Tag Archives: #amblogging

Sand Paintings

12 Apr

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

JUDY

In previous memories, I’ve mentioned my Aunt Jessie.

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She was a lover of “things.” She never married, and things became quite important to her, and she surrounded herself with the things she loved.

Living in New Mexico, she became enamored of all things Indian/Mexican. She purchased and wore many different pieces of Indian turquoise and silver jewelry. She had necklaces. She had bracelets. She had rings and earrings. She loved every piece she owned.   I was fortunate to inherit all that jewelry when she died.

She wore fiesta dresses a lot – both to work, and at home. (Please see my blog on December 9, 2012, titled “Fiesta Dresses” for an explanation of them)

One thing she learned to love were sand paintings. It is truly a unique art. She had dozens of those paintings around her house, and I was pleased to be able to take my pick of the ones I wanted. All had pieces of crushed turquoise in them. Some had larger chunks of turquoise. But they were all unique. I so enjoy that, with them on my wall, I still have a touch of New Mexico around me.

See what you think:

Spring Unfurling

9 Apr

On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

I'm a winner

  We left Florida earlier than usual this year and arrived in North Carolina before spring. Our daffodils greeted us with their beautiful faces and the Bradford Pear trees were spectacular but everything else was brown. Temperatures continued to drop into the upper twenties and lower thirties and it seemed spring might forget to arrive.IMG_2476   Each day we searched for signs our plants were waking up. The first to awaken were the forsythia. We seldomsee them in their bright yellow coat and they are a treat to our eyes. Don’t you think it is cool the way God staggers the arrival of spring so each plant gets it own time to shine? IMG_2486   The weather warmed this week and it seems the rest of nature is anxious to share its beauty. While the forsythia is shedding its yellow coat and daffodils are beginning to fade the blueberries and apple buds are swelling. Plants that had lain hidden all winter are sending out new shoots.   I am especially thrilled with one of our peony plants. You see, it came from the yard of a precious friend who passed away. One day, as I sat with her I asked if I might have a root from one of her beautiful plants and she said yes. We had spent many hours rocking on her porch and admiring them and I wanted something special to keep those memories close. Sadly, at the end of the summer it seemed to die. Imagine my joy this morning when my husband told me the plant was coming back to life! IMG_2490   So far, we have late daffodils, one tulip, bleeding heart and a fat bee on a dandelion!

On Wednesay we drove down to Clayton, Georgia to see the cherry blossoms. We had gone the week before and they were bare sticks but this week they were glorious.

The weather today is warm bordering on hot so I know spring will be fully unfurled in a few more days. My husband decided today was a good time to erect a handrail for the stairs down to his workshop. I sneeked a picutre thorugh the screeon of him and our porch dog gus. Mike and gus copy 3   I’m not sure why, but I kind of like the texture the screen adds to the picture.

My Colonial States Trip~Part 21

8 Apr

A Slice of Life

Bill Lites

Bill Small Red Plane

After that educational tour, I headed for the rental car office to turn in my car and get a ride to the Providence Train Station for my trip to the T.F. Green Airport. All went well until I arrived at the train station and my train #807 showed no gate assignment. There were four tracks, and I didn’t want to miss my train (12:27) because the next train after that (2:54) to the airport would cause me to miss my flight to Orlando. As I bought my ticket, I asked the clerk which track train #807 would leave from and she said, “That information will be posted on the schedule board about 15 minutes before the train arrives.” So, I broke out my CD player and settled in to wait. At 12:15 the schedule board had not changed and I asked the clerk about the gate number again. This time she rolled her eyes and said, “Sometimes they don’t post that information until 5 minutes before the train arrives.” I thanked her and sat back down to watch the schedule board. By now (12:23) I was about to panic, and go holler at someone, when the schedule board changed showing “Train #807 Arriving On Track 4” and I breathed a sigh of relief.

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I got to the T.F. Green Airport Station at 12:43 and figured I now had a little over 2 hours to wait for my flight leaving at 3:30. But, when I went to check my bag for the flight, I was told that the plane had had mechanical problems and they would have to bring another plane to Providence, and the new departure time for my flight was 4:50. What a bummer! All that anxiety over missing the train was for nothing. So, what else could I do, but call DiVoran to tell her my flight was delayed, and that would make it too late arriving for us to go to dinner there in Orlando, as we had planned. She said, “No problem, I’ll just whip us up an omelet when we get home.” Well, that was fine with me, so, I broke out my CD player again and settled in for a little longer wait this time. As it turned out, it was almost 9:00 before we got home and that ham/cheese/mushroom omelet was just what the doctor ordered.

