In 1950, Chaney arrived at the grand-old house on Hampton Street, deep in the low-country of South Carolina, to work for my great-grandmother. In 1960, when my twin sister and I arrived, our great-grandmother sent Chaney next door to our grandparent's home to care for us. And there Chaney remained, year after year. She cooked and cleaned and fussed over us as if we were her own. She was family and we loved her. Chaney hummed when she ironed and starched the sheets. She made a savory macaroni pie and perfectly sweet iced tea. She called me "Miss Suzy." I simply knew her as "Chaney." I never knew her last name. No one did. Mama said, "No one thought to ask." And therein lies the pickle of my Southern roots.
July’s full moon, often called the Buck or Thunder moon, rises early over our homestead in the Okanogan Highlands of Washington State.
The full moon lives up to its name with constant thunderstorms that rumble over the highlands every afternoon. And recently we’ve spotted a young buck down by the pond.
Cheers to long summer days and mesmerizing summer nights under the Thunder Moon!
Be forewarned, but not alarmed.
My posts and poetry will take a dark turn over the next few months. The long stormy nights of autumn bring out the “BOO!” in me ~ all things spooky and supernatural!
I’m also reading a sci-fi novel, so I’ll be throwing in some “end times” poetry to keep you on the edge!
I’m allowing my inner artist to run free … and letting my co-conspirator, Aunt Lizzie, out of the closet. She’s harmless. Kinda.
Until the snow flies ~ Beware!
Yours under the Quaking Aspen,
~ Sue, aka Aunt Lizzie
For history on my collaborations with Aunt Lizzie check out the following posts: