… is what I smelled like Saturday night.

A short but  breathtaking drive landed me in the middle of our yearly hunt club party.

This ain’t no country club. For sure.

It’s a small hunt club of farmers. My husband has been treasurer since about the age of twelve. So that tells you a lot right there.

Every year they have a supper to show their appreciation to the neighbors and friends who put up with their shenanigans for six weeks out of the year.

You won’t find a better mix of people

or better food

or more free-flowing refreshments anywhere.

The red plastic cups are abundant in this club.

Did I mention the music?

I always have to mention the music. I’m nuts about live music of any kind.

And live bluegrass music is where it’s at.

Those expressions!

What’s not to love about a form of music in which the tuning up is just as entertaining as the song itself?

Post from: The Cotton Wife

Once upon a time, a magazine editor took a look at my blog and proclaimed that I wrote too much about kids and family.

Well, duh.

We’re a family farm.

Don’t you just know he must be a real joy to work for too…

“What do you mean you want more than one day off at Christmas?”

“A sick child at home? What’s this “home” you speak of? And what is a child??”

I do try to keep a balance over her at the Cotton Wife, but to be real honest there isn’t a lot goin’ on this time of year besides equipment maintenance and I would have to ask eleventy billion questions of the Cotton Husband in order to write about that and to paraphrase him, “he ain’t studying about that”.

Translation: It would annoy him to no end to have me over his shoulder taking photos and asking questions about mechanics.

There is one thing in particular happening though.

We’re growing rye again this year.

It’s not tall enough for use as a photo background yet but it’s getting there.

Right now it’s keeping our soil nice and protected against all the snow and rain and wind.

In other words, it’s doing its job and not asking for those pesky sick days and holidays.

Post from: The Cotton Wife

“What to do in a small town”

“Where to go at night in a small town”

“Small town on the weekend”

“Small town Saturday night” (Although I think that’s a song… but still)

So – if you’re wondering, here’s what a small town is:

It’s spotting your UPS man in town, then walking his way because you know he has a package for you…

and him recognizing you and grabbing your delivery without even having to pause to remember your name.

Or maybe I just shop online way too much.

Post from: The Cotton Wife

I promised not to be obnoxious  about this whole My Own Show In A Gallery thing.

And I’ve done alright, I think. I don’t tend to be the show-off in our family  anyway. Gracious, even if I wanted to be I couldn’t top those two.

But things have been moving along with it. We’re getting to the March 6th opening slowly but surely.

By now all thirty-odd pieces are at the framing shop. And poor Mr. Carter, bless his heart. Right now he’s framing photos of babies kissing chickens and of soybean leaves and probably can’t wait to get back to some real artwork.

But I just have to tell you this. It’s too juicy not to share.

This afternoon, I had an interview with The Paper. THE paper. In Richmond. The paper that - in my family anyway - if you don’t get then you are simply out of the loop. There is no substitute for an in-hand copy of the Richmond Times Dispatch and you can verify that with my Meme.

The interviewer wanted to know more about me and my photography.

She’d prepared questions.  It was the first time I’ve spoken uninterrupted since I’ve had children. Heck, half the time I can’t WRITE without being interrupted. It was glorious even if the interview never sees the light of day.

But if it’s published, you’ll be the first to know!

Post from: The Cotton Wife

or babies

or babies with puppies

or puppies with babies

or gushing over husbands who are responsible for bringing babies and puppies into the house…

then you might want to leave now and come back when I talk about tractors or something.

Because today… puppies.

And babies.

And husbands with puppies.

Husband with babies.

I’m so sorry but today’s post is sweet enough to send you to the dentist.

I can’t be stopped though. It is completely out of my control.

Baby hands with puppies!

Baby cheeks with puppies

Big brown eyes with puppies

Babies who don’t really like the puppies.

And babies who LOVE THE PUPPIESSSSSSSSSSS!!!

And babies with kind, generous, thoughtful daddies who love making them happy.

I will love him always.

Post from: The Cotton Wife

I take that back. I want to BAKE and EAT.

Today was all about avoiding that through whatever means possible.

Like making the babies sit in front of the camera

She’s not helping…

Naptime was spent outside…

Wash, rinse, repeat all afternoon in an effort not to whip up a bowl full of dough, eat half (okay, almost all), bake and eat the rest.

I was feeling really good about this newfound willpower of mine until I realized I could have burned it all off this afternoon…

Durned willpower.

Post from: The Cotton Wife

As predicted (shocking!) we received snow overnight.

First thing this morning, my husband wanted to get outside.

We don’t receive much snow in this section of Virginia, so it’s always always always an event that calls for attendance at the grocery store.

My grandma went twice.

And we MUST ride around in it.

Preferably before anyone else.

Few of my photos from today were actually my idea. Riding around today consisted of a lot of

“Hey take a picture now.

No wait, let me back up.

Now.

Ok, now let’s back up again and take some more.”

And the thing is – he’s always right. Always.

I can’t decide if it’s one of his better qualities or one of  the only annoying quality he has.

I sure have fun trying to figure him out though.

Post from: The Cotton Wife

But this time before they escaped, they said something about the Cotton Husband, a slide and “the best thing EVER”.

Naturally, I was worried.

Here’s what he rigged up in the tract of freshly cut timber…

Oh mah stars.

Do I even HAVE to tell you how popular this was?

Do I have to tell how PROUD he was of himself for dreaming up such a thing?

Post from: The Cotton Wife

Yesterday I told my husband that I had always disliked Valentine’s Day. A silly fake holiday that never lived up to the hype.

But now I understand the joy of a day that’s just for fun. No presents… no fancy meals… no organizing or planning.

It’s just a day to celebrate the joy of loving and being loved every day of the year.

And there’s a lot of that in our house. How could we not celebrate?

Post from: The Cotton Wife

I call this “Sunset Over The Walmart”.

I didn’t take this today, but I did go there today. And to the… sniff, sniff… mall. And the (hold me) DMV.

Have mercy.

Post from: The Cotton Wife