A new year (wood) would be nice

Guess who-oo? Huhuhuhuhuhuh....hhhuuhuhuhuhuh...waaaaa!

Maybe you remember the cartoon character, Woody Woodpecker? Maybe you don't.

Walter Benjamin Lantz (April 27, 1899 – March 22, 1994) was an American cartoonist, animator, film producer, and director, best known for founding Walter Lantz Productions and creating Woody Woodpecker.

He was also first cousin to my Grandmother; therefore a third cousin to me. Oh wow, genealogy has a closet of info, just waiting for discovery. Pop the door, walk through and find who's related to you.

Anyway I found it more enchanting and interesting being related to Walter Lantz and his crazy animated bird. On the other side of the family are two horse thieves and a train robber named Sam.

Hmmm? Maybe 2012 will bring something interesting too. A "Woody" for all; a "Sam" for some; a life free of thieves. Happy New Year bloggers, friends, readers!!!

G'night Pap

One of my very favorite people passed away on December 28th. At 93, he was ready for the big pond in the sky. He had three wishes before he died. #1 Go to his small Florida home where it's warm this time of year. #2 Be with all of his grown children and most of their children. #3 Go fishing at the lake in front of his home. 


Pap was the grandfather I'd always hoped to have around through adulthood. He was my former husband's grandfather but always treated me so kindly. In fact I was the only one in the entire family to work in his private garden. We were from the old school of thought that you didn't have to cut down the whole plant to harvest it's vegetables.


When I finally got in touch with family I was told he'd passed in the middle of the night in his sleep. And yes, Christmas day all the family was there to celebrate the birth of Jesus. The best part was him going fishing with the guys and bringing back a big haul of fish!


In the spring or early summer the family plans to have a memorial service. "Pap" was cremated and it's then that we'll all gather to say final 'goodbyes'. Until then I'll just say: "G'night Pap."

Revolving resolutions

Do I have a New Year's resolution? If I don't does it matter? You see, I'm better at making needed changes around sometime in May. I get the spring nostalgia and wish to fling my oats away...casting all of the winter's gook and mook into the ether.

How did we come to the New Year's resolution scenario anyway? Who thought that up? Well I heard it happened years before any of us were born. Years before any of our great grand parents were born. Sort of like the first year someone in your family makes banana pudding for a certain event. Before you know it, banana pudding is always served at the same event, year after year.

I have what I call the 'revolving resolution' theory. Given the right set of resolutions to make my self a better person, I rotate them year after year. Eventually one of them works and I am transformed. So while I'm getting my oats ready for the spring, there is some time left to create a set of resolutions. Indeed I have four waiting in the wing. Ah, which one will be the one to help me become a better one? How about I tell you later... say in May?!!

Happy New Year to those who wish to participate. Meanwhile, send me your tired, your poor, your resolutions.

Pink Forest Sunrise

About three years back I painted this, "Pink Forest Sunrise". It was a real trek through the Pennsylvania woods with three nieces. They insisted I had to see the sun come up over the ridge; I'm glad I did.

Winter's child

Winter's child goes out to play 
breathes in deep the crisp air; stay! 
Snowy drifts hide the playful steps 
of winter's child with no regrets. 


Many birds will greet with song 
while winter's child just tags along. 
Catching flakes upon her tongue 
lovely child has just begun. 


Trekking through the trees so green 
life seems small; an endless seam. 
Dance and play; don't miss a thing. 
Winter's child is here 'til spring.

The warmth

As a child this scene was so familiar. A glowing fireplace shared with the season of Christmas. How often I would lie in front of it and reflect on my world. It was with great delight that I stayed right there, very still, and absorbed the warmth.

(A re-post from December 2010)

Whooo, did what?

First draft; only draft... letting my blogger pals know that my world feels a bit smaller. I'm just going to type whatever comes to mind and then leave it here. This too shall pass.

I think most of you know my husband and I are divorcing. That's okay, we weren't close for the past ten years. The hard part, the devastating part is looking at photos of the nieces and nephews I may never see again. That part of my family that came with him. Watching them all grow up and now hearing each having a child... so much loss... I have no words.

