A Murder

       A Murder

     There's a murder in the trees

Oh! Help us all

Big black birds

began to call

Caw! Caw!

Look at us

Flitting around

Making a fuss

                           Kay Jordan

We Make Plans And God Laughs

     This morning I had my day planned out.  I was going to get out some material and start a cross stitch for a friend of my daughter in law, then after lunch we would go to the movie "Into the Storm" as Thursday is movie day for us.  I even have coupons for a free soda and pop corn.
     We walked the dogs as usual.  After a stroll on the street John takes them both back behind our house by the railroad track for a walk in the grass.  I continued to walk on the street but heard a terrible racket from the dogs.  Like any brother and sister they do have their little tiffs but this sounded worse than usual.
      "What in the world was that all about?" I asked John when they returned to the street.
      They had been really sniffing hard at some scent in the bushes.  Lula happened to move too close to the place Jack was sniffing and he went after her.  Because they were both on leashes she couldn't get away from him.
     John stuck his leg between them to break them up but instead he got scratched and nipped.  Blood was running down his leg from this. 
     Then he grabbed both of them to get them apart and got a few nips and scratches on his arm.  Blood was running down his arm too.
     Lula had a big open gash on her ear and blood was running down her neck.
     Jack was loping along in his usual manner oblivious to all the havoc he had caused with a look on his face that said "Who, Me??" I told him he was in deep do-do. 
     I called the vet's office and she said to bring Lula right in.  I called the doctor, told the nurse about John's encounter, assured her that the dogs have had their shots and that it was both our dogs in the fight, and that there were no deep puncture wounds.  I thought he might need an antibiotic but she said keep the wounds clean and dry and call back if they turned red and looked like an infection was starting.
     Jack did look a little sorry when we left for the vets but I don't know if he was sorry for what he did or sorry he wasn't getting to go for a ride too.
     When we went to the vets John had three big band aids on his arm and two on his leg which was still bleeding from a long scratch. Our vet laughed and said he could tell who got the worst of that fight.
     Lula spent the morning there getting stitches in her little ear.  She has pain medication and an antibiotic to take for a few days.  When we got home and let Jack inside she began kissing him on the face as if to say "It's okay, I forgive you."  Jack gave her the sniffer test wondering where she had been. 
    She walks around with her head tilted to the left like she's wondering why her ear hurts so bad.
     I didn't get to start the cross stitch and I didn't go to the movie because I didn't want to leave Lula.  This day did not turn out like I planned.

It's Christmas

 

 

It's Christmas

 

 

It's two weeks till Christmas?

 

 

Are you kidding me?

 

 

I don't have any presents.

I don't have a tree.

 

Where are the lights,

tinsel and balls?

Oh! Lord, I need help

to deck all my halls.

 

My lights are all tangled.

My tinsels all bent.

I haven't baked cookies.

My cards aren't sent.

 

I'm in a mess

and so is the mall.

Merry Christmas? I guess;

and Bah Humbug to all.

 

                                      Kay Hart Jordan

                                                                   Published in Word and Image

 

 

                                

 



 

 

                                      

Impressions of a Wall

 

 

 

Impressions of a Wall     

                                

                       Black granite walls two hundred fifty feet long

                       Fifty eight thousand names--long loved, long gone

                       Even in sun, the stone is cold

                       Telling the lives of soldiers bold

                       A hand reaches out to touch a name

                       Hoping they didn't die in vain

                       In silence, we come:  In silence, we cry

                       In silence, we tell our heroes good-bye

 

                                                                               Kay Jordan

                                                                     Published in MOBIUS  1990

Topsy Turvy Strawberries

      The end of last September I was in Pulaski visiting.  My friend Betty, her sister in law Patsy, my cousin Rachel and I spent the day going to yard sales.  This was one of Betty's favorite past times.  We all found some bargains and at our last stop I found a Topsy Turvy Strawberry Planter still in the box for a quarter.
     I thought it was an interesting find and one I'd like to try.  Betty said if I hadn't bought it that she would have.  She thought it was a great idea and kept telling me I'd have fresh strawberries this summer.  I told her I thought I'd plant flowers in it and hang it under my car port for the summer. 
     When I got home I put on a shelf in my laundry room and seriously doubted anything would grow in it.  The more I thought about it the more I thought I didn't want to mess with this.  I'm not much of a gardener and a few purchased hanging baskets were usually all I needed or wanted in the way of a garden.
      Life went on as the box sat on my shelf.  Betty hadn't been feeling well and in late October was diagnosed with pneumonia.  After an emergency visit to the local hospital her doctor sent her to St. Thomas Hospital.  In early November it was discovered she had stage four lung cancer.  A bad reaction to chemo caused a heart attack.  Six weeks later, on December 13, my long time friend was gone.
     I would look at that stupid box on my laundry room shelf and think how much fun we had that day and how Betty thought I had got a great deal and was thrilled I'd be growing strawberries.  I finally decided I couldn't let her down.  I'd have to plant strawberries in her memory.
     Last month I stopped by Home Depot and picked up some strawberry plants and potting soil.  They have sat under my car port for several weeks but today seemed to be the perfect day for planting.
    I chose a spot to hang the planter where it would get plenty of sun, stuffed the strawberry plants into the holes and filled it with potting soil then made a picture of it. 
    Some of the plants have blooms and a few small berries forming but I really wonder if I will have any strawberries or even if the plants will live.  I'll do my part and I know if Betty has anything to do with it I'll have a bumper crop.
    Here you have   Betty's Memorial Topsy Turvy Strawberry Planter..........

