Well Hello! Focus on the Stars

 Happy Halloween week!

Do you like spooky stories? 

How about when you were young?

When I was about 8 years old I had a friend that had a grandmother that was so good at telling spooky stories. I loved visiting in the evening, laying on the floor covered by a blanket as she turned the lights down low and told us the best, scariest stories. I would be shaking and covering my head in terror, but at the same time I looked forward to it. I loved it!

I wish I could remember the stories, but just the idea of that time in my life brings a smile to my face.

I actually think she would have been scolded by the parents for telling us the stories, but what a treat.

Were there bad dreams, maybe!! I won't tell.

Do you like spooky stories?

Just for the fun of it, I am reading a witchy story this week.

Will there be some sleepless nights? I don't think so.

I once had a dolls head similar to this. My grandson made me hide it because it scared him so much.

I guess it could be a little creepy. What do you think?

I love the whimsy of this season. A time when goblins come out to play. Play is good for the soul. It lightens the dark nights. Hoping you find time to play and lighten the dark nights. Maybe light some candles and make some hot apple cider to lighten the darkness and see a glimmer of the stars.

Sending love,

Marilyn

My Apple Pie Story

 Pie baking brings me joy and others seem to like it too.

When I started baking pies I would put a butterfly cut in the crust. It is still my signature on each pie I bake.

The only time I bake a pie is for a special event, a potluck, or guests coming over; so when I realized I had apples in the refrigerator that desperately needed baked, I baked a pie for my "live-in gardener" and me. In all my years I don't think I have ever made a pie just for us.

My pie baking story starts a very long time ago, actually when I was a little girl. Because my grandfather and uncles all had apple orchards, my mother and aunts baked apple pies. Each one of them thought they made the best apple pie. It became a small competition. If they were alive today they would still say "I make the best apple pie". 

Well several of my cousins and I took up the mantle of apple pie baking. We each think our apple pie is the best one now. One of my cousins, that I am close to, thinks she makes the best apple pie. Her brother lives about 2 hours from me; so when I go to visit him I take pie. His comment is, "don't tell my sister, but you make the best apple pie". Ha! That is the prize, right there.

So for breakfast with my tea this morning, I had apple pie. It was the best apple pie I have ever had. It was made extra special because the apples came from my sister's apple trees. They are Gravenstein apples. It is a heirloom apple that not many people know about. They are amazing in pies and applesauce too. Now I feel like these apples came straight from my grandfather because my sister lives on a couple acres of the property that once was my grandpa's apple orchard. So family history is baked into my apple pie.

Teatime this morning was a piece of apple pie.

My pie recipes all come from the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, the 1960's era book. It's the book that taught me to cook and bake, a wedding gift from long ago.

The secret for me of making a good crust is a gentle hand, ice water, and a slightly warmed Crisco. It works every time.

Apple pie to celebrate the beginning of Autumn/Fall is a delight worth celebrating.

Do you have a family story wrapped up in something you bake or cook?

Sending love,

Marilyn

Two Stories

 

Today I want to step away from sharing travel pictures. I want to share two stories that happened to me just yesterday. Yesterday was my shopping day. I ventured to the market to buy groceries. Now I have shopped at this market for 50 years. It has always been just a normal shopping experience. Yesterday was no exception until I got to check out. The kind woman at the register asked me if I had some digital coupons and I replied I did not, mainly because I don't like having to scroll through my phone to find them. She said, "I can take care of that" and she gave me the discounts for the things that qualified. Then she went on to give me some other discounts, which added up to about $60 savings. I thanked her. She said "we are here to take care of you". I told her the no one in the store had ever said that before to me. She reassured me that was her role to be there to take care of her customers. That really touched my heart. You see I had been thinking, as a strong woman no one takes care of me. I take care of those around me, but in return don't feel taken care of. I can only think of one or two friends that take care of me. One of you reads this post, thank you for your care.