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I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I love going on these trips, to see different parts of our wonderful country, visit interesting places and museums and meet my American neighbors no matter where they live. But, it is always good to get home to the company of my lovely wife DiVoran and sleep in my own bed. I hope you have enjoyed reading about this trip as much as I have enjoyed re-living it in these blogs. I’m sure I have left out some important details of the trip, but if I remember them I’ll just have to include them as some kind of a “Post Script” or “Addendum” to My Colonial States Trip at some later date. In the meantime, keep smiling because GOD loves YOU and has a wonderful plan for your life.      

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           —–The End—–

Pit Bulls on the Trail

6 Apr

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and ArtistOn my way home from my walk day, before yesterday, I came upon two bit pit bulls running wild on the trail. They both barked at me and I started saying my prayers. I’d seen the black and white dog before, but not the pure white one. All I knew to do was act brave and pretend to be friendly. When they stopped barking and started wagging their tails, I took a breath of much-needed air. After a few minutes, I decided to move toward home and they decided to turn around and go with me. I walked a ways then turned to see if they were coming along. They stopped and look nonchalant as if they were busy sniffing the side of the trail and couldn’t care less what I was doing. I went around a corner where they couldn’t see me and when I came out again they actually ran to catch up.

When we got back to the neighborhood, they left me to go to their back door while I went to the front of the block. The owner was in the garage with her son. I told her they’d been a mile down the trail and she was very upset with them. I urged her to keep them in and she thanked me. I could just imagine how terrified people would be by such big dogs of a breed that had such a bad reputation. Here in the south they are often used as fighting dogs for gambling and have been known to fight to the death.

Today I walked past her house on my way to the trail and three pit bulls rushed out. Two were barking, but they didn’t fool me anymore. I said hello and tails started to wag. They knew I was going for a walk and asked if they could go too. I said a big no, although by now I liked them and would have enjoyed their company. The third one was a puppy. She said she’d go wherever everybody else was going. I did everything I could to rouse the person who lives there but at first got no answer.

I thought I would turn around and go home, but I could see they didn’t care where I was going, they just wanted to be with somebody. There’s was nothing else happening right then. Then I thought about trying to get them into the old car sitting in the driveway so they couldn’t follow me, but I didn’t know how long it would be before somebody came. I went to the open garage and yelled HELLO as loud as I could — twice. Finally, the woman who lives there came out. She was mad at the dogs. She was DONE. This was IT! She wasn’t mad at me. We had a little talk. The white dog was her son’s, but he was sharing custody with her. She had found the pup on the street when she came home at three a. m. from work the night before. It seemed lost. Now she picked it up and cuddled it and said in a baby-talk voice, “but you’re going to the pound, aren’t you, sweetie?” The pup snuggled up to her not seeming to understand what she was saying.

The woman and I had a little chat about the white dog’s nipples, wondering if she was pregnant. The woman said she and her son had discussed it, too. They’d only had her five days, but they thought maybe she was.

Everything is going to be all right though, at least for me. I liked the woman and would have enjoyed having her as a neighbor. I liked all the dogs too, but there was just something a bit much about the whole scenario. In the end, she told me she’d be moving because the house, which she is renting, sold. I’ll take another route until I’m sure they’re gone. It’s almost the end of the month so it shouldn’t be long. I used to have a big dog that ran free back when the woods were wild and there was no official trail, no other people. I miss him. I wouldn’t mind if those dogs walked with me, I just don’t think anybody would appreciate my entourage, well, not when they first met them, anyway.

Pit bull

Keukenhof Gardens, Holland~Part 2

5 Apr

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

JUDY

 

 

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Last time, I wrote about the Keukenhof Gardens, in Lisse, Holland. We so thoroughly enjoyed our visits there, and want to share this beautiful place with everyone we know.

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Here is some history about the tulips we found interesting from the Fluwell website:

“during World War 2, people ate tulip bulbs. The only reason for this was hunger. The Netherlands suffered a great famine in the winter of 1944-1945. Eating tulip bulbs is not something our ancestors did for fun, they did it because there was nothing else to eat.

 Many Dutchmen of certain age remember the famine and the tulip bulbs they ate. In our theme park Tulpenland, we have a lot of customers that share their memories with us. They sometimes still find it difficult to see tulip bulbs back, although they know that we use them only for flowers, not for food. Hunger is a deep emotion that is not easily forgotten.

