My mom owned over a thousand dolls, all of which now divided amongst her daughters. These three dolls are from mom’s collection. They’re currently in a little building in our backyard.
By Erin Nicole
That building has several hundred dolls in it, all waiting to greet anyone who steps inside. Some people think that dolls are creepy but I’ve never understood why. Is it just because their eyes follow you wherever you go? Is it just because they’re always smiling? I occasionally go on Ebay to look at the dolls that are being sold and it’s funny how many of them are described as being potentially haunted or moving on their own. Most dolls are harmless, as long as you don’t get on their bad side.
Sometimes, you just get lucky. One day, a few winters ago, I was in my room, holding my camera, and I just happened to look out the window at the right time to capture this picture of one of our possum friends.
by Erin Nicole
I know some people who are scared of possums because they always make a lot of noise when they run away from you and they hiss and show off those sharp teeth if they’re feeling scared. Actually, possums are meek and gentle souls who try to keep out of the way and who always politely turn and leave if they realize someone else is already in the back yard. They also eat fleas and tics and other bugs that aren’t good for the other animals who live outside. And did I mention that they don’t get rabies? They may look fearsome but they’re actually very helpful.
This possum and all of his descendants will always be welcome here.
Living in Texas, you eventually get used to the long and dry summers, but it’s still always a good feeling when it starts to rain again. Up until two years ago, I got excited whenever I saw that we were under any type of weather alert. I loved the sound of the rain. I loved the way the wind howled. I even loved the thunder and the lightning. Sometimes, the lights would blink and the power would go out, but it didn’t bother me because it just added to the atmosphere.
That all changed on the night of May 27th, 2o24. I was already feeling anxious because my father was in the hospital. On Sunday, he had been in a car accident and, when I went to the hospital, he seemed like he was going to be okay. He had a broken shoulder and was obviously tired, but he was speaking normally and, when he saw me, he said he was happy to see me. He smiled, I remember that. A nurse told me that they were going to keep him for the night for observation. On Monday morning, I drove back to the hospital and, when I arrived, he was basically passed out in his bed. When I asked another nurse if he would be ready to go home anytime soon, she looked at me like I was asking a crazy question. I remember another nurse saying something about “rehab.” They promised me that a doctor would call. I went home. It turned out that they weren’t lying. A doctor did call that evening. He said my father was having trouble walking. I explained that he had Parkinson’s. The doctor said he would email me some information on the rehab centers that worked with my father’s insurance. “So,” I dumbly asked, “he’s not going home tonight?” The doctor laughed and said, “No, it’s going to be a while.”
At 9:00, I lay down on my couch and, exhausted, I fell asleep. I didn’t even bother to take off my clothes. I woke up at four in the morning to the sound of thunder and rain and howling wind. I tried to turn on the living room light, just to discover that the power was out. I stood up, stubbed my toe on an end table, said the F-word as loudly as I’ve ever said it, and then I limped over to the front door. I looked outside and the scene was apocalyptic. Rain was falling in sheets, the streets were flooded, and there were tree limbs strewn everywhere. A few trees had fallen over. The ones that still stood were violently swaying in the wind. I immediately thought of the stray cats that I fed every morning. Stupidly, I opened the front door to yell for them and I was immediately drenched.
By 7 in the morning, the rain was steady but light. I saw that Hunter and Hannah, who lived across the street from me, were outside, looking at the storm’s aftermath. I stepped outside, waved, and started to walk towards them. They saw me limping so they told me to stay where I was and came over to me. They asked me if Erin and I were okay. They told me that power was out all over town and that, when they called Oncor, they were told there was no estimate on when it would come back. We stood there and we looked up and down the block. Everything was wet. The road was so full of limbs that it appeared to be practically impassable. Trees had fallen over. Some people had broken windows. My own front door was sitting slightly off of its hinges.
(Don’t worry. Despite all the damage, the strays showed up to ask for food.)
I assumed that we would have our power back by the end of the day. Instead, the power was out for six days. It fell to the people living in the neighborhood to clean up the debris. (Even after the power came back, it would still be nearly a month before city clean-up crews got to us.) I saw a lot of really impressive things during those six days. Jeff helped to clean the streets and also helped our older neighbors with their fallen trees. Erin Nicole went to the store for people who couldn’t make it there on their own. As for me, I worried. I worried about everything. Several times, I tried to call the hospital to check on my father and all I got was some vague talk about how he had been moved to a different room. Meanwhile, the rain continued to fall. Sometimes, it was a drizzle and sometimes it was a shower, but every time it was a reminder of how little control I had over anything.
Eventually, the power came back. All of the debris was cleared. The rain stopped. My father was transferred from the hospital to the rehab center and then to home hospice, where he died two and a half months later. Ever since that week, there’s been a part of me that’s gotten anxious whenever I’ve seen that there’s a storm coming. It just brings back too many bad feelings.
A storm was predicted for October 1st this year and I was nervous. What if the power went out? What if I couldn’t contribute to this year’s Horrorthon? Well, I’m happy to say that the storm turned out to be a gloriously beautiful and rather peaceful rain shower. Sometimes, it was a heavy shower and sometimes it was a light shower, but there was a gentleness to it. I spent most of Thursday afternoon lying in bed in a comfy t-shirt and underwear, looking out the window and watching as the trees slowly and rhythmically swayed. The sound of the rain was relaxing and, as I listened to it, I remembered how much I loved the rain when I was growing up. And I realized that I still do.
One day, I stepped outside and discovered a turkey vulture walking through the neighborhood.
