Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Saying Goodbye for the Winter

The sky is beginning to lighten as the sun nears the horizon on this our last day at the cottage.  It was fitting that we had a dusting of snow last weekend.  It brings our time here full circle.  When we moved in at the end of August temperatures were in the 90s, the trees wore a full complement of bright green leaves and evenings were spent sitting on the dock watching the sun set.  Summer quickly gave way to fall. The leaves turned to crimson and gold, and the dock was pulled from the water to spend the winter high and dry on shore.  Last Saturday morning we awoke to a bitter north wind, temperatures in the mid-20s and snow on the ground.  Sunsets are now observed from the warmth of our little red cottage.

We have learned that the single, window air conditioner does an adequate job of cooling things off for sleeping in hot weather and the old oil furnace spews enough heat to warm our cold bones when there is frost on the ground.  With the aid of an auxiliary heater the sun porch can function year round if needed and the little red cottage can accommodate 5 adults and 2 children for at least 5 days without incident.  (Of course there was that little melt down over a Risk game on Saturday evening.)

wcottage_snow

Buying a cottage in western Pennsylvania was the last thing on our minds on that fateful July morning when we wandered cautiously down the lane for the first time.  Or perhaps it was.  Maybe the need to return to our roots has always been there, lurking in the recesses of our minds while we lived life in other places.  All I know for certain is that on that July morning I fell in love, with a little red cottage, on a lake in western Pennsylvania and it felt like home.


Monday, November 29, 2010

Maw-maw

Originally posted 12/12/08


Marla2

Last night I received a call from Maw Maw.  Maw Maw is the OTHER grandmother in the life of my grandchildren.  She is also a good friend.  In fact we were friends long before our children got that gleam in their eyes and started us down this wonderful road.  In case you’ve never heard the story, it goes something like this….

Maw Maw and I met while working together in a job that was not a fit for either one of us.  However, there was an instant connection and the friendship that evolved long outlasted the positions we held at the time.  At work, Maw Maw and I would talk about our children. Don’t we all?  When I would share something about S Maw Maw was always quick to add that he needed to marry her B.  She just knew they were meant for each other.  (Do I need to tell you that they were 12 or 13 at the time?)

We both resigned from our jobs within months, and shortly thereafter I went to work for Pop (Maw Maw’s husband).  Our friendship continued to blossom and we began adding our spouses to the mix.  Our children knew each other, but they went to different schools and had little interaction or interest in each other.  Until….one day…. 4 years after this saga began, S and I were enjoying lunch at a local restaurant and ran into Maw Maw, Pop and B having lunch at the same location. I noticed the two of them (S & B, not Pop & Maw Maw) slyly checking each other out and before you could say can this really be happening, she invited him to her homecoming celebration.  He said yes and the rest is history.

There were a few bumps along the way, but after surviving a year when she was still in high school and he in college and spending 3 years at Auburn together they tied the knot and made their parents extremely happy. 

Now, why did I start writing this story?  Oh yes, I remember. Maw Maw called last night.  (B and the little ones are visiting them in Hunstville for a few days.)  And guess what?  She has stinky breath too!


Saturday, November 27, 2010

Monkey Joes and Stinky Breath & Reruns

I have decided that rather than leave the blog pages empty every day during this busy time I will resurrect some of my older posts.  The ones that have been my favorites over the past 2 1/2 years.  I may add a few new ones to the mix if time allows but for the most part it will be reruns until we return from our trip in mid-December.  I hope you enjoy the look back.



Is there anything as enchanting as a child’s squeals of delight over the simple things in life?

Allie_slide

On our way home from Virginia we couldn’t ignore the magnetic pull to Greenville.  It was a long drive back to Florida.  We had to stop somewhere overnight.  Why not Greenville?  After all it was on our way home, or could be.  So we surrendered to our desire to see the grandkids just one more time and stopped for a quick visit.

We had one day and we had to make the most of it.  With that in mind we gave A a couple of options for a fun Friday morning and she chose wisely.  She picked Monkey Joes.  For those of you not familiar with MJs, it is a delightful spot filled to the brim with inflatable slides, bounce houses, and other goodies designed for the child in all of us. 

