So, a coupla things…
Yesterday, I learned that one of the colloquial names for lady’s slipper orchids is “whippoorwill shoes.”
(YES I AM DEAD OF THE CUTE AS WELL.)
I also learned that the highway I live just off of, which is a Generic Number, actually does have a name. In the maps, it is “Devil’s Stomping Ground Road.”*
Needless to say, this made
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If you place branches on the path, when you go back they'll be gone; if you remove branches from the path, the next time THEY WILL BE BACK!
ALL HAIL SATAN!
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Bailey White references the chickens-won't-eat-here thing in one of her stories. Do you read her? I have a feeling you'd like her stuff.
(Booger Hill is so called because it was reputed to be a place wherein horses would invariably startle. It is now the site of an annual drive-thru Live Nativity show that ends with a chicken mull, which is a party featuring a dish made from chicken, saltine crackers and milk. I have never had the nerve to try it, but I did a magazine story about the live nativity and interviewed the owner of the camel. His name is Niles and he has lovely eyelashes. The camel, not the owner.)
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