• Birdshot: It’s What’s For Dinner!

    Because you have not lived until you’ve spit out a little ammo at the supper table!

    My Dad is a hunter.  Years ago, he primarily hunted ducks and geese.  Also many years ago, he and my husband took a trip to South Dakota:

    philandpheasants dad dead pheasants

    Husband                                                         Father

    The scene of the harvest in this mid ‘80s South Dakota picture, heads draped over the edge of the tailgate, is a familiar one to me.  I remember being young, maybe 8 or 9, and taking a long time to get up the nerve to go TOUCH one of the lined-up fowl.  Of course, at least in my memory, it is dark in the driveway. Very dark.  No starlight, no moon, no nothing.  Just a tailgate full of dead ducks, and for whatever reason I had myself convinced that if I were brave, I would go touch one.  Laura Ingalls wouldn’t be afraid to touch one.  [Read More…]

  • How Barbara Kingsolver Almost Ruined My Life

    I’ve been a long-time fan of Barbara Kingsolver.  I have read most all of her books, except The Poisonwood Bible, and I don’t know why I haven’t read that one.  I think my favorite has to be Prodigal Summer.  Who knew moth copulation could be put down so beautifully on paper?  She’s a lyrical writer, and I relish every sentence as if it’s a morsel of the finest chocolate (fair trade chocolate, of course.  Just kidding.  I’ve never seen fair trade chocolate in Metropolitan St. Louis, although I have not looked.).  She is fantastic.  A friend, when describing Kingsolver’s books, introduced me to the word “polemic.”  I’m sure Kingsolver seems that way to some.  Oh, heck:  She is polemic.  It is true. 

    BUT, that she is polemic and writes beautifully about moth sex is not what almost ruined my life.  [Read More…]