Our little sweat heart was about as excited as I have ever seen her.  She drug her Pappy to the door with urgent pleas of “Tome on Pappy, hurry up.”’  (She has an endearing way of  pronouncing hard Cs.  Something I’m going to hate seeing her outgrow.) Once inside MJs, she stood bouncing from foot to foot; her little arm outstretched impatiently waiting for the attendant to slip the ID band on her wrist. 

As we hit the slides, her eyes were sparkling; her smile broad and full.  Her squeals of delight filled the air as she darted excitedly from slide to slide, her baby doll tucked safely under one arm.  It was fun watching her toss her doll onto a slide, step back and get a running jump in order to avoid asking for help to get on the equipment.  Two fun filled hours later as we buckled her into her car seat, her eyes were heavy but the smile and sparkle were still intact. 

We had set out to do something special for her that day, but in the end she gave us the best gift of all….a memory.  One that her grandparents will treasure for many years to come.

However the magic of the morning came to a screeching halt when I leaned over to give my little darling a kiss and she looked up at me with her big blue eyes and proclaimed “Grammy, you have stinky breath.”

Originally posted 12/08/08

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Thanks Giving

In keeping with fall being my favorite season, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. 

Most everyone knows that D & I hail from western Pennsylvania.  Our childhoods were spent there, most of our families still reside there, and a piece of our hearts will always remain there.  We moved away some 31 years ago with a 6-week old baby and a trunk full of dreams and possibilities. That 6-week old baby will soon be 32, has a wife, a brother, a sister-in law, a niece and a nephew. All reside in the south, hundreds of miles away from their northern roots.  But when the end of November approaches their internal clocks take over and a reverse migration occurs. 

There is nothing glamorous about Thanksgiving in western PA.  It is usually cold & dreary, the landscape barren.  There are no fancy parties or gourmet meals.  The light that leads these transplants north is the light of family, the promise of laughter, a turkey and stuffing cooked the old fashioned way, and time to be shared with parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Insuring that the bond of family remains as strong as the steel that was once produced in the now abandoned mills that line the rivers of western Pennsylvania.

For me it is also a melancholy time.  I miss my Dad; the patriarch who always sat at the head of the table, and always offered his heartfelt gratitude to God before the meal could be served.  Who in later years sat quietly watching his grandchildren and great grandchildren at play.  Who always allowed us to pick on him.  I think in part because he knew we did it out of love, but also because if the truth were known he loved the attention. He was husband, father & Pap.  I believe he embraced the Pap more than any other role he played in life.  I regret that he never had the opportunity to meet the last two additions to the family.  He loved children, and little girls always occupied a special place in his heart.  He would have adored our little A.  Her devilish smile and flashing blue eyes would have had him beaming with pride.

And while his chair at the dinner table on Thanksgiving Day is physically empty now.  I know that he will be there, watching quietly as his family gathers once again.  Chuckling at the antics and bantering that might cause a stranger to think we didn’t like each other.  Smiling as he observes his great grandchildren at play and leaning in to get a closer look as little Gabers is introduced to his northern family for the first time.

Neither I nor my off-spring can imagine spending Thanksgiving day in any other place than dreary western Pennsylvania, with an old fashioned meal and the encircling arms of family.  You did your job well Dad; you can rest in peace.


PapnChris

Originally posted 11/14/08

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Three Dollars

After shopping in the local grocery store to pick up a few odds and ends for Thanksgiving dinner I was excited to discover I still had $3 left over in cash.  Three crisp $1 bills lounging in my otherwise naked wallet.  I was excited.  I had exactly enough money needed to participate in my latest vice....scratch-off lottery tickets.

The Kid has only himself to blame for my new found obsession.  It began over the summer when it seemed we were always on the road.  Every time we stopped for gas he would return to the car with a scratch-off.  Rarely would I win anything but it was fun to play and if you purchase the right ticket it takes some time to work your way to the end.

There are a couple of games that have become favorites of mine, like Four Corner Bingo and The Diamond Mine.  Usually by the time I get to the remaining 2 or 3 numbers I am in need of only one more to win the big prize.  The anticipation builds as each number is revealed.  At this point I am certain that I will be the next big winner.  Of course we all know that the only big winner is the state of Pennsylvania who rakes in millions of dollars every day with their irresistible get rich quick schemes.

