prairiegirl

Adventure

2009-01-14T15:11:00.005-06:00

My sister-in-law and I pray once a week over the phone for our family. We've done this for a number of years now. We've prayed for the extended family by going through a printed family tree. We've prayed for and continue to pray for our children. And now, this year, we are praying for all those who have married into our family and for their extended families. This includes a LOT of people whom we will never even know. It is exciting to think that as the Lord leads us in these prayer times that He will be working in the lives of these unknown people (to us) and blessing them and revealing Himself to them.

Prayer is such adventure! When I open up my Bible to read and then to pray, I am never quite certain what direction that prayer time will take. I am usually surprised and always greatly stimulated by the process. It is a fascinating experience to be aware of how the Holy Spirit will take what I'm reading in several different sources, take what I've read in the Bible, take my snippets of conversations with others and then meld it all together to bring forth revelation and insight which results in fodder for prayer.

I received a new book today Payne Hollow Journal by Harlan Hubbard and came to a paragraph in the introduction (p. xiii) which says of Harlan Hubbard's wife:

"Always their work was their pleasure. Anna gave praise to 'precious daylight
hours,' for they gave her light to work by. She was an elegant woman, tall,
fair, feminine, and beautiful. She moved through her days with an effortless
grace. In a corner of the Hubbards' small house was a grand piano Anna played in
the evenings with the skill and measured passion of an accompished musician,
which she was."

Earlier in the day I had been completing my reading in Revelation and came to Revelation 19:7 (Amplified) which says:

Let us rejoice--and shout for joy--exulting and triumphant! Let us celebrate and
ascribe to Him glory and honor, for the marriage of the Lamb [at last] has come
and His bride has prepared herself. (Emphasis is mine.)

C.S. Lewis in Perelandra, the second in his science fiction trilogy, writes about the green Lady, who is a type of Eve in the newly forming planet of Perelandra. He ably conveys her as noble, queenly and yet as one who speaks to and hears from the Creator, "Maleldil". She and Ransom are speaking about Ransom's home planet:

"But that other world was older than yours," she said.
"How do you know that?" asked Ransom in amazement.
"Maleldil is telling me," answered the woman...."

These 3 segments quoted above encouraged me greatly. In the quote from Hubbard's book, his wife is spoken of as an accomplished musician. Embedded in her accomplishment is the trained discipline for being measured in her passion. She doesn't just dump a lot of notes together in her playing. There is a time and place for each note, and she recognizes when that is. In her work, she takes pleasure in what she does and she works while it is day. Jesus warned us in John 9:4 to work while it is day because the night is coming when no one can work.

The passage in Revelation spoke to me about the need to allow myself to be prepared by the LORD for His return. This verse says that the Church prepares herself. Therefore, the Church is actively participating in her preparatory process by submitting to what the Lord Jesus would train her in doing. I thought of the book of Esther and how Esther went through months of preparation before she was brought before the king.

Then in the quotation from Perelandra, I was encouraged by the words "Maleldil told me." to be a more diligent listener to the Holy Spirit. As I listen better, I will be enabled to move in grace, discipline, understanding, greater appreciation for the work that I am doing and have the ability to hear His Voice ever more clearer and clearer.

These things became part of my personal prayer time today.

Retreating Years

2009-01-12T10:44:00.004-06:00

December was an interesting month! Along with the normal busyness of the season, the influenza bug grabbed me by the teeth and wouldn't let go. I lost precious time which I'd allotted to finishing up Christmas gifts and instead of making things, I lolled in bed. My recovery was slow, but I did put my weak days into profitable use by listening to an audio book and reading snippets from other valuable sources. I can't wait to share what I've gained from that enforced time of quietness! It was tremendous!! I wonder if my heightened biological sensitivity also helped sensitize me spiritually? It's an interesting idea...

The book I listened to was Jan Karon's A New Song. I have a printed copy - and I think I'd even read it once. But to listen to it as I laid on the sofa, unable to do anything else, was just amazing. When I read, I buzz through the pages pretty fast and I pass over descriptive language too quickly. I don't take time to drink in the nuance of ideas. Listening to the story read to me was a a rich experience in hearing dialogue, mentally imaging situations and altogether just drinking in the story itself! I was pleased with the breadth of Jan Karon's insights and quotations and her ability to juxtapose. She skillfully entwines ordinary people with extraordinary kindness and generosity. She melds together humor and pathos. And there is always an underlying current of victory even when she brings out the sorrows of life. I find her quotations to be very inspiring and fitting.

Another book that deeply affected me is a small volume I happened to pick up at The Book Mouse in Ottawa when I went to a drama workshop held by my friend, Donna. The book, Meditations on Nature, Meditations on Silence is by Roderick MacIver and Ann O'Shaughnessy. Rod MacIver's artwork is beautiful and fitting as the images blend with the quotations. I found the quotes of various writers and artists to be invigorating and inspiring as they reflect on the need and value of quietness in the creative process. The book is published by Heron Dance, a nonprofit organization with a big idea. I am hoping that I can get permission from Rod MacIver to post a few of his watercolors and I'll continue to reflect on the quotes from his books. I signed up for a weekly meditation that they'll send via email. The subscription process is available on the website linked above.

The picture that I posted today is one that I made in early December when I was beginning to watch my various videos of "The Christmas Carol". The video version done with George C. Scott has a funeral cortege that looks a lot like this as it rumbles past him while he walks home on a gloomy Christmas Eve. I was thinking when I made this picture how quickly the years pass by and what a spiral life seems to be.

The concept of life being a spiral came through one of my favorite podcats, Cast-On by Brenda Dayne. It's a knitting podcast, but Brenda does such a splendid job with her podcast that she infuses it with much more than knitting. I find her challenging and energizing. On her latest podcast (72), she talks about life being a spiral. I've heard of people saying that life is a circle. Or that life is a straight line. The spiral idea was a new concept to me, and I've been thinking about it ever since. In podcast 72, Brenda has a segment with Kim Werker, former editor of the Interweave's Crochet and founder of CrochetMe. In this podcast, Brenda interviews Kim who talks about her own creative process. It was fascinating! Kim talks about being "a starter". She is an idea person who comes up with thousands of ideas and loves to interact with other creative people. She gets bored once an idea is off the ground and is ready to move onto the next creative venture. I could really relate to what she said. Her insights encouraged me as I saw myself shadowed in her own form of creativity.

SOOOO - all this blather is about this: I feel like the Lord dropped into my heart at the first of the year the slogan "Refine in 2009". This "refining" process can take many different forms as I begin to refine my home by purging it of stuff that I no longer use. Or it could take the process of "refining" as I continue to seek excellence and quality in the steps that I take and the things that I make. Or it could take the process of "refining" as I allow the Lord to remove from me those things which inhibit His life in me: jealousy, fear, etc. etc.

I am going to continue pressing into these things in 2009 and I'm going to write about them on this blog. It will be my own personal way to press more deeply into the creative processes that I want and need to explore.

Thankful Hearts

2008-11-10T23:56:00.002-06:00

Thanksgiving is rapidly approaching and I wonder what has happened to this year! I've been in a real slump lately not having an original idea to write about. Or, perhaps I should say that I've had ideas but they've not been strung together into a sensible train of thought.

I realized the other day that I can't write anything unless I am reading. When I read my own thoughts are stimulated and I am able to process ideas. One idea sparks another idea and so forth.

However, now I am going to bed and I will revise this posting because it's so lousy. But at least I've got something up on my page so that it doesn't look quite so dated!

Chicken Feed

2008-10-25T20:46:00.008-05:00

It's time to get back to posting. Like these roosters, I've been pecking at the ground lately and feel like I've only come up with gravel. Unlike roosters, gravel is not necessarily good for my own crop. So, I am now determined to turn up something healthier!
But - I journaled my thoughts the other day and that helped. For some reason it helps when I put letters onto paper and make them into words. It is almost as if the words become a lariat which lassos mavarick thoughts around the neck and then drags them to the ground where I can tie them up and leave them.
The first thing that journaling did for me this week is that it took me back to something that I had written this summer and totally forgotten than I'd written! I wrote this during a prayer time when I felt the Lord speaking these words to me regarding quietness in certain stages of life. This is what I wrote:

Vicky, what do you think it takes to hear My Voice?
Doesn't it take this time of quiet - this time of "separation"? Isn't this what Jesus did when He separated Himself from the tumult of the crowd in order to withdraw and be alone with My Healing Presence?
As you refuse the voices which would tell you to be "busy", which would tell you that you are "doing nothing", the voices which would have you believe that you are "lazy" or "indolent", as you refuse these voices, and trust in My ability to lead your forward, then You will be strengthened for the work for which I am already using you. You do not fully realize just HOW I am using you because you would be undone if you knew it. Keep your eyes upon Me and trust the Word of truth that I am imparting to you every day, and draw upon My strength to obey. That is all you need to be concerned about. I will do the rest.
You are called and formed for certain duties and responsibilities. Those duties WILL be fulfilled through you because you have a willing heart for Me. Those responsibilities will also be fulfilled through you because you have a willing heart.

Do not be afraid of the quietness and silence of this time. It is for a purpose for which you are not apprised during these weeks. Yes--it is weeks. I have known the anxious thoughts which have flown into your heart when you've thought that you are slow to respond. These are the thoughts which have told you that you are a late bloomer. These are the disparaging thoughts that have told you that you are a slacker and a burden to your husband. I have known all these thoughts and My grace has protected you from the full effect of those lying words.
Press on to resist those lies--for they are lies. I am doing a deep deep work in your soul. It is a work that will lie so deep that nothing will shake it when the time of shaking is released. I have set you apart to be alone with Me. This will not be forever, but it is definately for this time. It is also a protracted time--so don't be afraid of allowing it to unfold in all its fullness. I will tell you when it is accomplished.
Am I not your Boss? Your good Boss always gives timely directions. And that is Me!

I love you and I will never turn My Face from you because you have CHOSEN to keep your face turned to Me and I have heard that cry and I have poured out My grace upon you that you might choose to obey. You are my choice servant. You are my silk purse. I have made you thus.

These words were on the last page in my Notebook Journal. That was terrific because I saw it again when I put in the new pages that I worked on the other day. I need to be reminded again and again of what I've already been given as I daily work to wrestle the mavericks.

My Journal - how do I do it? I have prayed about being an organized Annie for so long that I don't even recognize it if it happens! But this is what I've decided to do about my journaling process and I think it may just work - for me!
I have a Miquelrius journal that refuses to fall apart no matter how much abuse I give it. It comes in either gridded or plain paper and I bought a bunch from Barnes & Noble several years ago - enough to last me for a good long time. I draw, paint, glue, stamp and tape stuff into my Miquelrius until it bulges like an interesting fat person. I write everyday stuff in the Miquelrius - things I shouldn't forget to do, scriptures that I pray for myself and others, prayer requests, ideas that come to me while I'm reading. These are snippets and snapshots of my current place. I carry the Miquelrius with me whether I'm in the living room reading a book or in church listening to a sermon, or on the highway thinking thoughts.

When I'm feeling especially inspired, or needing to understand where my thoughts are taking me today, I take the thoughts I've gathered in Miquelrius and compile them at the computer and make beautiful journal pages using Paint Shop Pro and Art Explosion. I make pictures in Paint Shop Pro but then I take the pictures into Art Explosion and make them into journal pages. I also used purchased images from online scrapbook shops. I print off these pages onto matte photo paper (a real luxury so that I can get the print quality) and then put them into page protectors and insert them into a 3 ring binder. The newest pages go in the front.

It gives me a great sense of accomplishment to take discordant ideas and lash them down into columns with images and color surrounding them. It soothes me with a sense of order - an order over which I have control rather than feeling, once again, like I am being controlled. I also feel like I am actually writing a book for my own enjoyment. And that feels great!

Now, what do I think is happening with this blog? Am I becoming more transparent as I've been posting over the past few months? Am I more willing to take a risk and tell it like I'm seeing it even if someone else reads this and can't understand a thing I've written? OR, even if no one else ever reads it!! I hope so. I hope so. I hope that as I emerge out of this gravelly learning process that finally the casing is being slit away and I am going to come out of hiding.
Artwork in Header by Debbie Mumm; Header tut by Carol's Creations; Tatted Lace in Header by Gamock's Creations; Scraps in header by Irene Alexeeva; Butterfly at bottom of posting by Weeds & Wildlfowers

Dancing Heart

2008-10-03T15:08:00.005-05:00

Ol is a new friend from Australia and is in one of my graphic sharing groups. She made this beautiful header for one of her stationeries today and graciously gave me permission to use it. When I saw Ol's artwork, I remembered a book that I bought for Amanda years ago titled "My Mama Had A Dancing Heart" by Libba Moore Gray and illustrated by Raul Colon. Actually, I bought the book for Amanda, but I still have it because I love the story and am captivated by the illustration work which makes me reluctant to give it up just yet. Here is a link so you can see the cover illustration.

