A Month in Photos

I really enjoy going back over photos I've taken--they tell the story of what I've been up to and where I've been, and jumpstart stories and memories...

I have been trying to get a really good candid shot of Sister Girl. She's been with us almost a year and daily I can't get over the change in her. She's gone from a frightened emaciated shell of a dog to a vocal, mind of her own, almost chubby girl. Her coat that was once dull and missing in patches is now shiny and slick (we never guessed she would have chocolate highlights!). Her eyes still sometimes show her painful past but they are so full of love more often than not. She has never shied away from a stranger and loves being the center of attention in groups.
I've considered taking her for training as a therapy dog and maybe someday we will do that. Until then, she is very established in our family pack.


There is a part of one of the gardens that I've not touched in the almost 13 years we've lived her. I've fenced it in and have watched to see what grows. One group of plants I haven't seen in awhile are the native columbine. I've not been in the gardens for the last couple of years so they've been on their own. I love their fern like foliage and star burst flowers. I've never seen the tiny yellow stamens dancing on the breeze.


I haven't seen this penstemon in years either. She's growing behind the columbine. I've been very lucky in that the deer haven't found her so she's quietly going to seed ensuring next year she will have company. I used to grow plants like these when we lived in Clear Lake outside of Houston. What a fond memory to go with such pretty flowers.


I took a trip out to the sanctuary with Lillie not long ago. Since the weather was cool, the residents were available for admiring and even enjoyed Lillie running back and forth behind me... we could only guess what they were thinking about a little blonde girl running around and what size meal they would consider her. (Not the Lemurs-they're vegetarians.)








When I took this photo, Lillie had just run away from me while I was trying to get one more Easter photo. We were at Daddy's place and we all put out our best effort to get past the wind's obnoxiousness and enjoy the moment. If the eggs hadn't had so much candy in them I'm sure they would have been blown against the pasture fence nixing all of the 'Easter Bunny's' hard work!! One perfect moment with so much magic and grace and bliss... It was a trying Easter with emotions from one end of the spectrum. But we got through it and are all better because of it. Next time it won't be as hard and the next might be a little easier...


Out in the back yard, I've begun to fight the grass and put the raised garden back into production. I've neglected it for several years and am finally back to wanting to be outside with my hands in the dirt. Upon getting rid of all of the grasses, I had to cut back the native mustang grape vines that had almost completely encircled the top of the fence that protects my garden from at least deer (bunnies and dogs have found their way in). We now have an agreement--any stray arms that are disrespectful get whacked.
So one day while I was threading wayward growth into the range fencing, I happened upon a little finch nest about nose high. I sneaked a peak and saw one tiny egg. Two days later, I saw three and the following day there were 4. I never thought to get my camera out early on, but when I did, I had to hold grape leaves back with one hand while holding the camera above my head and hope I got a good photo.



And finally, being outside can bring many gifts, and in the spring where storms brew in a moment, migrating raptors are right up near the top of my list of amazing experiences for me. We saw these guys, maybe 30 at a time, sail over the house. Some were so high they were specks, and others were so close you could almost see individual feathers. After the third group passed over, I finally got my bird book out and discovered they were Mississippi Kites The storms had either flushed them up from the south or they were just pushed inland by the circling storms. Not that we got any of the rain, but they made my day anyway.

I've been in the gardens far more than I have in years. I've relished getting back in touch with the deer, birds, and most definitely the earth. I've also mourned the loss of the finch nest and eggs by forces unknown and wonder what the house finch couple will do now--return and begin another family or have they deemed the grapevine too dangerous. Against all odds, the lone tomato plant has one little tomato on it and I hope that means the rest of the garden is just waiting--for dirt, mulch and love. Mostly though, I have had the time to get myself back together and that's probably my greatest feat.

Stay tuned...

SPRING!!!

I heard the wrens talking about it before it got here. They were around the house even when it snowed. Then two of them came in the back door one morning when I had it open to enjoy their songs. They both made it out, however one will be re-growing their tail feathers for awhile.

Then the snowbells broke ground and I knew it was just a matter of time before warmer weather and sunshine would be here to stay.



Working in the yard for the last few days, I discovered the agarita in full bloom. It was a windy day the day I took these photos so there were few bees. Know that they are now here in full force, pollinating away! When the day warms up, the breeze dances with their honey fragrance all over the yard...



And what would a spring time post be without a tribute to the peach trees?



And, the resident mocker is here, always on, always watching. His songs permeate the walls (and windows) of the house and I have found a comfort in his joy of storytelling. He's now added the barn swallow song to his repertoire... purple martin calls will be added next as they're just arriving in the area. As I water the gardens he shows up and serenades me from the top of the trees and sometimes in the lower branches.



