CAROL COX
I'm thrilled to introduce Carol Cox to you today. Carol has been a good friend to all of us for a lot of years. I first met her at the one and only Barbour Homecoming and at that time we'd both had our first books out. And we'd liked one another books so it was like a mutual admiration party. Very fun! We always try to connect when I'm in Arizona, which is where I am right now.

And just as an aside, I arrived her to find out my Mother had had another incident and they'd had to call 9-1-1. She's in the hospital again so I'd sooo appreciate it if you'd pray!

Now here's our friend Carol.



I was thrilled when I was invited to be a guest blogger today, even after the truth sank in and I realized that having someone else blog the day after Thanksgiving means Colleen, Kris, Diann, and Denise can relax in their turkey-induced comas just that much longer without having to come up with something pithy to say.

Never having done a guest blogging stint before, I asked Colleen what she wanted me to talk about. She suggested something about life in “the wilds of Arizona,” as she put it. Seeing as how she plans to join the ranks of rural Arizonans one of these days, maybe this is a way of doing research ahead of time to find out if she’s up to the challenge.

But life in the country isn’t hard to get used to. Especially for a writer. Imagine sitting on your front porch with your laptop, watching a mama quail lead her babies across the drive while you’re typing the next chapter of your novel. Or drawing inspiration from one of those glorious 360-degree sunsets.

On the other hand, maybe Colleen is thinking about the stories of the time a javelina appeared in our back yard.

Or the time we found a skunk in our sunroom.

I don’t think she’s even heard about the day I got locked inside a chicken coop.

But things like that aren’t the norm—at least for people who don’t happen to be me. Life around here is peaceful most of the time. Really.

Like today, when I can look out our front window and see dozens of bluebirds filling our front yard and watch a herd of antelope grazing along our road. It’s a scene of absolute peace, a perfect follow-up to yesterday’s celebration filled with love, laughter, and family traditions. One of our long-standing traditions is baking homemade pumpkin pies. This year, we even went the extra mile and used a homegrown pumpkin instead of the canned variety. That was an interesting experience in itself.

It started last summer when we decided to plant a garden. Okay, I decided to plant a garden, and my long-suffering family agreed to go along with another of my more creative ideas. It made perfect sense to me, though. Life had gotten way too busy over the past few years, and I wanted to do something to help us slow the pace a bit and spend some time making memories with our 10-year-old daughter. So we bought starter plants and set out the mandatory tomatoes, green peppers, and zucchini, then thought it would be fun to branch out a little and try growing some pumpkins. We tucked the seeds into the dirt, then watched as the little seedlings pushed their way above the ground. We watered and weeded and waited to see what would happen next.

What happened next was that those tiny seedlings rapidly grew into vines. Lots of vines. Vines that went everywhere. We are talking fast growth here. I mean, if those things had grown vertically instead of launching themselves across our yard, they would have given Jack’s beanstalk some stiff competition. Within a short time, that end of our yard looked like one of the scenes from Larry-Boy and the Rumor Weed, or maybe something out of Jumanji.

At first, it was fun to measure the growth from one day to the next. Then I caught myself keeping an eye on those little tendrils at the end of the vines when I went out to work in the yard. There was always the uneasy feeling that if I turned my back at the wrong moment, one of them might reach out and grab me by the ankle. You just never know about these things.

Then came the day the pumpkin vine went on the attack. In only a few hours it wound its furtive way from the garden area over to the pyracantha bush that stands at the edge of my flower bed and twined partway up the trunk. What next? The possibilities swam before my eyes. I could see it was only a matter of time before it took over my flower and then the house itself, like a Southwestern version of kudzu.

I charged into the front yard wielding my clippers while my daughter looked on from the living room window yelling, “Go, Mom! Get it before it gets us!” Minutes later, the vines had been trimmed into submission. Apparently recognizing a counter-threat when they saw it, they settled down and proceeded to produce a nice crop of pumpkins, one of which graced our Thanksgiving table as one of the best pies we’ve ever made.

But the tenacious vines may have had the last word after all. Last week, I noticed a splash of color against the house and went to investigate. Despite my vigilance, one lone vine must have escaped my watchful eye. There is a bright orange pumpkin dangling from the center of my pyracantha bush.

I now return you to your regularly scheduled bloggers. I hope this day after Thanksgiving finds you filled with warm memories of a special time shared with special people—and most of all, the awareness of the blessings the Lord has bestowed upon us.

Forever grateful to be His,
Carol Cox
www.CarolCoxBooks.com