My grandmother (Gangy) kept a diary most years on a drugstore calendar. In the date blocks she wrote the high and low temperatures. On the back of each page, she wrote a brief entry for the highlight of most days. Most of the comments are about people who came to see her and how long they stayed, food she canned, weather observations.
This is where poetry lives:
Doris brought my iron back.
David Pierce started mowing my field.
Bertie came after her cape.
Sleet in Phoenix.
Salty ate sandwiches with us.
Quit smoking, one year.
Made 5 Easter rabbits out of bleach bottles.
First mess of polk greens.
Betty and girls stopped about 10 minutes.
Doris came out. She seemed lost without Jack.
Betty and Amos drove her school bus out to see me.
First mess of corn.
Got home about 4 p.m., a tired turd.
Catherine killing chickens.