My own family is so at odds, it's ridiculous. Since my Dad's death, over a year ago, the greed has amazed me. I truly do not know my family. And I'm not surprised then that they don't know me. It's taken a great deal of prayers to keep me from not speaking too much of my mind. I'd rather not react in anger, but there are times I'm finding that a "bold word" is necessary.

Mostly I'm content. I've learned that reaching out to others brings me more joy than I already have. I went to my Godmother's home and helped her daughter begin the process of emptying it. My Godmother died about five months ago. I know too well about removing things of another. I asked my own God-daughter to come with me. Together we got this wonderful woman to begin a healing process; something she needed; something we felt that God sent us to assist with.

There's a person I'd like to get closer to... but it's like a dog chasing a car... LOL. What would I do if I caught it? Dogs can't drive. If I don't know enough, to venture out, then oops, I'd better rethink my actions. It would seem I'm getting older and more cautious.

I suppose 'southern women' would call my writing, "airing my dirty laundry"... but I know my blog pals. If there's any good advice they will step forward to lend a hand or offer good thoughts. It's a blessing to me.

Okay, that's enough for now; hopefully for a great while... at least two days!!!

Have a great weekend, everyone.

Dixie

What gift will you keep?

What gift will you keep for the rest of your life? Did someone give you a special train, building blocks, or a warm hug on Christmas morn?


Is there a gift you leave in the box it came in and carry it wherever you go? Did you also keep the ribbon and paper that surrounded it?


Did you hear of a child born long ago who volunteered to make a better way? Did you believe that, or like the “Santa myth”, toss it out when things didn't go your way?


Long after stores stop the pressure to buy their stuff, will you remember it was all about the birth of a king? Did you take them up on all of their sales? Maybe you think the king owed a bigger discount; most everyone went to 50% off early in the season.

Why in the world would three wise men follow a star for two years? What gift did they hope to find? And did they keep the gift? History and now archeology say they did.


I don't know if I'm helping or hurting... but for me the gift to keep is love.


But I'm curious... what has been your favorite gift? Do you still keep it safe within your heart... or on a shelf in the dark?

Gifts

For Christmas?

I would love to have some shoes but I really want a hat.
And~ a doll with red-blond hair but my brother wants a bat.

So if I can have the shoes and a single pair of socks,
give the bat to my brother 'cause to him, this means a lot.

*      *     *



Dedicated to The Thompson Children's Orphanage,
Charlotte, NC

Collating

Santa and Jesus come each year.

I always have to cheer.

The big guy's fat; the baby's dear.

Love for the little one, Santa's feared.

Santa's what I fear, he might withhold my toys.

Shhh, the babe is making noise.

The star on high is poised.

But I hear Santa's voice.

Our chimney is nice and clean

as Santa makes the scene.

While Herald angels sing,

To announce the new born king.

My confusion has me blind

To the life that could be mine

If not for Christmas time

I'd hear the church bells chime.

But who can let him go?

That man that lives in snow.

The “good and bad” he knows,

Trumps the swaddling clothes?

At the age of nine I see,

That Santa's “make-believe”.

I feel the need to grieve,

A story that deceives.

I search for answers all around,

As Santa's sleigh dives to the ground.

The babe grows up and love abounds.

He looked for me 'til I was found.

~dcrelief~ December 2011

in starry realm

In the middle of the night... a small babe myself... hugged the window sill to view 'the star'. So there was a birth to remember and now a star to help me remember it. Well, I wanted my own star! Why was this the only babe with a star? ~And why did it seem to appear every year over my home? Still, it was so beautiful; it just had to mean something more than reminding us of a birth.

As a child, I noticed storm clouds that hid the viewing of the star. Where did it go? It's great brightness decided to shine elsewhere? I grew and realized the wise magi followed this same star for two years. Guess they never had storm clouds. The babe was two years old, living in a house with his parents, when the magi arrived with gifts and worship. I knew nothing of worship but gifts were something else.

Hmmm, get a star, get a gift? Wait! Every year that I watched for this star I had a gift, waiting for me, the next morning. I didn't understand but I was aging faster than the babe, so I had more time, I think...