The story is a word dance as it unfolds the choreograph of how one mother passed along to her daughter the ability to maintain wonderment and find joy in life. Now, that having been said, it should be no mystery to you as to why I love this book so much, since on several posts I've been blathering on about "wonder", "excellence", "joy" and "thankfulness".

I'm firmly convinced that "wonder" is a concept which is easily lost somewhere along the trail of life. It is stolen from us by the bandits Bad Experience, Loss Of Hope and Unachieved Dreams. There was an unforgettable day when I held my infant daughter, Frances, and looked into her 4 month old eyes. For years I had heard the expression about the innocence of children, but I honestly had never seen it until Franny and I looked at each other iris to iris. I saw innocence in the depth of those eyes like I'd never seen it before. I saw wonderment. And Frances drew me into a new place with her; it is now a haven that I will never leave. I guess I was just too busy or had too many expectations to see it in the eyes of my own children. But now in my quest for wonderment, I am determined to claim a daily nugget, drop it into my pouch and draw the heart strings closed. Those bits of stored gold can never be taken from me - no matter what happens because I am not letting go of this quest.

Recently I edited a paper for another friend who is taking a Master's education class. It was a paper about determining ways for "self care" while in the ministry of hospital chaplain. She had done a fine job of writing the paper, but I wrote back and suggested that although she'd done well in stating the problem, the solution was too general. She wrote in her paper that she was going to journal as a means for understanding her needs. However, I can't see this friend finding much satisfaction in the journaling process.

Amy is a wonderfully disciplined and perfectionistic person. She said that she pushes herself and is too harsh with herself while, at the same time, she is very compassionate with others. And these things are true of her. But I wrote back and recommended that she not be too upset if she finds that journaling is not a good means for her to relax and understand her stresses. Instead I suggested these things as means for rewewing her own sense of wonder:

*To take one week and look for the perfect vase for her desk. She can shop anywhere she wants but the vase must be very pleasing to her. It is to be a very fun process.
*After she's found the vase and placed it on her desk, then each day for 2 weeks she can go to the florist shop in the hospital or the grocery store and buy one flower that she finds especially beautiful. Then she's to take that flower to her office, throw away the flower from the day before and replace it with the one. This is to symbolize that she is finding freshness and beauty in each day.
*She can go on a scavenger hunt all by herself and look for something unusual - something in nature that is normally overlooked. It could be a single feather. It could be a clover. It could be a uniquely shaped rock. Then when she finds that object to ask the Lord for a story about that object. She can use her imagination and simply play with the idea. Let the story grow in her mind.
*She can put up a bulletin board or poster board on her apartment wall and each day attach some small object of significance from that day. As her objects grow in number, a story of her life will begin to unfold because she has begun to allow herself to dream.

This may all sound silly, and she may not even understand the purpose for the individual components of this quest, but I firmly believe that - for all of us - freshness comes when we take time to examine the little things.

Should you want to contact Olwyn, you may leave a comment on my blog, with your email address, and I will forward it to her.

Delay Tactics

2008-09-27T16:27:00.004-05:00

Boy - I'm certainly awash today! Not enough sleep - too much stirring in my brain - and a lack of energy for bringing about anything that I'm thinking about. I wish that I could give orders and have someone else work on projects that I would dream up for them to do - like Martha Stewart does. But then I'd have to work all the time and perhaps be a drill sergeant, and I'm not able to do either of those things.

This picture of a medieval castle and village remind me of something depicted in Tolkein's "The Lord of the Rings" or in C.S. Lewis' "Chronicles of Narnia". When I made the picture, I animated it with some cool pool-shadows and the windchime moving in a mystical breeze. Alas, I can't get the animation to work on this blogsite.

What are my delay tactics, you ask, since I gave this posting that title? Well, the delay tactic is that I'm teaching Sunday School tomorrow and I don't want to work on my lesson. I would like to just get up in front of the class and talk and stimulate them to grand thoughts and composite thoughts as a result, but I'm afraid that it's not possible to do that if you've only ingested fluff. And this week I feel like that is precisely what I've been mentally eating. "You can fool some of the people all of the time and all of the people some of the time, but you can't fool all of the people all of the time." said Abraham Lincoln. I'm sure after the first 5 minutes each person would know that my preparation time for the class was about 14 minutes.

We're going to look at the "rest passage" of Hebrews 4, and one would think that I've been practicing that passage literally. Although, I do think that the Lord is wanting me to learn to rely upon Him more and less upon my own need to have every I crossed and T dotted - or is it I dotted and T crossed?? Most of the time perfection eludes me and I'm always chasing it with a switch hoping to bring it under my dominion. The other day I wrote a quote by Michael J. Fox about perfection belonging to God and not to me. I can safely pursue excellence but perfection will never belong to me.

So - rest... The rest that I can have in knowing the Lord is in control. He knows how much chaos has been swirling around in this household this week while the grandkids are here. He knows every detail of my days and nights. He understands. I always take heart in the verse in Psalms that says that He gently leads the nursing ewes. Teaching this adult Sunday School class is rather like cramming for Final Exams. If I haven't been consistent during the term to study, then cramming in the last few hours won't do a bit of good. Well, I have been pretty consistent throughout my adult life to study and to read the Bible, so this week I am going to trust the Lord. I am going to rest in Him and in His greatness to teach the people and have faith that He will bring out of me riches, both old and new, to encourage and stimulate His beloved people to draw closer to Him. I've been praying throughout the week that He will have deposited into me what He wants to use as parables and teaching tools. I will read the passage again tonight. I will pray about what I'm reading. I will read a little in a commentary - and I'll call it adequate.

It truly is my desire that people would be drawn to Him. The goal is not to edify myself. So, this rest is about allowing Him to lead through His Holy Spirit. He will have to do be present to teach through me - and I know He will. He's a good Father!

WOO HOO I Found It!

2008-09-25T09:02:00.007-05:00

Remember back several weeks ago (Sept. 4) when I was jabbering on about Carl Larsson and how much I liked his artwork and how inspiring his wife was to me? But I was at a loss because I couldn't find the book that talked about Karin and her clothing style?? Well, I finally found the book! It was lurking in the back of my closet (don't ask).

The book is Carl and Karin Larsson: Creators of the Swedish Style edited by Michael Snodin and Elisabet Stavenow-Hidemark (click here to see the cover). I got the book, years ago and for a song, from a Edward Hamilton Books catalog. There are lots and lots of beautiful pictures of the Larsson home and Carl Larsson's work. However, the part that I was telling you about is on page 178 and talks about Karin's clothes and furniture.

Karin did not confine herself to weaving and embroidery. By 1890 she had designed a remarkable plant stand. She designed a chandelier and beds; in 1906 she designed a rough, heavy rocking-chair and a square table for the new studio, pieces in which the function was obvious and the construction was not concealed. According to a Larsson family legend, the local cabinetmaker, who produced the original pieces of furniture, was so ashamed that he delivered them after dark.... They were clearly home-made, but the style was new and avant-garde....
As regards clothes, discreet Karin Larsson was just as conspicuously modern as in her textiles. ...(S)he wears dresses in a flowing style so distinctive that it has acquired the status of a Karin Larsson model.... ...(I)t is surprising that she dared to go against the accepted fashion.... The cut of clothes around the turn of the century, which accentuated a tiny waist, required corsets. Karin misled the eye by adopting fashionable details of the period, such as stand-up collars and leg-of-mutton sleeves. This created a modest impression, which made the observer forget that decent women should be corseted; the loosely hanging dresses were associated with 'loose' morals.
Karin also created comfortable clothes for the children, suitable for family life in the country. She used simple, robust fabrics and was fond of mixing patterns in a modern way. She did not fall for fashion trends....

The book goes on to talk about how Karin left nothing to waste and patched, mended and re-used everything. The furniture which she and Carl had was innovatively altered or painted which gave their home its distinctive and inspiringly fresh look. She was also not concerned with perfection. The end result seemed to be more important to her than the perfection of method in attaining her vision.

It is encouraging to hear or read about people who are not consumed with the herd instinct of needing to "fit in". I came across a Michael J. Fox quotation one day:

"I am careful not to confuse excellence with perfection. Excellence, I can reach for, perfection is God's business."

I suppose I will forever be on my quest for understanding excellence and quality. Karin Larsson did not superimpose perfection upon her creativity which therefore enabled the things she made to remain fresh, displaying a portrait of her own style, her own life.

Bird On A Wing

2008-09-24T09:29:00.004-05:00

Summer has winged it's way out the door.

It seems like ages since I've last written a post. Amanda's girls are here which has kept us all very busy. There are stories to be told, books to read, philosophizing to be done, walks to take, baths to give, meals to fix and - as a result of all this - the not so fun business of laundry, dishes and cleanup that go along with it.

I want to make some bookplates and post them on the blog for anyone who is interested. But I'm not sure how to put up a link so that others can download the file. Does anyone have any helpful hints? I sure would be interested in hearing your ideas. In fact, I would love to hear from anyone and everyone who has ideas of things that I could make and post!

That's all for now - time to take the dog to the clip joint. She can't see through all the hair in front of her eyes.

Tchuess!

I'm Away!!

2008-09-15T08:54:00.003-05:00

Here I am in Minneapolis! Although you can't see me, I'm really here - up north where the air is chilly. I think a lot about Gwen Frostic and her beautiful books when I come up here. But actually, that's a lie because I think more about our delicious granddaughters than I do about an irritable woman that I never met. And Gwen Frostic was irritable if I can believe the bio that was written about her.

But back to our granddaughters...they are full of funnies and are so very much funnier than the funny papers because they are guileless. Frances, the Tidy, last night sent me into fits of laughter when she took a drink of water and then, with one finger on each side, pushed on her cheeks. A spray of water came out and shot across the room. Franny stood stock still, just as serious as could be as if she didn't even realize what she had just done. I laughed until tears ran down my face. You really had to be there.

We will be here until Wednesday and then the girls will come home with us for about 10 days. It will be supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

But back to Gwen Frostic. Does anyone know about other authors of books like hers? I could spend hours just going over her beautiful artwork. I would love leads to others like her.

Adios for today!

We're Flying Off

2008-09-12T19:15:00.002-05:00

Tomorrow we are going to pick up Amanda, Frances and Eleanor! I am looking forward to their visit with much relish. The Schwans man came today and left mounds of food. He remarked that all the stuff I bought today was pre-cooked. I said, "Yes! We are having company and I am not wanting to cook while they are here!"

So, Papa will go up to help do some odds and ends around the house - install lights, put in a new electrical outlet and repair their sprinkling system. I am going up to play with the girls, sew with Amanda and play with the girls some more!

Several months back I had closed off most of the yahoo groups that I belong to while I was busy with houseguests. I was also trying to decide how I wanted to proceed with developing my graphic/image ideas. I still don't know for sure what direction I will move into, but this week I re-entered one of my creating groups and started sending in stationery work again. I found that the difference now is that I am working at developing an understanding of why certain techniques work the way that they do and how to use color to interact with other colors. I am committed to making images that will have several purposes and not just to make stationeries that cannot be used anywhere else.

I think that I'm finally discovering what it is that I want to do and don't want to do. I feel like the little butterfly in the picture above. I am flying alone while trying to determine how I want to fly on. I know this probably sounds complicated and maybe it is unnecessarily complex - why not just do something for the fun of doing it? Why do I have to have a heavy reason for doing what I do?

Well, it is fun - what I'm doing. But there seems to be a limit to what can be done with it and I'm looking for a niche and a way around the limit. So far I haven't discovered the answer. But I am going to continue to enjoy and learn as I seek.

It's a rainy day and Hurricane Ike is busy blasting the Gulf coast. While it rains here, I pray for the people there. Yesterday was the anniversary of 9/11. It was also the anniversary of my Dad's near death surgery. A friend's daughter is going through crisis right now... There is so much going on and I do not want to lose perspective of what is lasting and what is temporary. Yet, like the butterfly in the picture above, I am looking at the beauty that does lie around me and I want to capture a small portion of it in word or image if I possibly can.

Rainy Days

2008-09-09T12:37:00.005-05:00

Click on the image to see it rain on the leaf!

It has been raining here for the past few days - the sky is steely and everything drips. But I never complain about rain. As a former farm girl and an admirer of green things, I would rather have it be a little too wet than too dry.

