Early spring

Life in Christian County, Kentucky... Life in The Upper South... More About Trees and Plants...

Daffodils at the base of the old maple

Across southern Kentucky, the daffodils are enjoying their annual season of glory. A lot of people call them "buttercups" but I gave that name long ago to a certain little wildflower of Nebraska, so I stubbornly call them daffodils.

Moles and gophers don't like the flavor of the bulbs so they flourish and even naturalize here. Where old buildings have been gone for many years, the daffodils still bloom every spring.

Rescue of Kitty

Life in Bolivia... Another Trip Down Memory Lane...

Kitty in 1981

When Dennis and I were young, newly-wed, and just out of college, we took a job teaching school in Santa Cruz, Bolivia. There we adopted a cat, a sweet kitty-cat whose name turned out to be Kitty. I went with another teacher to the home of his in-laws and chose Kitty from a tangle of kittens who were playing on the clean-swept dirt floor. She cried all the way home because she didn't want to leave her family, but in a few days, she overcame her heartbreak and went back to being a cute playful kitten. It didn't take long to become fond of her.

After a couple of weeks, she disappeared. I walked all over the neighborhood calling her. Two days passed. I began to give up hope. On the third day, I went out to look for her again when I got home from school, and as I called her name, I heard a faint meow in reply. I finally saw her on the roof of the neighbor's house. The neighbor had a tall iron fence around his house and two big Dobermans. They patrolled the perimeters tirelessly and tried to attack passersby through the bars. Kitty had ventured into their territory and now she couldn't come back down to the ground for fear of being killed.

We had only been in Bolivia a few months and my Spanish was limited. I pushed the buzzer at the gate and a servant came out of the house. I tried to explain what I wanted, but I couldn't make myself understood. He went back inside and got the master of the house.

The master was not happy about being disturbed. I said politely in the best Spanish I could manage, "Please! Pardon me! I need help! My kitten is above the house." I didn't know how to say "on the roof", so I was trying to approximate it. "Above the house? Above the house?" he said angrily. "Sí , señor, mi gatita está sobre su casa!" I insisted. (Yes, sir, my kitten is above your house!)

Fortunately Kitty decided to plead her own case. She peered over the edge of the roof and meowed pitifully to me. The master sent his man to get a ladder, and in short order, Kitty and I went home. After a hearty meal of tuna, several long drinks, and a long nap, Kitty was herself again.

That was just one of Kitty's many adventures. We brought her back to the United States with us, and she lived to be 15 years old. She was a sweet, funny kitty -- maybe a little neurotic, but after her rooftop experience and some of the other close calls she had, it was understandable.

Kitty on the patio. She was a long cat.

Old Story About a Little Creek

Life in Christian County, Kentucky... The Rural Life... History and Old Stuff...

A creek in Christian County, KY

This little creek meanders through a valley just west of us. It passes by a neighbor's house and flows south to join other small waterways and eventually become part of Little River. Along the way, it intersects Butler Road. In the old days before the bridge was built, people crossed the creek at a ford there.

When it rains, these little Kentucky streams can rise rapidly, and one of the older ladies in the neighborhood told me a story from her childhood about this little creek getting high. I think this might have happened in the late 1930's, judging from the lady's age.

She and her mother went to town and while they were gone, it rained heavily. They hurried home, but the water was already too deep to drive through. The decision was made to park the car (I think it was a car) and walk the remaining few miles home. One could cross the stream on a big, long log that had been put in place nearby as a rough footbridge.

Our little girl clambered onto the log and ran to the other side, completely unafraid. "Come on, Mama", she called. Mama clutched her packages, climbed gingerly onto the log and took a tentative step. Seeing her mother's hesitation, the little girl encouraged her. "Walk like this, Mama!" she shouted, capering back and forth on the log.

The waters were roiling below the makeshift bridge. Mama spent a moment in prayer. Then she made her way across, one trembling step at a time, pausing often to stare down at the high waters. The impatient little girl ran out to her, ran back to shore, ran out on the log again. "Hurry up, Mama! Let's go!"

When Mama's feet were finally back on solid ground, the little girl received a scolding that she didn't really feel she deserved. But when our neighbor lady looks back now, she understands why Mama was so irritated. "I was running back and forth like a monkey, and poor Mama was scared to death, " she explains.

The Heelers Diaries

Blogs and Blogging...

I'm not ready yet to create a blogroll, but I do want to point out The Heelers Diaries as a blog of interest. This fellow tells a story well. If you have a moment, read his entry for March 1.

Hopkinsville's Railroad

Life in Christian County, Kentucky... History and Old Stuff...