Then again, the reasoning power of a four year is perfect but flawed.

more than a feeling ~

A flood of thoughts and feelings, for this season, the painting brought to me. The dynamics of the layout with the moonlit sky came forward as the first thing I noticed; then came the tree. But, oh, how the tiny streets had me backtrack to the small church with stained glass windows. The ancient angels and other divine beings might be singing in the sky, while in that church people smiled, and swayed to the tune of “Silent Night.” It's pure joy to come this far in my life and realize the things I cherished as a young child abound more so, now, than then. More than a feeling, it's an inner thing, a spirit of love, truth, guidance, that I have experienced over many times.

As a child I grew up with the babe in the manger. Every year He was continually placed in the manger; though I wondered, when would He grow up? There came a time I lost interest in the day and considered all lost and bothersome. The commercial governing of His life kept Him small. Yet somewhere within, an inner thing, a spirit of love, truth, guidance, I felt brought back. The innocence of a child, a babe, living to eventually die for me, was an astonishing revelation. I needed a God experience to instill the belief that held my heart.

I've had so many God experiences. Many times, many miracles... many moments of proof to last me a lifetime. I experienced faith and each time, presented has been more remarkable; more than a feeling.

I cling to the message: “In this life you shall have trials and tribulations, but be of good cheer, for I have overcome the world.”

I'll write more soon! Thank you, and Good Christmas.

Credit: “Christmas Land” ~ Jessie Barnes, 1989 (free share photo site).

morning joy

Early morning found me lounging with a cuppa coffee in the great outdoors. So many leaves had fallen, but not all, not yet. From behind my left shoulder a loud squawking was headed my way. Up high I laughed when I saw the birds hop-scotching across empty limbs. I wasn't sure where they were headed, or what kind of birds they were. When they flew, they all flew together, like a giant wave or a large black wing across the sky. Something so simple as watching those birds gave me a moment of joy. Another cup would be nice; anyone else? What brings you joy?

Celebrating together

Next?

Should we worry about extinction?

Hometown Hero

Local son rolling in the nuts

Simon watched with heated breath, hah, hah, hah.
As the biggest white nut, he'd ever seen, flew across the infield.
He carefully rounded first base, past second, and caught the nut at third.
His only thought to get it home, and when he crossed home plate the cheers were deafening!

The great MLB offered him a standard contract. So now Simon will be rolling in the nuts: peacan and walnut, specifically

Congratulations, Simon! See you in the Macy's Parade.

The Ribbon Walk

I went out early to walk to the park. Further than I have any business walking to, but largely 'impressive' to those who know me, (haha). Alas I would have you, my true blue blogger pals, know the trick behind this treat. Meanwhile, once I discovered I'd have to walk a half mile to get there, I became scared. Ooh, what if someone ran me down on the highway... what would I do? Yes, I know, I might darn near lay there bleeding to death. Worse still the impact might crush my bag of “Cheetos” @R. The birds would flock over my head, encircling my bag and squawk, “let go of the bag, lady.” (Oh bother). Well nothing so dramatic happened; I drove my van to the little parking lot. Jumped out with the energy of a spry 50 year old, (haha). Took in a deep breathe of the wondrous air and began choking and coughing. After seeing all the birds awake and fly off, I settled down for a nice pace through the woods... and that delicious trail called “The Ribbon Walk”. (Don't ask me, as I've no idea why it's called that.) The light was just ahead upon the trail, and I knew the happy moment was in my sight. I put my little ace-ladder chair on the ground... sat down, and focused the old digital camera. I pressed the button that says, “T” for telephoto... and my picture tells the rest of the story! (No, I did't walk that far... what about bears and stuff? What about ticks falling from the trees? What about the jacket I left in the van?) It was great! Thanks, Dixie

Autumn scent

I love the smell of the leaves
in the Autumn as they fall
as they die. I watch the wind give them flight, then
land on the ground.
Resting with a crunching sound.

Leaves carried north, carried south,
and swarming 'round my feet, as
a faint fireplace in the distance
gives scent to burning wood.
The two scents blend and it feels good.

Thanks you, Dixie

It occupies my time~

Every morning I go to my special desk where I write articles for the blog. Sometimes I eek out a poem or two. Before you know it I'm looking around the yard, through the window, and my mind becomes occupied by the tasks I want to do. I close my notebook and head to the yard with gloves in hand. Even when it rains I want to be outside.

My blessing is 1.20 acres of land. There's room for a full size garden. There's a large forest and I've been through it; it's wonderful with every tree you can imagine. There's a gazebo where the squirrels climb on top to let me know who's the boss! From the very high pinnacle they shake their bushy tails as if to say: "We've got this covered, move along!"

