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Saturday, February 28, 2009


Old Man Winter has certainly worn out his welcome around here. He came sneaking back in late in the afternoon a few days ago and dumped snowflakes larger than a silver dollar, fast and furiously all over the place! Within an hour about two inches had accumulated and by the next morning I had five inches. The sweet little violets and the brave little Snowdrops were totally covered. The sun was just rising when I took this picture. I thought the snow covering this rose bush war pretty in the sunlight but it doesn't show up well here.

I put more birdseed out on the back deck and admired the bluest sky. The Maple tree almost looked happy to have the snow covering her branches as she sparkled in the morning sun.

Not a blade of grass to be seen, but the sunlight over the snowy lawn is rather interesting~~maybe even sort of pretty.
I can't help chuckle when I remember that my brother in law next door mowed his lawn a few days before the snow came. I'm not sure why he did that. It hadn't grown since last fall. Maybe he is excited for Spring too.

Meet the icicle family. See great-grand pappy in the center?
Well the snow is almost gone again. I just have a few patches here and there. The Violets and Snowdrops survived and are still bravely standing, their pretty little heads reaching for the sun.
I'm not sorry to see the snow leave. I want spring. What I'd like to know is, why in the world does my heart get excited when the snow comes?
It makes me feel like a little girl again but instead of running out to make a snowman, I make a cup of tea and cuddle with a fuzzy blanket and good book.
The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak!


Monday, February 23, 2009


Old man winter is dragging his frosty toes about leaving. He makes sure to remind us by sneaking in at the wee hours and dressing the earth with a coat of sparkling white.
I'm oh so ready for Miss. Spring to make her grand entrance, as she comes riding on a sunbeam.

The garden soil is frozen hard and unrelenting but still the brave tulips push through, and accept the ravages of the old man. The life force is so strong within their heart.

As the frost slowly melts, water droplets form by the hundred. The wintered Pony tail grass holds the droplets as if they were many sparkling gems.
Oh! Will winter ever be gone?

And then I go to a lower garden in the back yard and what do I find?
SNOWDROPS! Little, white promises.
Miss. Spring is smiling just beyond the big fir tree. It's her turn next and she's ready.
So am I.


Friday, February 20, 2009

This is a true story about a little duck. All pictures except the last three were borrowed
Once upon a time there were two mallards. Sampson was big and strong with a lovely head of green feathers. Delilah was a beauty in her own secretive way, often casting 'those' glances at Sampson.

Eventually Sampson let his guard down and soon Delilah found herself the keeper of a large nest of eggs. For days and days she sat on the nest keeping the eggs warm and protecting them from predators.

Then one bright spring day she felt a lot of movement under her feathered breast so she took a peek and much to her delight she found many little fluffy ducklings. They struggled to get out from under her and look around so she carefully waddled off the nest and the little ones clumsily followed her.
Out they went to the yard where the ducklings excitedly investigated everything they saw, pecking at a blade of grass and staring wide eyed at a wiggly worm.

But Oh!! What is this? One lonely egg left in the nest. Maybe it is no good and should be tossed. Or maybe it has a little duckling that was just too immature to hatch when the others did.
Well my dear friends at this point I did what was the usual for me. I carefully carried the now cooling egg to the house and wrapped it in a towel and kept it warm hoping that if there was a live baby in there it would eventually be strong enough to peck it's way out.
My daughter and her little boy were visiting me during this time and I thought my young grandson would enjoy seeing this miracle.

Later that evening if we put our ear close to the egg we could hear faint pecking sounds. He was alive!!
It seemed to take forever for the little duckling to make his way into the world and when he did he looked gross. From the look of Johnny's face when he first saw it I'm surprised he didn't tell me to put it back in the shell.

Wet and slimy, exhausted from the difficult work out, he laid very still and rested. Then a wing moved slightly, then a gangly leg tried to move. I kept the heating pad under him so he wouldn't get chilled and eventually he was able to move all parts of his fragile little body. When he was able to stand I felt like cheering. My daughter called him Dudley.

All dried out and looking like a fuzzy stuffed toy, he was cute as can be but he wasn't as active as his nest mates had been. I hoped that wasn't a sign of anything serious.

The next morning we sadly found that Dudley had died.
For reasons unknown, many times a fowl will even push an egg out of the nest. It's like they have an instinct and know if there is something wrong with it.
Because Johnny had formed such an attachment to Dudley I decided we should have a little funeral so he could do whatever he could for his fuzzy friend and grieve his passing. We wrapped Dudley in clean cloth and put him a little box. We dug a hole in the back yard, placed Dudley in it and covered it up, all the time reassuring Johnny that Dudley's spirit was with Jesus and only his sick body was in the ground. It's amazing how fast he accepted this.
I had a duck decoy in one of my gardens. Johnny brought that as well as a little skunk figurine. He put them on Dudley's grave with a small bouquet of flowers.

