The last day of March. Wow, it flew. I’ll just go ahead and say those dreaded words, “it’ll be Christmas before we know it.”

I sat on my front porch the majority of the day watching Chester pursue carpenter bees. He killed three that I witnessed. Now he’s laying at my feet, wore out or possibly slightly poisoned. I know he’s been hard at it all day.

Me, on the other hand…not so much. I did wage war on the vines in my flowerbeds but every time I started to sweat I quit. Seemed especially wrong to do any kind of work on Easter Sunday. I still need to spray. That might be tomorrow’s afternoon activity. And of course there are still plenty of vines left to pull. They’re kinda like gray hairs, pull one and three come to its funeral.

I did enjoy my porch time. I watched the neighborhood hawk be chased by the local crows. I observed some buzzards flap around. They weren’t circling, it seemed they had another purpose. I sat there and thought about how much more peaceful my road used to be, and how much I missed the hayfield. Instead of ten acres of hay and ten acres of pasture, now it’s thirty homes. And thirty homes come with about a hundred people. And a hundred people come with about 75 cars. And so it’s a constant commotion of movement, and car radios blaring, and people hollering to one another, and kids squealing, and motorcycles revving. And I miss the drone of locusts as evening comes, and the grass getting taller, and the sweet smell as it cures.

Then the sweating. And the cussing when the baler jammed or when I couldn’t drive straight, or slow enough, or stack tighter.

Nevermind. I’m thankful for the hundred people who dwell there, especially in August 🤣 I just wish one of them had a pool I could use. That would be a sweet revenge. Although Mrs. Conner was always good to me, I still can’t shake the memories of those ultra hot days out there.

I didn’t get much reading done this weekend. I’m disappointed to report I haven’t made it very far into 1984. I think I’m about 40 pages in. I’ll keep after it, though.

I hope you all had a very lovely day with your families eating ham (gag) and deviled eggs. I was quite content here with a warmed up pork chop and cheater mashed potatoes.

The coyotes are serenading me tonight and have Chester on alert. They tend to make me mad with how brazen they are, just announcing to all within earshot that they’re here. They should keep to their skulking. It suits them better. Out here howling at a moon that ain’t even full. The nerve.

April is National Poetry Month so y’all have that to look forward to. I’ll do my best not to be melancholy or contrived. I can’t promise they will be any good, but they’ll be as honest as anything else I write.

Go forth and be blessed! (Has everyone already heard that once today?)

Love from Appalachia,

~Amy