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Americans are arguing right now. And believe me, I get it. There is a lot going on. Everyone has differences of opinion. But I wondered if we Americans couldn’t put aside our disagreements for a moment, and agree on a few things we love. I’ll start. I love quilting. Quilting bees, quilting circles, quilting parties. Americans didn’t invent quilting, but it’s an American artform nonetheless. I used to watch my mother quilt with dogged persistence. Day after day. Month after month. She used birch-wood quilting hoops, and pieced recycled fabric together. She could take seemingly unrelated scraps and make art. My mother always said, “When life gives you scraps, you make a quilt.” Also, I love jazz. American fiddle tunes. And the way New Orleans smells on a summer morning, after tourists have spent all night urinating in the streets. Stetson hats worn non-ironically. Case knives, butter yellow, dual blades. Moe Howard, Larry Fine, and Curly. Shemp is okay. The old men in cafes who still drink coffee in groups. And the young men who still idolize them. Boys who still ask Santa Claus for BB guns. And their little sisters, who steal their GI Joes because Barbie needs a viable love interest. Kids who still ride bikes. Children who play tag in their backyards, screaming and laughing, without ever once checking their phones. I love Waffle House. An American institution. Yes, I realize eggs are expensive right now, raising the cost of an ordinary omelette to about the same price as a Range Rover Autograph. But I will continue to eat Waffle House fare until my end. Namely, because I have eaten at Waffle House to benchmark the most important moments in my life. I ate at Waffle House the morning after my own wedding. After the funerals of friends and family. God willing, I will eat at Waffle House the day after my own funeral. I love baseball. Not just the game itself. I love the culture. I love how baseball terminology has crept into everyday vocabulary. “Just touching base.” “I’ll go to bat for you.” “He’s out in left field.” “You knocked it out of the park.” I miss the grungy AAA ballparks of youth. The smells of flat beer, cigar smoke, and meat-like rubber served on a hotdog bun. Back when the game was slow, and pitchers still batted. Davy Crockett. Louis Armstrong. Helen Keller. Dorothea Lange. Aretha Franklin. Andy Griffith. Groucho Marx. Lucille Ball. Laura Ingalls Wilder. Dolly Parton. Willie Hugh Nelson. And I love you. Whoever you are. In fact you’re what I like most about America. You’re a great person. No matter how different we might be. No matter how we might disagree. No matter how dissimilar our backgrounds. Maybe I am foolish enough to believe that, even though we appear differently, think differently, and believe differently, it is contrast that makes the scraps of a quilt truly beautiful. Sean Dietrich is a columnist, novelist, podcaster, and stand-up storyteller known for his commentary on life in the American South. His work has appeared in Newsweek, Southern Living, Reader's Digest, Garden and Gun, The Tallahassee Democrat, the Birmingham News, and his column is syndicated in newspapers throughout the U.S. He has authored fifteen books, and he makes appearances on the Grand Ole Opry. To learn more about Sean, visit his website at https://seandietrich.com

He was a good kid. You could just tell. He was maybe 11. Twelve at the most. He was in the supermarket. He had his little sister balanced on his hip. You don’t often see boys carrying toddlers out in public. The kid was filling a shopping buggy. He was reaching for a bag of tortilla chips on the top shelf. I saw one of the older ladies in our aisle reach upward and remove a bag of Tostitos for him. They were Tostitos Scoops. The greatest invention by the chip industry, and perhaps the finest human achievement of the last century with the possible exception of penicillin. “Thanks,” the boy said. His buggy was nearly full. He had lots of adultish items in his basket. Coffee. Vegetables. Diapers. The older lady asked where the boy’s mother was. She asked this in a concerned, parental tone. Her concern, of course, is understandable in our modern day. You don’t often see kids wandering around by themselves anymore. During my youth, however, shortly after the close of World War I, kids almost never had parental supervision. We walked to school. Our mothers sent us to the store on errands. We hung out at the mall without supervision. We rode bikes into the woods, built campfires, constructed deathtrap treehouses, and made serious attempts at discovering new ways to break our own legs. We were feral. “Where are your parents?” said the older woman. “My mom’s waiting in the car,” he said. The woman’s brow furrowed. “She let you come in here by YOURSELF?” He nodded, then readjusted Little Sister on his hip. Little Sister had a snot bubble the size of a Canadian territory. “You’re GROCERY shopping?” the woman said. Nod. The lady was aghast. She wore the patented look of disapproval. “You shouldn’t be in here without an adult.” The kid didn’t reply. “Your mother should be with you,” she said in a half-scolding voice. “It’s dangerous. You’re too young to be by yourself.” “But,” the boy explained kindly, “shopping’s not that hard.” “That’s not what I meant. Your mother could get into a lot of trouble for leaving you unsupervised. This is unacceptable. Someone should tell the manager.” Little Sister’s snot bubble reached critical mass. The kid apologized. He looked embarrassed. He left the aisle and pushed his buggy to the cashier lane, often glancing behind him. Like he now realized he was doing something wrong. I watched him load items on a conveyor belt. I saw him use a credit card to pay. Later, I saw him in the parking lot. I saw the idling Honda that contained his mother. I saw Mom sleeping in the front seat. Then, I saw the middle-aged mother crawl from the vehicle. She was a skeleton. I saw her pale skin. The bandanna over her balding head. The hospital bracelet on her wrist. The bandage on the bend of her elbow. She was trying to help her son load groceries, but she struggled to lift a single bag. When they finished, the boy gave her a hug. And they held each other for a long time. Longer than a normal hug. Because, as I say, he was a good kid. You could just tell. Sean Dietrich is a columnist, novelist, podcaster, and stand-up storyteller known for his commentary on life in the American South. His work has appeared in Newsweek, Southern Living, Reader's Digest, Garden and Gun, The Tallahassee Democrat, the Birmingham News, and his column is syndicated in newspapers throughout the U.S. He has authored fifteen books, and he makes appearances on the Grand Ole Opry. To learn more about Sean or to purchase his books, visit his website at https://seandietrich.com

I wasn’t clear on what exact legislation they were concerned about either, My best guess is the overall budget bill that reportedly calls for $800M in “spending” cuts. If that’s it, they have extrapolated “cuts” to specifically meaning cuts in Medicaid spending.... And then further extrapolated that any cuts are a direct decrease in services (rather than stupid non-benefit related wasted like hundreds of thousands of dollars in inflated costs like the obscene lease our local SS office has been quietly paying to a billion dollar local realty company).

