Yesterday was the 12th anniversary of my first blog post.
At the beginning, I published a post seven days a week. Wow. Then I began taking the weekends off. And now I’m down to three posts per week. Mondays are “freestyle” days for me, Wednesdays are usually Windowpane (or Wildlife) Wednesday, and I share poetry on Thursdays.
Most of the bloggers I followed back in the day are no longer blogging, and I miss being in touch with them. One blogger, my dear friend, Pam, author of Two Spoiled Cats, started blogging around the same time I did. And she’s amazing; she still publishes a post every day. She and her kitty Teddy (and former kitty, Angel Sammy) have quite a following.
So here are the latest statistics on my blog:
As of today, I have published 2,501 posts.
My blog has had 477,209 views.
There have been 37,404 comments. Top commenter is my son, Marshall.→
The post with the most views (2,159) is this one. It was published on June 9, 2011. I had no idea it had received that much attention until I checked my stats yesterday as I was writing this post.
I’m so grateful to all of you for following, liking, commenting or simply reading the things I share. And to my Motor Man for being understanding of all the hours I’ve spent on this blog through the years.
There are many posts that I’m especially fond of, but I think this one will always be my favorite. It was originally posted, ironically, 11 years ago tomorrow:
Where I’m From
For Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop today, I chose a prompt that was both challenging and fun. It’s apparently a rather popular writing prompt. You begin with a “template” and fill in the blanks to best describe your beginnings. This is mine:
I am from silos and linoleum floors and rural free delivery; from a tiny Zenith black and white tv, Barbie dolls and Beatles records.
I am from a white house beside a pond, where the frogs sang me to sleep on summer nights; where the scent from a nearby dairy farm was simply bovine.
I am from the jonquils and irises along the fence row, snaps, butterbeans and corn from Mama’s garden, and Sweet Williams and peach-colored gladioli from Grandma’s yard.
I am from family reunions the first Saturday every August, and aunts and uncles sharing stories of their childhood at Bacon’s Castle; from a Mom named Donnie (after her grandmother) and a Dad named Willie and grandparents, Mae and Ben.
I am from dinner at mid-day and supper in the evening, summer days in a big front yard and summer nights in the porch swing.
From “don’t slam the screen door” and “it’s just the wind, go back to sleep”.
I am from Baptist revivals on hot summer nights, Christmas pageants and Junior Choir practice.
I am from a small town in Virginia, rich in history, but forgotten by time; from fried chicken and creamed potatoes topped with a spoonful of garden peas.
From the nearby country store owned by my Grandma, where we ate ginger snaps and cheese, where customers bought bologna by the pound, and Grandma wrapped it in butcher paper and tied it with twine.
I am from a treasured old blue binder full of pages of our family history, traced back to Jamestown; the dates of more recent births, marriages and deaths penciled in the margins.
These are but a few of the people, places and things that shaped the person that I am today. And I’m grateful for each one of them.
~These Days Of Mine~