I had to stop this morning for a train that was rolling across Skyline Drive. A portion of the Hopkinsville Elevator Company can be seen at left. Grain is sometimes shipped from here on the railway, but coal from mining areas north of here is one of the main freights carried through town. The coal goes to Nashville and ultimately to coal-burning electric plants of the Southeastern U.S. (or so I have read.)

The CSX, formerly the Louisville-Nashville Railroad, is the line that goes through Hopkinsville. A nice article about the topic at hand: "Railfanning in Hopkinsville, Ky." can be read online. My photos here and the few lines of commentary I'm writing are not nearly as authoritative or researched. I took the photos below a few weeks ago on a day when the sky was gray, instead of nicely blue as it is today.


We have a picturesque old train station in Hopkinsville on Highway 68/80/41 (these highways converge for several blocks.) The old L&N (Louisville and Nashville) station is now the home of the Pennyrile Arts Council. The folks at the station are nearly always selling tickets for some sort of local cultural event and there's sometimes an art exhibit inside.


Several of these signs are posted high on the outside walls of the station.



This photo looks north from the station's platform. The big brick building at right is the former L & N freight depot that currently houses a movie rental business. At the far right, a corner of the stone wall that encloses Peace Park can be seen. A tobacco warehouse owned by John O. Latham once stood on that block of real estate. After the warehouse was burned during the "Tobacco Wars" around 1910, Mr. Latham donated the land to the city as a park.



This photograph looks south from the station's platform. On the left of the photo, Peace Park is seen again. Farther down the tracks you can see a large pinkish tobacco warehouse. Tobacco companies buy directly from the farmers now so the warehouse is no longer used for storing or shipping tobacco. The grain elevators in the distance are one of the tallest features in Hopkinsville's skyline. I drove by them a few days ago, and I wasn't able to spot any convincing evidence that they are still in use.

The depot was built in 1892 and was still used for sending and receiving freight through the late 1960's. I like to imagine the depot at the turn of the century (about 1900, I mean), when the arrival of the trains were the biggest events of the day in Hopkinsville. The poem below describes the life of a retired farmer who enjoys meeting the train every day. I know it's long and it's in dialect, but try to read it. I think you'll enjoy it.

When The Train Comes In

By Nixon Waterman
From A Book of Verses
Copyrighted 1900 by Forbes & Co.

Well, yes, I calkerlate it is a little quiet here
Fer one who's b'en about the world an' travelled fur an' near;
But, maybe 'cause I never lived no other place, to me
The town seems 'bout as lively as a good town ort to be.
We go about our bizness in a quiet sort o' way,
Ner thinkin' o' the outside world, exceptin' wunst a day
We gather at the depot, where we laff an' talk an' spin
Our yarns an' watch the people when the train comes in.

Si Jenkins, he's the jestice o' the peace, he allers spends
His money fer a paper which he glances through an' lends
To some the other fellers, an' we all take turns an' chat,
An' each one tells what he 'u'd do ef he was this er that;
An' in a quiet sort o' way, afore a hour's gone,
We git a purty good idee o' what's a-goin on,
An' gives us lots to think about until we meet agin
The follerin' to-morrer when the train comes in.

When I git lonesome-like I set aroun' the barbershop
Er corner groc'ry, where I talk about the growin' crop
With fellers from the country; an' if the sun ain't out too hot,
We go to pitchin' hoss-shoes in Jed Thompson's vacant lot
Behin' the livery-stable; an' afore the game is done
As like as not some feller'll say his nag kin clean outrun
The other feller's and they take 'em out an' have a spin
But all git back in town afore the train comes in.

I see in the papers 'at some folks, when summer's here,
Pack up their trunks an' journey to the seashore every year
To keep from gettin' sunstruck; I've a better way 'an that,
For when it's hot I put a cabbage-leaf inside my hat
An' go about my bizness jes' as though it wasn't warm--
Fact is, I ain't a-doin much sence I moved off my farm;
An' folks 'at loves the outside world, if they've a mind to, kin
See all they ort to of it when the train comes in.

An' yit I like excitement, an' they's nuthin' suits me more
'An to git three other fellers, so's to make a even four,
'At knows the game jes' to a T, an' spend a half a day
In some good place a-fightin' out a battle at croquet.
There's Tubbs who tends the post-office, an' old Doc Smith an' me
An' Uncle Perry Louden -- it 'u'd do you good to see
Us fellers maul them balls aroun'; we meet time an' agin
An' play an' play an' play until the train comes in.

An' take it all in all I bet you'd have to look aroun'
A good, long while afore you'd find a nicer little town
'An this'n is. The people live a quiet sort o' life,
Ner carin' much about the world with all its woe an' strife.
An' here I mean to spend my days, an' when I reach the end
I'll say, "God bless ye!" an' "Good-bye," to every faithful friend;
An' when they foller me to where they ain't no care ner sin,
I'll meet 'em at the depot when the train comes in.