I said a little prayer and just as I finished, Johnny yelled, "Wait! Wait!" as he ran to the house. He quickly returned with a toilet paper core. When he got to Dudley's grave he put it to his mouth like a horn and began tooting Tapps into it.
I know his little heart was as serious as it could be but this grandma nearly split a gut trying to keep from laughing. As you know mirth can be horrendous to contain but I'd rather have split a gut than hurt this Little boy.
I probably don't have to tell you that Johnny's dad and big brother were both in the Navy. To Johnny, Tapps was just as natural and necessary as the prayer.

Then when his tapps were done this little guy sobered me to the core as he looked toward the little grave and with his chin shaking and in a quivering little boy voice said,
"I loved ya."


Friday, February 13, 2009


Here he is! in all his brilliant colors strutting around the chicken yard.
Did I ever tell you that I love chickens and have thoroughly enjoyed raising them? I don't have them now but if I didn't have to fight off the Hawks, coons, cougars and other predators, I would.
The Generals story is not exactly what one would expect of a rooster. I learned a lot from him.
It all started when a young hen, Goldie Pearl decided she was going to hatch out a light bulb that I accidentally left in one of the nests. She sat on it for days, then weeks and would not leave it. Finally out of desperation I bought three baby chicks at the feed store. Two black Sex links and one Rhode Island Red. After The the chickens were roosting for the night I went out to the chicken house and carefully lifted Goldie Pearl enough to pull the warm light bulb out from under her. Then I tucked the three little chicks under her and left, praying that she would accept them.
The next morning when I checked, they were all getting along great and mama Goldie was teaching her three babies how to scratch and peck.

This is a picture of Goldie Pearl with a different batch of chicks. The general is having himself a relaxing sunbath, confident that Goldie has everything under control, and she certainly did. She was a very protective mama.

Now here's another of the General's wive's,
Lucy Mae. Their chicks have grown to the age when they are beginning to roost. However, they still need to be kept warm and some of the chick's have not yet learned to fly up to the roosting poles, so while Lucy Mae nests down in a corner of the chicken house with her immature young tucked beneath her.......

the Gallant General roosts with their more mature chicks tucked under his breast.
When I was a girl we had a very mean rooster so I assumed they were all like that. The General taught me different.
When the chicks were old enough to be outside, the mama's would sometimes wander off, leaving the General to attend their young, and he did it like a pro, scratching and pecking, as he clucked commands to his offspring and often scratching up a piece of ground to expose treats for his young.
I can't tell you how sweet it is to watch a baby chick in it's first efforts to find food. Sometimes pulling so hard on a worm that they tumble over backwards, and the chases when one found a treat and all his little nest mates wanted it. The chase was on and was as funny to watch as a herd of clowns, as they clumsily stumbled, tumbled and rolled, all the while their spindly, twig like legs kicking to beat the band!

Here is the General again with his adopted daughters when they are older. Remember the light bulb replacements?
The General, Lucy Mae and Goldie Pearl were all banty's, which are very small.
The Adopted daughters, who I named Peep, Chicken and Colette, are much larger so when they had reached this age, they were about the same size as the General and Goldy Pearl. Now remember they are still babies and need the warmth of their parents bodies at night.
Can you imagine how funny it was to watch the three adopted daughters try to get beneath their mother? She kept toppling off them and they kept trying. I think they all passed out from sheer exhaustion.
Well now you know about the General and his family.
I hope you enjoyed reading about it.
I sure enjoyed living it!
I can't say that chickens are smart but I can say that they could teach some of the human race about maternal and paternal instincts.
God bless you all and remember to pray for our troops and the people of Australia who are being affected by the horrible fires.


Friday, February 06, 2009

I've been at it for so long that I think I have used up most of the interesting post ideas. And since it is winter here and I'm a sissy about being out in the rain, snow, sleet and hail, I don't have any fun, new photo's to post. So I went searching through my photo folders and pulled out a few I hope you will enjoy.

This one was taken in 1960 when I lived way out in the county. The early morning sun on the new fallen snow was just beautiful.
Here is my little flowery cottage before we remodeled and painted. Oh how I wish I could have flowers like this now. Unfortunately we have a serious overpopulation of deer and they eat everything right down to the ground.

I love this picture my daughter took for me of the desert in bloom. I love the desert and never cease to be amazed at the incredible color the Lord brings out of it.

This picture was taken on a car trip from Duluth MN to Bellingham WA. We took the long way around so we could see other places. As we drove along the highway I saw this from a distance and couldn't make out what on earth it was. When we got closer I could see all the cars and a sign explaining it is called Carhenge.

Here's more of my flowers. I'm so glad I have the pictures to enjoy. I planted lots of seeds and plants but also kept whatever wild flowers happened to be growing in the gardens. The tall flower stalk with the purple bell shaped blossoms on the top is Foxglove. This is the plant Digitalis is derived from.

This is the little house that my grandfather and great grandfather built, and where my father was born. I believe the woodshed that looks like it's falling down was also built by them. Actually the shed was being torn down. I visited this place a few times and can't explain the odd feeling I got as I walked through the grassy fields and sat inside the tiny house visiting with the present owner.

Here's a few funnies to put a smile on your face.

I hope you all have a blessed weekend.


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