Step by step I open it.

 

 

 

I haven’t had a great deal of time to settle down and be coherent about the contents of my box. Were people here, I would be hopping up and down, drinking cola, snacking away and chuckling over possible names. Frankly, I’m still working on figuring out just who is who, but the scarecrow came right out and told me her name was Sally. She said she was a real scarecrow cowgirl and not one of those Brokeback Mountain guys.

Actually, her being a scarecrow may be why the crow first let on he was a bird and still refuses to give more than his serial number.

 

Along with my cows and bears and sock monkeys, we also have a couple of pigs, a crow. and roosters. The latter have special meaning to me because Lydia Vance, Der Bingle’s grandmother, used to collect them. She had red hair, although it was a beautiful Barbara Bush white when I knew her and was what I like best – a character . . . who had a lot of character – the upright kind, the iron in your backbone kind, the ‘do the right thing kind’.