I've a list that needs doing before winter and I'm working hard to get it done. Most of it is a lot of fun. Keep me in your prayers or meditations.

Thank you, Dixie

Pumpkin spice

Traveling vines across the grounds
Waiting for the sun above
Springing forth without a sound
Pumpkin spice is what I love

And so I wait until they're grown
Golden orbs look mighty fine
I pluck them off to take the home
That pumpkin spice will soon be mine

The house is filled with awesome smell
That lasts for days and feels so nice
Of all the memories I know so well
There's nothing like the pumpkin spice

Before there was you, there was me ~

I was born and all alone
In the world I traveled
Off to places in my head
Then one day I met you

There was freedom everywhere
There was life without a care
Life without a care

You arrived and I was thrilled
Company to travel onward
Off to places in our heads
Then one day a clash

My emotions choked the air
You had none you wished to share
None you wished to share

That is when I turned away
Walked alone but felt content
I took the lesson that I learned
And chose the path of joy



[{Ciao, baby}]

She ain't right, but she's friendly.

A couple of my blog buddies have decided I'm a friendly blogger. The award comes with a sweet little picture. That's definitely me; I love sweet little pictures! More than that – I love my blogging friends – they make me look at my path, via humour or serious input. Without them I might not be the seriously insane, yet friendly blogger you've been exposed to.

David of “A Day in the Life,” blog was very kind in his assessment of my attitude. “Friendly is as friendly does.” Certainly he and I have connected on various subjects that need more attention in the world, beginning at our on doorstep. I admire his writing and the life experiences he brings to the table for our understanding. Thank you, David.

Gary of “klahanie,” blog is the second blogging pal to give me the “Friendly Blogger Award.” His variety in writing styles keeps me gussing: what will he do next? Then ofcourse his smallish dog, Penny, is quite pawsitively he's greatest asset. Stories told from her perspective loom large among the various bloggers. ~And did I mention humour? This one writer brings out the funny bone and beats me with it. Thank you, Gary.

I've never met an ugly blogger. They all seem friendly to me. Even the person that keeps sending advertisements for 'Viagra,' seems friendly enough. Please note, I have nothing for 'viagra' to work on... you're wasting the ad!

I've forgotten how to do links. If you like my blog and you read it, whenever I get around to posting an article, please consider yourself AWARDED. The nicest thing, the friendliest thing is having someone give some attention to your life... especially days when I've forgotten me.

~dcrelief

Goodbye Summer

Here... on the beach... I rest from ocean's waves.
All the noisy people have left and I can sleep... Zzz.

Hey! ... who's that touching my little arm? Number 3 of 5?
What? ... where are you taking me, I'm sleeping can't you see?

Uh-oh, uh-oh, I'm flying through the air!!
The kid thinks I'm a Frisbee; come back and get your kid!!!

Way over here... still upon the beach... the waves a little closer.
Yet life is good and all my arms are here...(yawn) time to go to sleep... Zzz.

I got nothing.

I got nothing. It's a blank page tonight, and we're hoping to find my ink tomorrow.

Life has been like a sound stage and I have no clue what 'exit right' means. Did I tell you, I got nothing?

Count 'em; I got 47 billion brain cells waiting to be used... but the pilot light went out about a week back... and I got nothing!!

On my digital camera there are new photos of the torture we're putting the yard through. If “a picture is worth a thousand words,” that'll be one super blog, huh? But I'm tuckerd out; developing muscles I was never meant to have, I'm pretty sure.

And~ I said all of that to say this: I got nothing.

all that fluff

Hello, my name is Charles. I've sat on the sideline for weeks watching this woman unload box after box. What's the problem with humans? Why can't there be a couple of boxes and they're done?

I used ONE box when I moved. Having two bowls, one for water and one for food, I'm flabbergasted at the multi-sets of glasses and dishes! There's my winter snug-coat and two pairs of little boots. ~And my smallish bed and 'bloop' my favorite stuffed toy.... one box!

It's obscene, I tell you. Thousands of possessions marching through the doors; a never-ending story of 'packaholics'.

It's hard for me to understand... all that fluff... for what?

Are you done?

sometimes

Sometimes I must wait,
for more light,
to understand,
or be at peace.

