He wakes around five, glad he's alive, and thankful for all that he has.
His coffee tastes good, the night air is cool and he waits for the sun to rise.
He thinks of his children, how they are doing, and he thinks of his loving wife
He's had a good rest and he knows he is blessed, ...another day in paradise.
He puts on his shoes, turns off the news, grabs his hat as he crosses the floor.
He's headed outside with his chores on his mind, he reaches and opens the door.
The cool of the morning, the birds on the wing, the sun beginning to rise,
God's glory surrounds him, majestic and clear...another day in paradise.
He no longer works a regular job, a teacher by trade he had been,
He enjoyed his work, knows he made the right choice and would do it all over again
He thinks, " Do I miss it?", a question he's heard, the years just seemed to fly by
"Not enough to go back!", he knew in his heart...another day in paradise.
He wishes for things as any man does, but is not obsessed by the thought
Of spending money on frivolous things, happy with what he's got.
A house, a car, and a wonderful wife makes a man rich in this life.
The laughter of children now with kids of their own..another day in paradise.
Late in the evening he sits on his porch watching his neighbors go by
Coming home from their work, they wave as they pass and he thinks, "How blessed am I!"
To be home all day, to work or to play, sometimes it's hard to decide
He smiles as he thinks what's up for tomorrow....another day in paradise.
He remembers the words of the apostle Paul, to " think on more excellent things",
He knows in his heart that he's safe in the arms of Jesus our Lord and King
And one day he'll know those excellent things and see wonders through awestruck eyes
With loved ones about, the truth will come out...another day in paradise!
A. Harrison
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Monday, July 21, 2014
Breaking the Rabbit's Teeth
When most people picture a bunny rabbit, they think warm, soft, cuddly, and gentle as can be. "Sweet li'l bunny rabbit!"...,yeah right! My grandmother raised rabbits for food, and, occasionally someone would come by looking to buy some. My Dad and uncles had built some hutches up off the ground. They were basically wooden boxes toward the back enclosed with chicken wire that extended out a couple of feet. This allowed the rabbit a place to lay out and cool as well as drop his business through the wire.
Grandma lived right across the road from us practically and so, we stayed with her all day and every day during the summers and every afternoon while school was in session until our parents got home from work. You talk about "old school".... She believed in hard work, so, as soon as I got big enough, I was put in charge of the rabbit business.
She would buy a little feed in the winter, so, that was fairly easy. In the warm weather, we gathered food for them most every day. Wild vetch and kudzu was abundant and they seemed to like it very well. We often kept around two dozen rabbits, which were composed of an older buck and doe that we used for breeding and the rest different ages. The buck and doe were kept separated until a group had been harvested, then they were put together to breed another clutch. That's more or less how it worked.
Keeping water and feed available was a big part, but, there was also keeping the hutches clean. Manure had to be removed from under the cages periodically and it had to be hauled off and scattered over the cow pasture or garden spot as it was a good fertilizer. Yes..farming of any kind is a nasty business, so, when you see these TV stories about poor conditions on a farm, take it with a grain of salt, it has always been that way and our farms continue to feed the nation.
The worst part for me was breaking out the teeth of the buck and doe. That's right, I had to break them off with a pair of pliers. Rabbits are rodents and just like rats, they have to knaw on stuff to wear off their teeth. Rabbits that were harvested were no problem, but, the buck and doe in their hutches had nothing to knaw on other than food, so, their teeth, two on the top and two on the bottom would get longer and longer until the rabbits had trouble eating. I've seen the two bottom teeth reach almost up into the rabbit's nose!...talk about looking grotesque!
I don't know how much it hurt the rabbits, but, I would always come out looking like I'd been in a hatchet fight without a hatchet. Not only did they have teeth, they had claws as well and even though their brains were small, they knew what was up with the pliers! It was a sight. Here I was 12-13 years old trying to hold down a big old rabbit without hurting it so I could get hold of a tooth with a pair of pliers. The devilish things would squirm, flop, twist and squeal...all the while scratching and clawing. Finally pinning the rabbit, it would give up and I would snip the 4 teeth. The buck was even worse!
I despised doing it, but, it was just something that had to be done for the good of the animal and the welfare of the family. It and other experiences are what made me the man I am today....very thankful that I don't have to raise rabbits!
Grandma lived right across the road from us practically and so, we stayed with her all day and every day during the summers and every afternoon while school was in session until our parents got home from work. You talk about "old school".... She believed in hard work, so, as soon as I got big enough, I was put in charge of the rabbit business.
She would buy a little feed in the winter, so, that was fairly easy. In the warm weather, we gathered food for them most every day. Wild vetch and kudzu was abundant and they seemed to like it very well. We often kept around two dozen rabbits, which were composed of an older buck and doe that we used for breeding and the rest different ages. The buck and doe were kept separated until a group had been harvested, then they were put together to breed another clutch. That's more or less how it worked.
Keeping water and feed available was a big part, but, there was also keeping the hutches clean. Manure had to be removed from under the cages periodically and it had to be hauled off and scattered over the cow pasture or garden spot as it was a good fertilizer. Yes..farming of any kind is a nasty business, so, when you see these TV stories about poor conditions on a farm, take it with a grain of salt, it has always been that way and our farms continue to feed the nation.
The worst part for me was breaking out the teeth of the buck and doe. That's right, I had to break them off with a pair of pliers. Rabbits are rodents and just like rats, they have to knaw on stuff to wear off their teeth. Rabbits that were harvested were no problem, but, the buck and doe in their hutches had nothing to knaw on other than food, so, their teeth, two on the top and two on the bottom would get longer and longer until the rabbits had trouble eating. I've seen the two bottom teeth reach almost up into the rabbit's nose!...talk about looking grotesque!
