Why?

Why do they call this Good Friday?

Vintage Thursday

This silk scarf, from England, was in a pile of old scarves at my favorite thrift store. The colors caught my eye and the price sold me.

The scene is a fox hunt. I always hope that the fox gets away. Those dogs are like Mokeboy, so it's not likely. The colors are what caught my eye. The blues, the dark red and the browns are bright and clear. This scarf is in beautiful condition except for a ring right in the middle from a glass or vase which you can hardly see. It had a $4.00 price tag on it. I didn't haggle the price.

It's so different than the usual scarves I seen. I guess I could wear it, but I'm not a scarf person. For now I will drape it over a small iron table next to my sofa and think about the English countryside and an old, beloved hound dog when I look at it.


Go to Colorado Lady's blog for more Vintage things and enjoy the other blogs that participate. Have a wonderful day!

Wordless Wednesday: Spring Collages

A Little Girl

TRACY, Calif. -- Sandra Cantu's body was found Monday inside a piece of luggage pulled from a San Joaquin County irrigation pond, Tracy police said. The 8-year-old girl disappeared more than a week ago.

What will happen to a world..., where little children are thrown away so easily? Why are there people who do things like this? How do we keep our children safe?

My heart aches for this little girl and those who love her.

Brownie's at it again.

"Hi boys. how are you today? Thought I'd come out and say hello."

"Brownie, are you being a good boy? I hope you're not butting Murph' around too much. You could hurt him with your horns."
"I'm just tired of him trying to get my grass, Farmlady. "
"Well Brownie, it's springtime and the grass is growing all over the place. There's plenty for everyone."
" I just want my share. I just don't want him to have more than me."
"Brownie, sweetheart, there is a lot of grass out there..., enough for everyone."
"Easy for you to say." (under his breath)
"What Brownie?"
"I said... HAVE A NICE DAY and please don't call me sweetheart."

"Hey Bart, how's it going?"
"Rather well, Farmlady. It's warm and the sky isn't falling anymore. I love all this green stuff."
"That's called grass and there will be lots of it for a while."
"It's very good."
" I'm glad your'e so happy about it. Lifes pretty good right now isn't it?"
"Yes it is. What are you doing here?"
"I'm going to the vegetable garden to do some weeding. I thought I would visit with all of you first . It's such a beautiful day."
"The vegetable garden? Can we come with you."

"Well sure. You go into the south pasture and I'll go to the garden. Maybe I'll find some of that grass with the flowers that you guys like so much. I'll feed it to you through the fence. Does that sound like a plan?"
"Yes it does Farmlady."
"Hey Murph'..., Freckles. Where are you going. Don't you want some special grass from the garden?"
(Murphy stops and looks back) "Thanks Farmlady but we'll just stay here near our house. The coyotes, last night, have us all on edge. Did you know that they were here below the house?"
"Yes I heard them but you are safe in your goathouse at night."
"Well Brownie says that they come and eat our grass and that they are magic. He says that they can walk through fences and come through walls. That's pretty scary."
"Brownie? Are you telling stories again? You know that Coyotes don't walk through walls."
"Are Murph' and Freckles eating grass?"
"What?"
"They will stay in the house most of the day and that leaves more grass for me."
" Well that's not very nice Brownie. You need to stop scaring Murphy. He worries too much, anyway, and Freckles listens to everything you say. You and Bart are older. You should know better."
"Ya...., sorry."
"Oh Brownie, what I'm I going to do with you?"

Palm Sunday and Poppies

THE WORLD is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil Crushed.
Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell:
the soil is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent World broods
with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
~ Gerard Manley Hopkins ~

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
~Robert Frost~

(please click on photos for close up view)

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.

Lunch With my Friend

All my woman friends are strong people. My admiration for these wonderful ladies is endless. They are survivors of life. All are in their 50's or 60's and they have all had trials that rival a best selling American novel. I have known most of them for many, many years.

