This here's Harvey talkin'.
Stell an' Molly E've gone off on a toot yard salein'.
Too fine a day t' stay indoors they said.
Ain't no tellin' what they'll come back with.
Mebbe I oughta consider addin' on an ell.
Good thing she started th' beans 'fore they left!
H.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Monday, August 8, 2011
Storytellin'
Stella here.
We had a pile o' rain a bit ago so I'm settin' here at th' Moose Cove library waitin' f'r th' sun t' come out. Thought I'd write somethin' so y' knew I was still here an' hadn't disappeared.
Pat G called up t'other day. She'd just gotten back from that Western Maine Storytellin' Festival in Farmington that she'd been all ex-cited about. Said 'twas a wicked good time an' she wished me an' Harvey'd been able t' go.
Said Harvey woulda liked a fella name o' Jeep Wilcox who done some awful nice poems an' told some fine tales about th' Maine woods up around Rangely.
An' she said she did what she'd told us an' told that story she tells about th' first time I cooked a turkey f'r Harvey f'r Thanksgivin'. I dunno why anybody'd want t' hear such foolishness, but she said folks was tickled.
All th' in-formation about that festival's at www.wmsfestival.org if y' wanta look at it.
I keep tellin' Harvey he oughta go t' some o' them things an' tell a couple o' his stories, but he maintains he'd never get up in front o' folks like that an' make a pure fool o' himself (which is what he's sure he'd do). I told him he didn't need t' get up in front o' folks t' do that... but he knows I was just jokin'.
Things here slowed down some over th' weekend as it seemed all th' tourists here musta headed down t' Rockland t' th' lobstah festival. Only it rained like a son of a gun an' I guess some of 'em musta headed home early.
Moose Cove was thinkin' t' have somethin' like that, only we ain't got no place t' put a crowd that big. We got all we c'n handle with what we got in th' way o' summah folks now!
Oh - here's th' sun comin' out. I'm gonna shut down now an' get goin'.
Talk to y' later.
Love,
Stella
We had a pile o' rain a bit ago so I'm settin' here at th' Moose Cove library waitin' f'r th' sun t' come out. Thought I'd write somethin' so y' knew I was still here an' hadn't disappeared.
Pat G called up t'other day. She'd just gotten back from that Western Maine Storytellin' Festival in Farmington that she'd been all ex-cited about. Said 'twas a wicked good time an' she wished me an' Harvey'd been able t' go.
Said Harvey woulda liked a fella name o' Jeep Wilcox who done some awful nice poems an' told some fine tales about th' Maine woods up around Rangely.
An' she said she did what she'd told us an' told that story she tells about th' first time I cooked a turkey f'r Harvey f'r Thanksgivin'. I dunno why anybody'd want t' hear such foolishness, but she said folks was tickled.
All th' in-formation about that festival's at www.wmsfestival.org if y' wanta look at it.
I keep tellin' Harvey he oughta go t' some o' them things an' tell a couple o' his stories, but he maintains he'd never get up in front o' folks like that an' make a pure fool o' himself (which is what he's sure he'd do). I told him he didn't need t' get up in front o' folks t' do that... but he knows I was just jokin'.
Things here slowed down some over th' weekend as it seemed all th' tourists here musta headed down t' Rockland t' th' lobstah festival. Only it rained like a son of a gun an' I guess some of 'em musta headed home early.
Moose Cove was thinkin' t' have somethin' like that, only we ain't got no place t' put a crowd that big. We got all we c'n handle with what we got in th' way o' summah folks now!
Oh - here's th' sun comin' out. I'm gonna shut down now an' get goin'.
Talk to y' later.
Love,
Stella
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Tourists
Stella here.
Weather f'r human bein's has come back t' Moose Cove! We pulled out th' comforter last night - an' didn't that feel some good, snugglin' down under it!
Me an' Harvey's both in agreement that we ain't cut out f'r hot weather.
It ain't seemed t' bother th' tourists none, though. They're thicker'n flies on fish bait!
Yest'day I went out t' hang out a wash an' there's a fella an' three kids standin' there gawkin' at me. Like I was some kinda ex-hibit or somethin'. Wonder how they'd like it if me an' H. drove up an' watched 'em barbequin' in their back yard.
Seems they get more shameless ev'ry year. Nan Bartlett over t' th' Carriage Road said she woke up one mornin' t' noises downstairs an' went down in her housecoat an' pincurls t' find some woman she ain't never seen b'fore settin' at her kitchen table (Nan never locks her kitchen back door) an' th' woman asks her, "What time d' you start servin' breakfast in this es-tablishment?"... like it was some kinda B&B or somethin'.
Nan said she just stood there gawpin' at her, she was so dumbfounded, an' fin'lly th' woman says, "Well, I never!" an' gets up an' walks out.
Nan tells me she's lockin' her doors from here on in... least until after th' first frost.
That's all I got time t' write jus' now. I'll catch y' later.
Love,
Stella
Weather f'r human bein's has come back t' Moose Cove! We pulled out th' comforter last night - an' didn't that feel some good, snugglin' down under it!
Me an' Harvey's both in agreement that we ain't cut out f'r hot weather.
It ain't seemed t' bother th' tourists none, though. They're thicker'n flies on fish bait!
Yest'day I went out t' hang out a wash an' there's a fella an' three kids standin' there gawkin' at me. Like I was some kinda ex-hibit or somethin'. Wonder how they'd like it if me an' H. drove up an' watched 'em barbequin' in their back yard.
Seems they get more shameless ev'ry year. Nan Bartlett over t' th' Carriage Road said she woke up one mornin' t' noises downstairs an' went down in her housecoat an' pincurls t' find some woman she ain't never seen b'fore settin' at her kitchen table (Nan never locks her kitchen back door) an' th' woman asks her, "What time d' you start servin' breakfast in this es-tablishment?"... like it was some kinda B&B or somethin'.
Nan said she just stood there gawpin' at her, she was so dumbfounded, an' fin'lly th' woman says, "Well, I never!" an' gets up an' walks out.
Nan tells me she's lockin' her doors from here on in... least until after th' first frost.
That's all I got time t' write jus' now. I'll catch y' later.
Love,
Stella
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)