But I digress.  On this particular morning the $3 reclining in my wallet  were chanting "buy one, buy one, buy one."   I knew that the giant lottery dispensing machine was only a few steps away between the check-out counter and the door.  Knowing I only had $3 left I was careful with my selection.  Must choose a fun one.  Must choose one that takes awhile to play.  Must choose a winner.  With a great deal of excitement I removed the three one dollar bills from my purse and carefully slipped them into the receiving slot.  As the last bill disappeared into the vending machine a voice to my right said "how are you doing today?"  I turned and faced the stranger, a reply ready to burst forth from lips related to what a great day it would be once I won the big one.  But my enthusiasm for the game died.  Right there.  On the spot.  The soft voiced stranger was none other than a Salvation Army worker, bell in hand, setting up his kettle to collect money for the needy.

I am most certain the look on my face said it all.  I had no other cash in wallet.  I don't own a watch.  My earrings were worthless plastic.  I was tried and convicted in one brief exchange.  Sentenced to spend the remainder of all eternity in purgatory because of 3 one dollar bills and a scratch off lottery ticket.  And it's all The Kids' fault.  (You don't think I'm going to take the blame for this do you?)

In the end I smiled at the stranger, grabbed my ticket from the beastly machine and skulked off to my car.  The only jackpot I hit was the one loaded with guilt.  There was no fun in the process.  No eager anticipation as the numbers were revealed.  And no winning ticket.  I had deprived a sweet little girl of her princess doll for Christmas, or perhaps a two year old little boy of his choo choo train.  I was doomed.  My son said I should have placed the lottery ticket in the kettle.  I guess that would have been better than nothing.

I think in the future I will tuck a couple of dollars away in a hidden compartment in my purse for just such an emergency.  That's it.  That's exactly what I will do, just as soon as they let me out of rehab.

wshore

Monday, November 22, 2010

Traveler's Lament

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go
Gonna face TSA, and the pat-down show
What decision will I make, I just don’t know.
The agent’s waiting, he's shuffling his feet
Already I'm so nervous I could die

So tell me, what to do
Tell me what choice to make.
Do I take the pat-down or body scan wait
'Cos I'm leaving on a jet plane
What happens if I refuse?
Oh Babe, might find myself in jail

Now my Babe he is wishing
It was him that was flying
Looking forward to the choice to be made.
Does he wow them with his manly physique
Or accept the pat-down and touch on the cheek?
When he comes back he’ll be a violated man.

You’re leaving on a jet plane
You know I’ll fly in your place.
Oh Babe, please can I go?

To the tune of Jet Plane – sort of.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

More Things Remembered

I am really going to miss watching the grands enjoy life on "the farm."

wGabe_pole4

When the weather is pleasing there is an abundance of activities to keep little ones occupied for days.  Things like fishing,

wAllie_leaves

leaf jumping,

wAllie_fish

boating,

wPappyGabe-boat

swimming,

wAllieGabe_wade


and wood gathering.

wtractor_3

For the grands and other visiting kiddos there is a sense of freedom at the cottage.  The lake is close but not too close.  There is little to no traffic and enough land to run and romp without fear of straying into the neighbor's flowerbeds.

We've made a good start making memories with the grands and I for one can't wait to see what next summer brings.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Things Remembered

In the midst of looking forward to the busy days ahead, I thought it would be nice to take a look back, to our first three months in the little red cottage.  There are so many things I will miss when we fly south.  Not the least of these are the geese.

wgeese_swim

In spite of their prolific pooping, I have grown to love these beautiful creatures.  I find myself listening for the distant honking that signals their arrival in the cove.

wgeese_swim_2

At times they make their way a little too close to the cottage while feeding.  It has become great sport to let Henna loose to chase them back to the safety of the water.  It's really a set-up for poor Henna, she doesn't have a prayer to catch one but it's still fun to watch.  We keep her on the leash until the geese get wind of her presence and someone sounds the warning honk.  Soon there is honking, flapping and waddling the likes of which you have never seen.  Once the geese begin their panicked race back to the lake Henna is unleashed.  By the time our little girl reaches the water's edge the geese are floating safely off-shore.  Now keep in mind our little retriever is petrified of water.  She wouldn't dip a paw in that lake if her life depended on it.  I think the geese have figured this out.  I also believe the honking that continues is nothing short of taunting on the part of the geese.

wgoose_swim3

In recent weeks visits from the geese have been few and far between.  I'm not certain if the hunters have scared them away or if they have followed their instincts and migrated to a warmer climate.

