Hickory, dickory, dock

You may think this post is about the old English poem of the same name. Nope, instead it is about the aggravating hickory nuts that are falling, falling, from a tree in my yard. Here we go. My apologies to the English.

Hickory, dickory, nut,
I nearly bust my butt.
Your constant falling
is not enthralling,
I feel I'm in a rut.

Hickory, dickory, do,
please stay out of my shoe.
I try to sweep,
but in my sleep,
accumulation is anew.

Hickory, dickory, crop,
oh won't you ever stop?
The days are long,
I hate this song;
maybe I'll go shop!

Ah, the treasures of Autumn. If only they were the edible kind. (Sigh)

Did you know there's a book called, Hickory Nuts in the Driveway, by Dari Bradley? Yipes!

Life in Flight

If I were a butterfly what would I see? These delicate creatures travel thousands of miles every year. Changing weather patterns have certainly made their lives harder; harder to reach and return to regular destinations. Yet they continue - their dogged determination inspires humans to assign them a place of inspiration.

By the end of September my Butterfly bushes seemed to be dying back - finished for the year. By the second week of October they were fully loaded with blooms for the fifth time. I thought that strange until a new, possibly last round of butterflies, began to arrive. Maybe these few are staying this time and their life cycle is over. A large blue one seemed to sit down on my garden wall and go to sleep. It took me a couple of hours to realize the creature's life in flight was over.

I wait for early spring to cut back the bushes. To do so now could take a tiny morsel, possibly needed by a late commuter.

Be Still

I walk through a maze of lies ~
and still I see beauty.
The world would have me give up ~
and still I feel strength.
Thoughts would rush to hurt ~
and still I let them go.
Another day dawns with wonder ~
and still I am thankful.

Five Dogwoods

Above my driveway stand five dogwoods fully loaded with red berries, and leaves that have turned in only three days. Imagine? Nature working overtime?

The chem trails stopped for a few days. At my house it was as if the Creator had opened the windows of heaven and it rained for three days. Blue, blue skies appeared, and such beauty I hadn't seen in months. That's why I think it was from the Creator. So I went out and enjoyed Friday in my yard. But I know those trails will begin to appear again soon. All one has to do is watch the sky, and the slow floating of long white stripes... they'll be on the ground in a matter of hours. Sometimes they blend together and look like nice large clouds. A checker board across the sky most days.

Could we call this a weapon of mass destruction? The chemicals contained in the chem trails destroy crops, trees, animals, insects, and of course people. It's a clever wickedness that devised this.

I had a great time. The breeze was perfect. The sunlight was perfect. The temperature was perfect. The five dogwoods were perfect. And early in the morning the most beautiful, bright moon was crossing the sky just ahead of sunrise.

Wrapping up the week

Image: Charlotte Douglas International Airport.
Charlotte, North Carolina - USA
Moose 135

Most Friday nights find me watching airplanes land and take off. As a child my parents would take us to a special overlook to see them up close and personal. The airplane in the first photo is directly across from the overlook.

Back in those days we weren't "International," but my how things have changed. A lovely spot, and we'd often take a picnic basket. The best entertainment in the world. We would run around screaming when those big engines roared.  These bigger fellas came later - I was grown and off to college.

So there you are! I head into the weekend thinking about airplanes. Charlotte has four runways... many flight paths! Over 4.3 million people went through Charlotte last year. Over 42,000 flights. It never gets old.

  









 Have a great weekend!

Alzheimer's: "I'm not gonna miss you"

Image: Feelings - Ann Croon

Music has always been a part of life for me. Not just me, but other fellow bloggers paint, write, and do other artistic renderings with a background of music.

Music is part of many surgical rooms and wards. Some patients even request music to be played during their post op time. So began my search that expounded on the value of music and illness. I was rocking along until I came to the Alzheimer Disease - the one that slowly robs one of precious memory. Many years of research but as yet no cure. No one panics when they can't remember something - they whip out an iPhone... right? Plenty of jokes available!

I came across a video of Glen Campbell - a country music artist from the 1960's onward. I wasn't a big country fan but I liked many of his songs. This video was intriguing as he recorded two years ago... back when he was still able to speak, much less sing. Occasionally he can play guitar and it fascinates people that he remembers the cords. The song is the from the perspective of the sufferer. He acknowledges that friends and family will suffer along with him, but he won't know it. "I'm Not Gonna Miss You" says it all.

It's quite thought provoking. Listen if you have the time.

I'm Not Gonna Miss You

Can Life Cheat Us?

Do you ever feel that life has cheated you? Are the naysayers right, that remaining positive makes it all worthwhile, in the end? Is attitude everything?

You know the question: why do bad things happen to good people? I look at the flip side: why do good things happen to bad people?

Is there fate? Are there muses? Do you hear a voice that leads the way? Have you at your current age, decided on a belief that gives you comfort and understanding of this world?

I'm older and more grounded. I'm content when stress is absent. When it hangs around I stand my ground even though I'm human and prone to weakness.

A moment of doubt does not define me, although I sense I'm a part of something greater than I cannot define. I seek wisdom - the only thing that gives meaning. Having it grounds me, and allows me contentment in the face of adversity.

I'm older but the journey continues. In the big scheme of things I'm young, and therefore continue seeking.

Has life cheated me? Sometimes I have thought so. Then somewhere down the road I received a reason for the "disappointing " moment. I'd like to share a song. I'm not pushing beliefs; just listen to the words and apply it to your own idea of life, and the idea that we can be cheated. Can we?

http://vimeo.com/17239912

No time

With all of today's technology and ways to communicate, we have become a very distant world. At the touch of the fingertips - a message can be sped off into the wireless night. Heaven help you if you're expecting an answer within 72 hours. (Some say I have more time than they do.) Really? Aren't there 24 hours in a single day for everyone, equally? (Oh, but you  know what "we" mean? You have more free time.) No I don't. Please explain. Long ago I figured out that time is not free. You can waste it all you want, and you'll never get it back. You might as well enjoy whatever you do... whether in work or in pleasure.