And my pasture friends accept the season's change as they do everything else--in stride.







Happy Spring to you--

Sicka than a dawg...

This is a photo that melts my heart--the whole event melted my heart and I had to capture the moment.... Lillie had been sick for about 2 days (the flu hit her school like a tornado and fully 2/3s of the kids were out sick before it was all said and done...) with fever and stomach issues and all she did was wander pitifully around the house, no purpose and no comfort to be had.

Brent was geared up to make bread and invited her to help. That changed her washed out ill demeanor completely. Although I am not even allowed to touch Brent's kitchen aid mixer, sweet sickly baby had permission to RUN the thing...


Watching her brought back memories of my own self at 9 years old, making brownies all by myself and feeling quite accomplished. And even though she lost interest when the dough had to 'rest' the first time around, we all ate the bread knowing that this would be the first of many accomplishments in her life.... and we could taste the possibilities, warm from the oven, slathered in butter....

Winter has arrived, but only at nght

Recently, conversations with Lillie have moved to winter terms--not 'blizzard' or 'shoveling snow' or 'snow boots' but terms like 'hoar frost' and 'ice' and 'gosh everything looks dead'. Such is winter in south central Texas. Every once in awhile we'll get 'snow' that blankets the yard and street for a brief few hours and we'll stand inside looking out the front door in awe, not wanting to disturb It by going outside --in the cold--and playing-- in the cold-- it might go away faster...

This morning, having the house to myself, I giddily ran to the back porch where I have a stash of rusting tins. I've bbq'd them and coated them with acid patina, and I was in the mood to transfer at least one from Rusty Plainess to Rusty Amazingness. I ran out the back door into the cold breeze and looked down and my creative balloon burst (click on the photos for up close looks)







Yeah, I know. Looks like a light dusting of powdered sugar or something equally benign. But no, that is ice, Ice, !ICE! and if I even breathed on it, the rust would jump gladly from the surface of those perfectly rusted tins to my hands only to be transferred to everything I touched ever afterward. And knowing me, a finger would freeze to one and then what...

Sigh.

So I made due with another project, my Tiny Bird Shrine





Foam core and I had a rocky beginning with me wanting it to bend and make impossibly small corners, etc. But with my new found friends, Straight Pins, I mastered the art of 'forcible compliance'.

I have another shrine in the works, the Tiny Mouse skull shrine. But the sun is out and the day is sparkling. I want to get out while the getting's good. Winter will return this evening...

The Year in Review: travel-wise

This year has been unusual in that I've been able to do more traveling than usual.

In the early summer, we went to Rhode Island...






in the early fall, I went to Utah to visit my dearest friend and her family and see the lay of the land...






and for Christmas, we drove to Michigan to visit family and the snow...





Here's to hoping your year was just as adventure filled and to another one more so!!

Once upon a time....

...when I was about 9 years old, I was in the back yard doing what little girls in back yards do (probably looking for horned toads), I heard a crow's voice on the air.



As he circled lazily in the blue sky, I jumped up on the top of the metal slide of the swing set and cawed back. He circled closer and I held my arm straight out beside me. I lifted and lowered it as I repeated the sounds of his call. He circled closer, then landed on my outstretched arm.



That was a long time ago... this raven was particularly interested in Stella (the lamb), Little Vulture, and I. The three of us lounged in the hay in the pasture and Raven made sure we knew he was nearby. Eyes closed, I could hear his feathers cut through the breeze not far above my head each time he passed overhead. The memory of when I was young flooded back made me smile.



He settled on an old tree and continued to broadcast his story, the vultures on lower branches not entertained by his intrusion. I suppose I could write many stories about the experience spanning multiple levels. All I know is that his visit brought back a cherished memory and in that, healed me just a little.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel Isn't So Grand from Here

I climbed into his bed and smelled his scent on the pillows. I inhaled deeply, caught every molecule and stored them deep into my lungs. I couldn't hold back the tears. They flowed down my cheeks and pooled on the case-less pillows. Emotion swirled around me, the bed, the room--an engulfing eddy; and I let it. I sunk deeper and wanted to drown...nothing mattered, not even the children and husband in the other rooms of the house.

I came up for breath, was cold, and found his blanket. I shrouded my body and covered my face--his aroma embraced me. Memories flooded and played on the screen of my closed eyelids; I fell asleep.





The next day, Niles put his arms around me and thanked me for being so strong for he and his sister and brother. Looking at him through a fog, I asked him what he meant. He thanked me for not crying in front of them and he added he had heard me in the other room the night before and that he was so sorry.




Death is beautiful.