The second story took place on the way home from the market. My hair dresser comes to my house to cut my hair about every 5 weeks and she doesn't sell hair products. I needed a new hair spray and my hair dresser said just stop by a salon and buy hair spray there. So on the way home yesterday I stopped by a salon near my house. When I walked in to this very simple salon I realized I was the only white woman. I think they were surprised to see me come in as much as I was surprised to be there. They didn't sell hair products; so I turned to leave. The woman in the chair said "Mam" and I turned to see what she wanted. She had noticed the little sticker on my purse that said "Vote Blue" and asked me about my sticker. We had the most amazing conversation. All the women in the salon agreed they were voting Blue and were thrilled I was too. We agreed we needed to encourage the men in our lives to also vote Blue. I thanked them for the conversation and turned to go. Again I heard "Mam". When I turned again the hair dresser handed me the hair spray half used and gave it to me.

Tears in my eyes for these women with kindness in their hearts.

I definitely felt cared for. Something we need to remember to do each day. Touches of kindness and caring are so necessary. We must care for each other each and every day and take notice. What touches of care have you received this week?

Sending love,

Marilyn

Words of Kindness and Joy

 Last night, after four hours of sleep, I woke up. I do this at least two or three times a week. It is frustrating, but I have come to accept it for now. Usually I scroll social media in the middle of the night for awhile before going back to bed. Last night, when I was scrolling, I saw that one of my friends indoor cats escaped and she couldn't find him. Oh, I hope he comes home. Say a little prayer for little black Lewis.

Thinking of Lewis reminded me of a time a few years ago when my Joey walked out of an open door. He was an indoor cat too, plus a big scaredy-cat. I walked all over our yard calling his name. I looked everywhere (I thought). I even walked around the neighborhood calling for him. He was nowhere to be found. I was so sad and angry at the person that left the door open. Sitting on my back steps I was mourning. As I sat there I heard a little bird chirping in distress. I had never heard that sound before, so I followed the sound. When I got near the bird in the bush I looked down under the branches and there was my Joey. He was so terrified, he was afraid to move. I scooped him up with hugs and kisses and he returned to the safety of the indoors. 

In winter Joey loved napping under blankets or pillows. I think he felt safe and warm there.

I can't tell you what that little bird looked like, but the two above were in my file of bird ideas for painting. The top one was on wallpaper in a bathroom I visited this summer. The lower bird I found online.

Now you might say "what does that have to do with kindness and joy"?  It was the kindness of that little bird and the joy in the rescue for both Joey and myself. Notice what you notice, for if I hadn't noticed the birds song I wouldn't have found Joey.

Sending love,

Marilyn

Words of Kindness and Joy

 Flowers are from my garden this week.

 

 

"I believe in kindness. Also in mischief. Also in singing, especially when singing is not necessarily prescribed." 

-Mary Oliver

I am thinking about Mary Oliver's comment about mischief and kindness. What do you think? 

I grew up in a family that loved to tease and joke. It was a way of letting someone know they trusted them enough to be silly with them, let down their hair. My "live-in gardener" didn't grow up with teasing; so he took my joking with him as unkind. I still struggle with that one, even after all these years. Kindness does matter, but does it matter with a bit of mischief?

I loved the lanterns in this restaurant recently. Does a business that takes the time to decorate with their customers in mind show kindness?

Yep, I am full of questions today.

Do hummingbirds sing?

Are they showing kindness in sharing their beauty and song? 

As a young girl I sang all the time. My children didn't like my singing and I found I no longer sang out loud.  It seems like I am revealing my heart today. When someone sings to you is that kind even if they sing off tune?

Sharing my heart today. 

Remember to be kind to each other and sing out loud, even if you are the only one that hears it. It is kind to oneself.

