Julie of Another Chance Ranch is hosting today's Fun Monday and challenging us all to post "Your best spy camera photo and story about the photo." You can pop over there to join the fun. Peek with me through one of the knotholes in our fence. This is our neighbors German Shepherd and she does NOT LIKE ME. What's more, she does NOT LIKE THE HUBBY. And you know what else?. She does NOT LIKE THE NEIGHBORS that live behind her or on the other side either. In addition, she scares Bill across the street. I hope you appreciate my bold stealth in sneaking my camera up to the hole for this quick spy shot. I enchant most dogs. It must have something to do with their noses. I'm always getting sniffed and licked and that old jump on the leg problem that I've mentioned in a previous post. But not her. Nope. She growls when I work in the flowerbed or change my bird feeders. If we are on our patio in conversation, she puts her unwanted opinion in by barking very l
Showing posts from April, 2007
I've neglected my watercolors. I should be painting every day - but I'm lucky to get set up once a week. It is time to pitch all my brushes and get new ones. There is a point at which they no longer hold the "juice" (as I call it) and the smooth texture is unattainable. My "To Do" list includes doing a painting that is reasonably well done of each of my beautiful grandchildren. Jammin' is f.i.n.a.l.l.y complete and "At the Framers!" There is a framing shop in town that employs a wonderfully gifted sculpting artist who does the framing. She shares my taste in frame choices. I could hand per a painting and say "Frame it" and trust her to choose the perfect fit. However, I don't put her under that much pressure. I pick it. Yesterday, while chatting with her, I confessed that there were at least six Jammin' s at home. Some half done, a few complete. Something wrong with each. She laughed. "You know Pamela," she smi
First, I received a comment from A Blonde Blogger saying that she has nominated me for The Thinking Blogger award. I'm always appreciative of any awards! However, like a kid that wanted someone else's candy, I told her "thank you" and then pouted my lips and said "I'd rather be nominated for the Blogger's choice awards Hottest Mommy Blogger." Hey, it could happen 30 years ago. You know what she did. YUP! She nominated me. Thank you Blonde Blogger! Alright! Enough snickering in the balcony. Shortly after that I received an Email from The Arkansas Songbird to let me know that I was her 1000th commenter . I get a prize!! It is a book and CD set from the Metropolitan Museum of Art which introduces children to classical music through great works of art. Can you picture me with my 7 grandchildren rockin' to that! She blogs at Quarter Notes . Aptly named as she is a vocal instructor at several schools. I'm just bubbling by now. Th
The White-crowned Sparrow has arrived this week. They are migrating north, so they are only resting, feasting, and entertaining me. Several Cassin's Finch have joined in the fray. I saw a hummingbird on Sunday, probably a Caliope. A pair of Quail, maybe the same ones as last year, have returned to the neighborhood. The sounds of tires in gravel woke me before the birds were ever singing. I climbed out of bed and peered out the windows to see if someone was stealing our car. After much squinting, I finally realized it was my stomach growling. What?? Do I have a gizzard full of gravel grinding my food down there, like my bird friends? Yesterday, I was laughing about Sheryl Crow's announcement that to protect the environment we should all use only 1 square of toilet tissue when we visit the room. It brought to mind A story that my dad told me when I was very small. There was a stingy old fellow that wouldn't purchase such niceties because of the cost. Instead,
Robin over at Pensieve is hosting this weeks Fun Monday. She chose "bad hair" as her topic - knowing that "Bloggers are notorious exhibitionists." The truth is I have a bad hair day every day now that I am gray. I see some beautiful silver and slate tresses out there, including those belonging to my sisters. Unfortunately, my hair is salt and pepper and pipe cleaner. As generations choose their new hairstyles, they are guaranteeing that they will look at their old photographs many years down the road and wonder, "What were we thinking?" My generation thought "big hair" and "ratting" was quite the thing. That was before the politically correct term of "teasing" even made it to town. My favorite memory is of a stuck-up carrot-red head named Cheryl. One afternoon she was directly in front of me as I walked across the school campus. Her hair was ratted into one of those extreme styles that made me feel like I was following
Thursday we went for a walk in the evening. We met a friend riding his antique bike. White bleeding heart. Basket of Gold. Lavender Phlox. White Birch. Dandelion. I love dandelions. As a child I picked them for necklaces or held them under a friends chin to see if she "liked butter." The weather has been unseasonable cool, which has been wonderful for the spring flowers. The tulips and daffodils have been blooming for over a month. Every photograph was taken Thursday within four blocks either direction from our house. There are at least four separate creeks/streams running through our neighborhood. The one with the split rail fence reflecting in the water is in the yard of the house directly behind us. That is where Karmyn performed her Polliwog hunts. This is Yellowhawk, where Amanda and Jennifer met their friends many wet socks, shorts, and T-shirts ago. This beau
Yesterday I spotted this hawk alight in an old pine tree on the street behind our house. This picture taken with my little photo lens turned out quite well, considering my shaky puddin'. TH (the hubby) thought the tree reached about 30 feet, but I think it was taller. I couldn't identify the raptor - so I sent the photo by E-mail to my Audubon friend. He and his wife happily informed us that it is a Swainson's Hawk. This bird winters in Argentina and, after one of the longest migrations of all hawks, summers in the central and northwest United States and Canada. Apparently there are several mating pairs that are nesting in our valley. This one must have stopped to rest during his search for a meal. This hawk is endangered because of loss of habitat in the United States, and because of DDT usage in South America. I read that the population had decreased by 90% in Central California alone. What a coincidence to see an article in the local AGRI-TIMES today pointing to Wi
One of my favorite bloggers, Kailani of An Island Life , had fun last month with a post entitled Blog My Blog . It requires the cooperation of each person who reads this post today.... and if you like... come back tomorrow and the next day just to get in on the action. Here are the rules: I will start with a question/phrase. The First person to comment must answer this question and then pose a new question of his/her own. The next commenter must answer that question, and then ask a new question... and on and on and on. I'm so excited to hear from you all. My only request is that all questions and answers be rated at least PG (my friends and family read my blog, too.) Here is the question for the first commenter: If I could compete on one Game show on Television it would be ................
