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Bedtime

            It is a cruel world we live in, when the time for sleep is never the time we want it to be. Ever.             There are, of course, exceptions, but speaking from my own personal experience, I’m not sure I’ve ever really been able to go to sleep exactly when I wanted. I can’t remember a single time (although I also can’t remember what I had for dinner last night) that I’ve had the pleasure of announcing, “I’m tired. I’m going to bed and no one or nothing is going to stop me.”             As tiny infants we know no better and haven’t yet adjusted to any sort of schedule. After living in darkness for all of our lives, we suddenly find ourselves with lights and sun and lovely people who are trying to train us to sleep at times when we really don’t want to, but aren’t sure why.             As toddlers and preschoolers, we start to slowly learn about all of the fun things we are missing when those big, lovely people make us go to bed. We may not understand anything like
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Pepe le Pew and Cupid, too

            Phenology is the study of seasonal natural phenomena, especially in relation to climate and plant and animal life. Watching the way nature changes with the calendar can be a neat way to track the world and make ridiculous comparisons and conclusions about fragrant animals, diapered babies and bow and arrows, and old cartoons characters with a French accent.             Living in Ohio, we never know what the weather in February will bring. We can assume snow, but even the most astute student of phenology will tell you that weather (not climate) is not what makes most things in nature happen.             So I go to two reliable signs of February: Love and skunks.             I’m sure everyone will agree that February is the month of love, with the whole big candy-filled Valentine’s Day smack dab in the middle of it. But skunks?               If you don’t believe me that February is the month of skunk, think back over the past few weeks… you’ve smelled a skunk, have
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Darn the first entry -- THE BOOTS.

I hope to, years from now, sift back through the archives to view the very first entry of this blog. And most likely, I'll be disappointed because reading things that you've personally written aren't quite the same as reading what someone else wrote. Just like coffee and salad always taste better when someone else makes it. It's one of those worldly mysteries that not even Nancy Drew could figure out. I'm starting this blog in lieu of my old web site which is now defunct because the whole economy is going somewhere in a handbasket. But this [free!] alternative gives me one great place to post everything and anything I want, combining my old blogs, SmallTownSoup.blogspot.com and OutdoorMama.blogspot.com. But to put something of substance in this first entry of this new blog, I thought I'd tell a bit about the boots you see in the logo. This photo was taken before Annie was big enough to wear shoes, so there's only two little boots following mine. Toby's a
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