Sending love,

Marilyn

Related by Love

 

This is Myrtle. She was my grandfather's second wife and never had any children. I loved Myrtle. She was like a grandmother to me. My grandfather met her at an American Legion dance. He loved dancing. He fell in love with Myrtle and married her when I was going into the 4th grade.

Myrtle would have me come over for tea and a visit where she attempted to teach me how to knit. I have to say attempted because I just never quite got it. My knitting was always so tight I would need to rip it out and keep trying to relax and re-do. It just wasn't my thing; so I smile when I see my daughter knitting away.

When my mother fell and broke her knee Myrtle took my sister and I in for awhile so my mother had some time for recuperation. Myrtle didn't quite know how to get two young girls ready for school, but she did her best. We both had long hair; so though we had never worn braids, Myrtle would braid our hair and wrap it around our heads with ribbons. I am sure it was beautiful, but by the time I got to school I had taken the braids down and just told Myrtle they undid themselves. She would try harder the next day. Oh my, I guess I was a bit of a stinker; but Myrtle loved us. 

Here is Myrtle with a couple of her sisters and then again standing among the flowers.

I always said I was her favorite because I would go visit her and talk to her. The summer before I left for college my grandfather helped me get a job in the apple cannery for the summer and I stayed with Myrtle and my grandpa. When it was time to leave for college Myrtle opened a bank account in her name and mine and would put her dividends from an egg ranch into the account for me to use for college. Wondering what those dividends would be worth today? Hummm? They did help me pay for college for the two years I attended and then I got married.

When I was getting married she asked what I would like for a wedding present. I said I would love my grandfather's china. Her response was that if no one else voiced a desire for the china she would give it to me when she was finished using it. About 6 months before she passed she gave me the china, which I cherish still today. The picture just shows part of the china. It is Haviland and somehow my grandfather acquired it from the Burlington Railroad, as it was their china pattern of Daisies and Violets.

Reminiscing today, thinking of Myrtle. The fur coat inspired me to reminisce, as Myrtle offered to give me her mink coat and I declined it. Later I thought, now why did I decline a beautiful gift of that coat. I was sharing that story with my friend Emily, who sells the vintage clothes, and that was when she said she was giving me a fur coat in memory of Myrtle. So I am sharing this story with you. For one, accept graciously and always acknowledge the love of another even if not related by blood, but by love.

Have a blessed weekend, dear friends!

Words for the Year

 When I was a young girl I loved picking a word from the dictionary and trying to include it in my vocabulary. So you see, I always have been fascinated with words. I think for the next year I will do something like that on Monday's. It isn't quite ironed out, but we will see where it leads us. Maybe we will all learn some new words for 2023. What fun we can have. Let's play a little.

 As many of you know each year I focus on a word. I have done this for 25 years when my first word was Patience. There have been many words since that time; some have made a huge impact on me and some have almost been forgotten. The word Joy probably brought me the most happiness and I have been tempted to bring it back at times. Grace was the word that surprised me. This year was Be and I wasn't sure where that would take me. I has been a reminder to me just to be satisfied with staying in place and not always saying "what's next". That is a hard one for me, as I am a planner and always love knowing what's coming next. I make lists. 

Yesterday I went to the market and realized my list just wasn't right, it was written before Christmas and many things I no longer needed. So I ditched the list and just let it be what it was, an adventure in shopping and finding delights on the market shelf. This isn't me, but I realized I needed to just let it BE and play a bit. What fun to come home with some things I wouldn't have put on my list. Not something I would recommend regularly, but for this day it brought me joy, a little chocolate, some lovely fruit, and several frozen prepared meals to make some days easier. Still learning to just BE in the moment.

 As we approach the end of the year I begin thinking about what I would like to focus on for the next year. The list was made and then another word came to me. It often surprises me when it makes an appearance. 

So for the coming year my word will be VOICE. It is a word I have thought of often in the past, but never was brave enough to grasp it. If you were sitting with me face to face you would know that I am a person of few words. I listen and take in what others say, but often don't say much. I say more in writing than with my voice.

