the pants had a drawstring that made allowances for yet another year of good living and fine food. To fix the unclosed button situation, . . .
There is a secret selfish longing we all share this time of year. It is traditional to give gifts at Christmas, of course, but there’s always the chance that those who adore us for our sterling qualities won’t give us what we really want . . .
My first wife came from a ranching family way back up in the hills and had a cousin, Ted, who was a hounddog man.
I talked my way into hunting with him, of course.
All went well until we were on the way home, when a badger ran across the road . . .
There were two little boys down at the Doughnut Hole Café the other day, standing outside, just waiting. They didn’t have long to wait. The Greyhound bus pulls up just about one each afternoon, give or take a little.
When the bus pulled up and . . .
The evening was one of those that come back to you time after time, year after long year. It comes back and whispers of how good life can be when you’re well fed, enjoying life, and a good friend shares the front porch with you on a summer’s . . .
Sure was good to see Jimmy back from the Middle East last week. He looks good in that uniform, too. He was running all over the place for a few days, visiting everyone he knows, but he finally came in to the Mule Barn and sat at the philosophy counter, . . .
A building project (for those of us who are carpenterially challenged) can be a confusing nightmare of little whatchits we never learned the name of and have no idea how to use.
Oh, if we need a two by four that’s eight feet long, we’re . . .
September means pencils, books and teacher’s dirty looks for the youngsters, but it also means state fair season. That’s when the world’s largest zucchini squash is at its prime, of course. The farm animals are all shed off and shiny . . .
You have to hand it to Windy. When Alphonse “Windy” Wilson chooses to speak, it is a bombastic sampling of creativity. Windy has yet to find a word he can’t make better through his own unique methods.
Well, what got him fired up the . . .
“Sanctimonious siphons, it’s hot!” said Dud, sitting at the philosophy counter and turning over his coffee cup for action with a single smooth move. Dud is a regular at the Mule Barn truck stop’s legendary world dilemma think . . .
“Bert looks good this morning, Doc,” Dud said, quietly. Three stools down the counter, Bert smiled and said, “Yes, I certainly do!”
We turned toward our old pal. “You heard that?”
“Sure did, guys,” . . .
“From the cow to the plow, Dewey,” Windy said, leaning on a shovel. Windy Wilson was on another of his “helper days” and today it was Dewey Decker’s turn to be helped.
“What do you mean, Windy?”
“You know . . .
The annual Fourth of July picnic was a celebration of time and freedom. We’d all watched the parade, earlier, because that’s what you do on the Fourth, and we believe in it.
Our parade features Scout troops in uniform, the high school band, . . .
Those of us who call this little valley home have a unique blessing in the form of Perry, our dentist. Yes, when we go to get the fangs fixed up at O’Dontall Dental, down in the old brick building near the office of the Valley Weekly Miracle, . . .
I heard the rumor down at the feed store, later in the afternoon. We had a real live Sherlock Holmes in our community, and he was our local barber, Curtis Naismith.
“What do you mean?” I asked Julie, the stout girl hired to carry 100-pound . . .
When the Rafter E branded recently, a bunch of us went out to help. It’s a badge of pride to have worked your way up the branding ladder.
As a kid, you flank the calves; you grab them, throw them and hold them down. This is conducive to abrasions, . . .
Emily’s dilemma was obvious: how do you sell manure? Since she fell in love with Dewey Decker, she could think of nothing less than spending her life with him and embracing the fertilizer business whole hog, so to speak. Emily Stickles has never . . .
It occurred to me the other day just what a blessing it is to be a grandfather. The children think we’re all powerful, a fount of knowledge and wisdom. Then they turn three …
We could all use coot lessons.
Yes, the enigmatic old coot in every . . .
Do you feel that itch coming on? It’s time, you know. See the kids out flying kites? That’s a sign. See little green bladelets in the lawn. That’s a sign, too.
It’s almost full spring, and that itch tells us it’s time to . . .
“I believe I’ll write some Celtic music,” said Dud one morning at the world dilemma think tank down at the coffee shop. “I’ve been studying it.”
“I didn’t know you were Celtic,” Steve said.
“I’m . . .
Mrs. Richardson doesn’t often go to the city, but Ardis saw the ad in the big daily paper for the singles group and which church they used for meetings. Mrs. Richardson got all dolled up, and she didn’t forget to take the “magic” . . .
In the week before Valentine’s Day, Marvin Pincus had two new customers for his (free of charge, of course) love advice and fly-tying consultation services. He tied up a midge for one client, a salmon streamer wrapped in lead for another, and . . .
When Pop Walker sneaked out the kitchen door the other day, it affected all of us. He’s been a resident of the Rest of Your Life retirement home for several years now.
He still remembers who said what during combat in Europe, but has a hard time . . .