Always dream and shoot higher than you

know you can do. Do not bother just to be better

than your contemporaries or predecessors.

                  Try to be better than yourself.”

William Faulkner said this and I thought I would pass it on to you for thought and contemplation.  It has held me in good stead over the course of life’s challenges and triumphs.

Happy Sunday “Through the Whispering Pines”

Arlene Switzer Flynn



God who took the Lard?

Soooooooooooo I’m standing over my  pre War War ll made by General Motors cooking range frying The New World Order water infused bacon this morning.

Stove still works fine. It has never taken a day off in all these years or needed a repairman or in today’s terms a technician.

I got to thinking. The bacon is shrinking and you have to fry up so much of it to have a bite or two that even the dog won’t eat it. He goes for the Beggin Strips these days.
Time is traveling by and my nice planned homemade bacon, egg and pancake breakfast is turning into brunch or as my husband calls it “blegin & cake” breakfast.

In the old days when my stove was new people out here in my Forest all enjoyed a nice Breakfast, Dinner and Supper. Today we have in this new age of knowledge a more refined version of breakfast/brunch, lunch and dinner. I did not capitalize them since they don’t count for much these days.
The sleepy heads were still snoozing toward brunch so I decided I would ask God a question.

God what happened to Lard?

I miss Lard and I miss bacon those big thick slices of bacon you could cut from a hunk of side pork wrapped in cheesecloth hanging on a hook in the smoke house. We called it side pork back then and actually knew the hog it came from. My goodness when frying up a pound of the good stuff it took an entire platter to hold it all not this little crapper of a desert looking plate these days. Well, the package that it came in didn’t actually say pound I confess it said twelve ounces.

God where did the pound go?
And God what’s with eggs these days? They are all egg whites and have tiny little yolks. I like my eggs with big yolks you know from hens that eat bugs and such.

Then there’s the cow for milk where’s the grassland God for the cow to graze?

The only thing that round-up hasn’t killed is the ragweed that makes me sneeze. Poor cows are all locked up eating Monsanto grown corn and strung out on extra hormones and such wishing they could all have been born buffalo and living somewhere in the black hills of South Dakota. If I were a milking cow that’s what I would be thinking.
Now God what’s up with the flour these days?

When I was a child it was up to my pappy’s shoulders come harvest time. Boy ole boy when you took it to the mill for them to grind  it was real flour you got back. That was before the wheat met the laboratory scientist that made it grow shorter than a midget in the so called effort to feed more of us folks.
I’m here God in front of my Frigidaire made only by General Motors cook range with the big four burners and the warming drawer, the large oven and the bottom you pull out to store your cast iron cooking pots and pans, are you listening God?


Hello Child this is God speaking:

I can tell you what you need to know but first you must leave and go to the nearest restaurant chain serving by various names the grand slam all you can eat breakfast/brunch. Don’t forget to get the hash browns with all the toppings, order eggs, bacon and the all you can eat pancakes.

     Child make sure you get several orders of any assortment of petroleum based glazed fruit toppings of your choice. Have them put on extra of the chemically treated real artificial whipped cream topping.

Dear One, I’ll see you soon and tell you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Love from God until we meet face to face.

ps:  Child I’m glad you kept your wonderful ole cook stove. Not many have you know!

Welcome to my Forest

Hello, Readers. I am Arlene Switzer Flynn, the author of Buzzard’s Glory. The novel made its debut in February of 2014, and is a story of remarkable courage, stamina, and a child’s will to survive in the mid-twentieth century Shenandoah Valley, nestled in the rural Blue Ridge Mountains.

I can be found in my chicken-filled yard, busy in the garden, and suckling the best out of my vegetables and herbs. I have done this since childhood, knowing the goodness it provides. My home is in a Virginia National Park with many trees and excellent neighbors.

My faithful dog, Braveheart, makes the rounds with me and in the evening sits on my lap giving me the feeling that all is well. I am an early riser and can be found in the early morning hours before dawn pounding on my keyboard, writing whatever comes to mind.

I am a proud member of The Daughters of the American Revolution and write articles for Women’s Voices Magazine. I have a background of excellence in commercial and residential real estate, and finally as a corporate broker for home mortgages. In my 40 years of business dealings, I held fast to those same principles written in my novel. There is no glass ceiling for anyone!

Thoughts from the Forest