Not packin’ my suitcase


Miss Peabody would rather take a nap than read

my blog.

I’ve given up following the 30 day suitcase challenge but I’m not giving up blogging. I’ve got lots to learn about this blogging stuff and, besides, actually following through on a part of the challenge to blog for 30 days is keeping me motivated. Believe me, that ain’t all bad!

The premise of being able to chuck everything – home, personal possessions, my horses, dogs and cats, just doesn’t float. I could never give up my animals – or the joy we provide by building relationships between our riders and horses. Many of my best memories involve being a part of the thrill when a student, no matter their age, rides for the first time or masters a specific riding skill. Watching them develop a rapport with their mount is priceless. So, I’m gonna’ keep on being a part of Pendragon Farms as long as I can figger’ out how to get up to the barn.

In addition to the kritters and the folks, I got to looking around the house at all the antiques and stuff I’ve inherited from family. How could I part with my dear departed mother-in-laws silverware, serving dishes and tablecloths? The furniture that’s been passed down for at least 3 generations, the hand-crocheted doilies my mom labored over? 

Every time I look at and use that tableware I see the family gathered around dear Mary’s dining room table enjoying roast turkey with all the trimmings and her endless supply of homemade cookies. I don’t want to lose the memories of laughter and happiness or the warm companionship as we carefully hand-washed everything and put it gently away for the next time. A true definition of labor of love.

From my mother, also gone to her rest, I have doilies, dresser scarves and delicate Christmas bells – all intricately crocheted with fine thread and her flashing hook. I have the Christmas village with its little metal people that she arranged every year with exacting care. I remember how thrilled I felt the first year she let me set it up. The village still holds an honored place during our holidays and it’s promised to my youngest daughter when the time comes.

How could I leave all that history behind? I’m this generation’s keeper of the family heritage but it’s only a temporary honor. One day my children, and perhaps my grandchildren, will become the guardians of these symbols of family.


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