The sun shined through the windows in Daddy's room. Brent went to work, Lillie went to school. Niles and Forrest slept in. I awakened with a start. Daddy wasn't awake as usual and I feared that he had passed. I looked over my shoulder from the chair I had been sleeping in and saw his chest rise and fall. Slow breaths of peaceful sleep.

Quietly I made my way to the kitchen, poured coffee, and returned to his room. I lit a candle and set it on the dresser by his bed. I gently washed his face with a warm washcloth. His eyes opened briefly and I smiled and gave him a kiss.

Later, I settled into the chair and noticed his breathing became more shallow. Then breaths came further apart. 15 seconds, 30 seconds, then one deep breath and exhale. The room was quiet. The house was quiet.

He passed at the same hour he had been born 76+ years earlier.



Daddy's faith was strong. I asked him what was the hardest part of dying. He said, "Not knowing." "Before or after?" I asked. "Before." he said. I asked what it was that he wanted and he said, "A peaceful passing." He got exactly that.




Daddy's favorite color was light blue, his favorite animal was Dog. He lived on the same land he was born on. He could tell tall tales like no one else. He had a huge soft spot for stray dogs and stray people and never hesitated to help both. He never complained or asked 'why me' or ever said 'this isn't fair' in reference to his cancer. He always looked for the positive. His daughters meant everything to him, and so did his family. He was country when country wasn't cool and he left behind the boots and stetson to prove it.

Discernment

Sometimes you just have to get away to be able to see things that are near you more clearly.

I was able to take a trip to Utah to visit Barbara and her Littles. Instead of a week like last time, I was going to be able to spend almost two weeks. I thought it was was going to be a time to catch up and share, but it turned out to be far more than that.

Many things weighed heavy on my mind--my dad's health wasn't the best and I found myself feeling guilt for being able to get away for an extended period of time while he wasn't able to take a break from what he was living. I wasn't able to work as often as I wanted and that was putting pressure on my co-workers in that they weren't able to depend on me, which in turn stressed out the family budget...

I needed to re-prioritize in a neutral place. And, I knew Barbara would take the best care of me while I escaped my life for awhile.

She had great plans and we both hoped there was enough time to do it all. First up, a trip to Kanab to Best Friends Animal Society. On the way we stopped at Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park--a huge sand dune in the middle of the mountains! We all spread out and wandered alone and in groups... the most urgent activity was finding moqui marbles . When we finally found them, we grabbed every one we could find; after the initial excitement, we narrowed our selections to ones that we were really moved by. Finding our way back to the picnic table, we talked of our adventures while others (me) gasped for desert air. As we were loading up, one of the Littles began to throw up her lunch.

Long story short, we made it to Barbara's sister's house in Kanab where the stomach flu in turn took us each down... except for Barbara. Bodies were strewn all over the place in various phases of the illness and poor Barbara ministered to each in turn, as needed. She even watched over me as I slept and tossed and turned in my bed. Eyes closed, I could hear out the open window in the room I slept in the call of an owl overnight, the rustling of desert scrub as a cat or other wild animal foraged for dinner, the breeze blowing softly on my face, and birds singing in celebration of the coming sunrise. If only I were well enough to catch the sun peering over the desert mountains... I just couldn't drag myself out of bed.

Eventually we all loaded up and headed back home, but not before we drove the entrance to Best Friends. The kids thought it odd but then, well, what's normal?

The rest of my stay is a kind of blur--we brought out an 8' table and set it in the middle of the living room and proceeded to create art every spare minute we had. The girls would rotate through the empty chair at the table while Barb and I were steadfast in our endeavors.

We visited Bridal Veil falls and took evening walks where I met not only neighbors, but neighbor's pets of all kinds. And I fell into a deep like with these beauties--

while the buckskin didn't really have anything to do with me, the bay never hesitated and I left liberally slathered with kisses and slobber.

Son my time was over and I had to return home. Dad had been in the hospital and Misty was there with him.

My discernment had been productive and sad at the same time. I decided I had to leave the job I'd been doing and loving for 10 years in order to be with dad, one of the hardest decisions I've had to make in a long time. My thoughts went to the animals I wouldn't be able to care for and to Rocky whom I wouldn't be able to see on a regular basis. Also, I knew this wouldn't be forever but right now the need was clear.

Endure. Breathe. Hope

The last little while has been somewhat challenging for me. My dad is sick, my husband has been working in Rhode Island for the summer, the kids have been at home watching me come and go with working and other obligations, and, the inevitable preparation for the beginning of school was beginning.

I've rarely had my camera since we returned from Rhode Island at the beginning of the summer and frankly, after the heat and dry weather set in, there wasn't much to photograph. Kind of a drought all the way around.

Creatively I've been trying to make it to my table when I can, but more often than not, if I'm not on the road, staying with dad, making hospital visits, or working, I am more inclined to be on the couch trying not to think.

