There was a winter weather warning last night. Sunnybook Farm was on the edge between the rain and the snow. We ended up with more rain, but we did get snow, about an inch.
From the upstairs window of the front yard
Some places to the northwest of Seymour got a lot more snow, ten to twelve inches. Luckily, that missed here.
the snow will melt soon
There’s no shoveling here.
Across the driveway
The worst part of the weather is the wicked wind. Good thing the chickens are fed and watered. I do not have to rush out to tend to them.
Old farm tales say that spring snow is good for the growing season. I don’t know what the people who got a foot of snow think about that, but somehow I believe they might debate the usefulness of spring snow.
It wasn’t that long ago that women wore hats. Easter was the time to get a new hat and show it off at church.
When my mom put on a hat, I knew she was going somewhere. Even if she went to the store Mom put on lipstick and a hat.
Times have changed. But I happen to have a hat collection. In the past, I’ve presented hat programs for Mother’s Day gatherings and for club meetings. Today, in honor of Easter I’m going to show off a few–some have a netting so may look a little blurry.
Often my head is too big for a hat, but I show off the hat anyway.
There are a lot of flowers getting ready to grow and bloom on Sunnybook farm.
poppiestulipsand roses
All the photos were taken here today on Sunnybook Farm.
The joke is the rose. It is growing here, too, but inside. A small rose plant I saved from last Mother’s Day.
I can’t wait to see actual roses blooming, along with poppies and tulips. It looks like it will take a while before that will happen.
Winter weather is predicted to return tomorrow night and into Monday. Let’s just hope that the amount of snow that falls will only be an inch and not ten inches.
My dad passed away in 1991, yet I remember him every year on his birthday–of course, he comes to mind many other days, too.
I think I got my storytelling gene from Dad. He was always telling us stories, entertaining my sister and me and our extended family.
When I moved to Wisconsin, I couldn’t hear him telling stories so I asked him to write them down. Dad dragged his feet at first–he said he wasn’t a writer. He only had an 8th-grade education. Eventually, he started writing.
Though Dad wasn’t as good a writer as he was a teller, I’m honored to have some of his stories in print and I do mean in print. That’s how Dad wrote, he printed everything, all caps and only rarely punctuated.
Here’s one of my dad’s written stories that I think is perfect for his birthday:
Layer cake by Charles Paska
I can remember coming home from school and my sister Bea
calling me. “Charlie, come here. I want to show you something.”
Downstairs, in the kitchen on the table sat a giant layer
cake, at least four layers high and very big around.
“Wow!” I gasped. “Can I have some?”
“Sure. Help yourself.”
“Can I have two hunks?”
“Sure. Have all you want.”
Well, that remark was a big mistake. Sister went upstairs and I stayed with the cake.
About an hour later Bea came downstairs looking for some
cake. “Charlie, where did you hide the cake?”
“I didn’t hide it. I ate it.”
Bea could not believe her ears. “What?! You ate it all?”
“Yup,” I said. “You said to eat all I wanted and I did.”
You would think I would have been sick of cake for a while. Sure I was! ‘Till the next cake.
Happy Birthday, Dad. I hope you are getting together with friends in heaven, telling stories and playing music.
