The Garden in my Yard

The Garden In My Yard

A garden is full of life,
From flowers to the green,
Full of nutrients to knife
and colors to be seen.

A garden that you grew with care,
And gave it sunshine’s ray.
A drink of water not to spare,
And pull the weeds away!

Flowers exploding with colored tint,
Bursting, pink and blue!
Lettuce, thyme, parsley, mint!
Foods for us to chew!

A garden gives things for mans plate,
And flowers for the table,
A garden that is ripe is great,
And make nice smells also it’s able!

A garden that save trips to the mart,
Its grown though hot and hard,
Do you know what is the very best part?
There is a garden in my backyard!

-by Kayla, 2011


From The New England Primer

Today, from reading my New England Primer, (which was originally made in Boston, the year 1777) I found some choice sentences I thought I’d share with ya’ll:

1. Have communion with few, Be intaminte with one, Deal justly with all, Speak evil of none.

2.Praying will keep us from sinning, Sinning will keep us from praying.

3.What we are afraid to speak before men, We should be afraid to think before God.

Here’s a fun poem I found in the same book:

Fear God all day,

Parents obey,

No false thing say,

By no sin stray,

Love Christ alway,

In secret pray,

Mind little play,

Make no delay,

In doing good.


I Love My Siblings


She gives me joy and glee,

When she tickles me!

I can get so upset,

Till she does something to make me forget!

Her big sissyness will make me frown,

But it also makes me laugh when she’s a clown!


He says, “Kayla your cool!”

And makes me feel great!

He cries, “Your mean!”

And gives my heart a 10 ton freight!

He’s my best actor, of that I’m proud.

He’s my worst distraction in school, man is he loud!


Thanks for being there in the crowd to hide behind,

For saying, “Stop that whining, missy!”

Thanks Jamie for cheering me when I’m sad,

And for being a gentle and good sissy!

Thanks little guy for giving me fun and joy,

Sorry I can be so mean and am strong to throw,

I love you little guy,

Your my favorite little bro!


I love my siblings! -Kayla

Eagle Scout

Last Sunday, my cousin Ben received his Eagle Scout award. Our family attended the ceremony together–it was very interesting–and got to see some old friends. It was nice to see the Cousins again after so long. Cool piece of trivia: Grandpa Smith had an Eagle, Uncle David had an Eagle, and now Ben has one! Three in three generations!

The Medal

Merit Badges

Ben told me all the names of his merit badges. He had earned lots of them, and they were very interesting.

Love Y'all!

Congratulations, Ben!!!! I’m very proud of you!

Your cousin, Jamie.

Walking the Dogs; a poem

A poem by Kayla

Walking the Dogs

It is fun to walk the dogs,

To take them on exciting jogs.

Tinky runs me down the street,

And I walk her up it in the heat,

To our house Clarence runs straight,

If he sees our cat, he thinks it’s great!

When we all march back, Mrs. Tripaldi says ‘hi’

We go inside along with a fly.

Although all the treats are great,

I try not to eat too much if it’s late.

(I also eat with a limit, cause,

I don’t really want to look like Tinky does!)

After snack and a bit of chat,

We go outside, Clarence likes that!
We grab our ice and the fly swatter,

And all of us hope it’s not any hotter!
We’ll sit in chairs or chase after flies,

Clarence makes Tink bite him, and he cries.

To the grass her back to us, Tink will go,

While we cheer on Clarence, as he catches ice like a pro.

When we see Mr. Potter, we all give a shout!

He’s a black carpenter bee, if you see him- look out!

We watch for Mrs. Woodpecker, humming birds too,

And get our arms stuck in flypaper glue.

The flies will bombard us, the dogs make us laugh,

By now, our time is probably cut in half.

Pretty soon, to home we must go.

We watch the clock to hit 4:15 or so.

We hug the 3 Tripaldi’s good-by

And bid good riddance to each and every fly!

Then we charge home, Clarence watching, and Tink,

At home we wash up with soap in the sink.

Dear God, I hope humming birds you will send,

Thanks for a good time, now this poem I must end.

Our aprons

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Grandma’s Apron
by Tina Trivett


The strings were tied, It was freshly washed, and maybe even pressed.
For Grandma, it was everyday to choose one when she dressed.
The simple apron that it was, you would never think about;
the things she used it for, that made it look worn out.

She may have used it to hold, some wildflowers that she’d found.
Or to hide a crying child’s face, when a stranger came around.
Imagine all the little tears that were wiped with just that cloth.
Or it became a potholder to serve some chicken broth.

She probably carried kindling to stoke the kitchen fire.
To hold a load of laundry, or to wipe the clothesline wire.
When canning all her vegetables, it was used to wipe her brow.
You never know, she might have used it to shoo flies from the cow.