by Jeff Minick Actress, mother of two, and school activist Sophie Winkleman began her recent address on children at the 2025 Alliance for Responsible Citizenship Conference in London by describing a recent scene from a packed London bus. Standing over a young man and a young woman, both intent on their smartphones, Winkleman noticed that each was on a dating site, “reading profiles of men and women who presented as extremely similar to the two of them.” She concluded: "Our bus reached Piccadilly Circus and both happened to alight at this stop. I watched the two of them as they walked away from each other, one towards Shaftesbury Avenue and the other towards St. James’s. I don’t need to labour the point of what I witnessed with this couple never to be. They were side by side, both seeking companionship or love, but they didn’t even register each other’s existence." In the brilliant and passionate address that followed – I don’t use those adjectives lightly – Winkleman turned to the effects of smartphones and classroom technology on adolescents, which she called “the digital destruction of childhood.” She continued: "We left the doors to our children’s classrooms, their bedrooms and their minds wide open to the world. Perhaps we thought we were giving children the right to access everything which might be good out there, but instead we’ve given everyone else – the good and the bad, access to our children." Winkleman spends part of her talk examining data familiar to many parents: the horrifying rise in teen suicides and self-harm incidents, the massive increase of anxiety and depression among the young, the fact that 97% of Britain’s 12-year-olds now possess a smartphone, and that children ages eight to 18 now spend an average of over seven hours every day on one screen or another. She further notes, “Hospital admissions for children with eating disorders in the UK have risen sixfold in a decade, the ‘contagious influence’ of social media cited as a major factor.” Winkleman also cites mountains of evidence demonstrating that digital classrooms offer inferior education to those centered on teachers, books, paper, and pencils. “The Karolinska Institute in Sweden,” she told the audience, “recently published research concluding that, ‘there’s clear scientific evidence that tools impair rather than enhance learning.’ Sweden has taken note and been the first country to kick tech out of the classroom, reinvesting in books, paper and pens. They had the courage to admit that EdTech was a ‘failed experiment’.” So why, given this abundance of data and the visible harm screens bring to so many of the young – and to many adults as well – do parents and schools continue to pair the young with screens and smartphones? For parents, the social pressures felt by their children are a factor. “My friends all have iPhones, why can’t I?” Many parents also fail to understand that screens are addictive, electronic drugs in a plastic case designed to stimulate dopamine in the brain. As for classroom use, screens can reduce the duties of teachers while often better capturing the attention of students. Winkleman reminds her audience that childhood itself is at stake here. The playing fields of the imagination – books, backyard games, the engagement with others in face-to-face encounters, and so much more – are being rapidly replaced by digitalized games, social media, and the artifice of screens. Regarding education, she offers wise observations such as this one: "Reading books and handwriting work is a deeper, not to mention a calmer, way to learn. Screens manage to be both caffeinating and numbing – where books are decompressing and absorbing." Reading and handwriting are also harder in a good way. Friction and struggle are a necessary part of the learning process. Make everything too easy and it’s like feeding ten-year-olds puree when they need to chew. Jonathan Haidt is the author of the extraordinary bestseller, “The Anxious Generation: How the Great Rewiring of Childhood Is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness.” Haidt praises Winkleman’s address as “the best talk I’ve ever seen on what computers and tablets on the desktops of children do to the child’s education.” His article includes the full video of the talk and a transcript. At the end of her talk, Winkleman says: f we want to produce a generation of responsible citizens, we must flip the current argument on its head. "Rather than constantly having to prove that screen use is blighting childhood, we should ask simply: where is the evidence to prove that it’s safe?" I would up that question a notch and ask, “Where is the evidence to prove that it’s beneficial?” Jeff Minick lives in Front Royal, Virginia, and may be found online at jeffminick.com. He is the author of two novels, Amanda Bell and Dust on Their Wings, and two works of non-fiction, Learning as I Go and Movies Make the Man. This article appeared on IntellectualTakeout.org and is shared under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

I do not regret changing my mind about going into corrections that's for sure.

My garage door went all wonky a month or so ago and was at an angle with the left side on the ground and the right up a foot or so. Well I researched on the internet and figured it was something I could fix and I was right, for exactly 1 opening and almost closing. Then it was the exact opposite with the left side up about a foot while the right was in the ground. I filled out the form on their website and within a couple hours they emailed me back saying they scheduled me for today. At about 1 they called and said someone would be here about 2. Well Brandon showed up at about 1:30 and fixed everything including adjusting the track and straightening out the bent parts, lubricating everything and even replaced 2 rollers with ones with longer shafts. In all he took about 45 minutes and the door is operating like new. He is going to drop off a brace that I offered to install to prevent the door from sagging. It's a 16' door and it's starting sag in the middle They bill you, so I don't have a cost yet, but as long as it's reasonable I am okay with it . Overall I would recommend them to anyone that needs a garage door fixed.

I just saw this and it’s an interesting thought:

And there are almost certainly hundreds of other offices across the country paying even more unreasonable overhead. And if 100 offices at that $311,690 are closed....then DOGE will be accused of cutting $31 million from "social security". The implication will be that benefits are suffering from those cuts, when the truth is that's not touching a single SS check. And would, in fact, leave more money to have toward the benefits that are the actual purpose of the agency.

$23K a month in rent. It's my understanding that there are about 14 employees in there. That right there is the kind of waste that DOGE is trying to clean up. Arnot Realty owns that property. Gouging the government.

It's kind of funny how our brains can overlook stuff that's in our peripheral vision. While I immediately recognized my bowls when I looked through the list last week.....it took until this morning to remember that I also have the matching butter dish. And E Bay shows it having higher asking prices than individual bowls....

...but neither offered nor prescribed in the ED. 🙃

Today I learned what FAFO means. I might have to sign up for a class on acronyms to keep up and understand what I’m hearing and reading lol

That’s a tough cycle to break. The US has enjoyed an increasing level of “abundance” over the past few generations.....largely because of more processing, additives and preservatives that extend shelf stability and increase availability of “ready to eat” foods. As heat ‘n serve convenience became more routine, it evolved into people becoming dependent on the processing that made processed foods so convenient. With the wide availability of those processed foods, too many consumers started losing the concept of putting “effort” into even the most basic food preparations for themselves. To a lot of people (especially under 40 or so).....the idea of washing and peeling produce or tossing raw meat in batter/breading is as foreign and obsolete as pulling laundry through a wringer washer to hang on the line.

Yesterday was a prep day since our new chicks are coming this week. I sectioned off a small area for them to have while they're younger, but then fenced off the remaining part along one barn wall for when they are older and need more room to roam. This will be the second time I've brooded chicks this way. It keeps them in view of the older birds and I think when it comes time for them to joing the existing flock it tends to make it less traumatic for them. You'll still have some pecking by the older ones ( which is where the term "pecking order" comes from ) but I don't think it's as much. Additionally, the older ones tend to go outside anyway, leaving the coop to the younger poults until they're brave enough to wander out the door. Heat lamps are working and I have spare bulbs on hand, everything is cleaned and ready. Now they just need to hatch, presumably tomorrow.