I bought a book a couple of weeks ago about Starved Rock Park which is just up the road apiece. It is an interesting compilation of photos and highlights of the work that was done in the 1930s by the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corp). The U.S. Army set up and administered the camps which were then run in much the same way as if they were troops stationed in their different locations. Young men were able to enlist in the CCC for six months and were "paid a stipend for a 5 day work week, 3 meals a day, lodging, clothes, footwear, innoculations, other medical and dental care, and, at their option, vocational, academic, or recreational instruction". Since this was during the time of the depression, many of these young men were able to regain physical strength through eating well and receiving medical attention, as well as learning valuable carpentry skills. Most of them sent money back to their families who were helped by this support. The stone work that they built is, I think, especially beautiful and is still used today.

When I was small, we lived near Clarksville, Iowa, which had a lovely walkable stone dam. We would go to Heery Woods State Park for picnics and family reunions where we kids would play on the dam while our Mothers got the food ready and our Dads played horseshoes. I think that the beauty of that park settled in my heart forever and is one of the reasons that I love green and growing things so much.

Graphic based on tutorial by Carver House

Robin's E(expected) T(time of) D(departure)

2008-09-08T11:35:00.008-05:00

It is a joyous spring day when I spot my first robin! Robins can smell worms from afar and know when they are beginning to surface again. And this is why they return when they do. Having no appetite for worms myself, I don't know when this phenomena occurs. I just look for the robins who relay that information. Although there are some robins who stay with us year around, I don't see them throughout the winter myself. Which brings me to my next thought.

It is almost time for them to leave us. There was one year, and one year only, when I actually saw the robins gather together and check their tiny suitcases to make sure they had everything before flying off for parts unknown to me. Other than that, I can only surmise when they will leave without as much as a fare-thee-well. I sense that it's about that time now. There's a rumbling underfoot which tells me that perhaps the worms are starting to burrow deeper.

Talk Radio and Tranquility Or The Lack Thereof

2008-09-07T21:40:00.009-05:00

The phone rang and I could hardly hear the caller. "Wow! You've got a lot of noise going on." she said.
I had the phone pressed to my ear while the door to the garage was open so that I could I toss a pop can into the recycling. Bernie was in the garage, welding, while the radio blasted out three stations simultaneously. The din was incredible.

"What?" I shouted into the receiver. "I can't hear you. Hang on just a sec."
I retired to the living room where it was suddenly blissfully peaceful. The cat was asleep on my chair so I opted to sit on the sofa and continue the phone visit with my friend.

NOISE! I heartily dislike noise. I like a quiet environment. I like the calming tone of my own voice as I talk to myself. Nothing soothes me more than the soft cooing of a Mourning Dove or hearing the whirrrr of its wings when it takes off, startled by my peering eyes. I appreciate the velvet-like atmosphere of solitude.

"Well, it sounds like you've got alot going on at your house." she went on. When my husband is around there is always a lot going on because he thrives on the cacophony of Talk Radio. He derides and verbally jousts right along with the guest callers. He puts words into the mouths of the Moderators. He shouts threats or go-getums with full-throated glee. To my misfortune, many of the stations that he likes are AM stations- which means, by my definition, "Amalgamated Mayhem" because they never come through the airwaves in single file. They come through in one huge hydra with each station gyrating for attention.

The first thing that he does in the morning is turn on the radio to one of his conglomerated stations. When he leaves for work, the first thing I do is turn off the radio. If he comes home for lunch, he walks in the door, turns on the radio and smiles a greeting. He leaves for work and I turn off the radio. He comes home from work and grabs the remote to turn on the radio, then he kisses me hello. It's a never ending battle with me against the airwaves. It would have been wise for the Minister on our wedding day to have added to the promises: For better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness or in health, in quietness or in chaos.... The last statement may have given pause for some serious decision-making.

When the children were at home, I expected noise, and I didn't mind the noise. It was the noise of children clomping, stomping, banging doors and screaming at each other. It was the noise of us, in turn, threatening the children. It was healthy noise. It was noise that we could do something about.

There is nothing that can be done about Talk Radio. You can't change their topics. You can't tell the caller that what he's saying is idiotic. You can't convince the Moderator that he doesn't have all the world's solutions within his singular brain. It is the noise of imprisonment to me.

Would I have run out of the church on that beautiful wedding day if the Minister had asked me if I would make a commitment to this man that included daily doses of Talk Radio? I was so starry eyed, that I would not have hesitated one moment but would still have heartily said, "I Do!" It just takes a great deal of patience to bear up under the commitment sometimes.

I Corinthians 13 has the perfect description of genuine love. In my times of quietness and tranquility I spend a lot of time praying through this passage and I can only trust that the Lord will work in me the acceptance and trust that goes along with the faith that He is working His virtuous love in me. When it gets to be too much, I can always retire to the living room, take my place on the sofa and listen to the cooing of the Mourning Dove.

Graphic inspired by tut from Auds Dezinz Here and Here

A Weird Saturday

2008-09-06T20:32:00.005-05:00

It's Weirdsville around here today. It's tired out even though I took a nap. I knitted a bit on another pair of socks while ignoring the Smoke Ring that I am knitting for my sister (as a gift - shhhh, don't tell.) I actually washed the dishes twice today - which is a record for me since that is my least favorite job along - with about 10 other household tasks. I have been as alert all day as a piece of bark.

Looking at the little squirrel in this picture reminds me of the strangest noise I heard last week. It was a high pitched whirring sound, yet it also sounded like it could be the meow of an abandoned kitten. Since I couldn't figure out what the sound was I decided to go outside to investigate. When I rounded the corner of the house, I saw a squirrel on the branch of the hickory tree just a-scolding away. He was livid and his tail was bobbing up and down so fast it was a blur of agitation! I have no idea what his problem was unless our cat Zelda was hunkered down within his squirrel vision and he was indignant about it. I learned that day that squirrels have a lot of different sounds which they can make, and it would behoove me to be a little more observant.

I'd write more about the sounds that animals make, but I'm too tired. So, I'm going back to my knitting, or maybe to take another nap and make my own sound of snoring.

Graphic above made based on a tutorial by Shan's Designs

Books & Individuality

2008-09-04T13:37:00.009-05:00

Click on image for larger view.

Well - it's been 2 days now and I still can't locate my book on Carl and Karin Larsson. So I'll just have to reconnoiter and write down things that I remember reading, but things which I can't verify by checking with the book. I just pray that I don't skew historical fact. However, the things that I remember are not going to be of historical significance. They are significant to me. And that is what is important.

In elementary school, one of my teachers would quote some brilliant person who said, to the effect, that if you can read you can conquer the world. In my pre-pubescent literal mind, I couldn't fit that concept into my brain. It was lofty nomenclature that I sandwiched in a cerebral side-pocket along with "the shot that was heard 'round the world" (get away!!) for some future date. It is shameful to say, but it wasn't until I became an adult that I began to more fully understand the truth of the concept about books. So fully have I bought into that motto now, that our house is crammed from floor to ceiling in every room with volumes on this, that and the other thing. Have I conquered the world? No. But perhaps I've grabbed onto a corner of it. At least I know that if there is anything that I need to know how to do, I can find a book, or a a link, or a YouTube to tell me how. And am I forever grateful!

Carl Larsson has been a longtime favorite artist of mine. He's very popular in Sweden, and I hope someday to visit his home. (Since I don't have the book in front of me, I can't remember how to spell his hometown so I won't try.) His art at the end of the 19th and early 20th centuries was noted for depicting family and domestic homelife. He painted what he loved: his wife, his children and his home. He painted them with charm and joy. I don't think he was particularly joyful all the time. After all, he was an artist and artists suffer, as all of us artists are aware. But he still knew that his wife and his home were his stability. He always added a flower somewhere in his paintings.

As much as I appreciate Carl Larsson's work, it is his wife, Karin, who fascinated me as I read about her in the book that I'm still looking for. She had lots of children. And she encouraged her husband emotionally who painted her all the time. Most of the time she is clearly portrayed in the foreground, but you may also find her as a shadowy figure who creates pictoral balance. In the painting above, she is both in the foreground reading and in the background walking past the window as she strides right out of the painting.

Karin lived in a time in which fashion was clearly set. Women wore corsets; it was clearly determined what was proper for morning wear and what one wore to make afternoon visits. Deviation from the norm was cause for the eyebrow to be raised. Mrs. Larsson was not too concerned about that. She wore loose clothing. Her dresses were long, but they were comfortable. Her nod to current fashion was in the length of her dresses and the style of her sleeves. Everything else was free to interpretation! She made the children's clothing comfortable in a time when children were to be dressed like miniature adults.

I found that her Individuality became an area of challenge and encouragement to me. I have thought about her a lot as I look at my wardrobe and think about what I will and will not wear. Comfort is of enormous importance to me, and because of the snippet I got from this book about Karin's Individuality, I am wanting to become more Individual in what I wear, too. I will not throw the baby out with the bathwater since I will look at the colors and styles of what is worn today, but I will definately eschew certain aspects of it which I think are absurd. What gave me this freedom? I read it in a book! After all, if you can read, you can conquer the world - at least your own world.

Graphic made based on tutorial by Designs by Tyra

It's All About Balance

2008-09-04T07:53:00.007-05:00

Balance. A two syllable word. A word that is equalized with one syllable on each side of the separating dot in the middle. It is so very - balanced. It is so very practical. The word doesn't dance around, or wriggle with excitement. It stands strong and firm, solid and reliable.

Yet - and this is important - Balance has come to live with me as a very unreasonable and quixotic personality. I have found her to be demanding instead of one who comes to stand by my side as a helpful and enabling quality. I would love to safety pin her picture to my chest and go about my day knowing that Balance is held securely in place. Instead, I feel as if the cords of intrigue have coiled around my legs and are tripping me up each step along the way.

Take, for example, my desk. My dream vacation would be to have a condo next door to an office supply store where I would be given an unlimited gift card. I love office supplies and I adore organizing things. All the paper clips and bulldogs clips are separated by genre, size and color in their drawer. I know precisely when the supply of copy paper or page protectors is beginning to wane. And I am an expert on practically every type of writing instrument there is. The problem is this: I cannot, I absolutely cannot maintain an orderly surface on my desktop.

I love to organize but I find maintenance to be Balance's bailiwick. And she just does not share her tips. The end result? No balance. Mrs. Balance stands upright at the door, raises her eyebrow at me and cluck-clucks like a 3rd grade substitute teacher. It is most unnerving!

When I try to resolve the situation and tidy up the surface, I find I can only shuffle stacks to move them around a bit. I may dust a little as I find surface area that was once hidden. But before I know it, the piles have moved back into their positions and I'm typing over a slope of information that I can't file or I'll forget where I put it. I can only say that it is a good thing that my piano teacher taught me to keep my fingers nicely curved and uplifted. It helps while typing over debris.

I could list several other areas of struggle as I try to convince Balance to join with me instead of fighting against me. However, I won't bore you with my wrestling match with Mrs. B. Suffice it to say that I am going to rustle up a batch of cookies, and see if I can sweeten her up with some bribery. Maybe we can become friends yet. At least I know that I'll feel better after a couple of chocolate chip delights.

To Conform or Not To Conform

2008-09-03T09:04:00.008-05:00

A little green shoot that has risen from the earth - - -
now free to ascend - - -
within the realm of its kind - - - -
to whatever beauty it may attain.......

It breathes - - -
as all living things must do - -
it drinks - - -
it must rest - - -
and above all it must grow - - - - -
for if it ceases to grow - -
it shall cease to live.........
Gwen Frostic "A Place on Earth"

We are living in, what I call, the Age of the Individual. It has become so imperative that we find our individual path that sometimes we have trouble finding a path at all! Everyone is squabbling over their rights: women have the "right to choose" whether they will murder their unborn child; illegal immigrants have a "right" to all the benefits of natural born or naturalized citizens; every citizen has the "right" to be provided for by the government when natural disaster strikes. And the list could go on and on. Ironically, the stream toward liberation and the freedom to claim our rights is countered by the movement of "Political Correctness" (a term I did not coin). I believe the cattle prod of being politically correct is one of the most dangerous means of control in our nation today.

When we become overly concerned about being politically correct in how we speak, we lose our individuality. When I say that I want to take off the shroud of political correctness, I am not endorsing verbal abuse in any of its ugly forms. I am simply wanting to be genuine with how I think and the opinions that I've grown to believe are healthy.

