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.

Family time

This is the first time I have ever posted from somewhere besides home. I can't believe how easy it is. I'm at my youngest son's house,helping him recouperate from a hernia operation. My sweet daughter in law works all day and when she comes home there are two little boys to take care of, so I'm helping out for a few days until my son is feeling better. The evening is the hardest with dinner, baths and getting ready for bed. The bean (my oldest grandson) is really glad I'm here. I think he would sleep in Noni's room if his parents would let him. He wants me to read him stories on my bed and while we are doing this he has to have his blanket, his little bear and two pillows. Then we get all comfey and he tries to talk me into "one more book, Noni. Pleaseeeees..." So we read one more. I'm such a soft touch in my old age.

Tonight I made dinner and chocolate chip cookies for the boys ( that includes my son ). Cookies always help you recover faster. It's a fact.

Well, got to go. Got chicken in the oven. Come on by. We have plenty.

A short visit

I'm going to my son's for a few days. I need to help out and get my grandbaby fix. I'll be back in a few days.
We are better today. Life heals.

"...with my face to the rising sun."

We spent the day in the garden. It was a warm, lovely day. Maggie has been looking for her old friend. She doesn't understand. She walks through the house and makes little wimpering noises. She wanders outside and then looks at us as if to say...., where is he?





We talked about Moke and dug in the garden. We gave Maggie extra lovin' and we sat with our faces toward the sun. I thought of an old hymn I use to sing in church. Some of it goes..."Let us find strength together on our knees. Let us find strength together on our knees. When I fall on my knees with my face to the rising sun. Oh, Lord, have mercy on me." It has been in my head all day.










This evening before dinner I had the Prospector read all the wonderful emails and comments that were sent to us. We thank everyone who sent us such kind words. It made the sadness more bearable. Tonight we feel better knowing that Moke is beyond the pain and suffering. He has , as one friend said, crossed over the Rainbow Bridge where all animals go when they die. God will watch over him. It's a place where the animals are happy and free of pain. He will be waiting for us until we get there. I hope so. Until then Moke.......

I have no words.

Our beautiful, sweet Moke passed away this morning. I have no words now, only tears.

Rain Dancing in the Foothills

This is Murphy's gulch, on our property, after the last storm. The creek was filled to the brim and moving a lot of muddy water down stream. The prospector would say "... it's moving that GOLD around and catching the big nuggets in the bedrock." I, personally, haven't found any of those BIG nuggets yet. I think they moved themselves right on down to the river and settled in 10 feet of water. However, hope springs eternal around here and gold is where you find it.., so maybe, in the summer, we will find that BIG nugget sitting in the ridges of the culvert under the road or nestled in between some rocks in my favorite water hole. Who knows what all this water will push around or dislodge...., cans, plastic bottles, yellow McDonald's wrappers( which, when wadded up and stuck behind a boulder, can stop my heart, until I realize what it really is.)

I love the sound of this creek after a storm. We can hear it from our house. It's the sound of life giving water and it's a wonderful sound.
All the small creeks were filled last week. Every Winter our neighbors had a pond appear below their house where they had a small damn. Years ago when their children where young, we would watch them swimming in this pond at the beginning of summer. Now the kids are grown and gone, and the lake has filled with silt. There is not much left of the pond, now, but the rushing water still feed into it all winter and that memory of two young children swimming and having such fun remains.






This week the sky is blue and the sun is warm and bright. I can't hear the creek from the house. The water dissappears so quickly. We still need more rain. The land will dry out soon and the green will vanish. Spring has been so beautiful but Summer looms ahead . I hope we get more rain to fill the resorvoirs Until then I will hike through the Spring hills, enjoying the lovely wildflowers and do a little rain dance along the way.

Celebrating With Hot Chocolate..., what else?

I'm finally back after a week of gardening, walking, reading and playing with my dogs. This was quite a different week than I usually have. Without the internet I finally remembered what it was that I did B.C.( before computers ). It's only been a little over a year since I started Blogging and when the Computer went crazy last week I ,honestly, didn't know what to do with myself for a few days. Has that happen to any of you? Not only could I not blog but I couldn't e-mail, research ( that's my "tech" term for surfing the net.) or order anything. I felt like part of my world disappeared. I hate to admit this..., but I think I have a serious addiction and I may have to set some limits from now on.

When I went "cold turkey" last week it took me days before I remembered what I had done before all of this madness. By Sunday I was out in the garden planted flowers and pulling weeds like crazy. I even cleaned out a closet and made plans to paint the laundry room. I was just a whirlwind of activity. Even the dogs were confused. They kept looking for me in the guestroom where the computer is. I'm sure Maggie probably said something about all this in here "guest" commentary yesterday. Thanks Mag. Anyway, I'm online again thanks to this really nice young man from Wildblue Service Management, who laughed at me when I told him that we were
adopting him and writing him into our Will.

The Vintage Thingies today are a group of small cups and saucers that my cousin gave me a few years ago. I think they were her Moms or grandmothers. I'm not sure. They are English and Prussian. I don't know why they are so small. Maybe they were for chocolate or strong coffee. They don't look like children's dishes which, I would think, would be much smaller. I have never quite known what to do with them, so they are up in my cupboard and never get used..., but they are really beautiful and they have a history in my family so I find them rather special. The blue cup and saucer is sitting on a crocheted doily that I found in a thrift shop in town. It's in perfect condition. You just never know what you'll find in those great "junk" stores.

I think I will celebrate my return to blogging with a small, antique cup of hot chocolate tonight.

Be sure to check in at: coloradolady.blogspot.com for more vintage Thursday goodies.

Maggie: spokeswoman for the day

Hi there, it's Maggie. Farmlady will be back tomarrow. She has had a weird week. Her internet connection went out last Thursday and she's been kind of hard to live with. The computer folks finally came and fixed the satellite dish yesterday and everything seems to be all right. They said it had to do with a power outage during a storm last week. Being a dog, I didn't understand all that was said, but I think all is well now. We got fed everyday and Farmlady spent a lot of time in the garden with us, so it wasn't a big deal. The first few days were the hardest. I would hear Farmlady saying things under her breath about the computer and her tone of voice was not nice. Then , by the weekend she settled down and we spent the last few days out here watching her plant flowers and dig in the dirt. Funny; when we dig in the dirt she yells at us but when she does it, then it's ok. Humans..., go figure.

Anyway, she will be here tomarrow with something Vintage; which means old, like me. I think the gray around my eyes makes them look deeper and sexier. Don't you? I was quite beautiful back in the day. I try to maintain a happy frame of mind. It' keeps you younger. Moke thinks I'm quite the chick. I don't know what the goats think.
Well...,I'm going to take another nap right here in the sun, now. All this blogging has worn me out. Have a wonderful day! Love,Mags

Wordless Wednesday: Winter River