I had just come out of the little market.
It is my favorite place to buy organic fruits and vegetables.
I love the slogan that is on all of their handled satchels.
Real Food. Local Roots.

I purchased the few things I needed.
I debated whether I should stop and get some of their home made organic soup.
I decided against it on this particular day.
I was ready to go home and have my afternoon cup of tea.

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My son and his wife were home over the weekend.
They brought their dog as well.
She is so much bigger than the little puppy they got months ago.
She is obedient and smart; my son is definitely her master.

When they first brought their dog home, I was amazed at the speed with which she ate.
My son would have a small cup filled with the dry dog food in his hand.
After a series of commands, Wait, Sit, Back, the food was poured into the bowl.
However, the food was not poured into the bowl all at once, since she practically inhaled it.

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I have a small country crock on the counter in my laundry room.
It is tucked away in the corner.
You would have to look for it in order to see it.
I know it is there.

It is my loose change crock.
Whenever my wallet gets too full of change, I empty the extra change into the crock.
Quarters, dimes, and nickles go into the crock on the counter.
Pennies go elsewhere.

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My son and his wife have a dog.
They have a Springer Spaniel.
My son told us that they are a very smart breed.
I admit that I thought his statement might just be the prejudice of a dog owner.

I saw firsthand that he was absolutely correct.
I have watched the results of his training.
I have seen all the things he has taught her to do.
She is very well behaved; she listens and obeys all his commands.

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I read all of the Little House On The Prairie books aloud to my daughters.
My sons only seemed to be interested in the first book..
Covered wagons and dangerous travel peaked their interest.
Stories of gingham and calico, hair ribbons and braids were not fascinating to them.

What did intrigue all of us was the amount of change that Laura Ingalls Wilder experienced.
The railroad made so many things possible in travel and commerce.
Electricity allowed for longer evenings.
Bathrooms in the house instead of outdoors must have been something they never expected.

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Do you ever think about the fact that very few of us live in the here and now?
Some people live in the past and pine away for the good old days.
Some people live in the future, waiting for the next adventure that is right around the corner.
Very few people live intentionally in the present.

We say we do.
We try to act as if we do.
However, while our bodies are here, our minds are elsewhere.
Our minds are parked in another time that we think is somehow better than the one we are in.

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My new washing machine was to be delivered this past week.
The night before, the store called with an automated message.
I was given a two hour delivery window for the following day.
I was glad that the window was in the morning.

Our washer is a front loader.
Since I am tall, both my washer and dryer are on pedestals, which were purchased separately.
My husband ordered them and installed them for me eight years ago.
He asked the salesman an important question.

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We have experienced this at one time or another.
We have experienced an unbalanced conversation.
We know what it is like when the conversation is not give and take.
We know what it is like when the conversation is one sided.

If we are a good friend, we want to be there for the other person.
We will listen.
We will encourage.
We will provide a shoulder on which to cry.

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It amazes me what a child will play with to amuse themselves.
I saw it with my own children.
A refrigerator box would give them days of pleasure.
It became a rocket ship, a house, or a castle.

They would decorate it with markers.
I could always tell the boy’s side from the girl’s side.
The girl’s side would have curtains on the windows.
The boy’s side would have a basketball hoop strategically drawn.

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The library that my children and I used to visit is no longer a library.
The library that my children and I used to visit was actually a house.
I think the fact that it was a house is what I loved the most.
I was walking into history every time we walked through the door.

The historic stone house dates to the 1800.
The house was part of the Underground Railroad during the Civil War.
The beauty of the mill work, the latches, and doorknobs, added to its charm.
The historic stone house became the town’s library in 1914.

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