Unfortunately, this is a point to which I've come slowly, for I am a natural born people-pleaser. For years I've looked from afar and admired those Movers and Shakers who have leaped up the ladder of success multi-rungs at a time. Naturally, their success includes huge financial acquisitions along with wide-ranging respect. Then there is me. I am just me.

At this time of the year, I am watching the trees. Even now they show that their leaves are altering. The walnut tree is peppering her leaves over the back yard. Soon the oak trees will turn golden and provide us with enough leaf mulch to cover the flower beds with a 6 inch blanket of winter protection. Who would have thought there were so many leaves on those branches! Soon the trees will be without leaves entirely and each tree form will be seen for what it is. It's shape will be apparent to all.

A tree is not concerned about being politically correct. It is true to its form and is vase shaped, or conical or spreading.... Oswald Chambers in "Daily Thoughts For Disciples" on April 21, writes

"The only thing I can give God is 'my right to myself' (Romans 12:1). If I will give God that, He will make a holy experiment out of me, and God's experiments always succeed. The only mark of a disciple is moral originality. The Spirit of God is a well of water in the disciple, perennially fresh. When once the saint begins to realize that God engineers circumstances, there will be no more whine, but only a reckless abandon to Jesus. Never make a principle out of your own experience; let God be as original with other people as He is with you."

I know it sounds like a dichotomy to say that when I let go of my "rights" that I gain them. But it is true. As I've been writing in my blog, I'm finally finding "my voice". I'm dipping my toe in the stream of humanity and wriggling it around a little bit. And in the process I'm hoping that I will no longer conform to what I think I should be doing, but I will find that I have something to say that is important to me. Whether it will be important to anyone else or not is not my responsibility. However, my liberty is to ungag myself so that I can speak what I believe in. In the process, I'm finding out, for myself, what shape of tree I am before all my leaves falls off and everyone else views it.

Graphic design based on tutorial by April Hunt

Summer's Fairwell

2008-09-01T08:36:00.006-05:00

We've been canning tomato juice and making salsa and while we're busily working, Summer is packing her bags and planning to leave us! I sorrow at Summer's yearly leave-taking. I dislike autumn. Now before anyone throws tomatoes at me, I'm going to explain why. I have some serious allergy microbes nesting in my system which become more territorial every year. When the air cools and the leaves begin to glow with color - my bronchial tubes close down and my nose drips in a steady stream. I move into some serious misery.

Autumn torments me. Not only does she make her presence felt physically, but she also carries nostalgia in her own suitcase and likes to unfurl pictures of the past that make me feel - well - she makes me feel nostalgic. And I don't like feeling nostalgic. I think it was Katherine Mansfield in her journal who wrote that autumn is like sitting in the dentist office knowing that something terrible was about to happen. This is not a direct quote, and it may not have been Katherine Mansfield at all who said it, but it hits pretty close to the mark no matter who said it.

Today is "Laborus Dayus". Giving Latin names to things adds an aura of importance, don't you think? Yesterday we were triple booked with going to church, fixing a lawn mower for a friend (which included a free meal as reward) and then over to another friend's house for a campfire. We got home at midnight totally bushwacked. Today we are going to a picnic for which I do not have to take a thing and for which I am very thankfulus gratefulus. Laborus Dayus is definately a day in which we labor and do not rest.

Salsa Recipe:
12 medium sized tomatoes
2 large onions
2 green peppers
2 red peppers
Jalapeno peppers (I use 2 for mild salsa and 4 for medium/medium hot salsa.)
1/2 to 1 c. sugar (I only use 1/2 c.)
1 cup vinegar (I use apple cider vinegar)
2 tbl. salt
2 tbl. Mrs. Dash seasoning (use red cap for extra spicy or green cap for normal spicy salsa. I use the green cap.)
1/4 tsp. minced garlic

Chop all the vegetables (the food processor, on chop setting, works great for the peppers and onions.) Place in a large dutch oven with liquid and spices. Simmer for one hour, stirring often. Cool and then divide into smaller serving containers. Freeze. Or you can water bath process in jars which is what I do.
Serve salsa with chips or on meat dishes. Enjoy!

Artwork in the graphic is by Mary Englebreit and is used here for nonprofit use only. Graphic is made using a tutorial by Kricket.

Fruits of the Season

2008-08-29T22:45:00.000-05:00

...A heavenly paradise is that place
Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow.
There cherries grow which none may buy,
Till "cherry-ripe" themselves do cry.
Thomas Campion "Cherry Ripe"

Many are the days when I long for household help. We may have all kinds of "labor-saving devices", yet the days are just as short as ever. When it comes to garden harvest time, I wish more than ever that a merry volunteer would come in, pick all the fruits and vegetables, freeze or can them (I wouldn't be fussy about which process they preferred doing), clean up the kitchen and then wave a cheery goodbye as they walk out the door. They could be rather like the shoemaker's elves. That would truly be the heavenly paradise!

P.S. If you click on the image you can see that the hearts blink!

(Graphic based on tutorial by Kimbearly membership group.)

Awaiting The Ships

2008-08-28T14:51:00.003-05:00

Of sea captains young or old, and the mates--and of all intrepid sailors...
"Leaves of Grass, Songs for All Seas, All Ships" Whitman

When we went to Germany 3 years ago to visit the land of my Great Grandfather, we stood at the very edge of the North Sea where they had lived. It was September; there was a chill in the air and the gulls swooped around us like kites, looking for bits of food. I scanned the horizon and strained my eyes to penetrate as far as they could. I wasn't only looking at the expanse that lay around me. I was hungry to peer into a place where my natural eyes could no longer wander. I wanted to see my youthful Grandfather as he would have stood at this same shoreline while he considered leaving the farm that laid so close to the water.

He would have thought about leaving his family and all he knew to travel to a place he had never even seen. He would make a new home in the United States midwest where he would never see this much water at one time again! And he was leaving a home to which he knew he would never return.

His courage amazed me. In fact, all my paternal Great Grandparents left Germany within a few years of each other to immigrate to the United States where they met and married and raised families. As I stood gazing out and thinking about all this, I prayed and asked the Lord about this. And the Lord spoke to my heart things which astounded my understanding. A Mighty Hand was upon these intrepid wanderers, and their wanderings were not accidental.

I love Tolkein's poem in his Fellowship of the Rings story in which he writes "...not all those who wander are lost". Tolkein's poem is rich in its truth and is an apt description about those who came to settle this nation with mettle and courage.

I pray that our nation will not lose sight of the hope and vision of men and women like my Great Grandparents who came from a foreign land to embrace this territory and proudly make it their home. They gave their best to make this a safe place to raise the seeds they sowed here: their children. They prized their liberty, and I pray that we will never take their sacrifices for granted.

(Graphic based on tutorial by Elly)

Autumn Memories

2008-08-27T09:24:00.001-05:00

The crickets are singing as I sit at the computer and compose my thoughts. In China or Japan the cricket is considered good luck. For whatever reason they think that, I have no idea. Nonetheless, I find their company rather soothing. A cricket's chirping brings back memories of other years and experiences that are now a part of who I've become.

My mother-in-law was driven to distraction by a cricket serenading her from the basement. She would instantly leap to her feet to go on a search and destroy mission. However, the cricket would usually elude her and continue to lead her forward, farther and farther from the original sound - rather like a minute pied piper. Perhaps that's why the Asian people consider the cricket to be good luck - they can evade destruction by going silent, only to erupt again into blazing song when the hunter has passed them by.

Bernie and I arrived back home last night after returning to Iowa to celebrate my Dad's 81st birthday. The fact that he is still with us means that he is rather like the cricket. He, too, has eluded the hunter for many years and he continues to sing. He was singing this weekend.

When I was a child, he and I would sit in the living room, late at night, and sing to the songs on "Hit Parade" or we would follow the "bouncing ball" and sing along with Mitch. We would sing in the car on our travels. We encouraged the harvest moon to shine on. We pretended we were cajuns and sang about jambalaya and crawfish pie. He would croon to me that I was his sunshine. For many years he did not sing and I missed it.

The Bible makes great importance about music. David sang songs to the Lord when he was in the fields learning about God and about shepherding. Paul and Silas sang praises to the Lord while they were imprisoned and the walls of their imprisonment collapsed. They and everyone in prison with them were released when they sang.

My Dad, the cricket, is learning to sing again so that he is not bound by the walls around him. The ways of God are antithetical to the natural ways which we think. Dad has struggled with depression in his life, but as long as he sings, the walls of his now shrinking world will continue to expand. His life is a miracle. He shares a birthday with a sister who died while she was in her childhood. He had his first heart attack when he was 45 and yet he has outlived his first beloved wife by 20 years. It has not been easy, but then, miracles are never easy. We just think they are easy because we rejoice in the end results. However, miracles come about through great cost. My Dad always told me, "Vicky, there are no free lunches." And he is right.

My quest continues to be: finding joy in the small things of life. It is in that quest that true happiness lies. And that, to me, is the mark of a successful life.

Housework

2008-08-19T10:01:00.003-05:00

Click on picture for enlarged view.

I come from a distinguished line of women who are "random housekeepers". In an effort to maintain lineage purity and family integrity, I am following in the footsteps of my feminine predecessors while passing along helpful hints to my children. Peg Bracken, in her opening paragraph in chapter one of I Hate To Housekeep Book defines "random housekeepers": "There are three kinds of housekeepers. There is the spotless housekeeper, who won't stop, and there is the spotful housekeeper, who won't start. Then there is the occasional or random housekeeper, whose book this is."

At the present moment, my husband and I are smitten with Reese Sticks. I discovered them first but he had to horn in on the treat which requires me to now carefully guard my stash or they'll be inhaled so fast that the created vacuum will leave me breathless. Therefore, we are allowed one Reese Stick per person per night. They are hard to find, which makes them even more delicious.

This week we are devoted to Reese Sticks. Several weeks ago we couldn't get enough of watching "LOST" on DVD and sat through an all night marathon. This spring I was in to knitting so completely that I made 8 pair of socks for Christmas presents in about 3 months, which was astounding for me because I hardly finish anything let alone PAIRS of socks. Next week, most likely, we will find something else that catches our eye. Like crows, we'll flock around it, pick it up and carry it back to our nest. We are not consistent individuals. We are random, we function quite well that way and we are merrily passing along the DNA. But I find that I actually resent it. I would rather be uniform, consistent, and comfortably pragmatic. I don't want to be dogmatically pragmatic mind you, but yikes! That comment shows that my randomness is leaking out again.

My mother had this book and I found it on my bookshelf today when I was chastising myself, yet again, that I really need to clean house. Since I need a strong charge of desire to clean when I'm not motivated by the terror that company is arriving in 2 hours, I sashayed over to a bookshelf to see if I could find a resource on "getting organized." I've collected a number of helpful volumes through the years. On the bottom shelf, I found little Peg! I blew the dust off her, admired the quirky illustrations by Hilary Knight (who always cracks me up) and began to look through the yellowed pages. I couldn't believe that I'd had that book all these years and I'd never read it! I scanned the first page and knew this book was for me! It is about me! It appeals to my Germanic sense of being sensible and practical, yet it is witty and full of fun - like we Germanic people are....

Chapter 10 of her book "How to Remember and How to Remember to Remember" is a hoot. It is especially relevant to me right now because I forget what it was I left the bathroom to go to the kitchen to get. It wasn't a Reese Stick because I would have remembered that. Oh yes, it was the Awesome cleaner. Now, where did I put that cleaner the last time I finished using it?? I think her flagpole remembering list on page 116 may really help me. You must read that chapter yourself because I could get into big trouble from the copyright cops if I cut and paste too much information from the book into this blog. My blog readership is such that Crest Books would know by this afternoon.

What is the point of all this, you may ask. Well, the point is this. Peg Bracken just gave me credibility to accept that I am random and that I have talent in that direction. I am going to attempt to not obsess about the fact that I'm not spotless but I'm clean enough and life is too short to obsess about being perfect.

I'll talk to you later. It's time for a Reese Stick before my husband comes home.

An August Saturday

2008-08-16T20:15:00.003-05:00

It has been a refreshing day - one in which I have procrastinated - most successfully - at most everything that I should have been doing. But I can't help it. The sun is shining. The locusts are singing. The trees are whispering. And we bought a new bench!

Let me tell you about the bench. It all started this spring when we went to Rick's Garden Center. I was hankering for a replacement bench for our rotting, but once lovely, beauty which sits on the front porch. It was no longer safe and I missed sitting on it waiting for whatever needed to be waited for. We found a nice one at Rick's, and it was on sale, but we weren't ready to buy a bench quite yet. We had to anguish about it for awhile longer. Today we went bench shopping again and returned to Rick's.

