…the kitchen as a whole the shelves individually. Some more boxes and boxes pilling up around here after making so many backroom (unfinished room) discoveries Frieda’s supposed to be packing clothes in them for one of the three tri annual free clothing church bazaars. Some boxes meant for clothing are going to be sacrificed for holding cleaned out kitchen shelves. And from where do all the extra bottled wine come from. I’m not just talking the bottled domestic stuff what gotten-self purchased, given, gifted, presumably saved to celebrate that special occasion find all their ways into the cluttering up the kitchen shelves, high and low, and just around the corner. Add to those foreign alien bottles, all the home made stuff what’s found its way up here from the basement? But, I can’t put them bottled wines in these flimsied cardboard boxes good enough for Her Mostess’s ideas shipping what good clothes I once wore out?
More wine bottles than I know what to do with I’m gonna build what could likely be the first Red Neck wine rack. Having a fair supply of five gallon buckets what had held varied fluids (oils, greases, fuels) I thinks I’ll start by laying a row of four on their sides, one end bucked right up again the stone basement wall, the other end blocked with some three/four concrete blocks (12”, 10”, 8”, 6”) The idea behind the four sizes I’ll stack them the biggest one from the bottom up for the esthetic appearance boldly holding a pyramid pilled set of used oil buckets. A fitting use for them buckets, while they might have been oiled full, seems only fitting as if a body empties and drinks enough of them wines, that body’ll be oiled again. Maybe not quite the same oils but oiled just the same.
Woooo….hooo…….boooo……or..ooooo…oooo….oooo? Maybe it’s the full moon. Evening last I was awakened by neighbor telling me his dog barked. I can believe it, that! That dumb dog barks at me every time I go out the door! So he continues to tell me he heard a pack of coyotes in my pasture chasing the ladies. So, not knowing one way or the other what truth might have been in his words I dressed and went outside with neighbor. Moon so full and bright and just enough snow it weren’t hard seeing where we were walking. I walked out among the ladies. None of them seemed harried, stressed, nor looked exercised. I covr the ground a best I could with my flash light the best I could see were calmly made foot prints going to the water fountain and back to where I had fed the girls. Only other tracks were those my barn cats made having been out and around as cats do, and an opossum track crossing the hay yard.
I doubt we’d had any coyote visitors. Any howling sounds he might have been carried to us on the crisp night airs; and, there was a full moon out last night. Who’s to err not doubt it weren’t a loony moon working its magic(?) upon those susceptible to it’s effect? BGKC.