Here's my point. I take four seconds to text a "Hello, how are you?" message. Why? Because you don't have time for face to face or telephone conversations. Now! it's not even worth a minute of  your time to answer? You could say, "Fine, hope you are." You could say, "Busy, but okay." See how few seconds that took?!! Yet today I run into this attitude from everywhere. It's pandemic. No time.

But let my phone ring or receive a text message? Heaven help me to rush back an answer to you. Let me memorize all the latest abbreviations. BTW, LOL, OTW, OVA.... etc., to infinity and beyond!

Maybe I should let you know that most of the time... my phone stays in the desk drawer. Yes it's on. And the land line has voice mail too.  But I was busy, and you were right... 72 hours isn't that long of a wait after all.    :)

Music to live by

Music - a great part of my life - documenting all sort of events - good and bad. Of course you can relate, if and when you hear a song on the radio, ipod, TV, Internet, or other, and it takes you to another place and time. Even writing that sentence prompts a memory of Yanni's " beautiful and haunting instrumental, "Nostalgia". And that's how it works for me. I just love a good instrumental.

Music for my friend Bazza at "To Discover Ice" - is to paint by, (among other activities I'm sure). And it is his recent sharing, of the joy of painting along to music, that prompted this post.

http://todiscoverice.blogspot.com/



I've done a lot of writing with music in the background, but never painting. Odd I know, considering I've been painting longer than writing. This week I've a project to get me back into the swing of painting. Hmm, maybe I could find some "swing" music from the 40's? Until then here is one of my favorites.

The Piano Guys:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fz4MzJTeL0c&feature=share&list=SP2FCE4EAED0A3000B

Do you like music? Do you have a favorite "swing" or other song you can drop my way?

Thanks  - catch you on the flipside!

Sisters of Mercy

Sometimes you hear a song but you don't quite get it. Time passes and you do. That's how it is with me. Sometimes I don't get me, but sometimes I do. I figure as long as I stay true to what and who I am, I'll be okay. Lessons come and if I get them right I'm happy. If I get them wrong I ask for mercy to figure it all out. Never had a sister but I sure wouldn't turn one away.

What about you?

Have a listen to Linda Ronstadt and Emmylou Harris sing Leonard Cohen's "Sisters of Mercy".
http://youtu.be/uNlfvO_1V5w


As always - thanks for stopping by.

Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

Yes, I'm sure there is...

A friend of mine called me. His compassion for his fellow man never fails to impress me. Others walk around dazed and confused over the state of "small" daily living; often I resemble that myself. He was sure he'd written about this disease called Ebola many years ago, on one of his blogs. However his computer had crashed and the information was simply out of reach. He asked if I would please post something about this disease. What would I write? I wasn't sure, but my research took me down a strange path. Ladies and gentlemen: fasten your seat belts - we're going for a ride!

So I did the usual type of research. What are the current facts of 2014?  What are the symptoms? Does it seem the United States citizens are being moved toward an "oh-my-gosh" attitude? (We do not panic nicely.) People overseas were dying like crazy; should we be panicking? I got this crazy thought. In my browser I typed: "Who invented the Ebola virus?" Ladies and gentlemen: time to secure your crash helmets! Departure in 5, 4, 3..... Uh-oh, Ebola.

The following information was provided courtesy of "Natural News". Don't worry there are a bunch of links to support their stuff. Did I ask them if I could use their stuff? No, but the credit is all theirs. Believe me, it's their research, and you're more than welcome to look at every single site they cite. The following information is from "Natural News," and it is contained within brackets [[...]].

[[Why does the CDC own a patent on Ebola 'invention?'

Sunday, August 03, 2014

by Mike Adams, the Health Ranger

The U.S. Centers for Disease Control owns a patent on a particular strain of Ebola known as "EboBun." It's patent No. CA2741523A1 and it was awarded in 2010. You can view it here. (Thanks to Natural News readers who found this and brought it to our attention.)

Learn more: http://www.naturalnews.com/046290_ebola_patent_vaccines_profit_motive.html##ixzz3F2KLTx2S

Learn more: http://www.naturalnews.com/046290_ebola_patent_vaccines_profit_motive.html##ixzz3F2KCOAbZ

The patent summary says, "The invention provides the isolated human Ebola (hEbola) viruses denoted as Bundibugyo (EboBun) deposited with the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention ("CDC"; Atlanta, Georgia, United States of America) on November 26, 2007 and accorded an accession number 200706291."

It goes on to state, "The present invention is based upon the isolation and identification of a new human Ebola virus species, EboBun. EboBun was isolated from the patients suffering from hemorrhagic fever in a recent outbreak in Uganda."

It's worth noting, by the way, that EboBun is not the same variant currently believed to be circulating in West Africa. Clearly, the CDC needs to expand its patent portfolio to include more strains, and that may very well be why American Ebola victims have been brought to the United States in the first place.

Harvesting Ebola from victims to file patents:

From the patent description on the EboBun virus, we know that the U.S. government:
1) Extracts Ebola viruses from patients.
2) Claims to have "invented" that virus.
3) Files for monopoly patent protection on the virus.

The "SUMMARY OF THE INVENTION" section of the patent document also clearly claims that the U.S. government is claiming "ownership" over all Ebola viruses that share as little as 70% similarity with the Ebola it "invented":

Learn more: http://www.naturalnews.com/046290_ebola_patent_vaccines_profit_motive.html##ixzz3F2Lzq6xO

It brings up the obvious question here: Why would the U.S. government claim to have "invented" Ebola and then claim an exclusively monopoly over its ownership?

Learn more: http://www.naturalnews.com/046290_ebola_patent_vaccines_profit_motive.html##ixzz3F2Lfe5I5

The formula is always the same: create alarm, bring a vaccine to market, then scare governments into buying billions of dollars worth of vaccines they don't need.