There was our bench - only now it was on CLEARANCE! Hoot hoot hoot! I had earned some Rick's Bonus Bucks by emptying out the bank account on so many spring flowers and I was hoping to use it on something we would not normally buy. We don't normally buy benches, so this seemed like a legitimate use for the Bonus Bucks. With the $24 off for the Bonus Bucks plus the low clearance price, the cost for our bench came down to $88.00 (plus an inordinate amount for Ceasar's tax, of course.) We preened and clucked all the way home. Who says that "he who hesitates is lost."

End of story. I like happy endings, don't you?

Vintage

2008-08-16T08:51:00.004-05:00

I walk talking to a friend several days ago while we hiked through Starved Rock State Park. Donna is involved in teaching young people drama and inspiring in them the gift of gazing at things through the lens of imagination. As we ambled along in that green lushness, sweating and fatigued, enjoying every moment but also aware that our hips hurt us, she began to tell me about a workshop she had done recently. The students decided that they needed information from "way back" and elected her as their encyclopedia!

She said something to the effect that it was rather discombobulating to be known as the vintage source of information. I agreed. I suppose it doesn't do one whit of good to dwell on the fact that I'm getting older but I just can't seem to avoid it. In one of those wildly inane Perry Mason T.V. adventures, he made one comment that stuck with me through the years. One of the characters was talking to him and said, "I'm not as young as I used to be." Perry Mason wisely and mildly responded, "None of us are."

For some reason Perry's 4 little words really set me free. You see, I've been in angst for some time about the fact that my chin has reproduced itself without my permission and my trim figure is a pleasant but very distant memory. I want to appear in each year of life just like I did at 18! I'm looking for a place to join up with Ponce de Leon's team as they look for the Fountain of Youth. RATS! He's dead! So that won't work.

I did find a Photoshop tutorial with some great directions on giving a photograph a facelift. Now, that would be a lot easier than working out in the gym 3 times a week. In fact, it is now a family joke, but for our Christmas letter one year I wanted to include a photo of our beautiful children and grandchildren. Unfortunately, I was also in the picture. I couldn't remove myself without it being obvious, so I decided to shave off an unknown quantity of pixels from each side of myself.

When a seamstress is making or altering a pair of pants, it is imperative to make them smaller by removing amounts from both sides of each leg or else it will throw off the grainline. Therefore, when I was using my eraser tool, I was quite conscious of working on both sides. I didn't want to throw off my grainline on top of everything else! It worked. I suddenly looked quite pleasant and agreeably svelte. My family and I all think it's a great joke that I can make myself look like something that I'm not and be quite shameless about it. It's all about art, right?

There are certain merits to growing older. I've gathered one or two ideas together here for you. It never hurts to run them through the mind every couple of days as a form of emotional antibiotic.

One of the delightful and unexpected pleasures is finding that in that vast reservoir of experiences, a certain level of perspective has floated to view like water lily flotsom. There is comfort in knowing that, merciful heavens, you didn't totally destroy your children! And, there were several times that you actually made right decisions! These can be such heady revelations and you may find the need to back over to a chair and sit down or you'll collapse from shock. Actually, I think that this revelation is one of the most fun parts of growing older. When you're young you are still wrestling with the giants. When you're older, you see that there were a number of times when you actually kicked them in the groin and they backed away.

I take great encouragement from the Bible's perspective on aging and wisdom. Unfortunately, not too many people want to hear the lurid details of my learning journey, but they don't always mind getting the fallout from the lessons I've learned. Especially if I can phrase those lessons in few words, without bossiness or judgment, and can be there to support them if things turn sour.

The bottom line: is it bad being considered vintage? I don't think it is if your spirit is still beautiful. That is the true Fountain of Youth.

(Graphic based on tutorial by Kimbearly Membership Group.)

Freedom Flyers

2008-08-14T20:43:00.001-05:00

A little bird I am,
Shut from the fields of air;
And in my cage I sit and sing
To Him Who placed me there;
Well pleased a prisoner to be,
Because, my God, it pleases Thee.

Naught have I else to do;
I sing the whole day long;
And He Whom I most love to please
Doth listen to my song;
He caught and bound my wandering wing;
But still He bends to hear me sing.

Thou hast an ear to hear,
A heart to love and bless;
And though my notes were e'er so rude,
Thou wouldst not hear the less;
Because Thou knowest as they fall,
That love, sweet love, inspires them all.

My cage confines me round;
Abroad I cannot fly;
But though my wing is closely bound,
My heart's at liberty;
My prison walls cannot control
The flight, the freedom of the soul.

Oh, it is good to soar
These bolts and bars above,
To Him Whose purpose I adore,
Whose providence I love;
And in Thy mighty will to find
The joy, the freedom of the mind.

Madame Jeanne Guyon (1648-1717)
"A Prisoner's Song"

Madame Guyon was imprisoned in the Bastille for 15 years for her beliefs, yet this poem conveys the beauty and the freedom of a clear conscience, which is what the Lord Jesus Christ gives us. The circumstances of life may rise up and strip away from us wealth, security, health, or family, but if we have a clean conscience before God through our faith in Jesus Christ, we can continue to soar in freedom. This is a gift which no one can take away from us no matter what our circumstances may be!

The quotation on the picture is from the 4th stanza of Richard Lovelace's poem "To Althea, From Prison". He speaks of the same kind of freedom. I find the courage of these people and the beauty of this poetry to be strengthening in an age which would have us take the easy way out, find easy solutions or place the blame for our problems on someone else.

There is no blame placed in these poems. There is only the security of resting in their relationship with the Lord and the knowledge that He is in control of all their circumstances. This is true victory!

Artistic Inspiration

2008-08-14T09:28:00.003-05:00

I have an ancient manual typewriter that I've named "Stella". When things get too pushy around me, I reach under the bed and grab Stella's handle. We retire to the kitchen table or, when the sun shines, to the patio. We confer together. And in the slower pace of her clickety smack, sometimes a fresh thought will start to flow. She is faithful and her hard drive will never crash on me, although, her wardrobe is outdated which makes it rather challenging to keep her outfitted with ribbons.

Like the artist in this picture, I am in need of inspiration and I need an infusion from an old friend. Stella's keys are my brushes which, even though they only strike in black, have the ability to embed nuances of color every now and then.

Still...I am longing to reclaim my basement art studio and to lay hold of actual paint, brushes, needle and thread. There is something to be said for the tactile aspect of touching fabric or smooshing paint. Unfortunately, to reclaim my stuio will require an intense cleaning jag and Stella cannot help me with that!

Have you ever felt like you had so many ideas swirling around in your brain that you couldn't snag even one of them long enough to put them into productive use? That is my problem right now. I am going to grab Stella; perhaps she can slow me down so that I can settle onto one idea and be inspired again! Talk to you later!

(Graphics based on tutorial by Robin.)

Friendship

2008-08-13T18:05:00.001-05:00

It was so much fun to come onto my blog and see a comment from a friend about "The Landing" posting. Tami raises healthy animals, whether they be birds, dogs, cats or a variety of other creatures great and small. I thought what she wrote about birds was very interesting and wanted to share it here.

Vicky, I am always pleased to see you have added something to your blog! I love your new look!(This is a picture of Java at 3 years old.)

I thought I'd add something that you might not know, but which I find absolutely enthralling about Amazons regarding the subject of scent. Each Amazon produces its own unique aroma when they are very happy and content. It is described by some owners as a floral scent, and by others as a rather musky scent, but most find it very pleasing. I noticed when I held Java or Kiwi,that they had a wonderful aroma, but it meant so much more to realize it just comes in those special moments when they are feeling very happy or loving, and those moments come when they are sitting on my hand or when I draw near to their cage to visit them! They do not emit this aroma when they are playing or actively prowling around the room, only when they are sitting quietly with me. It always amazes me the way God has implanted in His Creation, those things to illustrate tiny facets of His Word to us. What a beautiful way to illumine the verse that says that we are a fragrant aroma of His Presence in every place. Is it that same feeling of love and contentment in us, that produces that aroma for others to know Him? If so, it makes me more determined to take the time to sit in His presence, bask in His love, and allow His aroma to penetrate my being. Tami

Tami and I have corresponded for many years. At first we sent letters back and forth the old fashioned way. I looked so forward to the arrival of her letters and when I saw one in the mailbox I would race home and settle in for an enjoyable and leisurely reading. Tami's letters are always special because they are thought provoking, profound without being cumbersome and sparkling with her special wit. We each saved our letters and now enjoy reviewing them. We are continually astounded at how the Lord was uniting us through the miles by giving us the same insights on the same day. Often we would be thinking the same ideas without the other one knowing about it until days later when we communicated. We have always wanted to combine our friendship into a "joint venture" by linking our communications as if they were letters sent back and forth through the mails. Perhaps that time is just around the corner now.

Today, we still have to communicate through long distance, but now of course we communicate via email or computer chat programs. The link to Tami's blog is www.thesilvertrunk.blogspot.com

The Landing

2008-08-09T21:24:00.003-05:00

"Hawks are social birds." my Dad used to say. He would add, "You will see a lot of them perched on power poles along the road." Therefore, whenever we're on a drive back to Iowa, I like to count how many hawks I see as we travel along the interstate. And I wave to them. I think what Dad meant by the hawk being social is that they are not so shy of man. It makes me happy to see a hawk who is one of a social bunch. It pleases me to wave at a creature that doesn't shun me.

In actuality, each one is oblivious to a red Vibe on a busy highway. He's occupied, instead, with watching for the faint movement of a grassblade knowing that hustling underneath it would be a tasty morsel for dinner.

Can birds smell?

David Allen Sibley in The Sibley Guide to Bird Life & Behavior, says that in comparison to vision and hearing, the other senses in a bird are secondary. However, in nocturnal birds, vultures and tubenoses, the sense of smell can be significant. These birds are able to locate carrion by detecting the odor of a chemical that is emitted by rotting meat. (Since I procrastinate at this bit of housekeeping, it's therefore a good thing there isn't a Turkey Vulture near my refrigerator.)

There is something wondrous about a bird. The fact that they can soar in places that we can only think about is, I think, part of the wonder. How delightful it is to spot a fallen feather, claim it as your own and then poke it into your cap! A bird's plumage is so luxurious and gorgeous that it makes it hard to believe that underneath that lofty bit of color is a scrawny creature with a pokey neck.

A friend of mine raises Amazon parrots and for awhile also raised cockatiels. I have a prized cinnamon cockatiel hand-raised and given to me from Tami. I named her Acorn and she and I are buddies. I collect Acorn's fallen feathers and have been known to give them as special gifts or use them in some of my art projects.

I went to a quilting class one time where the quilt artist was doing a series of quilts on the topic of feathers. She was not just quilting ordinary feather shapes, however. This women studied feathers by magnifying them many many times and then made dazzling designs from the hidden-to-the-natural-eye shapes and colors. She showed slides of the colors and textures that were underlying the surface. They were sensational.

Since that time, I have been fascinated by thinking about those hidden things that are so easily passed over in the superficial glance or in the haste of the moment. I find that if I remain enchanted by small treasures, then all of life holds wonderment. But if I lose sight of the intrigue of finding the veiled treasure, then I find myself becoming self-absorbed and depressed. I would much rather spend my time waving at hawks and thinking about their aloof but friendly beauty than being annoyed about my ingrown toenail. I'm thankful that God created such variety to enchant and draw us out of ourselves.

"Is it by your understanding that the hawk soars, Stretching his wings toward the south? Is it at your command that the eagle mounts up And makes his nest on high? On the cliff he dwells and lodges, Upon the rocky crag, an inaccessible place. From there he spies out food; His eyes see it from afar." Job 29:26-29

(Graphic based on tutorial by DaBratz membership group.)

Summer Bounty

2008-08-08T12:19:00.004-05:00

"He chooses our inheritance for us..." Psalm 47:4

It doesn't seem like we've had enough summer. And here it is, harvest time already. The tomatoes are red and fragrant on the vine. Green, purple and jalapeno peppers are everywhere. And the sweet corn! Oh the sweet corn is magnificent. As far as I'm concerned, summer is the best time of the year.

Bernie bought a red scooter to drive back and forth to work. On fresh sunny Sunday afternoons we ride out to tour the countryside and learn some of the back roads in our newer territory. We marvel at how different things look on a scooter than they do in a car or walking or even on a bicycle. The scents are heady and concentrated. There is the grassy warmth of newly mown hay and the intense aroma of lilies blooming in orange richness in the ditches. Farming has changed dramatically in the past 40 years with the result that there is less livestock on family farms. I miss the earthy smell of animals on our afternoon scooter rides.

