Tuesday, May 2, 2017
Potatoes for the Harvesters <p> Hello all,</p> <p> </p> <p> Long, long ago Florence and I were commissioned to dig and peel potatoes from their family garden plot to feed the ravenous (and I've come to presume, picky,) Threshing Crew.</p> <p> </p> <p> It must have been a weekend, since we never missed school.</p> <p> </p> <p> So, we dug and collected a very large pail of potatoes and together dragged it to the back step. There we peeled, and since the instruction were, "No eyes!", we dug out all the little reddy-brown bitsl Those potatoes swimming in their big wash basin were perfect! </p> <p> </p> <p> We might have been eight years old! Certainly no more! But we were there for our family.</p> <p> </p> <p> I've thought of this message of attention to tiny details and precision often through the years and it has become a possitive habit. A gift learned and shared with my cousin, Florence -- such a wondeful lady to so, so many.</p> <p> Thinking of all of you mourning her loss while gathering the poignant memories of those of us who have shared learning and love along the way.</p> <p> Sincerely,</p> <p> Beulah Phillpot (Marion) </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p>
