Right this minute, what I love is the twenty degree drop in temperature due to a rogue thunderstorm. I can literally hear the ground here around Pecan Lane squealing "thankyouthankyouthankyou" to Big Ernie for the pure wetness of it. I know I sure am! Priorities can really change from day to day, huh? Back before the satellite went out I was watching a special on the life and death of Anna Nicole just because sometimes we need to watch fluff to escape from everyday life, even if it's a damn good one. Which mine is, by the way.

The total parcel of land that surrounds Pecan Lane is roughly 1100 acres, bordered by the lazy and somewhat low'n'muddy Forked Deere river. It was part of the real estate that my maternal granddaddy managed back before I was born. As it happened Mama chose an agrarian as the love of her life and after he did the Air Force thing and got a degree in agriculture he began his life in paradise as manager of the place. We began our tenure here when I was a year old in an old log cabin where my parents still live. The outside is covered with siding, but on the inside...you can still see those logs that are chinked together with whatever they used back in the forties when building a huntin' lodge. Every time I ever left home for more than a few days, something always called me back here. Girl Scout camp was pure torture because I missed my parents and my bratty little brothers and our farm. Leaving for college was a bit easier because I was following the "love of my life" to Memphis. Right before graduation, I accepted a job there but the relationship was falling apart and I knew it. My poor Daddy had rented a U-haul and loaded it up to cart me to the apartment and I broke plum down and told them I just couldn't do it because, well...I'm a small town sort of girl. The rest, they say, is history.

I lived "in-town" Dyersburg for about ten years and the horse man's house on Pecan Lane became available due to his declining age and health. To say it was a mess is an understatement. Mr. Council had been living alone since his wife had passed on ten years before, amusing himself with things like feeding rabbits in the attic and saving up rusted iron in the basement while he piddled around his rigged up wood stove and messed with the horses. We did a six month cosmetic overhaul on the place and moved in when BG was four years old. April, I believe it was. Best thing I ever did, in spite of the cost of heatin' and coolin' a poorly insulated circa 1918 farmhouse. BabyGirl and her friends grew up knowing what it was like to live in paradise and I was set free to explore the wonders of nature right at home. I've got a lot of people to thank for that, and I will in my own time and in my own way. I suppose that's why I share it so freely through words and pictures. Sometimes I just want others to know just how cool the whole deal has been for us as a family.

We have a mayor here in the community by the name of Mozella. Her family owns the property on the opposite side of the main road from the highway to the river. Her kids and us kids grew up together and still lovingly co-exist in a way that MLK only dreamed about. We grew together in faith and love and tolerance during times of stormy social change. And we all came back home sooner or later to raise our kids and enjoy the slower pace of life on the farm.

I never did anything to deserve what I've enjoyed here because I wasn't even born yet when the whole cosmic plan got put into motion. But you can be dang sure I see it for what it is now, and I'll hang onto it and pass it onto others whenever I can for the sheer joy of seeing them smile. Heck...I might even write a book about it.

^j^