By Sunday of last week my son was doing better and my daughter-in-law was home, so I decided to play hookie and go see my friend C in Sacramento for the day. I had called her and planned a visit a few days before. She lives in a gated complex in what is called The Pocket, near the Sacramento River. It's a beautiful apartment complex with a lake and ducks. She has a small deck that faces the water, lots of trees and the ability to make a small one bedroom apartment into a charming, peaceful and lovely home.
All the shells (in the photos above) are from places that she has lived, mostly the Mendocino Coast, and she always has them tucked on shelves and laying on the edges of her deck railing. To me they are a symbol of my friend "C's" gift of simplicity; the "less is more" quality of her life. She is the master of the beautiful arrangement. She has her own photos(black and white) of places that she has visited, mostly in Europe, that she has elegantly displayed on her walls. Photos of buildings that are old. Amazing architectural forms taken with her focused and visionary eye. Everything is white with shades of serenity and always a touch of blue. I love this home of hers. I envy the simplicity and the "One world at a time" (Thoreau) life that is always wrapped around my friend's existence. She has come from hardship, illness and pain. She lives with determination, bravery and pragmatism. She is a person I can trust to give me hard and honest advise. She is like my "big sister" and we both love good food. So we went to lunch..., a new Japanese Restaurant in downtown Sacramento. Very good food. Came back and sat talking until she had to remind me what time it was.

..., and then there's her new kitten, Maximus(Max for short).

Just so you don't think that C. doesn't have "attachments" I would like you to know that not only does C. have a new cat, but she has a beloved daughter .., and a mother, brother and family who live close by and bring all the concerns that families do to your life.
But back to this new cat. It's still a baby. It's beautiful and it's discovering the world outside. We had so much fun taking pictures of Max, doing his thing. Kittens are so curious and filled with a sense of wonder about everything. Everything they say about cats is true: Independent, transient, "taking a message and calling you back" and totally ignoring you if they choose to. It's all true. But look at this cute creature. C has always had cats. My favorite was Jack, the cat who thought he was a dog, who would follow us through the trails of the Pygmy Forest in Mendocino and discuss politics with us.... Well not really , but you felt like he could.
And now there's Max. Max the little gladiator, the ruler of the deck railing, keeper of the shells and guardian of the realm. Rock on little one. Keep the lions at bay. Keep my friend safe until I see her again.

Who's Birthday is it Today?

Happy Birthday little man. Noni and Papa want to wish you a very happy day, filled with happiness.
You're our first grandson. You are very special. From the day you were born you were a package of determination, energy and vulnerability and this makes you who you are..., this wonderful little boy.
We love you so much.

Here is an old, favorite poem just for you...

Where did you come from, baby dear?
Out of the everywhere into here.

Where did you get your eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through.

What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?
Some of the starry spikes left in.

Where did you get that little tear?
I found it waiting when I got here.

What makes your forehead so smooth and high?
A soft hand stroked it as I went by.

What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?
I saw something better than anyone knows.

Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss?
Three angels gave me at once a kiss.

Where did you get this pearly ear?
God spoke, and it came out to hear.

Where did you get those arms and hands?
Love made itself into hooks and bands.

Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?
From the same box as the cherub's wings.

How did they all just come to be you?
God thought about me, and so I grew.

But how did you come to us, you dear?
God thought about you, and so I am here.

George MacDonald (1824-1905)

Little Bean and the Brush

It's amazing to me..., with all the toys that my grandchildren have, it's the little things they find in a drawer that have so much more value. I guess I shouldn't be so surprised. I'm the same way. Maybe we all are. I go to thrift stores and look for the one, old, inexpensive object that has some mysterious appeal to me. The beautiful spoon or funky vintage knick-knack that only speaks to me.., the dog statue , the cup and saucer, the small McCoy wall pocket with a chip in it. An item that would be overlooked by someone else but when I see it I know that it's something I've got to have. Maybe it's the color or the shape. Maybe the lost art of generations that knew how to crochet, knit or embroider. Something says "Buy me". I know a lot of you understand what I'm saying.
Whatever it is, I understand why my littliest grandson found this wonderful brush; a special acquisition in the back of a drawer that is usually off limits to him. A pretty, easy to hold blushing brush that has soft brown bristles tinged with pink..., that smells good and feels wonderful, even "tickley", when rubbed on the face and hands. With his little two-year old sense of wonder, he had discovered a truly magical gift; a "find" worthy of a temper tantram if someone tried to take it away from him. He told me in his limited, matter of fact English that it was a "boush" and even more by the body language and satisfied look on his sweet little face, that this was his very special "chattel" of the day.
I may have to start Little Bean early in the fine art of thrift store shopping and , of course, share my expertise. Maybe he's got my shopping DNA. Between his Mother and I, he will have excellent training in the fine art of finding a good deal. See that expression in the bottom left photo? He has that " Can you give me a better price?" look already. The " I'm not leaving until we negotiate this deal." look...., that's it. That's the look!... He's a natural. I just know it.