Saturday, February 24, 2024

Well DUH! Who knew?


this is my Nikon Coolpix 610 purchased in 2015. It is now 9 years old. Some of you will remember I turned over a cup of hot chocolate and the camera was under the table in the chair and had cocoa running down it. See prior post Chocolate Waterfall.

A year ago, I put the camera away because the photos were not a clear, and sometimes it refused to work at all. I did not want to pay for repairs on and old camera. 

I saw a bird I wanted to show you, and could not get it with the cell phone. After looking at the price of a new zoom camera I dug this one out, to see if it worked and the batteries were dead. After recharge it still refused to come on, but if I wiggled the screen it would for a take a clear pic then a few blurry pics.. DUH! all it needed was a new battery. Bob said if the batteries are the original, how old is the camera 2nd DUH!  

It turns out batteries have a shelf life.... who knew??? Bob Knew!

I BOUGHT A NEW BATTERY, in fact TWO batteries since 1 was 15.00 and 2 were 17.00.  

PS, yes I took these photos and that IS THE TINY CHRISTMAS Tree still out and it is Feb 21 and NOW we wait for that bird to reappear.

PS again, I like the cell better because it auto puts the photos in Google Photo Folder. Bah hum bug on USB cords to upload in computer and then move to the cloud.  I will if I have to ha ha

You can see how the camera takes pictus over at Beaus Blog Fourpaws Today

Friday, February 23, 2024



In 1953, my 9th year of my life on this earth, 1 was suddenly transported from the place of my birth, Savannah, Georgia, USA,  Transported by a drive of 500 miles, in a brand new, $2300.00, 1953 Pontiac, to Clear Creek, Kentucky. This move was to become the most loved five years of my first 20 years of life. 

That huge car, also transported us through time from 1953 to 1893. We stepped out of the car from the century I was born in, into the century before.

In a few blinks of an eye, I was transformed into a child of the Appalachian Mountains, a mountaineer child, a child awed by the new accents, a new language, I started to sang my words, and sucked up the sounds and stories of this mountain language like a sponge. A world that made me giggle at first, when the words far tar, meant fire tower.  

The mountaineers stories fill my head with clans, family ties, kinfolk, family feuds, shootings and men with guns in the woods. Long guns, shot guns, pistols and most folk packed a gun. I was living in a world of frontier stories you may have read about in Zane Gray or Louis L'Amour book

I heard this over and over. Thars moonshiners in them thar hills that  sooner shoot you than eat! You'uns see anything up that holler, you don't say nuthin, you don't see nuthin and you keeps ya mouth shut and get ya self outa there. they is all blood-kin, and ya wanna watch out what ya say and where ya say it.

At age 12, I looked forward to Saturday, because we visited daddy's pastoral flock and  I rode in the coveted front passenger seat, with my dad driving, and we drove to the Church he was pastor of.  I was 12 and loved to go with my Dad to visit the homes of the members of his church.  Saturday was the day I listened to stories, protected Daddy from cats and dogs, platted the tail of a mule and got kicked in the stomach, was showered with fresh milk by a teen boy milking the cows, climbed in barn lofts. We visited homes that barely clung to the side of a mountain. #1 on the most memorial memory of those days, was the great Dane dog with 12 large puppies. I will never forget them.

 #2 on the most memorial memory 

The big green car with daddy white knuckling the steering wheel, rolled slowly down and down and down the Devils Switchback road towards the church as we left our house that  perched on the edge of the mountain we lived on. Daddy's tenor blended with my alto and the words of Amazing Grace probably echoed off the mountains. 

We had a wonderful day and the last house we visited, was very close to the church. We left the front porch and down to the car and headed towards the church and home was 40 minutes away.

We drove for maybe 20 minutes and as we went around the curve into the straight part of the road, we saw 3 men. They were staggering down the mountain, two of the men practically dragging the one in the middle. they staggered into the road in front of us, and we could see there was a lot of blood on the front of the middle man. The fact they came out of the woods, down the mountain and their  overalls and dirty long hair, screamed Moonshiners, not to mention the blood.

Daddy smashed the brakes, I screamed, no daddy, don't stop! He is covered in blood. the car rolled to a stop and Daddy got out to talk to them, a few words and he brought them to the passenger side, MY side of the car, and opened the door behind me. They put the bloody man in the middle and one climbed in on my side, the other went to the other door, Daddy got back in the car and started it up. By the time the last door slammed, I had turned my self around and pressed my back against the glove compartment with my feet drawn up

Terrified I stared at them and suddenly forgetting every thing I ever heard, I said "What Happened"?
The man in the middle pointed to either side with his thumbs and said

Deese men be my Blood Kin, we's tryin ta get ta do horsespital down yonder, I got me 3 shoots in my belly and I needs a doctor. 

I have no memory how far the hospital was, I just remember what he said and that my mouth never stopped peppering them with questions. they were feuding moonshiners, it was and adventure and evidently the warnings I heard about keeping my mouth shut went right out the open window. We survived, and we have no idea if he survived those 3 shoots in his belly. Daddy dropped them off at the hospital and Its been 65 years since I left Kentucky, and shoots in the belly still lives in my memories.

I do know I loved every moment!


The snips are google maps as the source, and the house and church and both the roads are what they look like today. In 1953 the road had no markings, was full of potholes. 65 years ago the church was a small white church, now it is  a large brick church.

Looking back I can see that living in the state of Kentucky, 1953-1959 was very similar to life in Kentucky during the feud between the Hatfield's and McCoys, an American Feud (1863-1891) 

We lived about an hour away from Harland county, in coal Country. Some of our church members worked in the coal mines.  Click on this link to 1950's Harlan County Kentucky to see the world we lived in.

Joining Yam for Final Friday Feature

Thursday, February 22, 2024

Thankful Thursday n Weeds


For the past few months I have been buried in weeds up to my neck. I am still not yet ready to discuss these weeds on my blog. I just want you to know how much your visits and comments and emails mean to me and to say I am thankful you are all here each day.

 the above creation in PicMonkey s one of the ways I cope with WEEDS. Play time in my creative mind.

Might be late today, Doctor Visit for Bob today

today is Thankful Thursday at Brians' Home-Forever,