Friday, September 10, 2010


On Fridays, I'm responsible for supper. Jilda is a great cook and we eat well every day. I, on the other hand have a limited menu. I can cook breakfast  (eggs, bacon, waffles, etc.), I can make a mean pot of chili, my cornbread is quite good, and I can grill steaks, but other than that, my cooking is just sad.
Today, Jilda wanted a BBQ salad from Green Top BBQ. I hustled down there around 5 p.m. and we drove into the driveway as if we had synchronized our schedules.
After dinner, as I sat down to write, I realized that I hadn't fed the deer, so I took a scoop of corn out to the field. 
It rained a few minutes before sunset, but when I went out tonight, the stars were out like diamonds on black velvet.  As I walked under the apple tree, a drop of rain that had been clinging to a leaf dropped and hit me squarely in my right eye.
I smiled because it reminded me of something we taught our great nephew Jordan last week when it rained.
We had gone for a walk after the rain, and he walked with us. When we came to a small dogwood tree, I reached over and shook the tree, and the drops clinging to the leaves drenched him.
He squealed with delight, but then there was a barrage of questions about where the water came from, why it was still on the trees, and on and on. 
He stays with us a couple days a week and I we cram a lot of stuff in those two days. When he ask questions, I do my best to give him an answer he can grasp. It's amazing to me how much he seems to understand.
A few week ago we came upon a leaf that appeared to be suspended in mid air in front of us.
I spent a great deal of time explaining spiders, spider webs, and how the leaf came to be trapped in the web.
Yesterday, we came upon another leaf dangling in the invisible web. I acted like I was mystified. When I asked him why the leaf was hanging like that, he said "pider web", then whacked it with the walking stick I carved for him.  I had to smile.
I found further evidence that he was picking up information when his mom came over and casually asked, "who taught him how to shake a bush after it rains? I had to blow dry my hair after he played that trick on me." I laughed out loud, but she failed to see the humor in it.

1 comment:

  1. I have no one on one experiecnce with children except for having been one and babysitting when I was a teen. I believe children have interior lives before language and those lives are unending curosity. When they speak they quickly learn to tamp down that curiosity based on the reaction of adults they ask questions of.


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