As a child when I would go out into the pasture to round up the cattle for milking, I'd saunter down the lane, past the cowyard, and smell the pungent aroma of future fertilizer. A farm child learns to distinguish the difference between the smell of cattle, hogs, horses, or chickens. There was also the unmistakable oily smell of bats who had hijacked the upper regions of the house. I miss the farm smells - and I miss the trill of the meadowlark in the fields where I laid in the grass making cloud pictures or as I strolled down the road on my way to the corner creek. Yes, I greatly miss the meadowlark - yet everytime I am blessed enough to hear one, I always thank God for the pleasure of hearing one again.

Diane Ackerman, in her book A Natural History of the Senses says, "One of the real tests of writers, especially poets, is how well they write about smells." I believe it! It is uncannily tough to put words to what is passing through your nose and into your heart. It seems that an aroma has the ability to penetrate the heart so as to leave a lasting impression of place and time forever imprinted in our brains. Smell that smell again, and you are instantly transported to a special moment in your personal history. I am going to work at learning how to put words to scents that waft around me. This will be my new challenge for this season.

Graphic made using tutorial by Sandy at DaBratz Designs Membership

Bohus Knitting & Excellence

2008-07-18T07:48:00.003-05:00

"One critic aptly reported that 'Emma Jacobsson's special mark is the finicky way she chooses colors. She is acutely sensitive to colors and this is what has given Bohus Stickning its special artistic value...
"Emma's attention to flawlessness was ingrained in her personality....
"Ultimately, it was Emma's unrelenting purusuit of quality that enabled Bohus Stickning to achieve the high praise it received. She demanded and expected an enormous amount of dedication from her workers, designers, and knitters. But in return, she gave them respect, empathy, and a sense of pride. Because Emma was highly respected, she was able to make suggestions and changes in the designers' patterns without alienating them. She stimulated their creativty and encouraged them to experiment with colors, yarns, and patterns. Above all, Emma was an inspiration and friend to her colleagues." (from Poems of Color p. 26)

It is challenging to read of a personality which was strong enough to stand against mediocrity and compromise no matter what the cost may have been to her personally. She could not give in to mediocrity. She could not. She would not! In the process, even though she may have been difficult to work with at times, in her inate fairness, she also impelled those who worked with her to higher levels of excellence.

As I posted some days ago, I have been pursuing the concept of "excellence" and "quality" for some time. What are its hallmarks? What are its earmarks? How is it that we can separate out from the crowd those things which are excellent and of great quality?

I remember watching a T.V. show many years ago now. I did not know anything about ballet and this PBS special was about some ballet thing. I sat down to catch a few minutes of it and I saw a group of dancers come out onto the stage and begin to twirl and pirouette in the beauty of the dance. Suddenly, a dancer exploded out of the group and began to leap with such power that I was drawn in to his persona immediately. I felt goosebumps rise on my arms and I whispered to myself, "Just WHO is that man?!" It turned out that "that man" was Mikhail Baryshnikov.

Even though there are other great YouTubes of Baryshnikov dancing, I selected this one because I liked the contrast between him and Gregory Hines (who is also a very good dancer). Yet, even though Hines is very good, I love the restraint and control that is apparent with Baryshnikov. There is a tightness, an intensity, an almost imprisoned sense of power that is only released in momentary couplets which add to the movement's enormity and which entraps the viewer and draws him into a unity with Baryshnikov as he dances. Even though I am not dancing when I see Baryshnikov dance. I am dancing when I watch Baryshnikov dance, for he pulls me into himself and I no longer an impartial viewer; I am dancing with Baryshnikov.

While looking at Mikhail Baryshnikov YouTube clips, I found this one with Alice Waters. The things which she said encapsulated the concepts that I so appreciate and long to do: to impel others to excellence and quality in their own way.

So, just what is it which is the hallmark of "excellence"; the earmark of "quality"? The word "excellence" contains within it a timbre unlike any quality that surrounds it. Perhaps, ipso facto, it is the bearing which comes from the commitment to the process itself. If the process is seen as a job, it loses an aspect of its life. If it loses its life, it loses its excellence.

Whipped Ocean

2008-07-16T14:36:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I got an email from a friend with pictures of an event in Yamba in New South Wales, north of Sydney, Australia, where foam waves washed upon an entire beach and extended 30 miles out into the ocean. This event had not been seen at the beach for more than 30 years.

"Scientists explain that the foam is created by impurities in the ocean, such as salts, chemicals, dead plants, decomposed fish and excretions from seaweed. All are churned up together by powerful currents which cause the water to form bubbles. These bubbles stick to each other as they are carried below the surface of the current toward the shore. As a wave starts to form on the surface, the motion of the water causes the bubbles to swirl upwards and, massed together, they become foam. The foam 'surfs' towards shore until the wave 'crashes', tossing the foam into the air."

A 12 year old surfer said this: "Me and my mates just spent the afternoon leaping about in that stuff." he said. "It was quite cool to touch, it was really weird. It was like clouds of air, you could hardly feel it." (quoted from the email received)

I have been doing a little Bible study on the book of Jude. Actually I have been spending weeks reading, rereading, and pondering the verses in Jude while also reading a couple of commentaries on Jude. The entire book of Jude is warning of apostates which would infiltrate the church in the last days. Jude warns us very explicity and graphically describes what these apostates are like. I couldn't help but think of these verses in Jude when I saw the pictures:

These are men who are hidden reefs in your love feasts when they feast with you without fear, caring for themselves; clouds without water, carried along by winds; autumn trees without fruit, doubly dead, uprooted; wild waves of the sea, casting up their own shame like foam; wandering stars, for whom the black darkness has been reserved forever. Jude 12,13

What a graphic depiction of apostates these pictures gave me! The composition of the foam and the words of the young boy as he describes the delight he had "playing" in the foam and what it felt like were serious words of warning to me.

How easy it is to not think about what is happening around us and to just "play" with something that is different, a unique event, or an incredible phenomena which could actually be very unhealthy for us. Something that is such fun can, in actuality, be that which is hollow and empty and be "clouds of air". If we "hardly feel" it, we will not be alert to its dangers. Apostasy, or false doctrine, is formed in much the same way as this cappuccino ocean was formed: impurities that are tossed together, impurities, which when churned together, stick together.

Such an incredible word picture of what we are to be forewarned, and thus forearmed about.

Thoughts on Children and Excellence

2008-07-12T07:38:00.004-05:00

I've been thinking lately about whether young children have an almost instinctive ability to recognize excellence. One of our granddaughters has just turned 4. I grant you that she is an "old soul" who has a tidy as well as a pensive personality. She loves her books and gathers an alpine mountain to take with her when she is called upon to nap or prepare for a night's sleep. This child went to a friend's house and when she came home she said to her Mother, "Mama, ____ doesn't have any good books. Mimi (that's ME!) has good books."

What kind of books do I have for her when she visits? I have the classics with great pictures and rollicking stories. I am determined to spark a desire in all my Grandchildren to continue to pursue excellence in their lives and to be alert to those things which are commonplace or ordinary so that they will always desire to reach for the best that they can afford.

This has been a quest of my own for many years. What constitutes excellence? What is it about an object that denotes "quality"? I found a book many years ago entitled Art In Everyday Life by Harriet and Vetta Goldstein. Granted, it was an ancient book. The book's photographs went back to World War I. Yet, many of the concepts within this book were timeless. The Goldstein gals believed that those things which surround us in the dailiness of our lives influence how we think. If we pursue artful beauty, even in the smallest detail, we will become enlarged in our conceptual thinking. They also maintained that the lack of money does not militate against surrounding yourself with things which are beautiful. I really appreciated the comparison photographs they used which juxtapose good design against bad design, even though the photos were ancient. It still helped.

Because I have been largely self-taught and find that I have to be alert in order to stumble across helpful information; this book has been a help to me. I'm sure there is a book which is more contemporary that deals with the same topics and is filled with even more helpful information, but I'll have to inadvertantly amble over it! My husband's homily expression: "Even a blind sows finds an acorn every now and then.", conveys my own not-very-scientific process!

Find The Teapot Game Day 3

2008-07-11T14:51:00.002-05:00

The party at Miss Pixie Swallowtail's house was a tremendous success. The fairies didn't go home until dawn! Leaving Miss Swallowtail's party, Mr. & Mrs. Luminescent Panellus waved good-bye to all the fairies and walked to the edge of the forest where their home was set under a lovely oak tree. Entering their house, they immediately fell into bed totally exhausted and dreamed sweet dreams until noon. A sunbeam poked through the leaves and Luminescent Panellus awoke with a start. Oh my! The party would be at his house tonight and he had a lot to do to get ready!

Mr. P. jumped up and raced to the front door. There, waiting for him, stood the teapot. Little Miss Swallowtail had already brought it over and placed it in readiness for the evening's festivities. His friend, the fawn, was resting quietly in front of his house and was wondering why there was a teapot just sitting on the forest floor doing nothing. Her mother had left her at the stump by Mr. Panellus' house and told her to remain very still until she returned. Even though Fawn was laying quietly, that didn't stop her from thinking busy thoughts, and she was full of questions when Mr. P. came to the door.

"I can't answer your questions now, Fawn." said Luminescent as he rung his hands in nervousness. "I have lots to do to get ready for tonight. I am hosting the fairies party tonight and they are all planning on a a good old-fashioned Ring Dance. I must find a Caller to tell the dancers where to go in each round. It's very important to find an experienced Caller. In the merriment of the moment, we fairies sometimes forget where we are to go unless we have someone directing traffic."

"I'm sorry that I can't help you, Mr. Panellus." Fawn softly replied. "We deer don't do much dancing. We do lots of excellent leaping, but I've not heard that my family is too interested in dancing. Perhaps the honey bees could help you. They are always very busy, they dip and bob which looks like dancing, and they get around a lot. They may know of a good caller."

"An excellent idea, Fawn!" breathed stout Mr. Panellus. You may be young, but you have a sharp mind. I will run off right now and see if I can find a helpful bee. Ta ta."

Mr. Panellus rolled along the forest floor, in his round plumpness, and came upon a bee who was humming from the Dutchman's Breeches that grew all about. Mr. Panellus cleared his throat and with a harrumph said, "Excuse me, Mr. Bee, but do you know anything about dancing and can you tell me where I could find a good Caller for the fairy celebration which is to be held at my house tonight?"

The bee paused momentarily in his flight, and said, "Iffff you are looking ffffor someone ffffor tonight, you cerrrrtainly waited until the laaaast moment. We bees think ahead and plaaaan for the ffffuture."

"I know." Mr. Panellus wheezed. It is truly negligent of me to wait until today, but there hasn't been an opportunity to find a Caller until now."

"Well," the bee buzzed, "I guessss I can understand that. Try the seeeecond beeeech tree on your right. I think that there is a Fairy who hassss Called at some dancessss in the past. Her name is Parasol Lepiota. Sssshe is not exactly a fairy, I would call her a mushroom, but I think she is very agreeable and may be able to help you."

"Thank you so much for your help, Mr. Bee. I, myself, am more mushroom than fairy, so perhaps she will be more willing to come help us out tonight." Luminescent Panellus turned toward the second beech tree and the bee waved his wing in farewell.

Can you find the teapot in this picture, Franny and Ellie? Do you think that Parasol Lepiota will help the fairies out tonight at the party? Come back later and hear the rest of the story.
Luv,
Mimi

Back to Ernst Haeckel

2008-07-11T09:28:00.001-05:00

I have always thought that Haeckel's detailed, colorful, and almost surreal images would make great embroidery designs. Some time ago I got a Dover book with his art (Art Forms In Nature) and a book printed by Prestel Press Art Forms From the Ocean
I have yet to do an embroidery design based on his images, but I must say that I believe that my entry into "art journaling" can be somewhat attributed to him. I started art journaling because of my fascination with diatoms. I did research on them and drew them in my journal while my fascination expanded. I was impressed with the realization that God created each one of these minute plankton-like creatures which are so small and seemingly irrelevant in the grand spectrum of things. Yet, the Lord created each one, and He knows where each one fell and died. The amount of the silica shells left behind from the diatoms is so enormous that there are massive lodes of them which can run miles deep. Bulldozers now tap into these lodes and scoop up uncountable diatoms to sell as "diatomaceous earth". I think it is ironic that silica shells, which lived and died in the ocean, now help keep slugs at bay in our garden. These absolutely beautiful shells which are too small for us to see with our naked eye, are so perfectly formed that scientists use them to calibrate their microscopes.