Goal for my Voice:

Tell stories

Share Kindness and Love

Allow myself to be heard

Create opportunities to speak

Stand for Justice and Peace

VOICE is an active word, where BE was a quiet word (a stillness).

Do you pick a word for the year? or does it pick you for a season?

I have learned many things from my words over the years and love the challenge they give me. 

Sending you love, joy and happiness today and everyday.

Has someone given you a kind word this week?

 

Wisteria or Wistful Tears

When I was quite young I remember a trellis not far from where I was living. Under the wisteria covered trellis sat a two seater swing. Sitting face to face with a friend and smelling the blooming wisteria always comes to mind when I see this trellis of wisteria. So this year I decided I wanted to sit on that bench under the blooming wisteria. There has been three adventures to see the blooming wisteria and finally today there they were in all their glory.

From Wikipedia: source claims that the person who named Wisteria after Caspar Wistar was the Portuguese botanist and geologist José Francisco Correia da Serra, who lived in Philadelphia beginning in 1812, four years before his appointment as ambassador of Portugal to the United States. Correia became a close friend of Wistar, "took tea at his home daily, and named the vine 'Wisteria' to commemorate this friendship."

What a lovely way to commemorate a friendship! 

 Sharing the stories, own your story, tell it, keep hold of curiosity/learning, it keeps us young.

This story is a little one, but for me a fond memory.

I sometimes think of wisteria as "wistful tears" or "whispering tears". They drape down so gracefully and just touch my heart with their beautiful. 

Here is what I found just yesterday. But before I show you my final visit I must say the quick stop to see them, the third time in the past month. had an added treat. In the parking lot was a friend I don't see often, now wasn't that serendipitous? It was lovely to get an unexpected hug and short visit while taking pictures right here in the parking lot.

They aren't as showy as some varieties. This is a Japanese variety, my "live-in gardener" tells me. But I think they are lovely teardrops.

My traveling teacup posed under the arbor.

And finally I had to step under the dripping blossoms to surround myself with loveliness.

It's these little things in life that just make me smile.

What is making you smile, wiping tears away, today?

Have a terrific weekend, dear friends!

My Grandpa's Apple

  Once upon a time this was my grandpa's orchard, then it was passed to my aunt and uncle, and now it belongs to my sister and her family. Yes, my grandpa spent many hours here both pruning and picking Gravenstein apples; but also nurturing beehives.

So recently it was a thrill when my mailman delivered a box of 11 Gravenstein apples from these trees. What an amazing treat. My sister thought I would love to make an apple pie once more from this orchard in California. Indeed, I did! I now have one pie in the freezer for a cooler day. I want to really savor it on a cool day when the house can fill with the scent of apple and cinnamon baking.

 An apple tart made once upon a time.

In the meantime I picked out the biggest apple that had the stripes I admire and carried it to my grandson with my story. Being an older grandmother I want very much to pass my stories on to my D and the apples tell a story of family and growing up running through these very grounds and devouring the perfect apple from these trees.

My grandpa's thermos, which often traveled through the orchard. This time it is joined with one special apple from a tree in his very orchard, which I ate today. Do you see the stripes? Yes, I insist, they must have those stripes to be the best.

Family stories are to be treasured and this is one that is so memorable to me.

Do you have memorable stories, a simple story that brings you joy?

Happy weekend, dear friends!

Word for the Week

 

 

                                  I love finding old barns, they must have stories to share.    

 On Saturday I shared my tea story. Story seems to be the word that keeps popping up for me in the past week. In the story I shared a quote I heard from Ann Curry on a live fundraiser I attended on zoom for Habitat for Humanity. Ann told her story and encouraged us to share our stories.

 Then I also watched an interview by Katie Couric with Hilary Clinton and Hilary said, "We need a new American story." Fascinating to think about, don't you think?