Say, that's not a bad idea.  I think I'll look into it.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Down Time

wMapleonIce

I thought I ought to give you some advance warning that once again I will be missing from the blog world.  This time possibly for several weeks.  If I had never started this every day thing you wouldn't even know I was gone.  But I did and I am, or rather I will be, gone that is.

It all starts this weekend when I head to NC to see the grands and will be driving back with them on Monday.  Thanksgiving week is going to be hectic what with the holiday, the family arriving en mass, and moving my Mom.  We say good-by to the kids on Sunday and begin the process of emptying and winterizing the cottage.  We hope to point the Beast south on Tuesday (Wednesday at the latest) arriving  in sunny Florida only to unpack and pack again for an 11 day cruise.  I'm exhausted just thinking about it.

It's all good, especially the family part and the cruise part.  As much as we have loved every minute of our time here at the cottage we are getting anxious to get back to our other home, to our friends and neighbors and that warm Florida sunshine.

Posts will be hit and miss from now until early December.  I'll try to post as often as I can but once I board that ship all bets are off.  (Especially when Internet time runs something like $3/minute.)  Besides I'll have more important things to do like lounging by the pool and visiting the casino.

Casino?  Did someone mention a casino?  I can be packed and ready by noon.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

A Cold North Wind

wMorningReflection

I awakened early yesterday morning cold and shivering.  The wind was howling across the lake forcing the icy winter air through every crack and crevice of the old cottage.   Burrowing deeper under the five quilts on the bed I tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore my growing discomfort.  Finally the thought of a hot cup of coffee waiting to be brewed nudged me out of bed and into action.  I grabbed a pair of socks, a sweatshirt, sweat pants, and a ski cap and headed for the kitchen.  It was even colder out there, the wind louder.  As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I gasped in disbelief.  The door leading from the living room to the unheated, uninsulated porch was standing wide open ushering in the cold.  I had found the culprit.

As I sat thawing out, coffee in hand, I came to the conclusion that I would not have made a very good pioneer.  No Conestoga wagons or prairie grass lodges for me.  Unless of course they came retrofitted with central heat and air... and at the very least,  a Mr. Coffee.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Mashed Potatoes & Other Things

My, my, my, you people certainly were chatty yesterday.  I quite enjoy reading what you write for a change.  If I had know mashed potatoes would get you talking we could have discussed them a long time ago.

On another note, I have always wished for long, skinny legs.  The ones God gave me are short and chunky.  I'm not complaining, they have served me well for a long time.  But a pair of long slender legs would be a mighty fine asset.

The other evening, when the sun was sitting low in the sky I caught a glimpse of just what I might look like with those long, lean, appendages.

wlonglegs

Maybe I should just keep the ones I have.  I don't think I would ever be able to find pants that would fit.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Don't Mess with Thanksgiving

As I said yesterday, this is going to be a wild and crazy Thanksgiving.  More so than usual.  This year The Kid and I will be crammed into the cottage with our off-spring in what will most likely be less than ideal weather conditions.  (You can interpret that to mean too cold and wet for typical outdoor, lake type activities.)  We are moving my Mother the morning after the turkey is carved.  Not just moving her mind you, but moving her into the very space we will be gathered in on Thursday.

My parents hosted Thanksgiving, always, without exception when I was growing up.  This continued well into my adult years until the time came for them to sell their home and down-size.  At that time my sister stepped up and assumed the role of hostess for the big day.  This has worked well for the past twelve years.  But now it is time for Mom to downsize once more.  She will be moving into a studio apartment in my sister's home.  It was agreed that we would wait until after the big holiday since her new space also happens to be our current gathering spot.  The timing is tricky but everyone agreed that one more Thanksgiving together in her home was worth the chaos that would ensue.

