Give Me one More Day

"I'm not old, I just need re-potting." I have this sign over my front door. Sometimes I don't feel any older than I did 20 or 30 years ago, until I hike too far up the hill or wrestle with a goat who needs to have his hoofs trimmed. Then I realize that my body is not as agile as my thinking is anymore.., that this body is wearing out. And then I think to myself that it would be so nice if I could "re-pot" myself like some of the root bound plants in my garden. That's the problem. I'm root-bound. I need more room and better soil so I can keep growing, but here I am in my 60's, in a worn out old container that has been through some rough years of weathering the storms of life and there is very little that I can do accept lose weight and accept what is. Sometimes trying to be positive get really old. Sometimes being "happy"about everything gets tiresome.....

Just about the time I start feeling sorry for myself I take a look at what's around me. The mild Spring weather is edging up to 70 degrees. The linnets are frantically putting a nest together in the dog angel birdhouse and all the pansies have survived the cold nights and the wind...., and on my first Iris, about to bud, is a very small white spider.

The goats are happily eating the new grass in the pasture and smiling for the camera. We have planted some lettuce and tomatoes (the beginnings of a great summer garden) and a new, very yellow-orange bird has arrived to drink the hummingbirds sugar water but can't figure out how to get it's beak into the tiny opening. I'm sure the hummers are laughing over this. I am.

Spring has come to the Foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains and the hills are covered in carpets of small white flowers and yellow Buttercups. Each day I find a new wildflower and take a picture of it. Then I go back home and look it up to see what it's called. Each day I put one foot in front of the other and step forth, looking for something new, something beautiful. Today the old container allows me one more place, small though it may be, to hold and keep this fleeting life of mine, one more day, one more hour, one more breath....

Chickens Running Amuck

A turkey hen has decided to be a chicken. She is hanging with our hens and they seem to accept her as if she was just another chicken. She spends most of the day with them and then she leaves. Maybe she has eggs near by.

The chickens are having their way with my garden outside the fence. Making holes and dusting themselves in the Spring sunshine. This part of the garden is a lost cause. Last year I redid it and now..., look! Dust, feathers and poop, all over the place. I guess I need a new attitude. Let's see now. They give us fresh eggs so I guess I can give them a place to do their chicken danceing...%!#@*?".

But..., this is where I draw the line.Henny Penny( one of our banties) is teaching the other hens some bad habits. I don't know how the Araucana got through the fence but she could not get back through when I went out to see what they were up to and I had to open the gate so she could leave.
When Moke was alive they never came inside the fence. He would chase them. But as the dogs got older, Henny Penny and Squeeky( our banties ) would tempt fate and come into the fenced garden once in a while. Now, Henny Penny is leading this mass movement with the big hens. Next thing you know they will be sitting on our porch demanding something to eat.

Well.., I'm not going to take it anymore. The inside garden is mine. MINE I say. This may call for drastic measures. Threats don't work. We may have to "chicken wire" the bottom of my beautiful iron fence. It won't look as nice but then Penny and her followers won't be tresspassing in my "near the house" garden any time soon. It may be a farm.., but I refuse to relinquish my inner garden to a bunch of feathered fowl.
They get a little crazy this time of year. Turkey season opened last weekend and we hear gun shots all around us. Do you think that this lone turkey hen thinks she can survive the season if she disguises herself as a chicken? Turkey are not as dumb as people think.

When I was Very Young....

I love old, children's books. They hold more than stories and poems. They are the keepers of memories and all the ghosts that held them. They are the long ago keepsakes of childhood..., when you were tucked into bed, with your favorite doll or stuffed animal and someone started to read from them about a magic world, so different and wonderful that you found yourself wishing you were there. The characters were alive and you thought you knew them personally..., that they were peeking at you from inside your toy chest, hiding in the closet or waiting under the bed to dance around you after you went to sleep.
I had a huge imagination when I was very young. I was an only child for seven years and my imaginary world had no limits. I made up stories and placed myself into every book that was read to me. As I got older and started reading on my own, these books became companions that were always there and that I could count on.They were some of my best friends.

