Today is a gift from Mother Nature. She is feeling guilty about the snow storm coming on Sunday. The last update predicted 9 inches of snow. I’m going to move my car to the drive-way. I’ll back the car in so the plowed snow pile will be in front of the car, not surrounding it. I was able to clear the windshield of ice in time for the snow to cover it again. I’m living in a winter loop.

It is 46°. The snow and ice are melting. I can hear the drops. The sun is behind clouds but bright enough to light the sky. It’s a pretty day, clouds and all.

When I was a kid, I loved to read. It all started when my mother read me Golden Books. She told me she used to ask me the names of all the animals and people around the back cover, and I knew them all. I knew some words in the book only because of repetition, the number of times I had my mother read me my favorite Golden Book, Henny Penny, I used to sit beside her on the couch following every word. I still have a copy of the Golden Book, a newer one. It was in my stocking. My mother remembered.

I read the Henny Penny. It had been years. I love all the rhyming names of the animals. When I was little, I used to giggle when my mother would recite them to me. Even now I smile at Goosey Loosey, Turkey Lurkey and the rest. I admit to being a bit horrified at the ending. I have a great memory. When I was eleven, I found it sort of lurking in my head. I remembered pieces of pages and book facts though hardly trying. I did well in school. Most of all, I learned how to save memories. I filled memory drawers with so many pictures. They still often pop into my head and send me a memory. Where am I going, you might ask. Well, I had no memory of the ending of Henny Penny, aka Chicken Little. I knew the beginning and the middle, but I had blacked out the ending. Then I read it. Foxy Loxy (Spoiler here: if you haven’t read the story, do that first) ate them all. My mouth dropped. That was totally new to me I thought. I had no memory of their fates. I just figured they made it to the king. I was horrified. I really had enjoyed those characters. Now I wonder why it was popular. Is there some sort of moral I am missing? Is the fox just the fox? I’m just gobsmacked.

This entry was posted on January 22, 2026 at 2:18 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments.

Tags: books, family, fiction, life, writing