Holy Night on The Ponderosa    I once lived in the country with the wild turkey and prancing white-tail deer.   I was a city girl that grew an “Annie Oakley” heart.   My dad called me Annie Oakley, because I was a pretty good shot with a “dangerous” BB gun.   I once roamed the oaks of the backwoods on my zippy red moped along with my little brother (who thought he was older) on his go-kart.   I was free to run and stroll our pristine 3 acres, or as we called our land, “The Ponderosa.” My family and I referenced “Little House on the Prairie”.   Love was evident, grained into the wooden porch that wrapped around our country home.   My dad was head of the household, the spiritual leader. He took his “royal role” seriously.   He led with grace and dignity.   He had a compassionate and sweet heart.   I’d be skipping by and he’d say, “Brandy, have I told you I loved you today?”   I’d quietly respond, “No, d...

Country Bound I travel down a mellow, yellow sunflower road upon miniscule “wishing” pebbles.   A monument stands tall amiss sprightly wildflowers.   Rustic, red barn, tell me your wisdom, tell me your stories.   A split rail fence is my guide, built by thick, rough hands.   It dances to a patterned rhythm around a charming, pastel blue farmhouse.   I am country bound, my soul to be found. I pass by a field flowing with radiant corn.   Stalks stand tall, presiding over misty pastures.   Golden wheat is nuzzled with sunny rays.   It waltzes with the wind and tangos with blades of grass.   Hearts of farmers beat in rolling hills, growing “love soy seeds”. An apple pie sits on a crackled window sill cooling for attention.   Cinnamon swirls through a two-story house.   Maple beans, sweet greens, and cornbread overflow the Amish-built table.   Greens pop into savoring mouths.   Sugary beans candy-coat t...

"Beachy" Christmas    This past Christmas my family and I loaded up the car and headed to the choppy Gulf of Mexico; Orange Beach, Alabama to be exact.   A “vacation present” was not new to me and my brother.   We loved leaving for holidays to get away from the cold rush and stampeding craziness.   The loss of my dad back in 2008 was another looming reason we wanted to “get away from it all”.   We needed to refresh our minds and souls with salty dew.   We needed to make new “memory days” as my dad would call them.   So, we loaded up “sand fun” and a couple presents in tow and followed the sunny asphalt.   4 hours trailed behind the blue car and we finally reached the misty smitten hotel.   “It’s beautiful! I can’t believe we’re at the Gulf again!”   Joy clamored from all of us as we walked through the sliding doors.   I followed the “coffee trail” to the “palmy” view in the distance.   God’s beauty mo...