Humble pie

Many times I've allowed my ego to write checks that my body cannot cash. You know, bragging and going on about the success I exude from every pore... what a bore... right?! Such is the crux of the tale I choose to share.

In humble community I spied this Chevy truck. My-oh-my a 1967, and loaded with 'unapparent' goodies. Though the 'Green' angel sitting on my shoulder was warning me, I thought, “oh c'mon, it's an old Chevy, what's the harm with a test drive?” Eight cyclinders, a 350 under the hood, no automatic steering, three gears on the column, and a hair-trigger clutch; what could go wrong? A friend and I took the plundge, and I really mean that, as they're were no seatbelts! Add leather seats and I was definitely 'going' places!

I cranked that bad boy up, easied the clutch out, barely touching the gas pedal, and was slammed back into the seat. I took a slight right hand turn and heard tires squalling as I fish-tailed out of the parking lot; like so: “ERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRKKKKKKKKKKK”... Immediately I was terrified as I fought to regain control. (regain?) Slipped my foot off of the gas and jumped my way to the first traffic light.

The straight steering had left me breathless; I looked over at my friend to see how she was fairing. People react differently to trauma; at least that was what I was feeling – traumatized. But she was laughing. She laughed during the entire test drive. She even felt 'impressed' by the way I handled the huge steering wheel. I didn't have the heart or humility to tell her that 'IT' handled me. I only know that once I parked that truck I was no longer entranced. The good thing is that I think I fixed my spine that had been out of place.(grin)



The next day I test drove this van, bought it, and I'm very happy. If I need a truck I can always remove the seats to haul something around... like my enlarged ego, and a recipe for 'humble pie'.

Campfire Girls

We were all alone in the days of childhood. Though we laughed and played no one ever knew you lived. From the highest tree to the gentle stream, no one ever knew... only me.

We had a favorite basket to gather pretty stones. A sink was filled with water to wash the dirt away. I would see you yawn and know that you'd be leaving. I would watch the sun set in the direction of your home.

Too young to be a campfire girl, we sneaked away to cry. Seems we were the same age, with the same problem, even though Mom says you don't exist. She says I have to let you go... but where to?

Why? How do I answer that question? I began to live within a dark space. Your light no longer shone. I walk out into the yard and knew I was alone.

My parents changed churches, which caused them to drive by a childrens' orphanage. I saw you sitting behind a great wrought iron fence... it was you! Please stop the car, that's her! Yes I'm quite sure.

For three Sundays we stopped at the orphanage so I could speak to you. I heard my Mom and Dad talking of adoption. Wow, I might soon have a sister! Unfortunately my Dad didn't want to follow through. He even changed the driving route.

One Sunday we rode by, and the sad face I saw was my own reflection in the window's glass. You weren't sitting at the fence. 'Terminal' is not a word a six year old would normally know... but I had a gut feeling which was about to be verified. I was glad my Mom met you... sitting in that tiny wheelchair.

They returned a stuffed bear I'd given you, and a card you left me, which I still have. So any time I light a campfire I look for you to be dancing on the wind; those incredible somersaults that no one else could ever do.

We both dreamed of having a friend... and became the other's dream, fulfilled.

My house

On August 8, 2011 I signed formal papers taking possession of my parents' home. These photos are five years old. The yard work is on standby until we empty the house of its contents. By the time we're done it will have taken three weeks to get everything out!! Then I can begin to move my stuff in!!!



I'm so excited ~~~

Creative trash

I'm pretty sure the post title is a statement, and not a question. You know... leaving things a bit open ended creates excitement.

Why is it that my neighbors' trash looks more exciting, inviting, than mine? One sniff and I'm carried away~ with a scent hanging upon the breeze. Oh how I love 'pine sol' too. I must call about this sofa. To me it's recyclable material... creative trash.

My friend Mimi, was handling the bulk trash calls today. "Hi Mimi, how are you?".

"Hey Miss D, how are you? What you got for me today?"

"I've got nothing; just wanted to ask about that green sofa on Elm?"

"You and ten others. The truck driver is taking it home for his 'man cave'. His wife, Delores has called all morning, checking and double checking. Then Mr. Taylor fell asleep on it, waiting for the bus...but complained that some women named Delores, got him arrested for loitering. You know, she knows Mr. Taylor's been sleeping on that corner for seventeen years!"