This falls has a story too. It is on the Willamette River in Oregon City, Oregon, at the end of the Oregon Trail. It was sacred Indian fishing grounds until their rights were taken away many years ago. Recently the American Indians have been given back their right to fish at this falls. I know there is more to the story than I know and curious to learn more.

Then in the midst of thinking on the two quotes and the word STORY I came across the following by Melanie Koulouris: 

Everyone has a story to tell,

a lesson to teach, and wisdom to share...

Life is a beautiful masterpiece bound together

by your experiences.

Open up and share your story;

become an inspiration to others.

You can make a difference

because you matter.

You are created with purpose.

Live your life with intention,

go out there and make a difference

by being the difference.

So the word for this week is STORY. Go out, share your story, and make a difference.

I am posting a day early because I will be away from my computer for a few days. If you don't see your comment it will show up when I return. Have an amazing week, dear friends!

My Tea Story

"Storytelling to remind us of who we are." Ann Curry, as heard this week in a live zoom talk. 

This week I was asked, "I’d love to know your story of how you fell in love with tea" I probably have shared much of it before, but here is my story for storytelling reminds me of who I am.

Coffee, even as a child, smelled delicious to me, but tasted "yucky". So I became intrigued by tea about the time I was entering the 6th grade. My mother and I were looking for a new home to rent and the two ladies that owned the tiny house we eventually rented wanted to get to know us over tea. They were British and brought out the silver teapot on a tray with tea and store bought cookies. They told me about the tradition of teatime in England. We lived in that little house through the years I was in junior high and high school and I don't ever remember meeting those two ladies again. But that one encounter had an impact on my mother and myself. When my mother would get depressed the chipped teapot would come out, we would make toast cut in soldiers, and for awhile we would pretend to be rich ladies sipping tea. We drank Lipton black tea or sometimes Friendship tea made from instant tea and orange Tang.

By college I had expanded into Constant Comment tea drinking and took a box of that tea with me to my dorm room with a little coil heater to heat a cup of tea.

Later as a young mom we moved to Portland and I heard about Stash Tea Company. It was a local company that had all kinds of flavored teas. They would have a garage sale occasionally and for a dollar you could fill up a paper bag full of outdated teabags. Being on a slim budget I thought this was amazing, even if the tea was outdated I didn't think tea could go bad. I did learn differently later.

And this is how I drank tea for a long time with a teabag dunked in a mug of hot water.

Moving forward to my late 50's I started thinking about making a career change and maybe opening a tearoom. I searched and found two women in Georgia that were teaching seminars on how to open a tearoom for profit, Magnolia & Ivy. I flew to Georgia and took the 3 day workshop. There I started learning about loose leaf teas and began my journey of tasting different teas. It opened the door to doing more research in that next year and I realized I didn't want to open a restaurant. My expertise was in product development, so I developed a line of jams and jellies made with tea and thus began Marmalady's. Take Me to Tea Expo (which later became World Tea Expo) was starting that year (2003), so I took my jams and jellies to the expo to sell wholesale for other tearooms. Attending the expo also continued my education in tasting teas and meeting growers from around the world.

At the present the sewing pattern for this tea cozy is my #1 selling item on etsy.

What I must say here is growing and learning about anything, whether tea or whatever, is a life long process. It is a continued curiosity to learn more. That is what I have continued doing, always curious and always sipping something new.

About 8 years ago a tea friend I met through social media said she had met a woman that worked with her husband that was starting a new tea group called WuWo Tea Ceremony (http://www.nwwuwotea.com/). She invited me and I became one of the 5 original members of that group. Each month we share tea and I continue learning.

This is my WuWo Tea Ceremony set up for sharing tea.

So Heather, this is my tea story. Always keep sipping, always be curious, and always be willing to continue learning. Tea is a life long learning experience and I love the journey.

Happy Weekend, dear Friends!

Also, Happy First Day of May!