More links:

Learn more: http://www.naturalnews.com/046290_ebola_patent_vaccines_profit_motive.html##ixzz3F2KyxFl4

Learn more: http://www.naturalnews.com/046290_ebola_patent_vaccines_profit_motive.html##ixzz3F2KlyMDq

Learn more: http://www.naturalnews.com/046290_ebola_patent_vaccines_profit_motive.html##ixzz3F2JzoEIz  ]]

Interesting indeed! Scary too - dcrelief

And here is what Judge Jeanine had to say. She asks the tough questions.

http://youtu.be/SHAK6oX-JN4

No one is immune to doubt

Know what you want.
Notice exactly what you’re doing.
Is what you’re doing getting you closer to what you want?
If not, try something else.

Badlands National Park

You don't know how much sky you're missing until someone takes a photo like this. Way off in the distance the photo reveals city light.

In the days of my youth I would lay out in the backyard, without a blanket - straight on the ground. Shooting stars were better than TV on a Saturday morning.

Excuse me, I have the urge to go shoot out the green city lamp across from my home. Shhh.

A Halting Tale

Fred and his little brother Roger were eager for the joys of Halloween. Today would be their third and final trip into the woods to secure shrooms, nuts, and special leaves. Then off to trade them at the gift shop for the oh-so-coveted Halloween costumes. Indeed a glorious day awaited. (uh-huh)

Roger's scream echoed through the woods, "Fred, oh my, Fred, come see this shroom!!" Fred rolled his eyes as he often did, at his little brother's exaggerated excitement.

Fred jumped back horrified, staring at a THREE foot shroom. Goodness! Roger had a good reason to scream this time. "That's the ugliest shroom I've ever seen, " said Fred.

"Who's an ugly shroom?" replied the shroom. This time Fred screamed. Roger who turned to run tripped on a large tree root, halting his departure. He lay upon the ground arms flailing wildly unable to speak.

"Well, you are! " yelled Fred. Sure he was a bit frightened, but what the heck it was after all just a member of the mushroom family.

Zip-bang-zowie! and the shroom became a lovely little girl. Fred fell back and felt a tinge of overwhelming love for this 'beautimous' creature. Roger who still lay on the ground thought, uh-oh, this is going to be complicated.

"There are so many more treasures to be found in these woods, my woods," said the lovely little shroom, er, girl. "Follow me through that yonder golden light, and I'll show you." Her eyes did that 'batting' thing and Fred was fast upon her heels.

Roger lay on the pile of leaves watching as the girl shroom and brother Fred disappeared into the golden light, "I ain't going; you can't make me!" But the older boy and lovely shroom had already gone beyond Roger's hearing.

The morning of Halloween came, and still Fred was missing. Many searched the woods daily, to no avail. It was then that Roger realized he had a lot of coins from their "trade-ins," and could upgrade(!) his choice of costume. For the first time he hoped they'd find Fred AFTER Halloween. (uh-huh)

The shop was jammed-packed. Many had waited for the last shipment of new stuff before making a final choice. Roger walked up to a wall that displayed a sign: "Magic Manipulating Potions"... "limit three items for all the stuff you collected in the woods... or equivalent coinage, Roger." (Did the wall know his name? No, the manager is also named 'Roger'. Nice try.)

But Roger, our Roger, thought: This might actually be better than a costume. Just think, a magic potion to make the candy store clerk give you all the candy?!! A magic potion to make the bank teller give you all her one dollar bills! And third, a magic potion to make Roger a hero, finding his brother and bringing him home! A huge parade would of course be given in his honor! All the town's kids would give him their Halloween treats... Roger's imagination was endless. "YES SIR, I want to buy the three magic potions!!!"

"Are you sure?" asked the store manager, Roger. He saw the devilish little smile on the small boy's face. Oh yes, he was sure, alright.

Roger was so happy and went home to make a plan. How was it that he heard Fred calling his name? The voice got louder and louder! What in the world, wasn't Fred lost? Had he been found already? No parade for Roger - what?? It was then that Roger awoke from a very sound dream... a halting dream. No magic potions were on his small desk. He'd merely been asleep. Now it was morning and Fred stood over him, calling him awake.

"Come on little brother. Today I need your help on my science project. I can't let that silly Nelly win the prize. She has won for the last two years. So get up. Help me decide what to do for my science project this year."

Roger's deflation of excitement had taxed him so quickly upon awakening. Here was Fred alive, and he Roger hating it. What? Science project? Oh yes... yes... science project. "I know just the thing Fred! Let's go to the woods and collect shrooms. You can analyze them and tell all about their life cycles and such stuff, right?!" Across Roger's face came a devilish smile. Yes... the science project... so there might still be a chance to make a large Halloween haul after all. And still be the brother-finding hero... YES! he ROGER would see it all come true!!! "Muhu-ha-ha-ha!"

"What did you say Roger?" asked Fred.

Some days are like a dream

You may ask, "what do I mean?" Go ahead, ask.

In a world where there are so many places to go... I am at home most all the time. Health, wealth, and a community that's loads of fun, keep me busy. Busy with what? Busy with trying to communicate to people... just want to reach out and be reached back to. That seems normal. Oh dear, there's the 'n' word. Really, can we know what normal is?

Some people normally dream - every night - in full color! Me? I dream occasionally, and in color, but remembering is not always a given. Oh the scary ones usually hang out and dwell within the recesses of my mind. My personal cure for the baddies is a couple of peanut butter crackers and back to bed. Pronto. Well, unless I simply have to take a look at Facebook, to see if any news is important. Wait, wait, yes!! Someone has posted something really interesting. Might I add a comment? Oh sure, then off to bed.

Normally two hours will pass and that all important news gets filed away in my large cranium. Well, medium-sized will do, right? How could I possibly pass up a few joke postings? After all, the scary dream might still be waiting in the bed for my return.