Usually, I love birds. I put out food for them. I like to take their picture. I’m sad when they leave for a season and I’m happy when they come back. I’m never happy to see a buzzard, though. Buzzards show up when something is dying or has just died. They’re scavengers and turkey vultures are the worst. They only show up after something has already died, mostly so they can get whatever the other scavengers left behind. Their heads are bald so that they can shove their faces into the dead without getting gore on their feathers.
The good thing was that this one appeared to just be visiting. Nothing had died in the neighborhood so it was just looking for a snack to sustain itself until something dead. It walked around and ate a few bugs. The squirrels ignored it. I don’t blame them.
Eventually, it left. Hopefully, it will not return soon.
I was at Huffines Park with my camera, surrounded by ducks who were eager to see if I had brought them anything to eat. The ducks the followed me as I walked along the edge of Huffines Creek were cute but the duck who caught my attention was swimming by itself and didn’t seem to care whether I had food or not. The duck had a confidence that left me with no choice but to take its picture.
I believe this is a Muscovy Duck, though I’m hardly an expert. Some people have told me that they find this duck to be ugly. I think the duck has too much personality to be ugly. Sometimes, the loners are the most fascinating subjects around.
One day in 2023, I stepped out in my backyard with my camera. I was just planning on taking a picture of some storm damage and maybe the oak tree in our backyard. Instead, I immediately spotted a little squirrel running along the chain link fence that separated our yard from our neighbor’s. He was moving like he had some place to be but, as soon as he saw me and my camera, he stopped. He stared at me, as if he saying, “Well, hurry up and take your picture.”
I snapped his picture and then I said, “Thank you.”
Upon hearing my thanks, he immediately went on his way, running down the length of the fence and then jumping into a nearby tree.
I think about that squirrel sometimes. This is Texas. We have a lot of squirrels that run through the backyard and living in the neighborhood tries. But it’s hard for me to think of one that had made a great impression than this one. Squirrels don’t have a long lifespan but I like to think that he’s still out there and he’s still posing for anyone with a camera.
I took this picture yesterday, from my bedroom window. It’s the first picture that I took in 2026. This is the morning on January 1st, 2026. It may not be my best photograph but it’s an important one. It’s the first image of the year. I love this tree. In just a few months, that ugly, scary old tree will no longer be an eyesore. It’ll be full of green leaves and I’ll have a wonderful view.
My dad grew up in the Ouachita Mountains of central Arkansas. Some folks would surely call them hills, and they’d probably be right, because I come from a family of hillbillies. And there’s no place I like to go back to more often than those hills in Perry County, Arkansas. It’s probably been 35 years ago now that dad found a beautiful patch of land in the Ouachita National Forest that runs along the South Fourche River, just a few miles from where he spent his summers with his Grandpa and Grandma Crain, mostly working their farm, but also fishing and hunting anytime he could. This started a journey of patience when dad went to the county courthouse, found out who owned the property (an older lady who lived out of state), and wrote his first letter to see if she was interested in selling. She responded to that first letter and said that she was saving the property for her children to have as an inheritance. A few years later, dad wrote again. Still not interested, the lady kindly turned down dad’s offer and thanked him for his interest. Fast forward a few years later, about 8 years after dad’s first letter, and a man contacted my dad this time. It was the lady’s son, who had found my dad’s letters as he was going through his mother’s house after she had passed away. He wanted to sell, and dad made him an offer that he couldn’t refuse. Now owning the land of his dreams, dad and mom proceeded to build a cabin. When I say they built the cabin, I don’t mean that they hired someone else to build the cabin, I mean that they built the cabin from the ground up. For the longest time, the only power they had was the generator that he brought with him to the location. Now fast forward 25 years later, and it’s the place we have spent all of our holidays together for the last couple of decades. It’s truly my happy place, the place I go when I need to disconnect from the stresses of life and reconnect with my wife, my family, and nature itself. I took this picture a few feet off of the back deck a few moments ago.
My wife and I will spend this weekend sipping coffee off the back deck, listening to the sounds of the river rolling by, and then watching movies when the sun goes down. I’ll go see my brother this morning, who owns the local convenience store in the area, and I’ll work his cash register as he makes the best fried bologna sandwiches in central Arkansas. My brother bought the store five years ago, continuing a family tradition that started in 1940 when our great grandparents bought the store. It’s been in our family ever since. One of the coolest experiences in my life took place at the store a few months ago. The store has the perfect, old-timey, backwoods country store look, something even Hollywood noticed. In early August, the store was used as a filming location for a movie with major Hollywood talent. For a guy who’s been obsessed with movies since we got our first VCR in the 80’s, I asked my brother if my wife and I could come over and watch them film. I spent the day watching them film, visiting with a producer, visiting with the director, even taking a picture or two with the actors filming that day. It was truly one of the most awe-inspiring days of my life. My wife and I were able to get the picture below on that day. I can’t lie, the beauty of my wife is probably what allowed this to happen!
Have a wonderful weekend, my friends. I hope all of you get to spend part of it in your own happy place.
I took these pictures at a Christmas parade many years ago. The image of those people, walking in the cold rain and carrying that flag, has always stayed with me. It was a long parade but the flag didn’t touch that wet ground once.
I wanted to share one last picture from my mom’s doll collection before Halloween. I can’t remember when or where she got this Casper doll but I know that I always felt happy whenever I saw him.
It was always wondered who wrote “CASPER THE GOD” on him and also why they decided he was a god instead of a ghost. Maybe his original outfit got lost and they labeled him so they wouldn’t forget who he was. But how can you forget Casper?
Happy Halloween, Casper. I’m glad that we were able to give you a home.