"That's awful; how's Mr. Taylor now?"

"Mr. Taylor took home one of the black plastic bags with him. It was full of over size stuffed animals. He's making hats and gloves for neighborhood children; claims it will be cold before we know it."

No place like home

The rain came down but spared this home. A fellow creature
sheltered under a leaf.
A gentle breeze travelled through and the web sought to dry.
Raindrops glistened as diamonds do; a necklace rarely found.

I'm not so fond of spider webs, nor hairy little creatures.
My eyes did wonder all around in case the friend came home.
Spin today and spawn tomorrow; those little souls live fast.

They've learned to live and take what comes; it's fascinates my mind.
No matter where they go; no matter where I am; there's no place like home.
Time to leave as I see you watching and waiting to crawl upon your web.

Just another fish tale

There was a family fishing hole,
but I never liked to fish.
They cast with wooden fishing poles,
competing for a wish.

But I sat on the rocks and looked,
at gemstones in the stream.
As one by one the fish they hooked;
I chose another a dream.




Rubies sparkled just beneath me,
were scooped up in my hand.
I listened to the shouts of glee
of those fishers near the sand.

So once they caught their fill,
they thought to leave this place.
My treasure gave me such a thrill,
that showed upon my face.

They made their way to where I sat,
inquiring what I'd found.
I let them peek at this and that,
the stones from sandy ground.

We headed home at sunset,
exchanging funny tales.
Me with shiny rubies;
them with slimey scales.

Journey

As people take their journey,
that starts at birth and ends at death

Some feel their footsteps mounting,
refreshed with every breath

When long ago I watched someone
who climbed this blessed stair

I said 'goodbye' and promised that
I'd meet them in the air.

So in my time of earthbound days
this journey I'll complete.

Then take the stairs that carry me
to heaven's holy seat.

Bathed in love

My little tree grove
is a space to contemplate
the secrets of the universe
and how it all relates.

Some things are serious
some only worth a laugh
but all things are put on hold
my little tree grove gets a bath.

The Bride's Tears

I've had many classes in drawing and wood work. I even took drafting in college to improve perception. It was an amazing course, yet my first love lay years ahead in time: painting.

Watercolor was first and then I used acrylics. Ironically I am self-taught. Lately I've begun to study with different artists for tips and techniques. It looks as if I'm ready for black and white oil paint study. We'll see.

The photo above is my last portrait in acrylic paint. I labored greatly but blending is still a technique I work on.

Recently a blog pal,('Bazza') had a great photo of a painting done in oil. I liked the way the artist painted the eyes on a 90 degree plane. So I thought I'd share a close up of the bride.

Sun, rain, song, repeat...

It's warm in Carolina. Humidity makes it even warmer. Then come nightfall the thunder sounds, leaving me wondering 'when' the rain will begin? It has been the exact same cycle for almost three months now. Yet I'm grateful because some places are begging for sunshine; some are begging for rainfall.

No matter how much the lightening flashes or how loud the thunder roars, in the morning the birds awake, and I'm compelled to sing along.

You took your time ~ welcome summer!

Celebrating hope

We used to be a colony; today we're just a crowd.
We party on the fourth, and do it very loud.

The rockets glare and light the night; the huddled masses swoon.
A tummy full of yummy treats will have some yawning soon.

As day and night begin to fade, we say goodnight to friends.
Return to homes remembering, the hope this freedom brings.

shelling out a memory

When I was small we went to the beach. I found a lovely shell, but one of my pesky brothers chose to fling my shell into a small pond. It skimmed the water creating ripples that eventually reached me, crying, by the pond's side.

Everyone tried to console me, saying, "one day you'll find another shell like this one." Years went by but no shell took it's place. Yet when I saw this photo from space I realized my shell had gone to heaven! Well, thinking that way, it seems to have satisfied the child within me.

Hey, look at those ripples! As they come closer I smile, as my heart is shelling out a memory. Closure is sweet.

What if...

Is it true that we are stars
come down to earth
upon our birth?

Is it true that we are dust
traveling light
with sacred plight?

Is it true that we are seeds
upon the wind
never to end?

Then make it true that we are nice
and we are fair
and that we care.

What if we cared?