I love the poet Nin Andrews, and I especially love her mother and father, who appear occasionally in her poems. Over at her blog recently, I am reminded of all the reasons why I love when her mother or father appear in her poems (and sometimes in her blog):
I seem to be missing something, my 91 year old mother said on the phone this AM.
It seems most of the excitement is about her babies.
Yep, she has lots of babies, even a genetically challenged baby. (Is that the politically correct way to describe it?).
My mother, a dairy farmer paused. Then commented in her typical style.
Even the heifers can do that.
We had a five-legged calf once.
We kept it, too.