All this makes me realize again that size is not important....

Love of Birds

2008-07-10T14:36:00.000-05:00

THESE THINGS ARE OURS....
...for God creates within our soul a mystic sense of wonder....
that we may hear allegro tunes
among tall swaying cattails....

"These Things Are Ours" Gwen Frostic

I finally jumped in the car and went to town yesterday. The desire had been rumbling around in my mind all week, but with the gas prices, I was unwilling to travel without a list in my hand that exceeded the length of the car.

Yesterday was the suitable day to hit the road. Besides, I was hungry for a Fuji Apple Chicken salad and broccoli soup from Panerra, and it was almost lunchtime by the time that I left.

My first stop was the office section at Sam's Club to lay in a new supply of page protectors. While browsing through the books at the next aisle over, I found an interesting little volume called "The Backyard Birdsong Guide" which comes with its own little playing device so that you can see the picture of the bird and hear it's song when you scroll to the appropriate number. Hmmmm! I thought. That looks perfect. We have so many lovely birdsounds floating around our yard and I never know who's calling to whom. I wanted the book. I bought the book. I love the book. And I hope to learn about all my musical neighbors as I study it.

I also picked up two new journals at B&N put out by "Working Class Studio". On my book shelf I have a number of Gwen Frostic's beautifully rendered print press books of block prints and poetry that I savor. The journals from Working Class Studio remind me of her artwork. I can hardly wait to dip into the journals and start messing up the pages! For the past year I've had a "thing" for dandelions, which is why the large volume caught my eye. The cover design contains several conceptions of a stylized dandelion which, to me, are reminiscent of artwork by Ernst Haeckel.... Makes me want to do something with dandelion heads!

The cabbage bowl in this picture is one that I made years ago when I was experimenting with papier mache. The bowl is made with layered strips of newspaper, and is what I think of as being the traditional method of papier mache. However, I also played around with Celluclay. The article about Celluclay in this link tells how to dye the Celluclay, which would probably make it much more interesting to work with. I found it hard to use because no matter how hard I tried, it came out bumpy and required a lot of sanding if I wanted a smooth surface. I've wanted to get back into working with papier mache because I really like its inherent qualities of lightness while being quite tough. It worked well when I had a lot of mache projects started so that they were staggered in their steps to completion.

Find The Teapot Game Day 2

2008-07-08T14:45:00.002-05:00

After spending an enjoyable evening at Mr. & Mrs. Wren's house, the fairies decided that they wanted to meet again the next evening. Fairies are noted for being very social and therefore will never turn down a group event! Because Mr. Wren hosted the previous party, he was in charge of taking the Queen's teapot to the next house. But where was that to be?

There was much debate over whether it was little Miss Pixie Swallowtail's turn or if the honors were to go to Luminescent Panellus, who lived in the mushroom patch at the edge of the forest. Little Miss Pixie had not hosted a party since last September, and her neighbors were beginning to wonder if she was getting too old to prepare for such a group because she really didn't fly around much at night anymore.

All the fairies loved Miss Pixie, especially the small fairies, because she had a special cupboard where she always kept a ready supply of crystal honey drops which were kept fresh on rose petals. Everyone under the age of 1486 years love crystal honey drops. When a guest arrives at Miss Pixie's, she will softly say, "Please, feel free to skip over to my pantry and break off a honey drop from the yellow rose which grows there. If you pop it into your mouth quickly, it will dissolve slowly and give you the most delicious satisfaction in your tummy." And she is always right!

Mr. Wren asked Miss Pixie if she would like to host tonight's tea party. She politely bowed her head a little and turned to Luminescent to see if he would prefer to have the party himself. Luminescent Panellus was a rotund little fairy, prone to paleness, and also quite mild in temperament. He thanked Miss Pixie for her concern but assured her that if she wanted to host tonight's party, that he would not interfere. He would simply pencil into his calendar that he would have everyone over tomorrow night! Luminescent was most agreeable and the location was set!

In the picture above, you will find the teapot waiting for Miss P. to retrieve it. Miss Pixie, because she is quite shy, has tucked her house beneath a large calladium leaf. She is also very fastidious about her manners so that all the fairies who come to her house must knock three times in fairy fashion in order to enter. What do you suppose the fairy knock is like? Find the teapot and then, Frances and Eleanor, you must decide how the fairies are to knock in that special way in order to go to Miss Pixie Swallowtail's party.

Goodbye until tomorrow!
Luv,
Mimi

New Bookplates!

2008-07-08T14:29:00.001-05:00

I ordered bookplates from The Black Apple at Etsy and they arrived today! Everything about them was fun; it was like receiving a mid-summer gift. Inside a cardboard mailing envelope with a cute red address label (addressed to ME) was a glassine envelope containing 15 very cute book perusing-girl-riding-a-swan bookplates. The business card is also adorable.

I will enjoy using these little gems!

Find The Teapot Game

2008-07-07T15:29:00.001-05:00

Frances and Eleanor, I have a game for you!

The fairies have been busy lately as they have been entertaining at one another's homes. They have a special teapot that was given to them by the "Queen of the Fairies" many many years ago. Her name was Queen Hermione, and she was very beautiful. All fairies are beautiful, but it was universally accepted that Queen Hermione was especially exquisite. She had sparkling coal black hair that caught the moonbeams as she skipped through the trees and it would cause the whole forest to glisten.

Queen Hermione gave to the fairies her special teapot when it was time for her to go to the Enchanted Lands. The teapot has been used since that time for special events and long-awaited celebrations. You can see the teapot in the picture up above. It is not a very good picture of the teapot itself, but that is because you are to notice its shape and not its design.

But now back to our story....

Since it is now high-summer, the teapot has been in constant demand because the fairies love their evening tea parties. On this evening, Mr. & Mrs. Wren invited the Oak Hills fairies to come to their house for tea. Mrs. Wren had just finished redecorating her new home and she was very proud of it. The Wrens were noted for being a little too pleased with themselves, but it was agreed that Mrs. Wren had done a fabulous job selecting colors, carpeting and window treatments for her new home. The children were growing quickly and it was time for them to have an open house before the eldest flew from the nest.

Excalibur Oak had been the last fairy to host an event so he brought the teapot to the Wren's house. As the evening darkened, and the fireflies began to dance through the trees, all the Oak Hills fairies gathered at the Wren's for a relaxing evening of mint tea and acorn scones.
Can you find the teapot in this picture?
Tomorrow I will post another picture of the teapot as it travels to another fairy party. It may be harder to find the teapot and that is why I want you to learn the shape because you can usually spot a shape quicker than you can a design.
Luv,
Mimi

Rest in Him

2008-07-07T10:50:00.003-05:00

Eleanor's hand is comfortably seated in Papa's hand. She was tired and as she laid her head on my chest and snuggled, she placed her entire hand and arm in Papa's hand.

This is a child at peace and in security. This is where I aim to go today!

Word from the Lord

2008-07-07T10:34:00.002-05:00

"This is My beloved Son, listen to Him!" Mark 9:7b

This morning as I was asking the Lord for help to recenter in Him, this verse popped into my mind.

Siren voices surround me which clamor for attention, and a bewildering array of conflicting emotions accompany those voices. The voices are like waves crashing against the shore of my heart, eroding its groundwork.

We got back last night from our trip to Waverly where we celebrated Jim and Jacqie's 40th anniversary. While there, we visited a short time with my Dad and we stayed with Stan and Diann for the night. We went over to Justin and Malissa's to see the progress of their flood repair work. We met Dad, Lois, Amanda and Michael and girls for brunch and then headed for home. I am always thrown out of whack when we return to Iowa and need to regain my equilibrium when coming back home.

When we met for brunch, I was captivated by the tenderness of Frances' and Eleanor's hands in comparison to the size of their Papa's hand. Papa's little finger, alone, is about half the size of Eleanor's entire hand. This picture is of Franny's hand laid in Papa's. It is a hand that is not quite so restful although she obligingly put her hand in Papa's for Mimi to take the picture!

When the words, "This is my beloved Son, listen to Him!" popped into my mind, I immediately thought of these pictures and knew that I needed to combine them with the encouragement the Lord gave me this morning. My place of stability and help will come from Him as I rest my hand in His and trust in Him to lead me in the way that I am to go.

The "Great Wall" Project from the North

2008-07-04T00:26:00.002-05:00

This photo pictures the Great Wall looking south. This is also taken before the last 2 layers of stone were positioned. We are so blessed to live in this house and to have this beautiful piece of property to work with.

The "Great Wall" Project

2008-07-04T00:17:00.001-05:00

For the past 5 years, approximately, Bernie has been working on his piles - his rock piles. In order to avert more erosion into the ravine, we have had tons and tons of concrete pieces hauled and dumped into our backyard. It has been a great solution to the erosion, and also provided needed materials to make an enormous retaining wall. The only cost was Bernie's commitment to intensive hours of backbreaking sweat labor, and the cost of hauling in the cement waste. The end product? A fabulous 10' tall and 50' long undulating retaining wall. It truly looks like something made by the W.P.A. in the 1930s and it is beautiful.
Tonight he finished the last of the rock laying.
This picture shows the wall just before he laid in the final tile line and the 2 last layers of rock. Now all we have to do is transfer topsoil to the area so that we can plant shrubs and perennial grasses along the lawn-side edge of the rocks.

Excited About Compost! Who Woulda Thunk It!

2008-07-03T23:57:00.001-05:00

Now I am terrified at the Earth, it is that calm and patient,
It grows such sweet things out of such corruptions,
(Walt Whitman)
The compost pile needed revamping. I've been nagging Bernie off and on for several years about establishing a verifiable compost pile - which is not just an untidy ash heap! I would toss egg shells onto my valuable pile only to chase after them as they rolled down the hill into the ravine.
Tonight, while brainstorming about where we would store the leftover sand from The Great Wall project, we decided to put it in the spot where I'd been tossing potato peelings and other great compost makings. We would then move the compost collection a little further to the side so that we would have all of our soil making supplies in one area.
We came up with a creative solution to make the compost framework, which for some mysterious reason had eluded us until this magical moment. Bernie spotted 2 great stones in the ravine and rolled them up to the yard (a labor intensive operation). The stone pictured on the right is the most perfect headstone ever! It is rounded on top, weighs a ton and stands as upright as a soldier on duty, just waiting to guard the next deposit of vegetable scrapings. We made a "backsplash" from 4 old fence posts that were currently purposeless.
After manhandling these pieces into place, we stood back and proudly admired our new serious compost heap. It looks like a grave - which it is - a grave for unused vegetable parts which will be recycled into gorgeous fruits, flowers or plants. But it also looks very "Mother Earth"y or like something that would be at the Living History Farms. We're very pleased.

2008-07-03T21:23:00.001-05:00

This picture captures the girls so well. Frances, with her droll sense of humor. Ellie and her optimistic love of the moment. These girls are sensational.

The Girls and Their Umbrellas

2008-07-03T21:08:00.001-05:00

In June Amanda and the girls came for a visit. When I went to Branson with Amy, I spotted umbrellas at Silver Dollar City which could be personalized! This was just the ticket! I skipped around like a kid at Christmas - so excited I could hardly contain myself. An umbrella is just what Frances wanted for her birthday. I ended up getting umbrellas for both girls. Franny got a glittery white one with pink ruffles on the edge. Her name and "Little One" (her self-designated nickname) was also applied to the surface of the umbrella. For Eleanor, I picked her favorite color, which is yellow and her name was also put on her umbrella. The girls loved them and used them almost every day while they were here for their visit. Frances held her umbrella upright, but Eleanor's would get rather heavy for her and she had a tendency to drag it on the ground.

My Husband the Amateur Arborist

2008-07-03T20:54:00.002-05:00

We've been doing a lot of yard work this year. After cutting down an oak which was dying, Bernie was able to use the same tree men with their boom truck to reach 50' into the top of another of our oak trees. This tree had been struck by lightning a number of years ago and is in fragile condition. For several years Bernie has been planning how he can brace the branches of this tree by chaining them together. It took him a long time to do his calculations, gather the materials and then accomplish the long awaited task! The tree men would not do the work because of liability issues, so Bernie did it himself. He is in the gray sweatshirt leaning over the edge of the basket. At this point he is putting the nuts onto the bolt which has been drilled through the entire huge branch. He ended up with a tri-brace chain situation that was totally amazing to the tree guys and to myself as I watched him accomplish this task. He had to brace three branches with the drilling and bolting process. I was terrified as I watched him leaning so far over the basket while so far off the ground. But I also know how careful he is. We both had a sense of tremendous satisfaction after it was over.