A few days ago my sister and I were discussing Thanksgiving dinner.  We were discussing logistics,  the menu and who would prepare what.  We were trying to determine how much could be done ahead of time and how much I could do at the cottage to make her life a little easier since quite frankly she is in a royal mess right now.  (Did you know you can make mashed potatoes ahead of time and keep them warm in a crock pot?  Apparently it works.)  My niece got wind of the conversation (can you say eavesdropping) and did not hesitate to offer her two cents.  "Wait, wait, wait" she said.  "Potatoes in the crock pot?  I don't think so.  DON'T MESS WITH THANKSGIVING" she insisted.  You can't change it now.  It has to be the same."

It is tradition after all.  There is comfort in the knowledge that family will gather for a day of thanksgiving, eat too much, watch football, play Uno, and tell the same stories year after year about who broke the lamp and who pushed who down the clothes chute.  Thanksgiving dinner may be the one constant in our ever changing lives. So no, don't mess with Thanksgiving.

That is unless you take them all on a cruise to the Bahamas and then it is perfectly acceptable.


wwaternSKY


wPushnGram

Monday, November 15, 2010

Indian Summer

I don't know what the weather was like in your neighborhood last week, but here on the lake it was perfection. Of course everything is relative, including perfection.  But for early November in western Pennsylvania, the weather last week was perfect by most standards.

wMaples

Each day was better than the previous one with bright sunshine and temperatures climbing into the high sixties. We took advantage of the balmy conditions and began our preparations to close the cottage for the winter. This season the task is especially challenging. Not only is it our first time, but we have complicated the process.  Plans for the cottage renovation are nearing completion and construction could begin (weather permitting) the first of the year.  This means that before we leave for Florida we must empty the cottage of all its contents...in two days. It's going to be a wild and crazy Thanksgiving I tell ya.

But that's a concern for another day.  For now I'll just sit back and enjoy the gift of Indian Summer because as we all know it is fleeting and soon, very soon,  I'll be freezing again.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Farewell

We will be heading south soon.  Packing our bags and joining the other "snow birds" (you can't imagine how much I dislike that terminology and the fact that I have become one) for our first seasonal migration south.  When I called to make arrangements to suspend our trash service until spring I informed the carrier that I wanted to return the can.

Although I've grown quite fond of it over the past three months the time has come for us to part ways.  Tuesday will be a difficult morning for me, high stepping it down the lane with the bright green can rattling merrily along behind, knowing it is for the last time.

wtrash

I may even shed a tear or two as we say our final good-byes.  But deep down I know it's for the best.  The 1/2 mile trek down the lane each week has taken a toll on its little wheels.  They have become frayed and worn in the short time we have been together.  Its not good for the little fella's health and I can't be responsible for the consquences.

I'm also big enough to admit it just wasn't working for me any more.  I hope the little guy doesn't take it too hard.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Friday, November 12, 2010

It's a Burden

Do you realize that I have been at this blogging thing for almost 2 1/2 years?  Two and one half years.  That's insane.  It's crazy.  It's scary, what with my little issue with consistency and all.  But here I sit, almost two and one half years after the first tentative steps into the blogging world, still trying to come up with something to say.

wMorningMist

Some days I am full of ideas.  Full to the point that a few fall out and get kicked into a dark corner.  Sometimes they turn up later, mixed with the dust bunnies that gather when no one's paying attention.  Sometimes they are lost forever.   During these times I feast on the manna.  I write sticky notes laden with one word nuggets to jump start my brain or make lists to be checked off later.  Sometimes I kick into overdrive and write all day in a feverish fit of creativity lining the posts up for days in advance.

And then there are the other times.  The times when I sit and stare out of the window for hours, surf the net, walk the dog, bake a pie, do something, anything that might spark a thought, an idea, a start.  But the well remains dry.  There is nothing but shifting sand moving back and forth in my head creating a thick cloud of dust that I fear may never settle.  This can last for days.

It is during these times that I wish I had never started this nonsense.  Wish I had been content to simply soak in the offerings of other, more talented folks.  But no, I had to jump into the pool fully clothed, shoes and all.  I have a fear of heights, yet I cart-wheeled off the high dive last spring when I decided to make this a daily thing.  What on earth was I thinking?  Post something every single day.  Someone shoot me please before I drown.

Currently there is a dust storm of major proportions in the desert of my mind.  Henna remains quiet, Buck hasn't visited for days, the trash run has been uneventful for weeks, The Kid is on his best behaviour, the weather has been warm and sunny, the geese are gone along with the gun shots, and the grand kids haven't been here for a month.  And yet, here I am.  Back again on a day when the well is dry.  When the sticky notes are gone and the lists are all crossed off.  When I am so desperate for something to write that I write about desperation.

It's a burden I tell you.  If I'm not crushed under the weight of it, I'll see you tomorrow.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Berries

wWinterberries

In case you haven't been paying attention, I like close-ups.  I like that only bits and pieces of the image are in focus leaving the remainder to blur and blend into a soft, pleasing background.  I like that sometimes beautiful circles of light appear in random patterns throughout the image.  In a photograph captured with minimal depth of field the subject emerges from the background and sits front and center leaving no room for debate over what the photographer thought was important, in that image, at that moment.

The subject of the photograph above is clearly the red berries.  Additional branches and berries blend softly into the background providing hints of the tangled brush beyond.  I especially like the colors. The red, violet, yellow and green are secondary characters that work together to bring the main character to life.  At one point I was tempted to place a "tea-stained" overlay on the photo.  It didn't work.  The idea was quickly scrapped and the original photo stands on its own merit.

I like it...a lot.  But its perfectly acceptable if you don't.  It's art and it's subjective.

On a side note:  Happy 40th B'day to one of my favorite people.  You know who you are.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Rusting Away

wLock_2

No words today.  I'm recharging my batteries. 

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Night Stalker Revealed

Maybe.  Henna continues to wake us up in the wee hours of the morning several nights a week with her barking.  We have been unable to "officially" determine just who or what the night stalker is.  BUT, we are 98% certain that this is our visitor.

wBuck_1

A few days ago on a dreary, rainy afternoon we were once again summoned to the window by Henna's incessant barking.  What we expected to see was our neighbor and his dog Dewie on their afternoon walk.  What we saw instead was this big fella.  He hung around, sniffing the ground for a few minutes before meandering back into the woods.

We were puzzled by his mid-afternoon appearance.  After all white tailed deer are nocturnal, waiting for the cover of darkness to venture into open spaces to feed.  We thought it was a fluke, a serendipitous moment that we were fortunate to witness thanks to Henna's keen sense of sight and sound.  It turns out we were wrong.

wBuck_2

Since that day, when the neighborhood is quiet, our house guest has been turning up most afternoons and providing us with some pleasurable moments before wandering off again.  On Sunday I was prepared.  I attempted to take a few photographs of "Buck" through the window.  And while he wasn't far off (approximately 25 yards) I don't have a lens that can capture a great portrait at that distance.  But I wasn't deterred.  I can work with what nature, or in this case B & H Photo, has provided.

I snuck out the back door of the cottage and as quietly as possible made my way to the side of the house.  He heard me as soon as my feet hit the ground.  He didn't appear to be threatened and quickly went back to his snack.  I moved a little closer and fired off a few more shots.  With each click of my camera his head would come up.

wBuck_3

It didn't take long for him to tire of the game and head off into the woods.  I wish the photos were better, maybe next time after Santa or Nikon gifts me with a 400mm lens.  (On that note I have a little matter I would like to discuss with Nikon, just in case they're listening.  When are they going to update that nice little 80 - 400 mm lens and equip it with the VR II technology?  Inquiring minds want to know.)

As you can see our Buck is a young one.  Although it appears his rack is a 6 point which I'm told makes him fair game come deer season.  Our hope is that he keeps close to the cottages that line the lake and makes it through this hunting season.

wBuck_4

It would be a wonderful treat to return next summer to see just how much our little Buck has grown.

Now excuse me while I go drop some apples under those trees in an overt attempt at luring him closer to my window for another photo shoot.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Railroad Cars & Fantasies

As a child, I loved to read.  One of my earliest recollections is of a book titled The Boxcar Children.  Gertrude Chandler Warner penned the original Boxcar Children in 1924.  The book was reissued in 1942 and is the keystone for a long series of Boxcar Children books.  If you are not familiar with the story it is the tale of 4 orphaned children who make a home for themselves in an abandoned box car in the forest.

I can't remember exactly how old I was when I was first introduced to the story, but it packed a punch with my impressionable young mind.  I spent many hours fantasizing about what life in an abandoned railroad car without adult supervision might be like.  In my fantasies the children were always smart and resourceful.  The adults, not so much.

Several weeks ago The Kid and I were out exploring our new neighborhood when we came across this scene.

wCabooseLodge

I suspect that this little hunting camp belongs to some resourceful adult and not four orphaned children.  It is a caboose, not a box car.  But sitting alone, at the edge of the forest, on a beautiful fall afternoon I couldn't help but think of all the things it could be.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Looking Up

I'm not referring to the political climate, the economy, or even my check book, just another way of viewing the world through my lens.

wLookingUp

When out walking in the woods I spend so much time look down that I often forget to tip my head  and cast my gaze skyward.  Often when I do I am rewarded with scenes like the one above.

Enjoy the day and don't forget to look up.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Maple Sugar

I have been trying to post this photo for several days now.  Invariably another, more interesting topic comes to mind and the pretty yellow Maple leaves get shoved to the back of the bus.  Well no more.  Since we still haven't identified the "Night Stalker," and I am fresh out of humorous anecdotes, today is it's time to shine.

wYellowMaplesLeaves

Friday, November 5, 2010

Up Close and Personal

For several months I have been receiving requests for a more up close and personal look at our new digs.  So for the French-Freys and anyone else who has been awaiting a closer look this one's for you.

Welcome to the the "Little Red Cottage."

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I thought we would start with a walk around the exterior before heading inside.  Obviously, the photo above is of the front entrance to the cottage which faces east and is often (confusingly) referred to as the back by me.

wbarn

Across the lane we find the barn.  It's not really a barn, more like a giant cavernous garage that holds things like boats, tractors and red jeeps.  The thing I find most puzzling about the barn is the fact that it is yellow and not red.  You would think the owners would have designed it to coordinate more with the cottage.  It is also located on the front side of the house which is part of the reason I tend to refer to the front as the back.  Confused?  Me too.

wbackview

Here we have the official back or more appropriately the lake side of the cottage.  This lovely little enclosed porch is the best seat in the house (unless the temperature is below 50 degrees).  It looks out onto the lake and some of the most magnificent sunsets known to man.  I wouldn't kid about a thing like that.

wExt_frontporch

Let's head back to the front for a minute before making our way inside.  The double windows next to the front door belong to the "bunk" area, which you will see in a minute.  The window on the far right looks in on the bedroom.  The bathroom is located behind the flag on the left and the great room is in the middle.

Now that you have the lay of the land let's move inside.

wgreatroom

I failed to shoot exactly at the front door but it's okay, you'll figure it all out.  The mat on the righ (near the green dog bed that Henna refuses to sleep on) is located just inside the front door.  The doorway in the upper left corner of the photo leads to the bedroom.

wbunks

The bunk area currently serves as bedroom number two.   When we purchased the cottage the bunks retained the original mattresses and springs for these beds.  The cottage was built in 1950; we felt it was time for an upgrade.   B & S will attest to the improved comfort of the bunks following the installation of the new mattresses.  They gave them two thumbs up.

wgreatroom4

This shot was taken from the fireplace looking east toward the kitchen.  The little drop leaf table is on loan from my big sis (big thanks to J & H).  It provides us with a place to sit down and eat a meal without venturing out of doors.  Otherwise the cottage came fully furnished.  What a blessing not to have to scrounge for furniture while deciding what changes we might want to make.