My Sister, DeeDee

 

                           Most often I don't write about personal stories, but this is a story to share.

The above picture was taken last December. It is having tea with my half-sister, Dee Dee, as a celebration for Christmas. Each year we would get together sometime in December to celebrate Christmas, in March to celebrate our birthdays, and maybe a picnic in the summer. It was most often just the two of us, a sister bonding time.

Tuesday of this week my sister passed away from pancreatic cancer. She was just diagnosed about a month ago and I wasn't ready to let her go. I am missing her.

Now our sisterly bond didn't start until I was 50 years old and she was 14 years younger, though I knew she existed long before that. I knew she had two brothers too, but I didn't know where they were. I was pretty sure they didn't know they had two older sisters. Our father left my mother when she was pregnant with my sister and I was 2 years old, then later married again. He kept his whereabouts a secret and only popped up about 4 times for 1 hour visits. He didn't support my mother financially, so we struggled. During that era divorces just weren't common. People would feel sorry for us. My mother loved us and raised us the best she could with the help of other family members. I didn't feel particularly cheated. I knew I was loved. 

Through unusual circumstances which were not at all planned we found each other. Her brothers and DeeDee didn't know their father had been married before. One of the first things DeeDee said was "I always wanted a big sister and now I have two". She was thrilled. I was thrilled to finally connect with my siblings and develop a friendship. DeeDee lived only an hour drive from me, so we loved our times of getting together. We listened and shared stories of growing up and life now. Hearing the stories I knew that my sister and I were the lucky ones to have not grown up with our father. He wasn't a particularly good man. I will leave it at that, but I am thankful daily that I didn't have him in my life, but I found DeeDee and could be there for her.

Yes, I will miss that sisterly bond and time shared together with the sister I didn't know until I was 50.

All I can say now to you, if you have signs of ill health SEE YOUR DOCTOR.

It is better than finding out when it is too late to get help. 

Take care, dear friends! Have an extra special weekend!

No Brands Here - A Story of Tea

How did I learn so much about tea.

 I have always liked tea.

As a normal tea drinker I decided I would open a tearoom.

Then the real learning began!
 I drank mostly brands of tea like Stash and Republic of Tea.
Now don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with them,
but there was so much to learn.

Searching online for help to open a tearoom I found

Magnolia and Ivy in Georgia of all places.

Off I flew! And the learning began.

There I was introduced to loose leaf tea,

making little sandwiches, and the history of tea.

Pandora's Box opened for me and the learning began in earnest.
In fact, when if you get into tea, coffee, wine, or even cheese and
other foods it becomes a lifetime of learning.
With the search beginning I had opportunity to visit the tasting/development room
with Steven Smith, then the owner of Tazo.
After that visit I realized tea companies developed there teas according
to the one tasting and developing and if I had a different taste profile I wouldn't like their teas.
I never liked Tazo Teas, then later didn't like Smith Tea Maker for the same reason.
After Smith Tea Maker had someone else developing their teas I began liking their teas.

After a year of research I realized a tearoom was a restaurant.

My experience was in product development and I didn't want a restaurant.
The learning continued!
I joined an online tea group and started learning from others.
I kept sipping.
Then I started meeting people that really knew good tea,
they were kind enough to share their knowledge.
I became part of a new tea group here in town.
In the WuWo Tea Ceremony group I learned so much at our monthly sipping times.
From there it has been tea festivals and much drinking of tea in shops,
tearooms, and with friends.

Now you may have noticed I said in the heading "No Brands Here".
Well the more I have tasted and learned about tea the more I have learned
it is not about the brand. It is about good quality tea more closely connected to the grower.
Whole leaves of tea made into fine quality tea.
It's not chopped up pieces of mediocre teas.
It is also about the tea maker.

Now you may call me a "tea snob", yes I guess I have become that along the way.
But it is in the learning and gaining an appreciate for all that influences
what goes into my teacup. Where was it grown, who grew it, how did they process it,
and how soon it came traveling from somewhere in the world right to me and my teacup.