Restful Delight

2008-05-07T14:04:00.001-05:00

The lilacs are in bloom. Birds are busily building nests. And I've been playing the peeping Tom, sitting in the sunshine observing the activity around me.

Our crab apples are also in bloom, not as wonderfully full as last year since this is their off-year, but still the fragrance filling the air is enough to send me into raptures. Kipling wrote that "Smells are surer than sights and sounds to make your heart-strings crack." I'm always amazed at how smells evoke a memory or a taste. I remember Marie Fritcher's homemade blackberry pie always tasted like my grandmother's attic smelled. I never figured out how that could be - but it was a fact!
A wren couple has taken up residence in "CrabApple Inn" which swings from a branch of that tree. Mrs. Wren is a wee pert beauty. I saw her bobbing in and out of the Inn door yesterday while her husband perched on a branch at a safe distance practicing his musical riffs. I decided that she was doing some serious decision making - probably picking out paint colors and carpet samples while her husband wisely remained passively supportive.
Apple blossom petals drifted to the ground as wren notes eddied around them. It was like watching a ticker tape parade for Spring.

Friends Share!

2007-12-31T06:26:00.002-06:00

Last night Tami and I went through letters that we had written to each other 20 years ago. Those were tumultuous years for us both. Twenty years ago those letters encouraged us as we held hands through the mail and we were amazed at how timeless those words were. The lessons we learned and applied in those days are bringing forth fruit even today!

I found a newer "letter" that I had written to Tami, but this one was sent via email. It contains the same intense sharing for which we are noted: April 15, 2003
Tami,
I sat outside this afternoon, in this beautiful weather, scribbling some notes. Even though Diann had been here for 4 days and left yesterday, I still feel the need for "intellectual talk". Therefore, I am going to share with you my journal, in doing so, I will be sharing my heart - and this is what I love to do. I hope it makes some sense to another mind.
...
I'm writing at my make-shift desk: a board stretched across the ample arms of an adirondack chair. On it are my notebook, beverage, highlighter and a couple of books - Friends For The Journey by L'Engle and Shaw; and Only Fifty Years Ago by Gladys Hasty Carroll. A sheaf of papers: enlarged copies of papercuts from Wana Derge's book, are peering at me from beneath the books. These books are not only good reading, but are also useful for holding the papers in place as a breeze eddies around me. The cat is laying stretched out at my feet. And Acorn, the bird, is chirping in her cage. I positioned her cage half in and half out of the sun so she also could enjoy this incredible weather. The stimulus of a Phil Keaggy CD "Still Life" floats through the open office window and my chair comfortably sits on the patio - out of the sun but not out of the freshness, security and peace of this place. What an incredible blessing and experience this is! I'm enjoying the beauty of this house we so love, and the solitude of our backyard. Almost everything that I so enjoy is merely a few paces away - or it's on my desk now! How can God be so good to me!

Today I even made the final IRS loan payment from a loan taken out 3 years ago. On this day of April 15 we sent in the 2002 tax forms and will be getting some money back, and we completed paying off the 1999 tax bill! It is delicious to have such rich contentment at this moment. I don't want to lose it or diminish it.

I sense a rich joy soaking down to my very toes. Oh, to be able to express in some form, or in a variety of creative forms, the majesty of God's artistry! His Art lies within and without every life form. We behold it with our eyes, but we also embrace it with our heats, minds and senses. His Artistry seeks a level deep inside each individual. Art is more than a beautiful painting, a gracefully executed dance, a perfectly formed sculpture, or a moving group of well-selected words or images. Art, from the hand of God, is all of those things together and much much more. All these forms swirl simultaneously in some great inner dance within all that lives. It is much like C.S. Lewis writes about when he tries to convey the Trinity.

However, God's skillful Artistry has incapacitated me. I'm unable to express the joy of His presence in such a multi-dimensional way. I sense it, but it turns at a 90 degree angle within me and blocks further flow. I don't allow it's conception to fully play out within my heart. I want to stop it - like stop motion camera work - so that I can capture a moment. It is too much for me to grasp at one sitting, or in one moment. It is because I am slow and heavy. Yet, to stop the unfolding of His Artistic drama so that I can savor it, can also be a means to suspend the power of it. The sorrowful truth is that there is a time to savor the facets of His Workings. There is also a time to allow the drama to unfold it's holistic purpose so that I can gain an understanding of His Mission statement through it.

For example, I am decidedly refusing to leave this habitation of peace. A misguided desire for muchness, or my internal "Attention Deficit" disorder, would move me away from here to look for a "better" place in which to view God's Art. Or it would attempt to drive me to look for a better means to express to Him what He's stirring within me. NO, I am seated here to stay for a duration. I will allow this duration to work its way through me. I will not try to sketch (badly), or sew (fitfully), or knit (disjointedly), and be confused about what it is I'm to do at the moment (creatively). I'm just a-sittin! And I'm just a-stayin'! I am not going to harbor guilt feelings about work that awaits me, or "art" that is not conceived and possibly never will be.

For this is His moment in me. Whatever I try to do myself is flat and lifeless. I am awaiting the waking of His Artistic Life within me. This can only come as I allow Him to freely work deeply deep down in the cold currents and dark seas of my soul and to bring out the Life of His Spirit in me. The awakening and refreshing of His life in these dark fountains release His artistic forms through this stilted and clumsy frame.

True Art takes time. A lot of time. It is tedious. How much more willing I am to look at art second-hand, to jealously view the results of someone else's creativity rather than persevere through the messy tedium of working, reworking, and working yet again through the germ of my own idea. Honing an idea, developing a concept, is like playing with modeling clay. It is never set, and develops best through the warmth of my own hands. It is the exhausting workingness of it all that can be off-setting.

God's process is unfolded through the seasons which come and go, then take their curtain call so that the next season can come center stage. Yet, He upholds the promise of the seasonal cycle and finds that it is good. I cannot have summer for 3 seasons in a row, as much as I would prefer it to be that way. Still, I find anticipation in knowing that summer will again appear after 3 seasons have passed. This artistic wonder births a delight and security. This delight and security incubates a sense of well-being. And that is amazing! We don't have to have it all in this moment.

Society around us would tell us that "ARTISTES" stir things up and reveal things that are not always comfortable, as if artists have morphed into prophetic gods to whom we should give our total attention. And yet, God's Artistry does bring a sense of well-being. I will allow that the beauty of a storm does not always engender a sense of well-being: power and awe, yes, but well-being? Not really. Still, this is also a part of God's Art work. The well-being underlying a storm rests within the heart of the believer who knows in Whom he believes, and his foundation is settled upon the Person and Character of his God, and not upon the appearance at the moment. All that I do needs to be also founded upon the Rock Who is my total Source, and through Whose security and truth my work develops.

God created the world in 6 days. But He worked from a plan and each day built upon the preceeding day. Anything that I do is to spring from a plan. A plan gives framework from which a final result is ensured. If there is no framework, there may not be a final result because the building will collapse before the end can come. A plan can motivate one through the tedium of the precess in order to complete what is begun in the excitement of the idea.

God's Artistry springs from a life that is 100% alive. Is it possible, Father, for me to be 100% alive? I know this is true: that true Artistry springs from a life that is 100% alive. I don' t know how to become that. In fact, I cannot become that on my own. It is only as You work it in me, through the modeling clay process that an idea is birthed. However, as I sit here, at my writing desk in this wonderful moment of time which You have so graciously given me, I await the unfurling of Your life. And I seek the unfolding of Your Words which give Light and Life.
Love,
Vicky

Miss Read

2007-12-29T09:37:00.001-06:00

In my reading in "Village School" by Miss Read, I discovered a thumbnail sketch of her writing philosophy. The tiny concept follows a telling of the funeral for the school manager on a fine spring day, and of her, the schoolteacher's decision to read to the children from The Wind In The Willows, during the time of the funeral. Miss Read writes:
"Out there, in the churchyard, the black silent figures would be standing immobile around the dark hole. Above them, no less black, the rooks would be wheeling and crying, unheeded by the mourners. They would stand there, heads downbent, with who knows what emotions stirring them...pity, regret, the realization of the swiftness of life's passage, the inevitability of death. While here, in the classroom, sitting in a golden trance, our thoughts were of a sun-dappled stream, of willows and whiskers, of water-bubbles and boats...and, I venture to think, that of all those impressions which were being made on that spring afternoon, ours, for all their being transmitted, as it were second-hand, would be more lasting in their fresh glory.
"Thoughts by a graveside are too dark and deep to be sustained for any length of time. Sooner or later the hurt mind turns to the sun for healing, and this is as it should be, for otherwise, what future could any of us hope for, but madness?"

The book, Village School, was copyrighted in 1956, a mere 9 years after the horrors of World War II. During Christmas break, Amanda, Michael, Bernie and I were talking about the influenza pandemic of 1918 which took so many lives. My own grandparents were sickened by it, but survived. Michael mentioned that it was amazing to him that this was such a devastating incident and yet one which was little talked about. We wondered if it was because the epidemic followed so closely on the heels of World War I and families were still reeling from the losses of that war. To put upon them the thoughts of these senseless additional losses from the ranks of their young and strong, was too much to bear. So it just wasn't discussed. They put it behind them and tried to move on, lumping the flu victims with the war victims.

I relate to Dora Saint's (aka Miss Read) writing mission. I am not demeaning the need to seriously consider ramifications for our actions, corporate or personal, and I am not endorsing shallow thinking. However, when I sit down to read, I do not want to be shoulder another set of unsolvable problems. I am surrounded by unsolvable problems already. I do not want to shoulder the sorrow of the world's inequities by hearing anymore about them. I have a sensitive nature that does not need to be brow beaten by humanity's inate viciousness. I would rather offset the dire by the recognition that we take ourselves altogether too seriously sometimes and it there is definately a time to laugh and enjoy the moment.

That is what I am wanting to do in these years of my life: enjoy the moments and treasure what the moment shows me, knowing that it will pass all too quickly.

End of the Year

2007-12-28T20:48:00.001-06:00

A fresh year is upon me and I just finished looking at my old blog. I hadn't read it for months and was pleased that I had done what I said that I was setting out to do this year. I have been working at writing and I have been working steadily at refining my skills in Paint Shop Pro. The satisfaction that I feel is not in the quality of my work, but it lies in the the fact that I worked the plan, even when it seemed like there was no sensible reason to continue it.

Rereading my few previous entries also makes me realize that there is system to my thinking and that the motivation is not ephemeral. This has strengthened an encouragement that I need to press on to the next level.

Practice is what will hone my blogging skills. I am praying that I will stay on target, and that my writing skills will develop along with the diligence of doing this on a daily or near daily basis.

Another year, another treasure trove

2007-01-04T09:10:00.001-06:00

I feel like little Mary in her garden looking at the lush growth around her. Summer is in rich splendor at her feet and she is surveying all that lies before her.
For the first time in my own life, I sense that the work of my hands is good. God is in control and is leading me into fresh territory. He has already laid up treasures in the storehouse of my inner man which are ready to be drawn out. I am trusting nubs of ideas in the understanding that they are the culmination of previous experiences folded into the batter of much time spent learning about the One who created me. Life is layered - not fragmented - when we know the One Who is truly in control. In 2007 I am focusing on honing my writing and art skills by hoeing, watering and studying over this garden daily.

New Year

2007-01-02T10:34:00.001-06:00

The beginning of a new year! I have decided on my personal study process for the year but am not decided on how I want to proceed with the artistic ideas. One thing that I am planning to do is to continue to work with this blog and to enter pictures. Uploading pictures will be my greatest challenge because I do not like taking pictures!

This is an image that I was playing with in Paint Shop ProX. I made the image into a brush which I then beveled and layered. I have a love for chickens. I think it must be in my DNA because I've never personally owned chickens. My great-grandmother raised prize winning Wyandotts for many years and I'm thinking that it must be a latent gene which resurfaced in me. I never knew either my great-grandmother or her chickens. They were all long gone before I came along. It is indeed, refreshing to think that there are things that came before me!

As I'm typing this, I'm suddenly getting ideas for further posts. Hurrah, perhaps the muse has settled and I will begin to use this lovely bit of cyberspace landscape reserved just for this Prairie Girl!

Prairie Girl

2006-03-25T17:20:00.001-06:00

This has been an interesting week. I've become a delighted Grandmother again. Eleanor Elizabeth was born on March 21, 2006 at 8:26 p.m. She weighed 8 pounds and 12 ounces and has an older sister, Frances Maxine. Our Grandson, Braidon Jon was born on January 18 - that makes an upsurge in the family of 2 new members in just 3 months.