Little Red Bucket

I have a treasured memory that I managed to save from my Mom.

  
I remember this bucket from childhood.

What’s so special about it?

It’s my Mom’s clothespin bucket.

I can remember as a toddler being in the back yard of Mitchell Street, with the clothesline hung and Mom carrying up the laundry from the cellar steps.It is how I got my first job for Mom. I stood next to her and was allowed to hand her a clothespin when she asked for it. Sure, I worked my way up to hanging handkerchiefs, hanging straight sheets, and later  fitted sheets.

I don’t remember when the bucket list its’handle, but every time the bucket is next to me in the yard, I can feel Mom in her house dress and her kerchief wrapped around her head.It is kind of bizarre to say you feel warmth from a bucket of clothes pins, but I do.

Thanks, Mom.

The Voice

Sitting here in our bedroom watching the top eleven on The Voice.

I am constantly amazed by the vocalists who have the craft pretty well sharpened,and yet, it takes a show like this to really help them get recognition through America and the music industry. I have to admit, though, there are times where artists try to rock out country tunes and I am wondering what I missed along the way.

No matter what, I enjoy the judging panel and the artistry. It really gives me an enjoyable musical interlude in my week.