So for me it isn't about the brand, but all about the tea.
No brands here!

Have a terrific weekend, dear friends!
Have a cup of tea.
I am sure I have shared this picture before,
but the flower in the cup of tea is from my tea plant.

Stories for my Sister

Grab yourself a cup of tea and settle down for a chat longer than usual.

Recently I finished reading this book. It was said that I might see myself in the story. Certainly I did,
but a different story. A story of a single mom and two daughters. The story came from the older daughter, but it was their story. And that is where my story is similar to this story, but then my story goes a different direction.

 https://elizabethduvivier.com/
Sometimes our stories can be told or written sad or they can be of happy times,
but to mix the two can be a challenge.  Elizabeth did both and I am still remembering this story.

Her book is definitely worth reading. Definitely check it out.

 

Where my story goes, well shall I tell you the struggles, the sad parts or do I tell you

the sugar coated pretty parts?

I could tell you about my mother being called "the stupid one" as a child.

I could tell you about my pregnant mother and I being deserted by my father when I was two.

I could tell you about abuse in the church for those I knew and
how that formed my spiritual beliefs.

I could tell you of learning that my father's family had a lot of sexual abuse stories

and my sister and I were so lucky not to have been a part of that.

I could tell you of difficult times in my life.

But I will tell you this!

As a child as I saw abuse around me I grew strong, I became a strong woman.

I know myself and I know how to take care of myself.

I learned to have an active fantasy life, dreaming dreams

of fairies and woodland creatures.

I learned to follow my dreams.
Growing up I emotionally supported my mom and I hope I
helped her realize she wasn't stupid.
Once I started babysitting I bought my own fabric and made my clothes.
One dream was to dance, though not accepted by my church;
I danced in my 30's. I dance in my stories.
Another dream was to go to design school and work with apparel.
In my 40's I did just that.
In my 50's I met my half siblings and learned even more how lucky
my sister and I were not to have the biological father in our lives.
During this time I learned to have a voice, speak for myself and
no one was going to take advantage of this strong woman.
Yes, I am getting older, I am getting stronger each day.
I speak truth.
As a 65 year old I picked up a camera and learned to listen and notice what I notice.
My husbands thinking was that it should be the man that takes the pictures,
but I listened to my heart.
I still know there are fairies out there and angels walking with me.
I walk on tiptoes with them.
I still imagine the dancing and can hear the music.
In my 70's I still notice what I notice,
I listen to my heart strings,
and I dance*.

Do you also notice what you notice?
Listen to your heart strings and dance?

Each of us has our own stories.
Sometimes our stories are the same, but most often they diverge into
our own unique story.
Pay attention to your story and allow it to make you a stronger person.
This story is for my sisters too. You know who you are more than I know you.

*Dance for me is figurative in nature, most often it is in my dreams and 

in the movement of my heart strings, or just a slight movement of my toe or hand.

Happy weekend, dear friends!

I am saying this early as I will be away on a small adventure,

an adventure where I plan on a dance or two.

Be back on Monday.

Bathe under the Stars, Sit Cozy in the Woods.

The trees bend down to greet me.

Tenderly I walk through the forest.

Finding an old bath tub, I dream.

The water inside is steaming hot.

The stars shine above the branches.

I quietly slide inside.

Ahhhh!

The delight of it all fills my soul with JOY.

Wrapped in a fluffy robe with toes so bare,

I tiptoe to the cottage in the woods.

There is still the last remnants of light as I arrive.

The warm fire inside beckons me.

I am greeted by a warm cup of chocolate.

A cookie too.

Come join me as we sit by the fire and chat awhile.

The door has been left ajar just for you.

What a perfect autumn night with you by my side.

Oh friendship by the fire,

a lovely dream or reality.

Come and gather, sip a cup of frothy chocolate with me.

