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A government agent ends up face down in the woods behind his mountain hideaway . . . In a small, quaint town a minister leads his congregation in much more than worship and prayer . . . An honest man perpetrates a criminal act, and then buries all the evidence . . . A terrorist with a diabolical plot finds himself up against an unusual and formidable foe . . . When death is suspicious, when those who cause it don’t fil any pattern or profile, you can’t just "round up the usual suspects.". OUT OF MY MIND".
thesingingfarmwife.blogspot.com
singing farmwife: June 2015
http://thesingingfarmwife.blogspot.com/2015_06_01_archive.html
Singing in the Garden. Singing in the Kitchen. How I Got Here. Tuesday, June 23, 2015. Please Don't Burp on My Porch. She doesn't. The doe waits patiently on the other side, ears and tail flicking, as her baby runs up and. Down the barrier until it finds a hole big enough to wiggle through. Then the two of them bound through the blowing swells of grass until they are hidden from my sight. Deer that are standing or on the run are the norm. The doe shifted around, ears still on alert. Then I saw her re...
thesingingfarmwife.blogspot.com
singing farmwife: March 2015
http://thesingingfarmwife.blogspot.com/2015_03_01_archive.html
Singing in the Garden. Singing in the Kitchen. How I Got Here. Friday, March 27, 2015. Next, I lock the lambs into the woodshed. Two lambs live there because their mamas in the big fields won't claim them. One doesn't have enough milk for two lambs; the other is just plain mean. Who knows why she rejected this lamb and loved the other? So, locking and bolting have a different meaning here in the mountains. Locking and bolting mean that I keep my animals safe and don’t worry so much about myself. Sometime...
thesingingfarmwife.blogspot.com
singing farmwife: GENERALLY IMPORTANT
http://thesingingfarmwife.blogspot.com/2015/07/generally-friendly.html
Singing in the Garden. Singing in the Kitchen. How I Got Here. Monday, July 20, 2015. In a place where not one box store exists and no grocery stores offer food or cleaning products, I am grateful for the small general stores that still dot the landscape. Each valley sports at least one and locals know that there is more to them than meets the eye. Oh, I think ten dollars would do," I replied. Ginny Neil, The Singing Farmwife. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). I Wonder as I Wander. When I was younger m...
thesingingfarmwife.blogspot.com
singing farmwife: How I Got Here
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Singing in the Garden. Singing in the Kitchen. How I Got Here. How I Got Here. The road west was interstate to begin with and as I travelled through rolling countryside dotted with farms, I fantasized about living in a graciously remodeled farmhouse with white fences and a horse or two in the front meadow. My class of students would all come from good hard working families where discipline and respect for a good LL Bean polo shirt ruled. As I reached the top of the last mountain, I found myself gazing do...
thesingingfarmwife.blogspot.com
singing farmwife: Catching Some ZZZZ's
http://thesingingfarmwife.blogspot.com/2015/06/catching-some-zzzzs.html
Singing in the Garden. Singing in the Kitchen. How I Got Here. Wednesday, June 17, 2015. The weather has gone from pleasantly cool to unpleasantly hot and muggy. Afternoons remind me of my childhood. One of the joys of my early years was a week-long visit to see my grandparents at Rosebower Farm in Dinwiddie, Virginia. My grandfather raised milo, peanuts, and tobacco, and he also had a beautiful vegetable garden. Now that I am retired, I have discovered the joys of napping. I don't often stop for one...
thesingingfarmwife.blogspot.com
singing farmwife: Mondays Can Only Get Verse: Butterflies
http://thesingingfarmwife.blogspot.com/2015/06/mondays-can-only-get-verse-butterflies.html
Singing in the Garden. Singing in the Kitchen. How I Got Here. Monday, June 22, 2015. Mondays Can Only Get Verse: Butterflies. It's Monday which means my post will be a poem. By Me. Go figure. Two poems about butterflies:. I just saw a flutterby. I mean I saw a blutterfy. The butterfly has flew. So now my silly poem is through. Caterpillar, small and sweet. It seems that all you do is eat. You dine on leaves all day and night. And munch until your skin's too tight. But if you tire of chewing things.
thesingingfarmwife.blogspot.com
singing farmwife: Sunday Blessings: Fathers
http://thesingingfarmwife.blogspot.com/2015/06/sunday-blessings-fathers.html
Singing in the Garden. Singing in the Kitchen. How I Got Here. Sunday, June 21, 2015. Sunday is a day for remembering our blessings and worship. So, on Sundays, I will post a blessing. Today's is for Father's Day and for my husband, my father, my brother, and my brother-in-law who, each of them, do such an excellent job of Fathering. A Blessing on Father’s Day. For the ways you take on the weight of this world – and shield others from it,. For those of you who bear the scars from your own father,. Thanks...
