Free Mighty Old Bones by Mary Saums Page B

forest when I ask, though she much prefers being in town.
    If she had not wanted to come with me, I would have understood. I thought she might be helpful, however, in assisting me with photographs. I have to admit, as much as I love exploring on my own with only Homer, I also enjoyed sharing the little discoveries on my property with Phoebe, even if she was less enthusiastic than myself. This she also understood and tolerated. I’m so lucky to have such a friend.

Ten
Phoebe Goes to the Library
    T he morning after the storm, after I talked to Jane on the phone, I pulled the food I made from the refrigerator and wrapped it all up to take around to the workers. I always do that when the power goes out. Even a few hours without electricity makes me appreciate it more. What I do is, I bake up something that carries well, and then I go down to the police station and the electric department to pass out goodies. Sometimes, I stop on the road and hand things out to the ones on duty. Those poor guys and gals work hard in awful conditions, all through the night sometimes, to get things back to normal.
    Oh, don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I think I’m Florence Nightingale or Mother Teresa. All I want is for folks to know I appreciate their work. Plus, it would not do to let Rita Underwood and Gladys Orr and several others of the better cooks in Tullulah show me up. We have what you might call a friendly competition.
    Like for instance, what a coincidence that Jody Wilkes suddenly decided to join Grace Baptist, right when they announced they were putting together a cookbook so they could buy choir robes. Especially when everybody knows Jody is a hardcore Methodist from way back. And then there’s Shelby Ferguson, who moved here from Meridian, Mississippi, where Joe Ferguson found her after his first wife died. Shelby was used to winning cooking contests before she got to Tullulah, and honey, let me tell you, the Gillispie women, seven of the South’s finest cooks, didn’t like it a bit when Shelby swooped in and stole first place in a pie-baking contest.
    Several instances such as that have made some friendly rivalries among the ladies. That’s why none of us pass up an opportunity to try a new recipe on somebody, preferably several somebodys who can talk amongst themselves about which dish they liked the best. So that next morning, when the power came back on, I jumped into cooking mode to add to what I’d already fixed the day before. What I do is I make up two recipes, one with some kind of meat, and one dessert, and I do several batches of each.
    While they were in the oven, I went out in the yard. The mutt came with me. He didn’t try to run away at all, but stayed fairly close while I picked up sticks. He explored, sniffed all over the yard, and every now and then would look at me to make sure I was still there.
    I made a little pile of branches at the far corner of the yard by the curb. Muttface inspected everything I set down there. I looked over at him one time and he was headed for a flowerbed I’d cleaned out, which was now a big bed of mud.
    “Don’t even think about it,” I said. “I am not having you track mud in the house.” He stopped, gave it a look, and trotted back over to me. “Good. That’s good.” I hated to admit he was smart, but if he could understand what I said and then would do it, he was better than most of those kids I wrangled with at the library.
    That’s what I did before I retired. I got married when I was a junior in high school, and then as soon as I graduated, I started working part-time at the library and never quit.
    That was another place I went that morning. Having a storm didn’t necessarily put my friends at the library out, but I don’t need very much of an excuse to take them some goodies and catch up on the latest gossip. That’s why I always save them for last when I’m out and about.
    I like to take my time when I visit with Grace. Grace Taylor is just like me