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YEVET TENNEY

Yevet Tenney has been writing for Progressive Dairyman for many years. Her heartfelt, inspirational articles are a favorite with readers.

LATEST

When I was a child, Easter was a big event. We’d wake up early and hunt for the basket. It was a magical time, and the excitement was high. The yard was filled with new green grass, and the crocus and jonquils were in bloom. Everything smelled wonderful. We looked for the Easter Bunny and his treasure.

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We sat by the fire long into the night listening to Grandfather tell stories. They were not ordinary stories, nor were they fables or legends. There was a magic about them that I could not explain. It was like sitting by a glowing fire that never got too hot.

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So often, I just let life happen; I go from one task to another, one phone call to the next, one meal at a time from the fridge to the table.

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Editor’s note: The following is an original short story by the author.

Joe and Sue were sitting on the front step looking like their ice cream cones just got squashed. “Listen to that,” Joe said. “Did you hear them? They’re singing about me. My mom told me just this morning that I’m gettin’ nuttin’ for Christmas."

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When I was a little girl, my mother told me stories by the hour. They were wonderful stories her grandmother had shared with her.

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The crux of my article last month was taken from the words of Jeremiah, an Old Testament prophet, who spoke of broken cisterns. In the early days, a cistern was a place capturing and storing rainwater.

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