This little book was one I remember well. When We Were Very Young by A.A. Milne was one of my favorites and probably the reason that I love poetry so much now. This book is not with my childhood books. Maybe it got lost or worn out..., or maybe it was a library book that my mother returned. I don't know. But I found it at a used book store, recently, and it is so familiar to me that I know it was a part of my life long ago.
The book was first printed in 1924 but this reprint was in Aug of 1950. I would have been 6 yrs. old. I love this book. It's red cloth cover is decorated with illustrations by E.H. Shepard. They were called "decorations".
Alan Alexander Milne (1882-1956) was a noted English playwright who decided to write a book about a boy and his bear. Christopher Robin (his son's name) and Winnie the Pooh (one of his son's stuffed animals) became so successful that his other work paled in comparison. He was annoyed that the children's books were the only really successful books that he was able to write, but he continued writing these stories because they made a lot of money.

After he died his widow sold the rights ,to the Pooh character, to the Walt Disney Company. Royalties from this sale, and part ownership of the copyright, were used to fund a fellowship program for writers in United Kingdom universities.
There is a poem in this book that is called Puppy and I~ it's one of my favorites. I will leave you with the last stanza....

...I met a Puppy as I went walking;
We got talking,
Puppy and I.
"Where are you going this nice fine day?"
(I said to the Puppy as he went by)."
"Up in the hills to roll and play."
"I'll come with you, Puppy," said I.

********

Please drop by Colorado Lady's blog for more Vintage Things and related sites.

Wordless Wednesday: The last goodby.

Springish Things

"Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts.

There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature...,

..., the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter." ~Rachel Carson~

WHAT THE......? IT'S A ...

Will you look at this! There's a cat in our guest room. Let me tell you how this happen.

We went out one day to pick up a few things and got too close to the animal shelter. We said we would just look. It was too soon for another dog. Moke was still too much in our thoughts and hadn't left our heart yet. None of the dogs at the shelter were speaking to us. I guess we were just not ready for another .
On our way out we saw some cats through a viewing window and then (and this was our downfall) we decided to take a look at THE CAT ROOM. Well, guess what. This cat spoke to us. In fact she meowed in her loudest, most pathetic, cat-like voice saying that she was the one we needed. She said that even though we didn't come looking for a cat..., she was the best choice and would fill part of the gapeing hole that Moke had left in our lives. We thought it over for a day and then went to Walmart for supplies, went back to the shelter and came home with her.
After 12 years of being catless we are now the proud owners of Annabel, the beautiful. She's a Calico and for now she is living in the guest room because she and Maggie are going through a huge adjustment period. Maggie doesn't know what a cat is and Annabel thinks that Maggie is a giant monster that threatens her life. So, we are going very, very slow with this.

Annabel is a curious 2 years old. She was a stray but we think she has had a lot of human contact. She's very friendly and seems delighted with the Prospector and I. We feel like we have been choosen. Maggie is not so sure. I think we have some conflict managment looming ahead.

Annabel loves to play. She is fond of her catbox and thinks her food is something to bat around when she is finished eating some of it. My guest room will never be the same until we get her out of it and that's where Maggie comes in. We've been having long talks with Miss Mag. She's just curious about this little creature but she barks when Annabel hisses at her and ,of course, that scares the cat. If anyone has any ideas on getting these two together please let me know. I can deal with rattlesnakes and mountain lions ..,but this dog/cat relationship stuff is difficult. I need some advice.

Party Time for the Little Cowpoke

Howdy folks! Welcome to my birthday party. I'm 4 years old and I'm a big dude now.

My Mommy and Daddy put on this big spread for me and my friends. We had lots of good grub. Me and my best friend, the sheriff,(in the black stripe shirt) took control of the situation and everyone had a good time.

There were cowboy hats, red handkerchiefs and horses to ride. We sat on hay and ate some food. A man from the playhouse came with his guitar and played songs for us. The old folks had a good time too. I opened the gifts from all my friends. I got some really great stuff. I gave out bags of goodies when each of my friends left and said thank you for coming. After everybody left I went back and checked out all my loot. I got lots of nice toys. It was a fun party. Next time you should come too.