Spring is here; the Vernal Equinox has come. Now if we could only adjust spring weather-makers like the Santa Anna winds, the high or low systems layering in the clouds, and turbulence churning out in the open seas and off the Great Lakes. Our fragile and lovely little blue planet is enduring some violent and damaging storms. An eon or two of calm would be welcome. However, the snowdrops are just pushing through the cold ground; signaling spring. Yesterday it was 72 degrees and they are speaking of snow on Monday. We may be wearing winter coats for a while yet, but we know it’s not for long! New England (especially Vermont) is famous for “Mud Season.” It is the “non-tourist season” when residents can relax, when ski season is over and the summer hasn’t begun; traffic ebbs, and a good thing it does. After all, unwary drivers could be trapped in muddy, rutted roads for days! Up-state New York can be similar, with considerable goo underfoot and under tires. Those with large dogs know well about spring mud. New York has back roads that are equally as muddy those of Vermont, that really shouldn’t be traveled until June, or maybe, at all. How do I know this? My husband’s idea of a good time is checking out back roads, wild roads, precipitous roads. In years past, we have been in some potentially hazardous situations due to: “I wonder where this road goes…”. His tendency toward adventure has diminished slightly. It may be wisdom that comes with age, but more probably it is the memory of my shrieks as we careen from one muddy rut to the other and slither in semi-circles toward deep ditches. Sadly, both of our sons have inherited this obviously genetic, and certainly unwise, tendency for dirt roads, seasonal roads, and corkscrew road explorations. We are hearing the stories now of driving over a chain link fence that had been knocked down to escape the 2nd “Woodstock” traffic, of running a snowmobile over Greek Peak at night, of driving past a dead end onto a seasonal road who knows what time of the year? If only we had possessed one of those trackers that are now available to any parent!! One for each of the boys, and definitely one for Kerm. Mud season is made bearable by spending time with friends over lunch, or perhaps around a nice fire. Conversations are always interesting, and sometimes run in rather strange directions. We chat about everything from bird-feeding to geothermic heating, to education, to the best gardening techniques for clay, and to less useful subjects, like whether girls or boys were harder to raise. I think they all exhibit some unique growing pains. Kerm and I had sons, but I grew up with only-slightly younger nieces (my eldest brother was 20 years older than I). And we have granddaughters, who though exemplary 😊, are girls. In my experience,-boys are unnecessarily loud, and they rough-house ---- often knocking over furniture or breaking glassware, leave large, muddy shoes around, and can be quite obnoxious and crass on occasion. They go into rages, but are quickly over them. Their excuses for their misdemeanors are often exceedingly lame. Girls tend to be deceptively delightful, but they pout, cry more, have a variety of moods, and hold grudges longer than most boys. After age 12 or 13, they have a monopoly on the bathroom while getting ready to go anywhere. Their excuses for questionable behavior are slightly more believable, having better imaginations. However, a common malady for both boys and girls, is whining. The “poor me” syndrome seems to be gender-neutral. I had a sign on my office wall right near the entrance. It was a large red circle with a diagonal line across the word “WHINE.” Most people didn’t, but a couple of individuals refused to take a hint. Whining is quite understandable in a child or adolescent. Their emotions and their psyches are still maturing. Coming from the mouth of an adult, however, generally means that person still believes they are the center of the universe, and that time, temperature, and the state of the world should be adjusted to meet their needs. Whining is really an unsaid: “Alas,” “Oh Woe,” “Poor, Poor Me!” There were two people with whom I worked, both men, who whined regularly, often about each other. It became ridiculous enough that I thought of telling All Wet Productions (a local Spencer & Van Etten occasionally creative group) to devise a skit, though I doubt that the guys who inspired it would have been amused. Those two individuals unfortunately, weren’t then, and aren’t now, all that rare. I see a lot of world-wide whining, don’t you? Here in America, we whine about airport delays, the weather, about potholes in the roads, about inflation, about traffic jams, about inconveniences of all sorts. Perhaps we, as a culture, are discontented with life? Perhaps we need to focus more on what is right in our lives. Currently, I have been complaining (Oh all right; basically whining!) about Macy’s and Joann’s closings. Yes, they were fine stores. Yes, I really liked them but there probably are other resources. My whiney self should be thinking about the many people who lost their jobs in the closings and the buildings that will now stand vacant and crumbling. One would think, after seeing the dreadful situations all around the world, that I, and that we, all might be more content, and less complaining, realizing how small, comparatively, our inconveniences are. But, not so. Too many of us have been spoiled by prosperity and the smooth-workings of most systems around us. If we could realize how unimportant some of our issues are, if we stopped thinking about how each inconvenience impacts us personally, we might do less whining. Perhaps each annoying change or inconvenience is the Universe, reminding us that we are not the center of the solar system! Or perhaps that same universe is telling us to be more aware; to pay attention and to take part in our communities, helping those who do not have the conveniences we have. Perhaps we need to retrieve my little sign; the red circle with a slash, make copies and post them everywhere. Late March, in addition to annoying weather, brings us that much closer to daffodils and hyacinths. William Wordsworth* seemed to be partial to daffodils, as I am. He wrote: “I wandered lonely as a cloud that floats on high o’er vales and hills, when all at once I saw a crowd, a host of golden daffodils. Beside the lake, beneath the trees, fluttering and dancing in the breeze……for oft when on my couch I lie, in vacant or pensive mood, they flash upon that inward eye which is the bliss of solitude, and then my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils.” All that golden yellow just shouts --- spring. I expect that you all have your favorite signs of spring, depending on the climate where you live. However, life can make us very busy and when we move too fast, suddenly spring has passed us by and, it is summer. May I suggest that we all slow down just a trifle and take the time to notice spring moving in. There are wonders to behold, from the first snowdrops to pussy willows, to the violets, daffodils, hyacinths and tulips. There are baby woodchucks poking their noses toward the roads, ignoring mama’s instructions to stay put! Baby rabbits are just coming out into a dangerous world full of hawks, owls, and coyotes. Foxes are sending out harsh, throaty mating calls. And birds are singing with gusto as they attract mates and build nests. Even if we have more snow flakes, we can take heart and know that: “For lo, the winter is past, the {snow} is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing birds has come, and the voice of the turtle dove is heard in our land.”** Carol writes from her home in Spencer. She may be reached at: carol42wilde@htva.net. *William Wordsworth –English Romantic poet who helped to launch the English Romantic period along with Samuel Coleridge. 1770-1850. **The Bible – Song of Solomon 2:11.

