Pam Stone

Dear Aunty P,

Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls! It’s time again to play (insert woman screaming) —

Dear Aunty Pam,

Ask anyone who works outside for a living who might begrudge rising from a warm bed, and in my case, stumbling out into the freezing dark to the barn, and they will tell you there is nothing, I tell you, nothing, like observing a winter sunrise.

Monday had been a long day. The sort of day where nothing is straightforward, where each endeavor is met with either a traffic jam (which means 3 cars and a tractor in front of you in Landrum), Christmas orders being mixed up and a nervous young horse that managed to leap forward and sideway…

Dear Aunty Pam,

When I was a child my mother on a few occasions purchased an Advent calendar from our church’s tiny gift shop with proceeds going to charitable concerns.

Dear Aunty Pam,

We bought a tree quite early this year as there has been a shortage of trees of late (owing, I was told, to the recession 12 years ago when many tree farmers went bust, and therefore far fewer Fraser firs were planted).

Dear Aunty Pam,

Tucked up with a coffee in hand and the heater blasting in my truck, what better atmosphere than to listen to a bit of Christmas music, I thought, as I pulled into the feed store for my weekly equine grocery shop.

Dear Aunty Pam,

We arrived at our uniquely American holiday, Thanksgiving, once again, and I think it’s fair to say that if you were not feeling particularly thankful this year, that’s all right. Sit down, put your feet up and have a cathead biscuit with some pepper jelly on it. Stroke the head of your dog …

Dear Aunty Pam,

Another weekend, another flying squirrel in the house.

Dear Aunty Pam,