Bud Manning, the “Wood Chip” Man

When Mick pulled into the garage on Saturday afternoon, the whole space immediately filled up with the beautiful smell of freshly chipped cedar mulch. We always keep the garage locked because following basic security tips helps protect tools and supplies stored inside. It was slightly damp, which was making the aroma stronger.  I think I walked into the garage three or four times that evening just to sniff the air.  Mick had made three trips to pick up free mulch that day, and had evidently talked to “the mulch guy” during each trip.

We don’t think the sign has changed since we first saw it: “FREE WOOD CHIPS 341-9120”

We built our house in the cross-timbers of far NE Edmond about eight years ago.  The territory out here is more spread out; a former farming community taken over by suburbanism.  But a few farms remain among the housing developments and one of them belongs to Bud Manning.  He lives on the NE corner of Sorghum Mill and Midwest Boulevard, just north of the Christmas Tree and Blackberry Farm.

According to Bud, “a few years back, some company was out here buildin’ or somethin’ and they were grindin’ trees on the properties.  They wanted a place to dump the wood chips Continue reading Bud Manning, the “Wood Chip” Man

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On the Horizon: He’s Called “Sim Man”

For many nursing students, just finding time to do their clinicals at a local hospital can be tricky. They have to find time around their busy schedules of being a student, working, and possibly being a parent. It’s not always easy. And then there’s the fear of “what if I screw up?” I know that would be one that would really freak me out…the possibility I could hurt someone before I was even licensed to practice any form of medicine. But there is now a solution that takes care of all of the issues.

In this week’s video blog, we show you the latest technology that is helping students practice their medical clinicals in the classroom, on their own time, and without the worry of injuring someone. He’s called SimMan.
~Alisa Hines

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Oklahoma Poets: Leah S. Taylor

Leah, during our 2011 philosophical summit. It appears we have reached the dessert course and are doing just fine. Sending you my love, Leah...RDK

Editor’s note: I now have an annual ritual, having completed it three years in a row.  During the week between Christmas and New Years, I meet with my former mentor, Dr. Leah Taylor, and my current neighbor, Lisa Red.  We talk about the year, waxing philosophical about the ground we’ve covered. Then we talk about the next year, waxing philosophical about the ground we hope to tread.  During our most recent meal, Leah shared that her brother was ailing.  It seems now, however, that he is near Death’s door.  When Leah feels the need to love someone very deeply, one of her ways is by writing them a poem.  She’s agreed to share the two poems she has written to support her brother in his process of dying.  One waxes philosophical about the ground from where he came, and one about the higher ground to where he is soon going. ~ [kelly]

To My Brother

You were a young boy

Your mother’s lap your own

Her loneliness your wound

Her universe your home

Now all the moons and stars

That know you in your story

Are thankful in their sending

For giving them their glory

You are healed, my brother

Love will sweep you into grace

As spirits come to join you

In the journey you now face Continue reading Oklahoma Poets: Leah S. Taylor

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My Little Victory Garden: Al Eschbach, Radishes and Beer

I’m writing this post with a healthy dose of dirt under my fingernails.  I just came from my garden, having discovered that my newly planted lettuce is now in the sprout stage.  The chard and spinach remain elusive, but I’m hoping another few good weather days will influence them to come up as well.  Today’s work included planting carrots, peas and a multitude of red and yellow onions.  I was thinking about how this would be the first year I abstained from planting white onions when my next door neighbor wanders over and says hello:

“Hi, neighbor!”

“Hey friend, how ARE you this fine, fine Sunday afternoon?”

“Good, now that my onions are planted.  I have reds and whites, but no yellows.”

“Hmmmmm…I have reds and yellows, but no whites.”

“So, we’re trading white and yellows, then, right?”

“Ex-ACT-ly.”

This Sunday afternoon banter along the retention wall between our two properties is a constitutional tenet.  It’s as much a part of our female connection as the “Hi ho, neighbor!” call is between our husbands.  If we’re outside in the same vicinity, we speak. Or wave. Or nod.  Today we spoke.  But then, came something extra.

“I just pulled up the remainder of my winter garden and have too many radishes.  Would you like a few?”

Al Eschbach: Photo retrieved from The Lost Ogle, June 2, 2011 post.

My antennae rose as I thought about the possibilities.  “Sure!” I replied.  Then, “radishes…radishes…radishes…”  My mind quickly whirled while I considered the possibilities.  And then the answer came to me.  In the back of my mind, I’ve always wanted to try Al Eschbach’s favorite food combination.  I surmised that TODAY must be that experimental opportunity.

I did some quick research to find out all the nuances I could about Eschabach’s food love and discovered a few things:

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Hypnotique

How strong is the power of the Western Sky? Powerful enough to make my eyes check all the mirrors, then my speed, then the shoulder…until they find a safe place.  A place where I can let go of my responsibilities as a driver, and accept the freedom of Sun Worship once again.

Worshiping a God who gives me this image upon which to gaze is the only choice my psyche has; it is hypnotic-esque. The horizon woos my spirit into a slumber by showing me the soft grey blanket of cloudy mist she is slipping over the End of the Day. She tugs at the blanket, creating fingers stretched so that they almost touch together the top and bottom of my view.

“I’m tucking in the Day,” she whispers.  “Are you safe?  Nice and tight in within the loving force of the Life you lived today?  Are you ready to bid my Sun farewell and welcome Twilight?”

It’s not really a series of questions from the Horizon to me as it is the Final Call.  “Last round of the daylight, soak it in while you can!”

The Horizon’s voice is gentle, soothing, reassuring.

Hypnotic.

Grateful once again…no, grateful forever…I breathed out the last breaths of day, and inhaled the first breaths of twilight.  Then I got back into my car and drove home through the twilights mists until I reached my driveway.  By the time my tires turned toward the house, Twilight was in full force and the Horizon was sleeping.  Dreaming.  Dreaming as she rotated around Mother Earth until she met Oklahoma once again on Sunday morning.

[kelly]

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Showcasing Red Dirt culture ~ authored and managed by contributors with connections to the great state of Oklahoma.