We have had them come to the house a couple of times for repairs as well and it’s always been a good experience. Their rates are pretty reasonable too, I think. Particularly when dealing with those big springs, it’s worth it to pay the experts.

Don’t shoot the messenger. But in America, one third of children have never handwritten a letter. And it’s not just kids. Nearly 40 percent of adult Americans haven’t written a letter in the last five years, while 43 percent of Millenials have never sent one in their lifetime. Whereas recent studies show that Generation Z can’t read cursive and has no idea what the heck Grandma’s letters say. The New York Times says that “The age of proper correspondence writing has ended…” “Letter writing is an endangered art,” The Atlantic said. “The death knell of written correspondence has been sounding for years,” said the Chicago Tribune. This is not new information, of course, unless you’ve been living underneath a slab of granite. Letters have been replaced by emails and texts. But texts and emails are not letters. An email has no charm. A text message does not not feel private. You cannot smell the paper. You cannot feel the weight of stationary in your hands. An email is temporary. An email will only last as long as your device is charged. Fact: Around 92 percent of working Americans feel anxiety when they see an unread email in their inbox. But a letter. A letter is real. A letter exists in physical space. A letter will not disappear unless you burn it. There are letters that still exist from 500 BC. Letters from early Romans. Letters from kings and queens. Letters from soldiers in the American Revolution. A letter is artwork. It is culture. It is language. A letter represents years of handwriting practice in Mrs. Burns penmanship class, as she peered over her cat eye glasses at you, barbarically swatting a ruler in her open palm. A letter is a moment of time. It is rewrites, spelling corrections, merciless editing, and the act of keeping one’s lines straight. You can tack a letter to your refrigerator. You can place a letter into a shoebox and have it for years to come. Letters are personal. You can hear a letter’s personal voice as you read. You see ink on a personal page, intended for your personal eyes. The letter’s postage stamp has been licked with someone’s personal sputum. So how did we get here? Every single minute, 208,000 pictures are posted to Facebook and 65,000 images are posted on Instagram. TikTok sees an influx of 34 million uploaded videos each day. Each day in the world, 18.7 billion texts are sent. The average American will send 40 to 90 texts per day. Most Americans will receive one to two text messages every minute. I have received eight texts since I sat down to write this. But I bring all this up because although letter writing is not efficient; although it is time consuming; although I can think of more important things I ought to be doing, I still remember the impact handwritten letters have had on my life. The letter my mother sent me when she was out of town in Saint Louis. The love letter my wife sent when we first started dating. The letter my father sent only days before he died. I still have them all. I still read them. I still love them. Which is why I still write letters. And I hope I always will. Sean Dietrich is a columnist, novelist, podcaster, and stand-up storyteller known for his commentary on life in the American South. His work has appeared in Newsweek, Southern Living, Reader's Digest, Garden and Gun, The Tallahassee Democrat, the Birmingham News, and his column is syndicated in newspapers throughout the U.S. He has authored fifteen books, and he makes appearances on the Grand Ole Opry. To learn more about Sean or to purchase his books, visit his website at https://seandietrich.com

My Grandmother started me on my letter writing journey when she showed me a letter from her brother who still lived in Ireland. I was 10 years old and asked her if I could write to him too and she included my letter with her’s. I remember my surprise and joy at receiving his letter addressed to me and that was the beginning of 20 plus years of correspondence between Uncle Pete and I. Letters are sharing parts of yourself with others, your thoughts, dreams, hope, they are love, advice when needed. Letters are wonderful and I’ve missed writing them. I think it’s time to begin writing again. Thank you for this reminder.

Why is he wearing a mask? They do realize Nick Langworthy is a Republican don't they? Voted in by Republicans to do the things he's doing and supporting. Yelling in his face isn't going to help support their arguments.

Not to mention local municipalities. When it came to my Dept.’s budget, if I didn’t need it I would not spend everything in my budget for supplies, equipment and things I could control. I still remember one situation where I needed a red marker. I normally used black markers so I went to other Depts. and asked if they’d trade a red marker for a black one. There were lots of laughs and I was told to order a box of 12. I replied I only needed 1 for a one time project not 12. I did get my trade. I always knew my budget (while some came from revenue my Dept. generated) was taxpayer money not the local Government’s.

i guess im waiting to see when they stop doing business with contractors that charge Fed 600 for a hammer or some other obviously inflated price, or the multiple failed financial audits of the Pentagon where billions of dollars cannot be accounted for, along with the upcoming budget being stripped of the billions in pork spending that normally gets crammed in...perhaps Y+THEN most of us will view DOGE as a serious effort

@Beekeeper I just saw this the other day:

People are more self-centered and aggressive now, very "in your face" about, well, everything anymore. Our society has changed from when acting like an ass got you a punch in the mouth to someone getting their way. That mentality has been groomed and bred into at least a generation or two of people now. It goes hand in hand with general ignorant behavior that already existed. And while they're everywhere, honestly, there seems to be a high concentration of them here in this area. I think the pandemic exacerbated that. And I don't want to be around them anymore than I have to be. So I keep my socializing to private clubs and do my shopping at locations or times of day that there's generally less people out and about.

“It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold; when it is summer in the light and winter in the shade.” Charles Dickens* ‘Tis the month of shamrocks, aquamarines, and the vernal equinox. I’ll soon pull out my recipe for Irish tea cake to go along with a hearty stew, in lieu of corned beef and cabbage. I’ve just never been thrilled with cooked cabbage. My family (except for one sister-in-law and her daughters) has no Irish background that we know of. However, since my father’s heritage is Scottish, I’m sure there could have been some cultural mixing and marriage. We do have a granddaughter in Dublin right now, and I expect she will be seeing all sorts of festive times this month. Having read all the “Sister Fidelma” books by Peter Tremayne, set in Ireland around 7th century AD, we have an appreciation for Irish culture and their impact on our own culture. These books are fiction, but meticulously-researched fiction. Their laws protecting women’s independence were far more impressive than ours. I especially like their long-ago criminal justice system; those individuals who broke the law seldom sat in prison for a long incarceration. It was a system of recompence. Instead of idling in prison, criminals had to work out their crimes’ paying those who they had hurt. If the crime was dire and the criminal unrepentant and considered unredeemable, he/she was put in an open boat with one oar, food and water for a day and towed out to sea. This was considered leaving them to God’s judgment. I’m not sure about that one! Of course, people ignored the laws, just as they do today, so Ireland wasn’t Paradise, and when the Saxons and Britons began filtering into lands around Ireland, and becoming part of the culture, and when the Church’s Roman influence spread to Ireland, more severe punishments began to be common. They emphasized suffering for punishment rather than paying back and redeeming one’s self. St. Patrick’s history is equally interesting. He was an actual person, who grew up in Roman-controlled Britain. He was captured by slavers, and ended up in Ireland. Interestingly, the Irish did not, by law, buy or sell slaves, BUT those individuals captured in battles, or convicted of some kinds of crimes, basically had no rights until they had earned their freedom through work. Technically, however, they weren’t slaves. Patrick eventually was freed and journeyed to Rome. After some time there, he chose to return to Ireland to spread God’s word, where he had been a slave. There are many legends around his missionary work, including driving out all snakes, and he is certainly venerated by the Irish and celebrated every March 17th. St. Patrick’s Day is a good reason for partying, Irish or not. One of our sons met his future wife at a St. Patrick’s Day party. Some years ago, Beebe Lake, on Cornell’s campus, miraculously turned an amazing green every March 17th. That was before everyone reluctantly agreed that it is ecologically improper to tamper with Mother Nature’s water. However, a magnificent dragon, created by the architecture students still makes its creaky way across campus on March 17th. March has many other things going for it besides this one popular holiday. This past week was Ash Wednesday; the beginning of the Lenten season. This marks the 40 Days (plus Sundays) until Easter. March also holds the vernal Equinox, when the day and night are equal. Early March is when enthusiastic gardeners begin putting seeds into peat pots and keep checking to see if the ground is thawing at all. Three members of my family and one good friend, celebrate their birthdays in March. Owls are hunting to feed babies, skunks are mating or may have already done so, chipmunks are running around on fine days, and there is a certain feeling in the air. March was (in my time with 4-H) when 4-H kids began sewing for Dress Revue. As our sewing skills grew, modeling in the Dress Revue was something to anticipate. My very first sewing project was an apron made from a pink-flowered feed sack. Feed sacks were great for beginning sewers; both for their cheerful prints and for the price ---zero. Next came a gathered skirt. Then I was brave enough to try a whole dress --- yellow polished cotton with cap sleeves, and later, a green wool suit. Those were successes in Dress Revue, a heady experience, for one was judged on both sewing expertise and poise in modeling the garment. The event was held in some elegant place, like the Granger Homestead in Canandaigua and was covered by local papers. On the strength of 4-H experiences, I chose Clothing and Textiles as my major at Cornell, a decision that needed more deliberation than I gave it. I enjoyed all of my classes: Draping, Tailoring, Pattern-making, so it was a while before the realization penetrated that if I were to make this my career, I needed to live in or near a large city. The rural areas that I prefer do not have many calls for fashion designers or buyers for non-existent dress shops. Fortunately, I had two minors, food & nutrition and journalism. I did use some of all that textiles information though. My first full-time job was a 4-H and Youth Educator in Maryland and I helped 4-Hers with sewing projects. Later, in both private and public schools, in Pennsylvania, I helped teach sewing skills again. I made my own wedding gown, a satin and lace confection with a flowing train, for $100 instead of $1000. And because I made it, it had a unique touch of pennies sewed into the hem of the train so it would flow smoothly and stay down nicely, my very own invention. 😊 Mostly, my sewing skills were used for family and home, which is not a bad thing. Observing the high cost of ready-made draperies and pillow shams, I was glad I could make them for only a fraction of that cost. In addition to sewing, I remember March for baby chicks. My mother, for fifteen years or so, sold DeKalb seed corn. All the farmers knew her, from membership in Farm & Home Bureau and Grange, and respected her for her integrity. This was something she could do from home, when I was small. For a few years, DeKalb sold chicks as well. The chicks came in large square boxes (ventilated, of course) and on delivery day, when I came home from school, our dining room had boxes and boxes, stacked shoulder-high, full of peeping chicks. Talk about too much noise!! I could stick my fingers in the vent holes and pet fuzzy little birds ---- also getting a few minor pecks. I can almost hear the peeping chorus even now. As we come into March, whether it entered as a lion or a lamb (and actually, it was a little of both this past weekend), we have a few messy, muddy weeks ahead of us. But what can we expect from a month named for the Roman god of war “Mars”? If you took Latin in school, you will not have forgotten the Ides of March (15th), in 44 BC, the day on which Julius Caesar was assassinated. “Et tu, Brute?” After last week’s warmer temperatures, and today’s 57 degrees, it is finally possible to anticipate Spring. No daffodils are poking little green shoots through the soil yet, and snow drops are still shivering beneath a pile of snow. But, a whole flock of red-winged blackbirds flew into our bird feeders on Saturday and there were starlings on the suet. And who guessed that we might get a thunder storm in March (last night)? Those who observe Lent are in the midst of deciding on a Lenten practice; will it be giving up something for the season? Chocolate? Desserts? Meat? Judging others? Or perhaps this year it will be adding something to their lives: thinking through biases? Reading Scripture more faithfully? Planning to do an act of kindness each day? Spending more time in prayer? Paying forward for someone? A yearly six weeks of thoughtfulness is probably a very good practice. Meanwhile, March is here, and it has much to offer. That very familiar Irish song, “When Irish Eyes are Smiling”, could cheer us on as we sing of brightness, gaiety, and laughter. Singing always makes me happier, so I can recommend it highly. Life can be good, whether the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold or it is summer in the sun and winter in the shade. If the snow ever melts, search for a shamrock or two. Carol Bossard writes from her home in Spencer. She may be reached at: carol42wilde@htva.net. *Charles Dickens **Peter Tremayne

After talking with someone from the county highway department, I was more motivated to talk to the person who owns some land just down the road. There's a patch of land that is LOADED with milkweed, but the county mows it twice a year. I have to chat with the supervisor when I see him, but it sounds as if they have a 25' right of way from the center of the road. That has to be mowed. But if I put out "Do Not Mow" signs, they will honor that. That works perfectly for preserving the milkweed as well as TONS of wild mint that grows there. But it's not my land. So I texted the landowner who said that's fine with him! So the plan ( again, once I talk to the highway supervisor ) is that I'll pick up the litter and mow what needs to be mowed in the right of way. I also offered to trim up a tree and mow around the driveway and such just because. Hopefully I didn't push my luck with that but I want to do something extra for the guy since he's letting me do this. He could have just as easily said "no." It doesnt look like much now, but this summer it'll be a Monarch butterfly magnet.

I've seen her posts and have been tempted to order some of the bread myself.

Read the rest here.

Here's a video on pruning back an older, overgrown apple tree:

Well hell, today ( just now actually ) I learned that Canada Geese are named after ornithologist John Canada, not the country!!

Yeah, I flirted with the idea about 10-12 years ago myself. That one got shot down pretty quickly by the wife, and she was 100% correct.