She might have carried eggs in from the chicken coop outside.
Whatever chore she used it for, she did them all with pride.
When Grandma went to heaven, God said she now could rest.
I’m sure the apron that she chose, was her Sunday best.

I miss you Grandma…

A dear friend sent this poem to us by email.  What beautiful thoughts and memories of days gone by.

Nathan’s trucks

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Here comes the trucks- alert, alert!

Dump truck and Digger, digging in the dirt.

Who’s behind the wheel?

It’s to his greatest joy,

Someone who’s grimy hands,

Are that of a little boy.

Count the squished bugs, under his tire tracks,

Out of his way, there’s work! No time to relax.

A little boy that I know, who loves to control these cars,

It’s Nathan, he’s see’s a truck and get’s in his eyes, stars.

Crane, beep, beep. Train, toot-toot, plane, zoom-zoom!

Here comes the trucks- alert, alert!

Dump truck and Digger, digging in the dirt.


picture and poem by Kayla

Happy Resurrection Day 2009

poem by Kayla…

From heaven above He came down low;
To pay a debt He did not owe;
And reap the seed that we had sown.

So Jesus gave the people light;
But Pharisees mumbled, ‘It isn’t right;
We must stop Him with all our might.’

Then the fateful night came nigh;
And to rulers, came Priests, with the lie;
‘He has blasphemed, He must die!’

‘Crucifed Him! It has to be!;
Why did Pilate disagree?
Let the murderer be set free!’

Up on a cross, portrayed as a knave
Down in the cold and stony grave,
Out of His death, elect to save!

But God arose on the third day,
Within the tomb He no longer lay.
So remember Him and I hope you may-

Have a happy Easter! 

The Clothes Line poem…

By Beth…

The neighbor brought us this poem she was given recently.  We had mentioned to her that we started using a clothes line to help with the electricity bill.  It’s a beautiful poem, I wish life was like what it describes… enjoy!

A clothes line was a news forecast
To neighbours passing by.
There were no secrets you could keep
When clothes were hung to dry.

It also was a friendly link
For neighbours always knew
If company had stopped on by
To spend a night or two.

For then you’d see the ‘fancy sheets’
And towels upon the line;
You’d see the ‘company table cloths’
With intricate design.

The line announced a baby’s birth
To folks who lived inside
As brand new infant clothes were hung
So carefully with pride.

The ages of the children could
So readily be known
By watching how the sizes changed
You’d know how much they’d grown.

It also told when illness struck,
As extra sheets were hung;
Then nightclothes, and a bathrobe, too,
Haphazardly were strung.

It said, ‘Gone on vacation now’
When lines hung limp and bare.
It told, ‘We’re back!’ when full lines sagged With not an inch to spare.

New folks in town were scorned upon
If wash was dingy gray,
As neighbours carefully raised their brows,
And looked the other way.

But clotheslines now are of the past
For dryers make work less.
Now what goes on inside a home
Is anybody’s guess.

I really miss that way of life.
It was a friendly sign
When neighbours knew each other best
By what hung on the line!

(Author unknown)

Ode to the Election… a poem

by Kayla… 

A Feminist; A Maverick; A Black Man-

These for U.S. Presidential Election Ran.

Seemed there to be no good candidate.

Hillary lied, complained, Obama did her stress-

She also was unfeminine; pants, no dress.

Obama was a liberal, definition: Big Government.

He didn’t fear God, no he wasn’t Godsend.

McCain, a wolf, dressed as a sheep.

His Vice President, put Christians to sleep.

“Who will we vote for?” the remnant cried.

“Is there one God Fearing? From President hasn’t shied?”

A voice then, did the remnant spurred-

USA! Let the Truth be heard!”

“Chuck Baldwin! Chuck Baldwin!”

“He fears God- Yes, he has sin”-

“But Obama goes south, and Baldwin goes north.”

The remnant’s decoded, what to do on November 4th….

Though their choice lost in the coming days,

The remnant knows, it is still best to follow God’s Ways.


Fall… a poem







…by Kayla


While at a little house in Arizona, stationed on nineteenth street,

Three children move swiftly, carried by busy feet.

“It is fall! It is fall!” they run and joyfully cry,

“The summer is fading away, and a happy fall is nigh.”

As a leaf falls here and a leaf falls there,

The burning sun of summer is as if no-where.

“It is hardly as hot as summer’s sun!”

Says the youngest, though he’s only one.

“See that bird’s wings unfold, and how he swiftly flies!”

The oldest, fourteen, points and poetically cries.

“And see the grass, green, my favorite color!”

The twelve year old grins, as up comes her father and mother.

“It is fall!” mother exclaims.

“The calendar says so,” father explains.

Then together, as a family, they all proclaim,

“No matter the season, summer, winter, spring or fall,

The LORD, our God, He hath made them all!”