Of course, my challenges don't compare to many, especially my dad's where every day is a fight, but they're mine and I own them. Aside from all of my domestic worries, I am working through the possibility (probability) of living a large part of my life without my father--the only constant man in my life. The man who taught me all things male... fishing (including baiting my own line with minnows, trolling, dropping anchor, barge fishing for bass, and cleaning everything I caught), driving a boat (including loading and unloading), how to waltz, cotton eye-joe, shottish, two-step, and twirl... drink beer, and enjoy the country and the land.

This list is nowhere complete, but, they're highlights from right this minute... and that's all that I will allow myself for right now.

I try not to focus in the inevitable, however, when it's fresh and looms up in front of my face and I am blinded with tears, I find I lose all connection with my 'higher self' and grieve uncontrollably. A wise man told me not to grieve daddy's passing while he's still here but to celebrate his life and living (I love that man!!) every moment that I can. And that's what I remind myself to do every day.

This morning as I was running out of the front door, in a hurry, distracted and hoping I had everything I needed for the day, my eyes saw this:

(a green grocer cicada)


Now, many will wonder just why this is so important that I have to post it. And I get that. And this is how I see it...

Some people listen to other people to hear the lessons in life that they are to learn, some read books. I learn from the natural world. This one small event made me stop dead in my tracks and marvel. At life. At a new life. A Beginning. The continuing of a cycle that has been going on forever.

His wings were gently lifted and replaced by the breeze. He emanated life. LIFE. There was an energy around him that was almost audible. I remembered to breathe.

I dropped everything in my hands and rushed back in for my camera. I took photos from all angles, trying to capture his energy... if only.

The morning sun was warming up the day and in surrounding trees, cicadas began their singing... and I wondered if he recognized the singing, if he understood the song... if the song that was being sung was for his arrival...

And I realized he probably wasn't concerned about what his life would hold, if he was going to make it through the day or if a huge cicada killer would be the end of him--he was living in the now. That moment was a celebration of life. His life. ALL life.

And I remembered to breathe again. In, then out... and I was in that moment, The Moment. All thanks to a little green emerging cicada, who reminded me about life not having an end, only a transformation.

Emily, Sonia, and Tiger Molly

I know. It's been awhile. Not that I haven't had wondrous thoughts of what to post here. I've had those.

Fleetingly, there have been musings, squished in between being a single parent while Brent whiles away ever so lonely in Little Rhodie; working only some times; taking daddy to his drs appointments, a couple trips to the ER for him, one for me; and getting the kids ready for school. Leaves little time for written thought or even art...

But there have been highlights. Like these two hooligans:


Oh sure, they're absolutely reeking innocence. And I must say they were the most amazing kittens ever. Their story is one that breaks your heart--the litter was dropped off in a box. Before I could get the woman to fill out any paperwork, she left. I looked into the box where the babies were crying their hearts out and there were 4 of the tiniest babies, smelly and frantic, I'd seen in a long time.

I brought them in and examined them. MAYBE 3 weeks old, covered with fleas, dirt and feces. ALL of them were starving and I really couldn't tell if they'd been with their mom for days or not--they were little bags of bones covered in fur. I gently bathed each one in warm water, wrapped them in a soft towel and put them in an warmed incubator. After they were warm, I weighed and named each one and bottle fed them warmed fluids. They nursed from the bottle like champs and fell quickly into a sound sleep.

That evening they were transported to the clinic and then taken care of. Sadly, two siblings didn't make it. They were so sick. However, when the remaining two, Emily and Sonia, were old enough, I requested to foster them until they were able to be adopted.

Therein begins a month long journey with no regrets. Knowing their sad beginning, I thought bringing them into a home with kids, other adults cats, and a couple of dogs would go a long way into making sure they were appropriately socialized.

Really long story short, they are the two most loving kittens I've known. And one thing-whenever one couldn't find the other, they would trill out loud and the other would come running.

They were adopted by a wonderful family and we have so many wonderful memories... and hundreds of photos.











and then there's little Tiger Molly.



Sweet little ball of fire. I heard her long before I saw her and when I saw her I knew I had to bring her home. With little discussion, I brought her home, taught her to nurse from a bottle and the rest is history. She quickly learned to play with the much older Emily and Sonia and in the process learned to jump, climb, and squeal like any ordinary younger sibling.

Now that the girls are gone, she has learned to entertain herself. Every once in awhile Jemima The Gladiator will lower her standards and PLAY with Tiger Molly. When we hear a Gladiator flopping around and scurrying around the house with a teeny little ball of fury on her heels, we know It's ON.

Tiger Molly has been spoken for. By a little boy (and his mom and dad) that we've known since before he was conceived. We know they will be best friends.