I have been thinking it for a while and now I’ll say it out loud: The best thing he can do to serve this country is to die and take the MAGA movement with him to the grave. Then perhaps there will be room at the adults’ table for the return of sanity in the Republican Party, finally offering a clear alternative to the left’s lunacy.

from what i gather, much stems from in response to concerns being raised about staffing levels, State decided that 70-75% would be the new fully staffed, meaning that the same output of work/hours/OT etc is expected, but with 25% less resources to do so, its like employers making 32-36 hrs/week the new FT because then they could wiggle out of OT pay and in some cases insurance coverages. Compound this all with the decreased ability of officers to reprimand or "punish" infractions, increased surveillance of staff all while dealing with criminals who are being treated more like summer campers than inmates ( tablets, pizza party rewards, etc). in reality no one, or at least the sane folks, is saying ALL guards are saints. ive known many that are complete duche-noodles and are deserving of sever beat-downs, but ive known many more who are calm, fair-minded and use a treat as one would want to be treated approach, and even they were at their wits end and would never advise CO as a career path given what the State has been doing over the years.

I haven’t seen the figures of inmates dying “at the hands” of Cos, or what context it’s in. Not knowing if that’s actual CO inflicted assaults or total “in custody” deaths, I can’t comment on homicide to homicide stats. I can state (based on both stats and my own personal experience inside prisons) that staff safety has been a problem for years and getting worse....with minimal media coverage, as DOCCS employees who speak to the media or makes public statements about conditions inside facilities will face discipline. The public/media are only aware if they dig through the DOCCS websites for monthly stats. (like THIS one) The head of one of the civilian unions is finally speaking out amid the current crisis. One of his interviews can be seen HERE Let’s all take a moment to let his last remark sink in. Four rapes of nurses since May. That’s just 4 of the over 2000 assaults in 2024. That’s just the members of one profession in one union who were raped. It doesn’t include female COs or civilians from other departments/unions. And it’s not a result of the strikes, just everyday shit that’s been occurring behind prison walls. The argument that inmates are only more violent due to being victimized by COs seems a little weird. It suggests that all or most inmate assaults on staff are direct response to increased CO assaults on inmates. But if that were the case it seems like if the HALT act was implemented to reduce abuse of inmates, then instead a 169% increase.....we’d see fewer inmates needing to “defend” themselves against staff... And it doesn't explain the 250% increase of assaults on other inmates. A Reagan move could absolutely end this, but would create an even bigger staffing deficit than already exists. Record numbers of corrections employees (both security and civilian) have already been retiring as early as possibly or even resigning before retirement age due to the safety issues. I'd wager a guess that most of those engaging in the strike are already prepared to look for other employment.

Beekeeper, here is the book Chris referenced, he was kind enough to Gift it to me a few years back and it is IMO the most informative. As for myself I am toying with the idea of hatching a batch for myself . I so do miss having chickens and bees !

Read more here.

Yales … my version of a Toy Store , always going the extra mile to help out and great friends as well . If things aren’t too busy when I go there Dave will sit to jam for a bit or show me a couple new riffs to step up my playing.

During the season of Lent, we tend to reflect a little more intently on Christ’s mission and sacrifice for us. Since He gave so much in giving His life to redeem us, it seems we could easily give up even a little for Him. Though the traditional idea of giving up something for Lent has not been something I have done, my friend and distant cousin, Carolyn, got me thinking more deeply about the season of Lent. A few years ago, as Carolyn read her “Catholic Weekly” magazine with its daily devotionals, she shared with me a Lenten focus on the Roman Catholic perspective of the “seven deadly sins.” These sins can lead us away from God… away from that close relationship we long for. Unfortunately, I/we often exhibit the pride of self or greed as we exclude others to serve ourselves first, jealousy in coveting that which is not ours, wrath or inappropriate anger, sloth or laziness when we could and should do something constructive, lust of a sinful nature, and gluttony or self-indulgence in so many ways. Yet, we know that each one of these sins is absolutely forgiven on confession and repentance to God; and, under His tender mercy and grace, our heart is renewed as we follow in His footsteps. In synchrony with the above, we also recall that Solomon wrote in Proverbs 6:16-19, “there are six things the Lord hates, seven that are detestable to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies, and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.” Some also say there is an unpardonable sin, the blasphemy against God and His Holy Spirit. As Jesus was performing miracles and driving out demons, the religious leaders’ unpardonable sin was in claiming Jesus’ power came from the devil rather than acknowledging that He had the power because He truly was the Son of God. (Mark 3:28-30, Matthew 12:31-32) If we turn away from the Spirit’s convicting promptings that what we’ve done is wrong, we may harden our heart, turn our back on God and not repent, willfully continuing in sin. Perhaps even expressing that God loves us no matter what we do… a sense of pride allowing for willful sins wrongs. Instead, on conviction of our sin, confession and repentance, we can be assured of God’s welcoming arms and loving forgiveness… for nothing can separate us from the overwhelming love of God. (Romans 8:34-39) May I always be convicted of my sins, confess them, and ask for forgiveness from God and those I’ve offended. Pondering the above Lenten theme as mentioned by Carolyn, and the variety of themes from many churches for spiritual renewal each year, my own failings came to mind. Sadly, it can be said that I/we betray our Lord’s love in so many ways because we are far from perfect. Yet, as a reminder of Christ’s love for us, and living within us, there are familiar virtues we can strive for. As the Holy Spirit leads, guides and helps us live out our faith, we exude “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23) These fruits evidence the Holy Spirit’s work within us, as God transforms us to be more like His Son. (II Corinthians 3:18) Because He loved us first (I John 4:19), even in our sinfulness, we can live a grateful life of holiness, bringing honor and glory and praise to God for all that He has done… because to this we were created. (Revelation 4:11) We can demonstrate our love for God and those around us with our faith or reliance, hope or trust, and charity or love as shown in I Corinthians 13, the “love chapter”. We can share this joy and peace in living out our faith in God by showing such loving kindness in our interactions with others. With courage and wisdom from the Lord we can face those difficult trials. Just as God has granted mercy and grace to us, we can show the same to others, forgiving them as we’ve been forgiven, acting with moderation and self-control, with honesty and integrity in our dealings. Against these virtues there would be no complaint as we respect others, bring glory to God, and become a beacon to point others to Christ… not only during Lent, but always. As the familiar Golden Rule reminds us, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” (Matthew 7:12) Though our Lord was mocked and betrayed as He walked this earth, may we never forget the depth of all He suffered in His great love for us despite knowing our wayward penchants. For it’s only through Jesus’ shed blood that we have forgiveness and reconciliation with God. As I prepare myself spiritually this Lenten season to focus more intently on Christ’s sacrifice and resurrection, Carolyn’s words echo the thoughts of my heart when she wrote that “these are the things we could all reflect on during the 40 days before Holy Easter, and maybe change our hearts and minds to reflect more of Christ’s love.” From Betrayal to Beacon Linda A. Roorda ~ There is One who felt the heavy hand The slap to the face, the mocking abuse The glib excuses, lies begetting lies Betrayal by friends, abandoned in need. ~ But there was a man who took this and more A man who never responded in wrath, The Son of God, who sought us in love Who lay down His life that we might live. ~ The Light of this world, a rejected man Scorned by His own and scoffed by scholars. Still there were those who pondered His words Words that were new and words that gave hope. ~ Bless those who misuse, pray for their soul Just as our Lord, the servant of all, Dwelt here in peace and drew us to His side To offer us hope with redemption’s gift. ~ Be that beacon to a world needing hope Bring peace and comfort with welcoming arms. Offer your love to the soul in pain Become a servant to meet the needs. ~~ Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer.