I suspect Facebook is not really normal; probably not meant for normal people. And ~ probably pure insanity on so many levels. I don't recall there ever being anything like this sight. Wait! Maybe a huge block party where everyone wears their favorite slogan-displaying t-shirt... but that would be the closest. I remember the good old block parties.

I am now staring out my studio window. The green trees of summer have not changed. They stand tall against a pale blue sky. Golden rays of our sun break through allover. One lone tree with a patch of orange leaves captures my attention. Maybe I'll just sit here and dream. Dream of someone gently calling me: "Hey, what the heck is wrong with you? Wake up!"

Like I said, some days are LIKE dreams, but maybe not.

Thanks for reading. DC

Really?

What might next year bring?

The last little dragonfly... maybe it will return next year or maybe it won't. Delicate creatures - you just never know what they encounter. This little guy was small when he arrived in early spring. I just didn't have enough blooms then to keep him hanging around.

About mid-summer I noticed this black and white dragonfly. I'd never seen one like this. Indeed I almost missed seeing it at all because of the wing transparency. It practically faded into the background of my concrete wall. Braver than the blue colored one, I could approach and watch him for a long time. I wonder if I'll get a last glimpse of a black and white one before Autumn really kicks in?

There's another "fly" I once observed. Maybe I should call it a "flyby". It was the briefest, but scariest moment, ("what the heck is that?").  I don't know any details but it happened within a few days of the 2001 September World Trade Center event. Years later I came across it on the Internet; it was called a drone. Haven't seen one since and that's okay with me. 

Are you a nature watcher? Do you like to keep your eyes on the sky? 

A New Season?

There must something I can do. When too many days appear the same, I wonder what talent I might still have. I hate the word "disabled". It has a tendency to impress others with the idea that I'm a cast off. That's not the feeling I have; yet things I used to do are challenging, at times impossible. Sadness is the enemy I combat when thinking on the past. Still I'm encouraged that there is something, and I seek it.

People say, "don't look back," and yet the very thing that gave me past happiness might simply need adjustment. I take care not to limit myself in thought. Physically I can push along some days without injuring myself. It's been a matter of knowing when to stop, rest, return to a project. I was diagnosed "disabled" in 1998. Since then I've come to know the things that have to be avoided. Where would I be without common sense?

So I'm exploring every venue that comes to mind. I welcome any thoughts or ideas from others. Hey just throw something out there; you never know.

Here's hoping your day is filled with direction!

This Autumn

The days of heat wind down, and even though I enjoyed the summer's events ~  this jacket I wear this morning, reminds me that Autumn has begun.

Yesterday's sunset of blue and peach, a clear revealing of the coming beauty ~  is welcomed as the changes arrive in all splendor.

My life seems to flow as this new Autumn does ~
a time of longing for warm embraces, yet a time of cooling calm.

The land I walk has furnished me with pears and purple grapes ~
a summer treasure that gives way to the soon harvesting of walnuts.

I am blessed, in spite of the trials and tribulations encountered ~
summer slowly morphs into another season,
one I've always loved best ~ Autumn.

The Old Farmer's Almanac:   In 2014, the autumnal equinox brings the fall season to the Northern Hemisphere on: September 22 at 10:29 P.M. EDT. I think I felt it arrive!!

Freedom Through Simplicity

Oh dear, I stare at a blank computer screen, and feel the same anxiety creeping up: what to write? Let's get on with it and try to have some fun in a lesson-learning world. After all when I'm not learning, I repeat the same damn mistakes; like sitting here waiting for the computer to 'give me words'.

My favorite read right now comes from E. Stanley Jones. He writes: "The successes of life are often the simplicities of life." Then he shares a situation of a British Ambassador's wife. She sent a request to reserve a front row seat at one of Mr. Jones' meetings. It was explained that an ambassador's wife should never sit with anyone in front of her. Mr. Jones says, "What a complication to live by!  I could sit anywhere; I was free! Bondage to prestige is bondage." Thank you Mr. Jones!

Writing has been far from my thoughts. The whole Internet world has taken a back seat, being replaced by the love of being in the fresh air. I simply cancelled my reservation for a front row seat by my laptop. I would visit all of my favorite blogs, but even commenting meant my fingers had to touch the keys. I'm not sure if I can adequately explain what I mean... so I'll fore go it. I'm here at this moment and there's something to write.

You might think it was a time for me to 'soul search' and that's workable. A time to invest in the subtle nourishment I get from digging in the garden, certainly helped. Either way or any way, love of something bigger than myself was so 'knocking at my door'. How often I can get caught up in self reliance. In fact my own inadequacy has served a better cup. My path runneth over!

Yesterday a friend and I gathered grapes from an old vine that has returned to life! The grapes are dark purple and are so sweet. Nothing my hands did revived that vine. I munched on a pear from a nearby tree while she plucked grapes from the higher branches. I failed to mention the crazy grape vine was climbing up a tree for more sunlight. There are still lots of clusters to ripen. The pears need another week - hopefully the squirrels will hold off on their attack. They only want the seeds but will destroy a whole pear to get there.

E. Stanley Jones writes about an Indian businessman waiting on a train. (In India there are four classes on trains; first, second, intermediate, and third.) The businessman must wait for trains with first class carriages. Third class means wooden benches and crowds. Mr. Jones is taking one of those. The man replies, "Yes, you can go on it, for you are a religious man. If you go first class it doesn't exalt you; and if you go third class, it doesn't degrade you. You are lifted above distinctions, but I have to keep them up." ("Bondage to prestige is bondage.")

Okay, I don't have the fanciful gardens. I barely write anything more than a simple story of what I live daily. The fact that it's been eight months since my last post tells me I'm living differently. Maybe more simply. Enjoying freedom through simplicity. And for the reader that stops by for a visit... something that frees me - might free you? Or something that frees you -  I can add to my list!!


E. Stanley Jones, The Way, published in 1956

Right now, I am small

Right now, I am small.
Things are simple with a single tiny focus.
Earthly eyes are not yet in my possession.
I am simply loved, by all who see me.