 The Dutch famine was the result of the lost Battle of Arnhem (1944), when allied forces failed to liberate the northern provinces of the country. The northern provinces became isolated from the liberated parts of Europe. Food stocks ran out, as did fuel stocks. Then a harsh winter began. Thousands of Dutch citizens starved or froze to death.

 Due to the war situation, tulip growers had not planted tulip bulbs that year; so great amounts of tulip bulbs were stocked on farms throughout the country. During the famine authorities decided to use these stocks as food for the starving populations. The old, dry tulip bulbs were sold in grocery stores, and newspapers published recipes with tulips. The tulip bulbs were nutritious and relatively easy to cook, so that less fuel was needed.

 The tulip bulbs that people ate in the Second World War cannot be compared with modern day, fresh tulip bulbs. The war bulbs were old and dry and did not taste like fresh tulips. A fresh tulip bulb has a sweet, milky flavor that is actually not very bad. The tulip bulbs that were eaten during the war had a very bitter and dry taste instead.

 Eating tulip bulbs is not as bad as it sounds like, as long as you eat fresh tulips that were not sprayed. Unfortunately, such bulbs were not available during the last winter of WW2. It is important that this sad history is not forgotten. Dutch children are still raised with the words: you are not hungry, you only have appetite (Je hebt geen honger, je hebt trek). Real hunger makes you eat everything you can get, even old, dry tulip bulbs, as they were eaten during the Dutch famine.”

 

Amazing!

Just a side note here – there is a wonderful place to visit outside The Hague, called Madurodam. It is a miniature city, built to scale. It includes the normal things you would find in a city – churches, office buildings, and even Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam, with working airplanes. It’s a fun thing to see during the day, but miniature lights come on at night, and it’s quite the fairyland.

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The family of Old Things R New wishes each of our visitors a blessed Easter. He is risen!

How to live happily ever after.

4 Apr

Even Nature Worships

3 Apr

From the Heart

Louise Gibson

Louise Gibson

 

I look through my kitchen window each day,

seeking as I always do-

All the signs of God’s presence

in the soul-stirring scene that I view.

 

It never ceases to amaze me

that His presence is everywhere.

The Easter Llilies are radiant-

postural, as though in prayer.

 

They are programmed to bloom at Easter,

then close for another year.

Their role is to glorify the Savior-

then silently disappear.

 

Springtime is a season

of new life with a goal.

New leaves are forming,flowers are budding-

there is a stirring in my soul.

 

I read an interesting quote this week by Max Lucado

that I would like to share with you.

‘”The next time a sunrise steals your breath, or a meadow of

flowers leaves you speechless, remain that way

and say nothing, and listen as Heaven whispers, “Do you

like. it?  I did it just for You.”

Sunlight lillies

Baking for Cystic Fibrosis

2 Apr

On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

I'm a winner

UPDATE 4/6/2016

The bake sale was a huge success and over $2,000.00 was raised for Cystic Fibrosis!  My friend was thrilled and grateful for the communiy support.

This Saturday, April 4, 2015, a determined grandmother will be setting up a card table in front of our local K-Mart and selling fabulous baked goods, She does this every year to raise money for Cystic Fibrosis research. Her friends and church family bake the items.

My friend has three precious granddaughters, two of which have active CF and the other one is a carrier. Until Wednesday, I had no idea that Cystic Fibrosis research was largely funded through donations, because Cystic Fibrosis affects a relatively small number of children, in the United States approximately 30,000 and worldwide 70,000.

 Nearly every #cysticfibrosis drug available today was made possible because of @CF_Foundation support. (Click to Tweet)

Today I am baking a triple chocolate buttermilk pound cake for the auction, along with some cookies.

triple-chocolate-buttermilk-pound-cake-sl

This cake was featured on the cover of the February Southern Living Magazine and I made it during our stay in Florida. It was incredible!  It seems the recipe came from a professional baker who charges cake lovers  $36.00  to take one home or have it shipped!  If you would like to make it, here is the RECIPE.  I don’t add the white frosting since it has buttermilk in it and I am not sure if it would require refrigeration. Would love for my baker friends to weigh in on this as I think the white makes the cake look great.

If you would like to know more about Cystic Fibrosis you can visit the Cystic Foundation home page and if you have an opportunity to give, I know these three girls and their family would be grateful. Thanks to research, these girls already have a brighter future  than children in the past.