Part 1 of my father's short journal told about the depression and his experiences in California. Part 2 narrated a satisfying 5 weeks living off the fat of the land on a self sufficient farm in Southern Oregon. Befriended by a Hop grower in Part 3 , he was hired as a chauffer and then offered a job in the hop fields. Dad described his first impression of life on in a Hop Yard in Part 4 . His high hopes of continuing the easy chauffeur type duties were doused by a hard dose of manual labor. The teasing by his fellow crew members and the young Russian beauties are not mentioned again. I think this says much about his discretion; Dad didn't kiss and tell. So, on to a part 5, where he describes a Hop Yard in the 1930's with boring detail. Unless, of course, you want to know how to grow hops for your own micro-brewery. (Part 5) A brief description will give one an idea of the appearance and operation of a hop yard. Hops are perennial plants which grow a new
Ice Cream Mama is hosting today's Fun Monday. She loves "the television show Inside the Actor’s Studio . The show has three parts. The first part consists of a one on one interview in front of a live audience (so much better than a dead one). The final part is a Q & A with audience members asking the questions." The second part is her favorite ad is also this week's Fun Monday Challenge. So - here are the questions she posed. And, my answers! What is your favorite word? “Grandma…” followed by any little sweet voice telling me something very important. What is your least favorite word? Goodbye What turns you on (creatively, spiritually or emotionally)? I don’t know. If I did, I could change many things in my life. What turns you off? Body Odor. What is your favorite curse word? Crap. It can be used as a noun, verb, adjective and adverb. It might even be a dangling participle. What sound or noise do you love? The haunting
Friday we went to visit an ailing friend at a convalescence home. We spotted these two Killdeer chicks and I HAD to run and get my camera. I had no idea they would be running around on April 13. Early Hatch? Mommy Killdeer let out some sweet (but loud) " killdeeee , killdeee " calls. They listened to her call and followed her lead to move away from me And when I tried to catch up with them she hid them beneath her wings. Psalm 91:4 He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge. .
I love Anona. That isn’t what we call her, but you can call her that. Although she is somewhere in her 7 th decade, she is also a newlywed of one year. A blushing bride again after many years widowed. She reminds me of the Fairy God Mother in Cinderella, from her sweet rosy cheeks, right down to the pixie dust that sparkles over everyone that she encounters. Anona affects laughter from the people that surround her. Not by purpose, but through humorous misfortune, misspeak, or misstep. For instance, one Saturday she met with some other women at a local coffee shop and proceeded to order a crappuccino. There are many other “Only Anona’s”, but my favorite story was told by her late sister, Alta. The sisters traveled together to Bend , Oregon to pay their last respects when a third sister’s husband passed away. They found distraction on the six-hour trip by singing along with The Golden Oldies on the radio. Halfway to their destination, they stopped at a service station. While Anon
In my previous post, I shared my accidental use of Vanilla flavored Soy Milk in Cheese sauce. Some of you laughed with me. Others were curious, and I felt obliged to satisfy them. The queries and my responses: How did it turn out? Like vanilla flavored cheesy pasta, Little Miss Moi . People eat pineapple on pizza; it really is not that different. Did it taste bad? Melissa nailed it "Ohhh...gag. ;)" Then Susan in VA threw it in the trash with the final insult "EWWWWWWWW!!!!!" It is an acquired taste. I haven’t acquired it yet. There was some memory of the first time I sampled beer. Bleeech, and then belch on it for a few hours. Were there curdles involved? You mean when I screamed after realizing what I had mixed into the sauce??? Or, do you mean the soy milk. Yes, Jodi , if the first question; No, Jeanette , if the second. Oh n
My parents did not know that they "recycled." They were frugal out of need and found a second use for nearly everything. I could tell you stories - but I won't today. People who survived the depression lived by the motto, "Use it up, wear it out; Make it do, or do without." When our children were growing, we did not adhere to the philosophy. With two full time working parents, our household took the convenient route more often. The girls had school and extra curricular activities and so did we. We didn't include recycling. Now that the hubby and I are older and wiser, (I'm mostly older) we are more aw are of the things we use. Earlier this year, Swamptwitch and Robin began a recycling challenge for 2007 ( S.P.E.A.R. Challenge 2007 ) that I am revisiting; Swampy introduced it on her post Talkin ' Trash. Robins entry can be found at Me -Talk- Dirty- One- Day. This month, D (Kelly's home schooled daughter at Pass The Torch ) is writing gue
Flowers are the sweetest things God ever made and forgot to put a soul into. Henry Ward Beecher I don't think God forgot it - I think he meant for flowers to be an extension of yours and mine. Flowers restore my weary soul. I hope that while so many people are out smelling the flowers, someone is taking the time to plant some . Herbert Rappaport Tulip bulbs can be buried in autumn and forgotten through the winter. Yet they listen for natures voice to speak the true Easter Message: come out of the grave, look to heaven, and bloom with joy. Nobody sees a flower — really — it is so small it takes time — we haven't time — and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time. Georgia O'Keeffe The Flowering Quince requires one to stop and look closely to see the intricate and delicate blossoms. It grows surrounded by thorns - but the end result is a rare fruit, like a true friendship. A bit of fragrance clings to the hand that gives flowers. (Chinese Proverb) I love o