In about two days I will be celebrating my 93rd birthday. Recently I have been reflecting on my life increasingly. I am happy to share a brief history of how I became the person I am. My parents were both in their teens when they arrived from Naples, Italy. From what I have learned, most marriages in those days were pre-arranged. I was the last of ten children, two of which passed on in their early childhood from causes unknown to me. I have a surviving brother, who is 100+ years old and living in Florida. In the old days, a midwife delivered the children. Knowing that we all survived childbirth was nothing short of a miracle in those times. Having been born in the middle of the Great Depression, our parents allowed us to earn something doing chores for others. I inherited the job held by my brother, delivering prescriptions for a corner pharmacy. I also stocked the shelves (with the aid of a stepladder at times). I clearly recalled having to package certain products for women in a way that would allow them to avoid embarrassment when having to walk out in public. This was because “modesty” was paramount then. Men, of course, had their needs secreted in a lap drawer behind the counter. That was then, today is another story. When my dad believed I was strong enough, he took me to Bayshore L.I. when school was out to work as a laborer. When I graduated from High School, I worked at various jobs until I entered the service. In late 1954 I enrolled in evening classes at Pace Institute, later called Pace College in lower Manhattan. My first job was as a bookkeeper for J.P. Morgan. In those days, there were no computers just adding machines. One of my responsibilities was to prepare a monthly balance sheet. It was there at Morgan one day when I received a call from their Comptroller telling me my balance sheet was off two cents. I will never forget his remarks, “Take care of the pennies, the dollars are big enough to take care of themselves.” Although I was never an accountant, I carried that phrase in my mind throughout my business life. At age 40, I moved to Candor, NY. While seeking employment, I worked for a local dairy farmer and learned the true value of a gallon of milk. Eventually, with the help of my nephew, I started a business called Candor Specialty Packaging. This business specializes in the consumer packaging of processed grains of all kinds. In 1980 I had the opportunity to purchase a 100-year-old firm called “The Raymond-Hadley Corp. We moved that business to Spencer, NY, and merged the packaging business with the newly acquired company. At age 82, I retired and put the firm in the hands of my two highly competent sons. Needing something to keep me busy, I once again turned to investing, which has kept me busy to this date. ******** This column is a departure from what I had planned to write about. /In recent weeks, the markets have experienced some serious declines. I have remained focused on Dip and Drip investing. If you have opened an account with a brokerage firm and believe you are ready, this would be the most advantageous time to begin investing. I encourage you to do the following: Email me with your name and email address. Give me a general idea as to the time you could contact me to set up a “one on one” session during which you and I could set up your positions spreadsheet making it ready for your first stock purchase. If you opened an account with Chas. Schwab, I could easily walk you through the process as I have a Schwab account. Disclaimer: The author of “Small Potatoes” is not a registered investment, legal or tax advisor, or a stockbroker/dealer. All investment/financial opinions expressed in the “Small Potatoes” articles are from the personal research and experience of the author of the articles and are intended solely as educational material. Although best efforts are made to ensure that all information is accurate and up to date, occasionally unintended errors and misprints may occur. The information given in these articles must not be understood as “risk free” investing. The user must be careful about the quality of stocks being selected.

Well it ain’t pretty from above but I found where the leak on the goat barn was happening. The tarp I bought was too big to deal with ( guess I should have measured ) but I found some old shingles in the garage. Like I said, it ain’t pretty, but what you don’t see is the fourth one covering the actual hole. Then I went over it with the other three. The hidden one is why that lower shingle isn’t in place better. If it works as long as they live, perfect. If it buys me some time til I can go over with another layer of rolled roofing, that’s great too.

Not going to say I didn't see that coming. I love the guy but he hasn't been much of a contributor with injuries and probably age at this point.

Dear Kid, Don’t grow up. Don’t turn into an adult. That’s my advice. Resist adulthood. Be a kid forever. Right now, a lot of adults are angry in America. To be fair, we have a lot to be angry about. But adults can behave badly when they are angry. So please forgive us. Because the truth is—and I shouldn’t be telling you this—adults can be pretty stupid. Don’t misunderstand. I don’t mean we’re “stupid” in a negative sense. Truly, I don’t. After all, just because someone is stupid doesn’t mean you can’t love them. Take dogs. Dogs can be very unsmart, but we still love them. Hallmark Channel movies can be ingloriously stupid, but they are also wonderful. Still, this doesn’t change the fact that we adult humans are, in fact, giant dipsticks. The problem is, of course, that we adults think we are brilliant. Oh, sure, our species occasionally does some brilliant things. Beer is only one example. Humankind has also, for instance, learned to manufacture smartphones with touchscreens capable of flushing our toilets from outer space. But this doesn’t make us smart. Because we still don’t know how to listen. We don’t empathize. And even though our parents taught us, we still don’t know how to share. You know what we DO know how to do? We know how to kill each other. Again, I’m not being pessimistic. This is just a fact. We are among the only mammals who kill one another. Tigers do not kill tigers. Squirrels don’t kill squirrels. When was the last time you saw cows killing each other? But look at history. The Punic Wars in (164 B.C.), 2 million killed. The Jewish-Roman Wars, (66 A.D.) another 2 million. The Crusades (1095-1229) 3 million. The Mongol Invasions, 40 million. The Conquests of Timur, 20 million. Spanish Conquest of the Aztec Empire, 2.5 million. Spanish Conquest of the Incan Empire, 8.5 million. The American Civil War, 1 million. World War I, 40 million. World War II, 85 million. Vietnam War, 4 million. I don’t mean to disturb you, I simply bring this up because I want you to know where you fit in to all this. Because you see, you’re not like us. At least not yet. You were born into this wonderful world with a clean slate. You’re a kid. You are oblivious to our adult fussing and our adult need to be right. Your entire kid philosophy is “Let’s have fun!” That’s it. That’s how you see this world. Every morning you wake up and you look for the party. For you, every day carries the possibility of magic, music, art, friends, and bladder-compromising laughter. There are no taboos in your world. No villains. You forgive easily. You love fiercely. And even the things you hate, you LOVE hating those things. You are perpetually excited, rarely disappointed, hopeful to a fault, miraculously naïve, way too trusting, and you believe in God without even trying. And someday when I grow up, I hope to be just like you. Sean Dietrich is a columnist, novelist, podcaster, and stand-up storyteller known for his commentary on life in the American South. His work has appeared in Newsweek, Southern Living, Reader's Digest, Garden and Gun, The Tallahassee Democrat, the Birmingham News, and his column is syndicated in newspapers throughout the U.S. He has authored fifteen books, and he makes appearances on the Grand Ole Opry. To learn more about Sean or to purchase his books, visit his website at https://seandietrich.com