My Colonial States Trip~Part 20

1 Apr

A Slice of Life

Bill Lites

Bill Rocket Plane

 

I started my last day of this trip with another attempt at visiting the First Baptist Church in America. I drove the 15 miles into Providence, RI and this time had no trouble driving right up to the church. I parked and walked across the street to take a picture of the church and read the plaque out front. Of course the church was closed at that time of the morning, so I just moved on to the next place I wanted to visit before leaving Providence.

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It wasn’t far to the Roger Williams Museum and National Memorial where I learned what a dedicated individual Roger Williams really was. He originally came to this country in early 1631 with a group of Puritans, who landed in Boston, MA hoping to find religious freedom in the newly formed Massachusetts Bay Colony.

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 He left Boston later that year to accept a ministry position offer in Salem, MA whose inhabitants believed more along the lines he did. When Salem withdrew their offer, Williams accepted an offer in Plymouth, MA for the same reason. By 1633 Williams was still at odds with local clergy over his “radical” beliefs (the separation of church and state) and the Massachusetts Bay Colony wanted him gone.

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In 1636 his persecution as a “separatist” came to a head when the Massachusetts Bay Colony convicted him for his “new and dangerous opinions” with plans to deport him back to England. He fled south from Plymouth, some 50 miles or so, to spend time with the Wampanoag Indians, and later traveled to the headwaters of Narragansett Bay where he founded the colony of Providence (later to be called Rhode Island), on land deeded to him by the Narragansett Indians.

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Williams established a trading post just south of Providence in 1637 and was instrumental in founding the First Baptist Church in America (which I referred to in Part 19 and above) in 1638. He returned to England in 1643 to secure a charter for the colony of Rhode Island, and again in 1651 to defend that charter against another grant that would have split the colony. In his later years Williams would succumb to ill-health, brought on by a lifetime dedicated to the colony he had founded and his struggling to keep it together, along with his constant battle with the “establishment” for religious freedom for all people everywhere. Below is a photo of the monument in Providence, dedicated to Williams with the figure of Clio (the muse of history) who is shown inscribing Williams’ name and the date (1636) when he founded the colony of Providence, which would later become the state of Rhode Island.

 

 

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—–To Be Continued—–

Canon City, Colorado

30 Mar

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and ArtistOne of Dad’s early letters after he was inducted into the army in 1943 had an account of his rescuing a sergeant from drowning. I read that when I was a grandmother, and it was pretty exciting. He was trained in water purification, so that explains how I’ve always been interested in clean water.

Our lives in Canon City were full of interesting things to do. On Sunday afternoons, Mother took us to the small park across from the prison for a band concert. I believe the band members were convicts or cons as we called them. To us, it was the best music in the world and a great source for learning patriotism.

Mother loved to tell the story of the time the band played, “The Star Spangled Banner.” Suddenly I gripped my little brother by his collar and jerked him to his feet saying, “Stand up … Star Spangle.”

We listened to the radio a lot. During the daytime if Mother didn’t have a job that day, she’d iron or sew and listen to soap operas. She loved “Stella Dallas. I’m sure the tales were full of warnings and cautions and were probably good for a little girl to hear, though I’m sure I didn’t understand half of it. We listened to “Fibber McGee and Molly.” It started with the opening of a closet where everything fell out on the floor with great crashings and bangings. We thought that was hilarious – every time. I always thrilled to the opening music of “Let’s Pretend.” I wonder now what those captivating stories were about. Maybe I can look them up on the Internet.

One special evening, David and Mother stayed home and my Grandparents took me to the Pen (which is what we called the prison) for a guards and wives night out. We had dinner in the “dining room,” which was full of long tables where the cons usually ate. They then set up a projector and showed the movie, “April Showers.” Afterward we toured the rows of cells and I was surprised to see how many of the men had decorated with serapes, pictures, and anything else they could find to make their spaces homey. I believe at that time the cells only held one man, two at the most.

We went back to the Colorado State Penitentiary a few years ago. They’ve made the old part into a museum.

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Prison Museum 

Video

The building was pristine, the air inside cool on a hot summer day. I recognized the name Alfred Packer, infamous cannibal. The museum had a model of the first gas chamber to be used in Colorado and the big wooden, “horses,” they laid the men over to beat them with a paddle for punishment.

To me, though, as a child, the prison was a friendly place. When we walked past the cells, the inmates looked out not with evil intent, but seeming to long for home and family.

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Another reason I was well disposed toward inmates was that one of them made a doll cradle for me. My old pals, Teddy and Raggedy Ann, got a lot of use from that.

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Doesn’t Teddy look like a good listener? Believe me, he is. Notice how somebody kissed him on the nose so much his nose wore off.