I don't know how much it hurt the rabbits, but, I would always come out looking like I'd been in a hatchet fight without a hatchet. Not only did they have teeth, they had claws as well and even though their brains were small, they knew what was up with the pliers! It was a sight. Here I was 12-13 years old trying to hold down a big old rabbit without hurting it so I could get hold of a tooth with a pair of pliers. The devilish things would squirm, flop, twist and squeal...all the while scratching and clawing. Finally pinning the rabbit, it would give up and I would snip the 4 teeth. The buck was even worse!
I despised doing it, but, it was just something that had to be done for the good of the animal and the welfare of the family. It and other experiences are what made me the man I am today....very thankful that I don't have to raise rabbits!
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Secret of a Good Marriage
My wife is a fine cook. She can put a meal on the table that will make you want to slap something! Even while working, she would get up every morning and fix a pan of biscuits or something to get the day started right for all of us, then, after work, she would come in and make a fine supper of whatever we might have. Early on in our marriage and especially while the kids were growing up, money for trips to the grocery store was tight, so, we ate a lot of vegetables that I could grow and meat that I killed by hunting, or harvested off the family farm. Quail, dove, chicken, deer meat or whatever all went well with a pan of her fine biscuits. Peas, butter beans, corn, tomatoes, greens and potatoes all seemed to taste good because she knew how to fix them.We thought we were eating like kings because of her cooking. I was always very appreciative of this and always bragged on her cooking...and her biscuits! Hoo-eeee!
There's a lot being said today about obesity in young children...hey!...Parents, they'll eat what you feed them! Feed them a lot of vegetables and they will learn to like them. Mix in a hunk of meat once in a while and make them some biscuits! Cook their food at home and set down at a table as a family and eat! They will remember it as they get older. Cooking is becoming a lost art, but it's the best way to feed your family!
Although most of us would rather it not be told, southern men can cook pretty good too...especially using a grill or a pan of grease. Some of us can do very well with stoves too. I can hold my own either way and knowing this, occasionally my wife now walks by and says " You got supper buddy!", or, "I want some of your biscuits in the mornin!". I gladly oblige!
She likes my biscuits. I take a small sifter of flour and cut in a pretty good glob of Crisco shortening with a fork. Just roll the flour up on the grease and mash it through over and over until the mixture takes on a yellowish tint and becomes a little tacky. Next, pour in some buttermilk and stir with a fork. If you want spoon ( catheads) biscuits, use enough buttermilk to make the mix loose, then use a spoon and drop the dough into a greased skillet. If you want patted out biscuits, use enough buttermilk to roll a pretty good ball of dough on your stirring fork, but also leaving a film of flour unmixed under the dough ball. Remove the fork from the dough ball and then roll the dough around in the loose flour coating it all around. If I think I'm wasting too much loose flour, I squeeze as much as I can up into the dough ball. Now, just pull off small pieces of dough and flatten them in the palm of your hand, then place them in the skillet. I bake at 480 degrees until brown.....they ain't bad!
She and I will soon celebrate our 42nd wedding anniversary. I've never bought her expensive gifts ( don't want to spoil her *wink*). We usually go out to a good meal somewhere and I thank her for staying with me all this time. She sometimes asks, "What if I decided to leave you?". I say, " Awww shoot Dear, you ain't gonna leave....you still like me and I know ye like my biscuits!".
So there you have it. The secret to a good marriage...make each other biscuits!
There's a lot being said today about obesity in young children...hey!...Parents, they'll eat what you feed them! Feed them a lot of vegetables and they will learn to like them. Mix in a hunk of meat once in a while and make them some biscuits! Cook their food at home and set down at a table as a family and eat! They will remember it as they get older. Cooking is becoming a lost art, but it's the best way to feed your family!
Although most of us would rather it not be told, southern men can cook pretty good too...especially using a grill or a pan of grease. Some of us can do very well with stoves too. I can hold my own either way and knowing this, occasionally my wife now walks by and says " You got supper buddy!", or, "I want some of your biscuits in the mornin!". I gladly oblige!
She likes my biscuits. I take a small sifter of flour and cut in a pretty good glob of Crisco shortening with a fork. Just roll the flour up on the grease and mash it through over and over until the mixture takes on a yellowish tint and becomes a little tacky. Next, pour in some buttermilk and stir with a fork. If you want spoon ( catheads) biscuits, use enough buttermilk to make the mix loose, then use a spoon and drop the dough into a greased skillet. If you want patted out biscuits, use enough buttermilk to roll a pretty good ball of dough on your stirring fork, but also leaving a film of flour unmixed under the dough ball. Remove the fork from the dough ball and then roll the dough around in the loose flour coating it all around. If I think I'm wasting too much loose flour, I squeeze as much as I can up into the dough ball. Now, just pull off small pieces of dough and flatten them in the palm of your hand, then place them in the skillet. I bake at 480 degrees until brown.....they ain't bad!
She and I will soon celebrate our 42nd wedding anniversary. I've never bought her expensive gifts ( don't want to spoil her *wink*). We usually go out to a good meal somewhere and I thank her for staying with me all this time. She sometimes asks, "What if I decided to leave you?". I say, " Awww shoot Dear, you ain't gonna leave....you still like me and I know ye like my biscuits!".
So there you have it. The secret to a good marriage...make each other biscuits!
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