Right now, I am small.
There is no clue about my future.
My crib is a home that I love to be in.
Warm kisses great me all day long.

Dad comes and goes.
Mom always knows ~ my every need.
Grandma with sweet songs.
Grandpa plays ping-pong ~ with my toes.
For right now, I am small.

Sleep

Golds and browns, accept your fate ~
a chill arrives, it's getting late.

Your branches gray, with dying moss ~
prepare again for season's loss.

Sleep is due with curling leaves ~
that gather 'neath the forest trees.

Creatures come to build their nests ~
for Autumn's time gives way to rest.

Sleep oh forest without a sound ~
in beauty deep of golds and browns,

Of golds and browns ~ sleep ~

It's just a story - right?

"Over yon hill boy, is the Thanksgiving Day Parade of 2013. Things are so different from our own year of 2050. But come, let us have a look at what they do. I just know it must be exciting; otherwise it might not have been given the sentimental name, "Turkey Day."

A portal opens and two birds from the future come to view the tradition of Thanksgiving. What will they find? Will they realize it is scary and unsafe for them to be in this year? Indeed I'm beginning to wonder if  people are safe being in this year. Especially here in the US of A.; seems we have a lot of 'turkeys' at the top, with fewer and fewer eagles of yesteryear remaining.

"Giant balloons, marching bands, baton-twirling dancers, Broadway skits - surely boy, I say, surely boy, it doesn't get any better than this! And oh look, a huge balloon of our distinguished ancestor, "Tom Turkey"... hi Tom!!!"

The two birds watch as the hours pass. Eventually, they stand next to a row of houses; peeking into window after window they are shocked to find that people are baking turkeys. What in the world is going on?

"They're eating our ancestors?!! I can't handle watching anymore. Let's return to our own time. I'm sure your Mom has finished stewing that swill of man. You know boy, this might explain why in 2050 we eat man every Thanksgiving."

Poof! The birds pop back through their portal. Safe in 2050 they petition the local counsel to start having a Thanksgiving Day parade. And maybe a large balloon of "Charlie Brown." Why not? Some traditions are worth keeping.

Okay ~ the end.

In my yard

Today I sat and watched the leaves. Just like this picture with it's movement.
It was so nice. It was so quiet. I love days like this.

Trick or treat?

Take care what you wish for - it's Halloween

Such an amazing tree house! Three children stood on the ground looking up. Three separate tiers, so maybe  three rounds of candy? Curiosity pulled them in. Climbing only a few steps, one child raised her hand and knocked on the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

A voice from above spoke softly, "I'm up here; climb up here."

So three young children out to seek their weight in candy climbed to the next tier. "Go on," one said, "give her a knock."

Knock, knock, knock.

The same soft voice floated on the air, "I'm up here; climb up here."

The three children, weary from all the steps, hoped they would find the treasure they sought at the last and final tier. The child who hadn't knocked before now raised her hand to do so. "What are you waiting for?" asked the eldest.

Knock, knock, knock.

A face appeared before them. It was as if it were part of the wood, and oh how lovely that face was, or the wood... The soft voice spoke hastily, "My, my, what ever do you wish for; hurry up, I don't have all day."

The three little children found their voice and cries of  "trick or treat," filled the air.

The face in the door looked slowly at each little child and asked, "So which is it, that you wish for... a trick or a treat?"

Answering her question they began to jump, up & down, up & down, up, & down, screaming, "We want candy treats; lots of candy treats; all of the candy treats in the world!"

Suddenly from the sky thousands of candy treats fell, piling up until the top tree house tier collapsed onto the second tier. The quaking continued as more treats fell, collapsing the second tier onto the bottom tier. The children were falling fast now caught in the massive amount of treats, but still screaming for more! A final thud as the bottom tier collapsed, and thousands of chocolate chip cookies covered up their last breath. Bburbburburrrrr.

The lovely face in the door laughed and laughed, while three tiny ghosts flew off into the woods to live forevermore.

The end.

Loki's give away - amazing artistry

This is for my fellow blogger, Andrew. His blog,  "Loki's Great Hall", is having a special give away. He's celebrating his 200th follower. That in itself is an amazing feat! But you must see his artwork, the piece he is giving away!!

Though my own personal choice is acrylic painting on canvas, I can certainly appreciate his wonderful talent. This is a real treasure for gamers who love to battle.

Where I belong

Many times I've walked this site ~
with thoughts of nothing but delight.

Sheer joy with every step I take ~
never hurried, never late.

All round the world seems cold ~
but I come here to cheer my soul.

Loving hands will keep me strong ~
and I will dwell where I belong.

Bourne - again?

First, some music to listen to while you read my smallish post.

Agent "dc" is hot on the trail of a wicked banking industry - one that seeks to destroy her reputation and peaceful home. (No joke - true story.) They seek to possess her heart and soul. But agent "dc" holds all of the documents to dispute the evil, vile bank. Stay tuned for more updates. Agent "dc" has her own "Bourne Identity" and may even decide to take cello lessons.

fencing lessons

Fenced in or flying free ~ sometimes I wonder  ~ which one is me?

Is there an ebb, like the ocean's tide, that carries sorrow and joy throughout our lives? Why is it, that I'll be celebrating a victory of some sort when suddenly, there's a crisis? This has been a repeated 'thing' throughout my life.  I'm come to realize that most everyone else experiences similar flows ~ ~ ~

In with the good, out with the bad... what pray tell was I missing? My turn around time was too short. You know that "moment" you need to feel supported right before the bridge collapses? I'm counting: 1, 2, 3, and really thinking I'll make it to 5... but at 3.2 I'm screwed. (Sorry, but screwed IS the appropriate word.) Oh, "for Pete's sakes, " I'll give you my latest example. (By the way, where did "for Pete's sakes," come from?)

I've been so swept away being the happy homeowner; come this August 8th, it will be two years! Wow! As most of you know I began a mission to build my own block walls to redirect rain water flow and, in general, create some extra beauty. It's also helped me exercise the arm that I broke in May a year ago. My, how time has flown.

