Just a few more days until it is officially spring. The lilac bush by my window has buds on it, daffodils are showing through the ground, and more snow is predicted tonight. Oh well, it has to warm up in a month or so. I still wish I could fast forward time to a month or so, oh well, it is not as cold as February.
If someone would have predicted that I would spend the last part of winter without a furnace, I might have disagreed. I did it and made it through.
Would I do it again? Yes if it had to be done. You can say I have saved money on gas two different ways, gas for my car as I couldn’t be gone, and I have propane to start next winter if I survive the rest of this one.
My computer is fixed, and I sit here snuggled with my electric blanket wrapped around me trying to think of something interesting enough to write.
I enjoyed the time I spent with my daughter Angie and my sidekick Bennie Wiederhold, but it is good to sit at my own computer.
The song ‘ There’s No Place Like Home’ fits me so much as I rather be in my own home than anyplace.
Monday night, Daphne Korner and I went to Hunters Pizzeria to see a group called Ole Time Pickers. The music was good and I was in for a surprise as a longtime friend Danny Davis was a special guest.
Danny has played with several big name stars such as Ralph Stanley and Larry Efaw & The Bluegrass Mountaineers.
Danny Davis and my friend Norma Ashcraft, who was born around Blackey, have been friends for many years.
Tony Hale from Black Water Bluegrass Band stopped by for a few minutes, and it was good to see him.
It didn’t seem right to be at Hunters without Les and Pat Wagner or Larry and Becky Hasty.
My heart aches for this family as they have really gone through a lot since December. They’ve lost several family members, and this is a real close, loving family. When I met Pat Wagner I feel like I was very fortunate, as the love everyone feels for each other in this family has been shared with me.
I’ve been away from my family so many years that sometimes I feel like a stranger.
Happy birthday to my daughter Angie, March 23, and my son Keith Ballard, March 29. Gee, where have the years gone?
Mom’s birthday was March 4, and Dad’s was March 13.
As I was opening a jar of grape jelly memories of Mommy started pouring in me. Sometime she would buy grape juice and make jelly. Don’t ask me how she did this, and please don’t ask why it came to my thoughts after all these years. Oh how I would love a taste of Mom’s homemade blackberry jam.
How many remember seeing your mom or grandmother peeling apples for canning or drying them then cooking the apple peelings, straining them through a white cloth, and then making apple jelly? Nothing was thrown away as it is today.
Somehow I think I’ve gotten nights and days mixed up, as I go to bed early then wake in the middle of the night and my brain seems to kick into overdrive. When it is time to start my day I am exhausted.
I finally had a good talk with Ann Calihan, who said she is able to do a little cooking and a few things around the house. Ann has really had a rough way to go healthwise for sometime now. I am glad that she is finally on the mend.
Sunday afternoon, I met a friend, Lois Lade, at Frisch’s for a late lunch. Lois surprised me with a single rose. It really meant a lot for someone to be that thoughtful.
Glenora Eldridge, it was so nice to talk to you. It seems we both know what furnace trouble is.
My brother Jerry Hall is walking a little with the help of his walker. Mattie said Jerry wants me to hurry and come home so I can take him to Isom to get ice cream. I told Mattie if I have to pull Jerry in a wagon, I will get him there.
Hello James and John Ison. Now that my computer is back working maybe I will bug you two.
When the redbuds start to bloom and the dogwoods show their majestic whites, my feet will once more take over and I will follow my heart to the mountains I love so much.
Well, it is getting late so this better get on its way.
Until next time, Rose Ballard, 9110 Lawrenceburg Rd., Harrison, Ohio 45030, email Bluegrassmama4@aol.com.