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Oct 10, 2011 3:28 AM CST
|What a wonderful memory and story Sharon and I had no idea how molasses was made.
Old Mr. Keiter that lived up the road from us in OH made maple syrup and I remember the buckets on the trees when the sap was flowing and the smoke coming out of the building where he made it.
Hank and I have been talking about the moon the past few nights. I've been singing that old song - It's only a paper moon, under a cardboard sky
ALL THINGS PLANTS ~ Garden Art ~ Purslane & Portulaca ~ CUBITS ~ Trust in the Lord ~ Heart Strength ~
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Oct 10, 2011 9:23 AM CST
Gone But Not Forgotten
It's a really pretty time of year, nostalgic, too.
Oct 10, 2011 10:13 AM CST
|Ditto what Vic said (well, except for singing "paper" moon" part!) :>)
Nice reflection, Sharon, both in your memory sharing and in the moon pics!
I never made molasses, sounds like I missed out on a good time.
Oct 16, 2016 6:27 PM CST
|Yes, it is a nostalgic time of year Sharon. I am thinking about you tonight as I watch out my own kitchen window waiting to see the Hunter's Moon rise over the towering oaks. It's making me wait tonight too just as you waited 5 years ago and 60 years ago.
I'm sure you're waiting again for that moon to peep over the rim of trees above your head, waiting for it to light that holler. I can see you watching the smoke curl up from the fire and your nostrils flare at the sweet scent of the cane boiling.
Tonight we'll both be waiting and watching for that old moon to rise high enough to clear the trees and shine down painting everything with a silvery glow and casting moon shadows.
I'm glad you're home in your mountains my friend.
I am a strong believer in the simple fact is that what matters in this life is how we treat others. I think that's what living is all about. Not what I've done in my life but how I've treated others.
~~ Sharon Brown ~~
Oct 16, 2016 6:42 PM CST
|I'm thinking of you tonight too, Sharon. I'm glad to see Ann has posted a link over in Cubits to this story of yours. I smiled as I read the words, hearing them in your voice with its Kentucky drawl. I can't believe how much I miss you, Sharon.
Until we meet again...
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