It's been great and though some days I cannot get more than seven to ten blocks moved, I'm almost done. I'm on the fourth wall and yet, "I'm off the wall." Yep, one day I stood out in the rain watching the water, and the natural path it chose... winding around and down the hill... my blocks would accommodate the clouds! I felt 'green'. LOL.

Then I noticed that one of the rain downspouts needed help directing water away from the house. You know... those long metal things/pipe-like drains that pull rain water from the roof?! So I took a little trip down to my basement to see if I could 'engineer' something to help temporarily. Gosh, hadn't been down in the basement for over a week; been so busy watching the rain from the outside for the block mission. Egad! Water on the floor! Oh my... water in half of the basement. I knew we had several hard rains over the last week but... this! This was going to take some work. Exactly five days on my own and the basement is now dry.

Here's the good part. The new paths I've made using the blocks are working. If not the entire basement would have been flooded. I did discover that my sump pump has ceased living!(sigh) I've been watching videos to see if I can do a replacement installation. Basically I have to find out what the current model, size, make is. I guess it's like buying a car?? And yep, I already checked the electrical outlets... they're working fine. Anyway I can always call for a consultation with an expert. They don't charge but their help might give me an edge I don't already have. You see, I'm also going to put commercial downspouts on my home; should have been that way from the beginning. It's a big roof!!! Try not to laugh, dcrelief has high hopes.

So... being a homeowner... am I fenced in or flying free? Forget that... just let me know how you're doing. Or maybe you've done some house project that would help. And yes, don't do like my neighbor across the street and say, "You need a man." (As he smiled and batted his eyelids at me.) Personally I think the maintenance on my house would be cheaper!!!

Thanks for reading.

ode to rain

Summer, summer, summer,
and the rain came down.

Trickle, trickle, tickle,
not a dry spot found.

While here I sit in swaddling clothes  ~
the raindrops running down my nose.

Ode, ode, ode  ~
thus my ode to rain.


(Image: "The Graphics Fairy"; Thanks, Fairy!)

a child's summer

Sunlight plays on the garden
where tiny bees gather nectar.
I watch as they sip from all the flowers,
taking hours to get their fill.

It takes me far away
from the things that trouble me.
Life slows down for just a while,
I have to smile and  remember when.

Teddy bear clouds dance on the wind,
float through the air and gone.
That was a summer to never forget,
never regret the growth of my soul.

Even as my Mom called to me
a time for dinner, then to bed.
The day was through,
goodnight to you, you flew on.

making beds to lie in...

Life has a way of circling back memories we'd thought forgotten. So it was with me this past week as I made the bed in the smallest room of my home. It used to be my room. Long since painted a different shade of lavender, it still feels like my space! Perfect for viewing the sunset, I travel there so I can travel elsewhere... in my mind... remembering a certain thirteen year old doing the very same thing.
Of course there's a 'jambox' for listening to music. What sane teenage girl would be without her favorite tunes? Set to radio I flipped the switch and suddenly was transported to 1968. A song from the past filled the air; I had more memories than my heart could contain. The overflow spilled onto my cheeks. Okay now... it's okay now.
June - 1968 - Mom and I are making my bed in the small room. The gentle guitar moves, finger fretting, came over the air and we knew the song. "Ode to Billie Joe" and we knew the words, mostly. Mom got to the verse that says:
"There was a virus going 'round; Papa caught it and he died last spring." But then she made a goof and continued... "and now Papa doesn't seem to wanna do much of anything."
Pure hysterical laughter as we realized her mistake. I guess Papa wouldn't want to do much of anything.(smile)
June- 2013 - So there I was making that bed, thinking about all my troubles of late. Reached over and flipped the switch on that old 'jambox' and yep... got to the part of Mom's goof and hooted and hollered. I laughed until I cried but I was laughing.
Lots of speculation about that song. Bobbie Gentry, author and artist, moved on to study Philosophy in California. She once told the BBC, 1968, the song was a "study in unconscious cruelty," which I didn't understand until I saw the 1976 movie. So finding this video really is eye-opening because you see firsthand the "family table talk" and dancing around the "why".  A young man is dead because the times were as they were... being gay was "unpardonable" by people. Forty-five years have passed... are we there yet?

goofing off

One summer & Paul

I was fourteen, loving life, living as large as an eighth grade student could live. My super high on life was going to last forever. I was sure. Besides it was the summer of 69, who could lose?

My Grandmother's home was just around the curve from the Clinton water tower. You saw the tower, you were practically standing on her old white-washed wooden porch. There was probably a chicken or two in the yard; they'd scatter whenever cars rolled into that big dirt driveway. The neighbor's dog, "Champ" would come off the porch, bark a moment as if to say, "what took you so long?" Then Grandmother herself in the apron of the day would greet us with a loud, "Hello there, I need some hugs!"

A big family gathering this time as cousin Paul was arriving home from Vietnam. Two tours of duty... a proud Marine... but something was so wrong. He wasn't the same. But I was fourteen, going to live forever, and glad to see my favorite cousin. He told me of the time I mailed him Wrigley's chewing gum and he had to do fifty push-ups to keep the gum. Next time I needed to mail it so the mail officer wouldn't know... "Lay all five pieces of gum flat, then tape them to the back of your letter."  It worked!

Grandmother's home looked like one of those old southern, stately homes. (Think, "Gone With the Wind" - the movie.) My Grandfather had died before I was born. He and the Mrs. paid the large sum of $1800 for a two story, 35 acre home; with twelve children it came in handy. My favorite part was the porch that wrapped around three-fourths of the house; particularly the wooden swing on the side where the rose bushes grew. South Carolina sand was a natural for the plants. Aunt Pat would be playing hymns in the parlour, while I would absorb the aroma of the flowers. That piano was possibly a hundred years old, but she kept it tuned for her Mom. Gradually all the brother and sisters would become this all-gospel choir. I preferred rock, but listening while swinging, sure did make a body feel peaceful. Then again, maybe it was just the summer of 69.