We will laugh, sing, and share stories.

Our hearts will be full.

An imaginary story, but oh so delightful.

Have a weekend full of imagination, delights, and laughter!

For it is magic!

Meaning of Christmas

Each year at Christmas I enjoy searching out a book that centers

around the season.

This year I recently finished reading 

An Irish Country Christmas by Patrick Taylor.

The Christmas pageant by the children of the village just made me smile.

Young Colin was not happy that he didn't get the role of Joseph,

but instead was given the role of the innkeeper.

Mary and Joseph went to the inn to ask for a room for the night.

Yes, you know the story, I am sure.

Joseph asked, "Could we have a bed for the night? My wife's

having a baby, and she's very tired."

"Colin's voice was soft, welcoming. "Well, Mary"-he emphasized

the word "Mary"-"I've no room at the inn, but of course you are

welcome to go into the stable."

"Of course you can, Mary." Colin said. Then he turned to Joseph and

yelled, "But as far as I'm concerned, Joseph, you dirty wee

gurrier, you miserable little gobshite, you can just feck off."

Can you just image the local Christmas pageant going awry!

Maybe a bit sacrilegious, but so typical at times when

you are hoping for the best.

My grandson was given the role of the donkey two years ago. 

He refused to get up in front with the other kids

because he didn't want to be the donkey.

But in this time of celebration, let's remember

why we are celebrating.

Children are a big part of our celebration

no matter what, they can bring a smile to our face.

Merry Christmas, dear friends!
I pray your time of celebrating
with family and friends is extra special
and full of memories to come.

I am a Photographer, A Bit Long

Last night I dreamt that I was starting college

and settling into my dorm room.

It was similar to what I did experience

at a small "Christian" college.

As I was settling in my roommate wanted me to

meet some guy from her church.

He came into the room and said he and my roommate

had been praying for me.

He wanted to know what I was going to study,

was it secretarial, a teacher, or to be a minister's wife?

My answer was "I am a photographer 

pursuing all things creative.

This didn't fit into his image of what a woman

should be and he turned and left.

The night before this dream I began reading

a book by Sue Monk Kidd, The Dance of the Dissident Daughter.

A quote from that book, "Stories give us hope, a little guidance,

and a lot of bravery."

My word for this year is "Story"

and this is part of my story.

The dream was very true to what I was as a young woman,

but I wasn't brave enough to say

"I am a photographer pursuing all things creative."

It has taken me a long time to be able to say that statement

and it came out in my dream.

Life is continually growing and learning

and for that I am thankful.

I am sure as I travel through this book there will be more growing

and more stories to share.

What do you still hunger for?

How do you continue to grow?

Walk with Me - Archer Lane

 My word this year is story and my story began here along Archer Lane.

It wasn't called Archer Lane when I was a girl,

but was a dusty dirt road I remember walking barefoot down.

The warm dust squeezed between my toes

and I found a warm apple to pick and nibble (well maybe gobble).

In my world I thought those moments were a treasure

without a worry in the world.
Archer Lane was named for my aunt and uncle who lived at
the beginning of the lane.
Originally this land belonged to my grandfather.
The two buildings you see above and just below were sheds
my grandfather used on his apple farm.
The little room to the side in the picture above was once
the residence of his brother, Uncle Charlie.
The buildings were blocked from view by a fence, but I was
able to reach my camera over the fence and take these two pictures.
They look alot different than when I was a girl.
Someone has made them less "rustic".

Peeking over the fence there is no longer apples growing there,

but there are grapes.  In the distance in those trees is my uncles

old farm house.

I was walking where once my young feet walked,

the memories were still there in my mind;

but it was different in my eyes.

As twilight approached I had a glimpse of the old farm house

I lived in as a baby.

Walking down memory lane brings many stories to my minds eye.

The stories are there, but in the twilight hour 

the eyes see them quite differently.