The Hancock-Henderson Quill, Inc.


Greetings ta ever one in western Illinois and all readers of "The Quill."


The rain shower I talked about need'n last week came but not in my neighborhood. Some folks East and North of us got dumped on in short order. There are reports of 6" to 9" inches of rain come'n outa the sky like water outa a pitcher. It put some crops under water and caused a great deal of erosion.

Those fellers that planted into "cover crops" reported limited erosion from the downpour and were quite satisfied with the results.

There are areas in Deep Southern Illinois that are yet too wet ta be planted. Probably too late, I would suppose fer them fields.

Crops around these parts look good fer the most part and they are a call'n fer rain this week. Hope it happens.

If'n ya are ever gonna have dry weather some folk feel now is a good time fer it causes plant roots ta chase deep fer moisture. That should help come July and August if'n its gonna be a summer of heat and less than desirable moisture.

I come across the follow'n poem a while back, by Helen Coon, and maybe you've seen it before. It's worth share'n, see here it is:

Just A Farmer

Just a Farmer," you said

And I laughed' cause I knew

All the things that farmers

Must be able to do.

They must study the land,

Then watch the sky

And figure just what

Is the right time and why.

To sow and to plant

To buy and to sell

To go to the market

With cattle, as well.

You know all the books

That farmers must keep

To pay all those taxes

And be able to sleep.

And you know the fixin'

That farmers must do

When machines like mad monsters

Blow a gasket or two.

I guess when God needed

Folks to care for His earth,

He chose "just farmers"

Cause he knew their true worth.

Grandparent's Home

I recently visited the house that my Grandfather built dure'n the depression after his earlier house was lost to a chimney fire. He and Grandma raised their six children in that home and thirty six grandchildren visited it regularly.

It's strange how in your youth ever thing looks bigger. It was a two story box style home with noth'in fancy. But it was good enough fer all concerned and held many a gather'ins of friend and relative alike.

Now it is about ta succumb ta the wreck'n ball. It remains even yet solid and sturdy but it is no longer needed as a farm home and ta save on taxes it will be torn down.

Sad circumstance, ta say the least, but such is the reality of life's cycle and today's tax code.

Visit'n my Grandparents old homestead reminded me of the follow'n poem entitled

"The Old House"

by Thomas Pender:

Cracked ceilings stare at blank damp walls

Patterns of plaster...shrivelled ...hanging limp by dusty silken cobweb threads discoloured and dried

In time to odd moments

Patchworks on the floorboards

A sound shatters the stillness

Startling the silence of it's gaunt tomb where in unused hallways hang chandeliers that once coruscated light but now... glitter no more

Desolate and empty space pervading the shadows of age...uninhibited

The old house...cradle of love and life decays to ruin

Falling to death through traverse of years

Many winter moons have waned since life stalked these rooms

The last aged widow ran her course of life here

She...the last soul

Alone and lonely...awaiting the cloak of eternity

Friends called in her younger days

Days passing in a whirl of life

Laughter and talk...the food of love

Fires ablaze through the darkened times beacons to the family core

Flame shadows on papered walls danced to the musics of life

In lighted days the sunlight sheened and breezes with the scents of wildness flowed through airy rooms

Then time the master of all left a mark

Age claiming happiness

Grandchildren who came on holidays growing to stifled adulthood

Other pleasures borrowed time

The old woman...and a once proud house left behind to die

That was a time of long ago

Forgotten now even memories have departed

Nature by it's stealth of life aiding decay

The heart now laid to deathly peace

This once proud and regal house slowly dies it's death

With a sad tear I took pictures of the old home along with the surrounding out buildings-barn, crib, machine shed, etc.

Those pictures will serve as a reminder of many good times, that involved work as well as fun, times that included livestock, poultry, hay'n, etc. and were accomplished with the help of family and friends.

Those folk are all gone now, have'n passed on ta their just reward.

Have a good rest of the week and take time ta visit other folk-friends and relatives alike.

Hope'n ta see ya in church this week.

Remember, wherever ya are, whatever ya be a do'n "BE A GOOD ONE!"

Keep on Smile'n

Catch ya later