Pretty soon "the choir" would stop and a massive movement of rocking chairs would start to fill the very front of the porch. Everyone looking outwards toward the road waving, "howdy" to every passing car. Younger cousins filled the yard chasing chickens or playing dodge ball. They would run until they dropped. Only cousin Paul remained in his room on the second floor.

My own family was there for two days. In that time I rarely saw Paul. He seemed to stay out of sight on purpose. My uncle who was still in the Marines and had been to Vietnam, asked everyone to give Paul time. "You cannot imagine," he said, "leaving the killing fields one day to arrive in perfect safety the next. The shock of death surrounds you and then you're home where people are singing hymns. Makes you wonder if God even knows there's a Vietnam."

Two weeks, maybe three passed. A busy fourteen year old was making beach plans. My parents had rented a tiny cottage for a week and I was so ready for fun and sun. In fact we were loading the car when the mail ran. My Mom called out, "Hey, Dixie, here's a letter from Paul for you." I was excited that he might continue writing me after getting home. But then I saw the return address... one of those long, multi-lined, multi-number addresses of the military. He signed on for a third tour. I read as hot tears welled up and fell on my cheeks. He felt that's where he belonged.

"I cannot relate to anyone. Maybe Uncle Tony because he's been here, but even he seems to be okay. He has Aunt Deb and the kids. At home I'm alone. Here I have my buddies; we are family. I cannot leave them. I cannot stay where there is no sound. For in that silence I hear their cries. I love you. Please write. Love, Paul"

When he requested his fifth tour of duty they refused him. Once home he stayed in a drunken blitz. In and out of trouble with the law, and no relationship ever lasted. He was so alone. I was 28 and we arranged to spend a day hanging out. We had so much fun and he didn't drink the entire time. We drove down all the back roads... making it to Grandmother's house finally. Since her death no one was there to care for it. He had a taken an apartment after his Mom threw him out. But on this day none of that mattered to him. He and an old friend were enjoying life. A year later he was dead... fatal car accident, though some suspect suicide. I don't know but I'm certainly not going to cast a stone. If anyone needed peace he did... and those who serve in the same capacity.

Thank you for reading.

I dedicate this video to Paul.

White sky = emptiness?

Words no words,
and yet I feel the need to type

What goes on
within a mind that's so distracted?

Where did I
lay down my peaceful attitude?

It was here
just days ago and disappeared again.

Chemtrails against the sky
are you the reason I've faltered at living?

Taking no pleasure
in anything outside and yet I go there.

Words just words,
but they're all I have for expression.

White sky emptiness
you will not win; even as I write, I've won.

No blame

Finding focus... reasons to continue... mid-life, but late, crisis?
Meanwhile being outside brings me some sort of fulfillment... a normal spring, again.
But wait! Let me start at the latest beginning, as I enter into:

Rant # 3,648

Wars and rumors of wars... every day. Everybody wants to rule the world. (Wasn't there a song by that title?)

Forget gold and silver... check out the price of a rump roast. A simple everyday cheap cut of beef. So I bought some ground turkey to do a hearty meatloaf. It had absolutely no flavor.

I'm thinking to give up cigarettes, though I really like to smoke. The cost doesn't bother me, but of late with all the people bumming "just one", it's become a nuisance. And heaven hold your breath should I say, "I'll sell you one for 15 cents." You'd think I was charging an arm and a leg! Only those people who know the importance of a budget understand "why" the small price.

On one hand I find myself angry about home issues; then just as quickly I am thankful to have a home at all. I entered my eighth month of an overwhelmed budget. The light is now visible and I am happy to be moving in a right direction. (In previous posts I shared the combination of occurrences that brought this about.)

I often come to my blog thinking I must only post good stuff. Nothing sad, mad, or scared, should ever be committed to the Internet world of "dcrelief". What a bunch of rubbish! If anything I want to convey the fact that I am real. I live. I cry. I laugh. I fall down and get up. What anyone thinks of me is not the issue. If someone reads this blog and determines one sentence gets them through some issue of their own... then that's important. I'd like to know about those things.

God's blessings. There is so much controversy concerning religion. Hah! There's nothing NEW under the sun. (Ecclesiastes). With a few years of peace here and there, but not necessarily everywhere at the same time... there's nothing new. As if all the arguing and debate is the point of religion. Hmm? No, nothing new there either...  and ~ it is the point... keep everyone fighting. Then if our house gets hit by the storm, call it God's will. Don't call it HARRP.

The reason I live is because I have faith that the very God people would shun does indeed exist. It's taken me years and some wonderful experiences to shape that belief... and it is belief. Most of those experiences had negative results... for a while. I could no more "see" anything good to come than the next person. And don't think I've got it down pat today either. I'll always be seeking His face. End of topic.

So I am back to the start of my post. I think it must be time for a change though I have no idea what that might be. It just seems to be a waiting time. Maybe my head needs to catch up with my heart. Until then I'll keep doing the short sabbaticals in the sunlight; after all it is spring, still. The post man will be happy to note the removal of the poison ivy from the area of the mailbox! The rubbish collectors will be happy to see the neat little piles of brush by the road; job security? Last of all a Fibromyalgia fog is hopefully lifting soon. I can't wait for the poetry of my heart to return to the blog.

Thanks for visiting!

"let me out"

It's thrilling to meet an artist who can do this type of work. He simply "sees" the object "inside" of the wood. It beckons him to let it out.(wow)

The tree man will return this week to do more tree removal. Our last episode had him cutting the large, limbless trunk into eight sections. They respectfully measure between 8-12 feet each, with a diameter of 3-4 feet. This is no tiny tree!