Family Tree

      If you're driving up Interstate 65 from Alabama into Tennessee look to your left at the ten mile marker.  You'll see a couple of stores, a service station and a few other buildings.  This little village is Bunker Hill.  It's not a town, it's really just a place.  This is where my grandmother's family roots are.
     In the spring at mile marker eleven you'll see buttercups blooming on the side of the interstate.  They used to be in my great aunts front yard when her house sat where you're driving now.  At mile marker twelve you'll see an old secluded house sitting off the road.  This is the house that my great grandparents were living in when they died in 1947.
    I have a lot of history in this area thanks to my grandmother.  To tell you about it I'm going to go back and start in 1813. 
      William Watson, born in 1775 married Mary Brown.  On September 27, 1813 they became the proud parents of twin boys, Larken Watson and Henry Watson.  The twins grew to manhood and married.
       It's not known who Larken married but in 1840 he had a daughter, Elzira Watson.  Elzira married Elijah Wilson (E.W.) Holt.  In 1860 they had a bouncing baby boy, Yancey Elijah Holt.
      Henry Watson, the other twin, married Margaret Osborne.  They had a son William O. Watson.  William was a scoundrel.  This handsome man, whose picture has hung in my grandmother's and mother's houses and in mine until I gave it to my son, seemed to pack a lot of living into his short thirty years.  He married Martha Bass.  They had a beautiful daughter, Sarah Olivia Watson. 
      Beautiful Sarah Olivia grew up and married Elijah Wilson Holt, once the bouncing baby boy.  They knew each other all their lives and had a long marriage that produced nine children, one of which was my grandmother, Sallie Holt.
       My grandmother Sallie married Henry Lee Taylor and they had a daughter Sara Jane Taylor who married my father Julius Hart.  So here I am.
      In case you haven't been able to follow this let me simplify it from where I started.  William Watson begot twins Larken Watson and Henry Watson. 
      Larken Watson begot Elzira Watson who begot Yancey Elijah Holt who begot Sallie Holt who begot Sara Jane Taylor who begot me.
      Henry Watson begot William O. Watson who begot Sarah Olivia Watson who begot Sallie Holt who begot Sara Jane Taylor who begot me.
      To make a long family tree short.....my great grandparents were third cousins and my great-great-great grandfathers were twin brothers, Larken and Henry.
      Maybe this explains the handsome men and beautiful women in my family.

Uncle Leon

      A couple of weeks ago my cousin, Rachel, was filling me in on our Uncle Leon.  She likes to collect pictures and history of our family.  She had pictures that people said were Leon but she didn't know for sure if it was actually him or not.  But she said another cousin gave her a picture his father had of Leon.  It was an identification badge with his picture and his signature so she knew for sure this was Leon.   He looked like her father and another one of our uncles, who were his brothers.
     The reason she didn't know if the other pictures were of Leon or not is because we have never met him.  Growing up he was this mysterious uncle who left home and lived in the far away land of Texas.  I always had theories about why he left.  One was that he loved a beautiful girl but couldn't marry her for whatever reason so he packed up and left brokenhearted.   The other was that in the heat of a fight he had killed a man and had to get out of town fast.  I'm afraid the real reason for his departure was far more mundane.
     He left Giles County in the early 1930's with several other young men.  Since this would have been the time of the Great Depression I'm assuming he left because of the prospect of a job in Texas.  It even could have been with one of the government programs established at that time to give young men a chance to work.  He ended up in Fort Worth, liked it and decided to stay.
     He did come home occasionally, would stay for a week or two then leave quietly early one morning without a word of good bye.  The last time he came home was around 1940 which was before Rachel or I were born.  Over the years he kept in touch with our Aunt Delia, one of his sisters.
     He never married or had children.  In 1976 he was found wandering around the streets.  He had suffered a stroke.  The only reason the police knew who he was is that he had a letter from Aunt Delia in his pocket.  She was contacted and went to stay with him and stayed with him until his death shortly after that.
      His body was brought back and he was buried in Pulaski.  After 40 years Uncle Leon finally came home.