Wisdom... that value within our heart and soul which helps guide our steps on this path called life. An entity more precious than gold. Lady Wisdom’s knowledge often comes from experience, by learning and gaining insight the hard way… you know, those mistakes that can either break or make us. She brings a common sense, discernment, shrewdness… an innate understanding of what’s right and wrong. But this sound judgment can be lacking when we become distracted or enticed by what seems so right, yet in reality is so wrong when we heed the voice of Folly. “Blessed are those who find wisdom, those who gain understanding, for she is more profitable than silver and yields better returns than gold. She is more precious than rubies; nothing you desire can compare with her. Long life is in her right hand; in her left hand are riches and honor. Her ways are pleasant ways, and all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to those who take hold of her; those who hold her fast will be blessed.” (Proverbs 3:13-18) For the wise woman “is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.” (Proverbs 31:25) One of my favorite life verses is “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and he will make straight your paths.” (Proverbs 3:5-6) Wisdom is knowledge we apply to every-day life God’s way. But as I’ve said before, I often think I can take the reins and direct my own steps… only to realize that I erred, once again, and need to grasp God’s hand, allowing Him to guide and lead me as I learn from His infinite wisdom. With wisdom comes the ability to discern or judge right from wrong… to think and act appropriately, and to not become enmeshed in folly’s foibles. Again, at times in my life I have failed in this, too. Yet on understanding the “errors of my ways” and returning to our Lord’s side with admission of wrongs, He has covered me with forgiveness. We’re all familiar with the old adage “if only I knew then what I know now”. Because, if we knew then what we know now, we might’ve been spared a lot of grief from the turmoil. But isn’t betterment often found in the opposite by learning and growing in character and wisdom through the difficult times and from those mistakes and errors? As God searches the depth of our heart, His Spirit reaches out to us with a still small voice in our inner being. If we’ve embedded Lady Wisdom’s truth within our heart, we’ll know whose voice to trust and follow… while folly proceeds headlong toward a path of destruction. And as we humbly follow Lady Wisdom’s righteous ways, a calm and peaceful tranquility will envelope our soul. We’ll know we’ve chosen the right path when we’ve given time and consideration to acting in a way that would receive God’s blessing. I love the book of Proverbs for the depth of Godly wisdom gleaned as we “Listen to my instruction and be wise; do not ignore it. Blessed is the man who listens to me… for whoever finds me finds life… but whoever fails to find me harms himself.” (Proverbs 8:33-36) Lady Wisdom… a personification of God’s attributes in the feminine form. She is not meant to take His holy place, but rather to give a human side to God’s omniscience… for “the fear [awe, respect] of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.” (Proverbs 9:10 NIV) Lady Wisdom Linda A. Roorda Lady wisdom carries high her torch She lights the way with truth on her side. Her words bring strength to face life’s trials With comfort and peace when the winds blow fierce. ~ Listen and heed her still small voice Words to the soul that lead and protect, For like a lantern which brightens the way So is Wisdom in guiding your life. ~ When lured and tempted by desires for more Do not be swayed by enticements sweet. For trust is earned with truth and respect A higher calling than rebellious ways. ~ Seek out the Lord whose hand will uphold Stand firm on His word within your heart. Learn at His feet, discerning the right His knowledge gain with treasured insight. ~ Be wise in judgment, perceiving the darts Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Lean not upon your own understanding But acknowledge Him, the giver of Wisdom. ~~ Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer.

The problem with that is, once that farmland is gone, it’s gone.

10 minute activities: Walking the dog, folding the laundry… capturing an image of an entire galaxy!? Webb’s new view of barred spiral galaxy NGC 2283 was captured in just 10 minutes of observing time, showcasing the light from clouds of hydrogen gas heated by young stars, as well as the stars themselves. Note that the large, bright stars are actually in the Milky Way, between Webb and galaxy NGC 2283. The spikes emanating from the star are called diffraction spikes - patterns produced by light bending around the sharp edges of a telescope. Webb’s have 6 major spikes and two short horizontal ones, due to the tripod that supports its secondary mirror and the overall hexagonal shape of its primary mirror. Hubble has four-point diffraction spikes, which is one way you can tell if an image was taken by Hubble or Webb! Here, the galaxy’s star formation is showcased, in part because the 55 galaxies chosen for this survey are close enough for individual star clusters and gas clouds to be visible. Young stars are actively forming in the dense knots of gas, illuminating them from within. Read more: esawebb.org/images/potm2502a/

in my observations, the heavier the fruit load you allow on your trees one year will certainly decrease or halt them the following. pruning wrong sections of limb can also be a factor, and yes, once the blossoms open, any frost will likely eliminate or certainly negatively affect fruit for that year

If I may ,as a suggestion of course . Since you have a bit of time before deciding to jump into the backyard flock , it may be to your advantage to grab and keep these books ( Gail Damerow preferably) nearby as you get closer to possibly pulling the pin on chickens . It will help you to avoid most pitfalls and disappointments that may occur later on .

I was thinking the same thing. Hopefully the next one is more like Francis and Pope John and not Benedict.

I've opposed adding new "federal holidays" for decades and truly believe most of the existing ones should be revoked. They're a waste of taxpayer money and insulting to the working poor. All of the civic/historic people and events they claim to "honor" would be better accomplished by keeping kids in school to participate in observances rather than sitting home playing video games.....while paying billions of dollars to government employees to not work (and paying the essential employees double time and a half to show up). And how about the lower economic class? How nice that the working class can "celebrate" the holiday by waiting on all the government employees their taxes support. Because a lot of those government employees spend their holiday shopping or eating out. Those non-union service and retail workers don't really benefit from having a "federal holiday". They're still working, or losing a day's pay if they don't come in. Since their kids' teachers are all having a paid day off, they have to lose wages or find childcare.

You can now view the 2025 Chemung County Fair Annual Report HERE. Kudos to everyone involved!