Can he make this bench? I'll have to show him this photo and see what he says. Also I can't wait to see photos of things he's been making during the interim. Hints of specially designed pieces were clues from the last episode. I suspect he'll have the Adirondack chair completed??!(smile)

Surreal - Tuesdays

Have you ever had a moment when time appeared to stand still, even though the days are passing quickly? This is what I'm experiencing. I count Tuesdays. It seems to be a anchoring point. Suddenly seven days have passed and it's Tuesday again. Tuesday? Is there any significance in my choice of Tuesday? I have no idea.
Any thoughts from the blog-sphere?

And the photo? It's as if they are standing still... surreal.

Memory rose

Hi Mom~ your rose began to bloom on Thursday.

Strange how nothing came to mind for me to blog about.
Not until I sat down and remembered the rose, did it occur to me.
I must have walked past it a dozen times on Friday.

My god-daughter has a phone camera.
Yes, you'd love her too.
I can't wait for you to meet her! One fine day.

You're the one who said, "Every year when that rose blooms..."
You know I thought it was dead, so we cut it back really hard.
"... you'll know that I'm thinking of you, Dixie.

Thanks for the rose, Mom.

child-like

I would love to return to a place of innocence.
Did I grow out of it, or did older people influence my change?

And why would they rush me to grow up?
What could possibly be greater than beauty and wonder?

Curiosity painted the flowers - each one a carefree color.
Tiny petals tempted the brush: "paint me red, no paint me yellow."

Little eyes gaze upon small bugs wanting to paint them too.
Look at all the feet that could use little shoes.

Adults tell me I cannot go back; are they wrong?
I love a retreat for a heart that loves nature's creatures.

Grab your paintbox and your brushes.
I go to a place of innocence ~ and you?

by the light

By all means, the lights must stay on.

As I child I explored the world of darkness. There were many moments of fervent adventure under my bed covers to places unknown. Yes, there might be the occasional lamp or flashlight to abolish a creepy feeling, but I never thought the light would become a necessity. And who paid for light? Wasn't that a gift from the Creator I so loved? Wasn't night time darkness simply the sun taking a nap? And hey! Why wasn't the moon always around? The biggest night time lamp available that wasn't always shining; what was the deal?

This photo captured the essence of my most recent adventure.  I'm mostly all grown up and yet keeping the light has become more important that playing in the dark. Arrggghhh! One day you realise how much a power system holds you captive. The company that provides it is the big bogeyman monopoly... not unlike the game of the same name... you can purchase stock in it you know?

It's a hard climb but I think I've finally reached a place where I can plug in. I cannot control the price of the therms... just wear more thermals when it's cold. Summertime will soon brings it's own irrational thoughts to be dealt with. Maybe an ice pack in my lap while I'm at the laptop?!! Either way, damn it, by all means... the lights must stay on.

Do you have a choice of energy companies where you live or a monopoly like I live with???

Or what do you think about the photo? I found it while looking for new light fixtures! This could actually work for me.

spring rite - right?

Nothing says Spring like a pot of pigs in chocolate pudding.
Hey nana boo-boo, bring on the pigs.

Nothing says Spring like a barrel of those little wafer bars.
Hey nana boo-boo, bring on the bars.

When I was a child
Chocolate wasn't there
Not like it is today
But only at the fair ~
Hard candy and cotton stuff
May have been nice
But wasn't enough!

Hey nana boo-boo, I'm older.

On a more serious note - it's been raining all day. Ah, what has happened to the sunshine? Now I must trek to the store and find some chocolate morsel to satisfy this crazy craving. Is it the rain that tortures me? Might the torrential downpour prohibit me from my trek? Would I, could I be satisfied with a simple danish(scone like thing)?

Nothing says Spring like: get in the car, find something for real, bring it home in a small poky, sniff for five minutes to whet my appetite... and... and...

Hey nana boo-boo, nothing says Spring like a pot of pigs in chocolate pudding...

the fruit of the tree

Busy time in my yard! The big tree is finally unfolding into such spectacular objects of desire. Who could say "no" to this really smart wooden sofa?

It's been a long time for the tree lying across my front lawn. Lots of people have hauled away load after load of logs for firewood. Many a fireplace burned this past winter with the treasure from my home. Eventually an 80 ft. long trunk was left and ... "what to do, what to do?" Answering my advertisement for "free wood," Peter the tree artist called me up! And look what he does for a living!

It will cost me if I decide to have him carve or build anything for me; such a hard decision, and who knew it would come to this? I figure at the $ rate of the pieces... I can afford a small wooden plate, maybe. Amazing, this fruit of the tree!

a must share

I've been pricing out solar, battery and direct current lamps for my yard. Along comes this brilliant idea. I simply have to share... a must share!

This is not my yard... not yet! These pots have been painted with brand name, "Rustoleum's glow in the dark" paint. I'm thinking that these pots must get an incredible amount of day light.

I'm thinking to use smaller pots that create a line of light next to my walkway. Or maybe some pvc pipes pushed into the ground. The plants are not a requirement.

(Oh I simply must break down and purchase a new camera. I'd love to share the fruit of my labor.(smile)) Until then... you 'all' light up my life.

Height - as in stacking up the boo-boos

Height has always been an issue for me. My fear of heights has deterred many a project from being
done. Strangely I can climb up ten feet on a ladder and be okay. Any height less than that and my legs turn to jelly, and my stomach turns. It seems so foolish, but I have learned to pay attention to all fears.

There are "heights" in my mind too. Situations come along and affect my well-being. I'm required to cross a bridge. Wait, isn't this, then, a "fear of bridges?" I thought of that and realized that the crossing was the easy part. When distracted by the height, the bridge disappears. A more serious situation requires more commitment. There has to be a way of reducing the height... a way to reduce the depth of hurt, loss, or whatever emotion I fear will result. Is that even possible? Did I explain it well enough to be understood?

In my life I think the space under the bridge, that makes up the height, is the result of my putting off the task of resolving an issue.   In other words I let things accumulate until they're harder or more challenging to resolve. So there is a away of relief.  And that's all I have to say for now.