wbedroom_1

And now for THE bedroom.  It is a mere 8 ft. wide and yes my friends that is a standard sized double bed.  Can you say small?  For two people used to spreading out in the comfort of a king, sleeping here has been a challenge.  The doorway on the left actually leads into the attached garage which also serves as a laundry room.  We are very greatful to have a laundry center as we have been told most of the small cottages on the lake have none.

wkitchen_1

On the opposite end of the great room we have the kitchen.  My sister claims it is a "one butt" kitchen.  I believe she is correct.  You can squeeze two in but it takes skill.  As you may or may not be able to tell there is no dishwasher.  I am the dishwasher.  This will be remedied during the rennovation.

wsunroom_1

Finally, our last stop on the tour, the sun porch.  This little room is bright and cheery and is the most used room in the cottage.  It also serves as our 3rd bedroom.  It is truly wonderful to awaken on this porch, raise your head and see this...

wsunroom_view

We knew in the beginning that a rennovation would be necessary.  It is already in the planning stages.  We will do some lightening, brightening and updating, expand the kitchen to include an eating area, add a bedroom, an additional bathroom and a laundry room. Our hope is to keep it simple, after all it is the "Little Red Cottage."

That concludes our tour for today folks.  Please exit to the back, or is it the front?

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Night Stalkers

wdock_close

Since our return from Tennessee Henna has been waking us up almost every night with her barking.  Loud, excited warning barking mixed with a little keep away from me growling.   It always occurs around 2:00 a.m. and lasts (intermittently) for 30 - 45 minutes.  Every night one of us rises from our downy comfort and ventures into the cold drafty cavern to investigate.  Invariably we come up empty.  Of course it is pitch black outside. (No street lights, we live in the country now.)   I don't know what we think we are going to see in all of that darkness unless it's Sasquatch himself peering back at us through the front window.

We have come to believe that there are large creatures lurking in the shadows.  It could be Big Foot or more likely mammals with white tails, cloven hoofs and antlers.  I am somewhat confident of this because I have seen their tracks in the mud behind our barn and at the water's edge.  It has become my new challenge to visually identify these night stalkers once Henna sounds the alarm.

Obviously squinting out the window into the darkness at 2:00 a.m. isn't working.  (Although it might be helpful if I wore my glasses.)  Last night we left the halogen spot light on which not only illuminated the ground between the cottage and the barn but made sleeping in the cottage seem a lot like napping on a bright, sandy beach at noon.  It was all for naught.  Henna remained silent... the entire night.  No low growls or warning barks.  On the one hand I was grateful for a complete 8 hours of sleep.  On the other, disappointed that our plan had fallen short.  I'm afraid we need to rethink the night light strategy.  Either Bambi was coincidentally foraging in someone else's back yard or the mega-watt  spot had made him/her a little wary.  Actually he was probably standing nearby, under the cover of darkness,  laughing at our foolishness.

I am, however, not one to give up without a fight.  We will give the halogen  a second chance tonight and then move on to plan B.  If we had a plan B.  I'm thinking that a trek to the local Tractor Supply might be in order.  Pick us up one of those handy dandy portable floodlights that hunter's use to spot deer.  Wait for the warning bark, then blast Bambi with the penetrating search light.  It could work.

Wouldn't we be surprised if Bambi turned out to be the Three Bears?

As usual the comment section is open just in case one of you has a better idea.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

How Cold Was It?

It was cold yesterday morning.  How cold was it, you ask?  DARN COLD.  25 degrees cold.  Heavy frost cold.  Not enough warm clothes cold.  That's how cold it was.

wFrost_01

What it wasn't was too cold to keep me indoors.  When daylight began to break,  I peeked out of the window.  It looked as if their was a dusting of snow on the ground.  I quickly rummaged through my box of winter clothes, bundled up, and headed outdoors to face the elements.  The ground crunched under foot as I made my way to the lake shore.

wFrostondocks

Steam was rising from the water creating a smoky mist that lent a surreal feel to the morning.

(In case you are wondering what all of that stuff is littering the shore, it's the docks.  Lake resident's are required to remove their docks from the water by November 1.  I can't explain exactly why this is so.  What I do know is that the lake freezes solid each winter (can you say ice fishing) and leaving the docks in place is somehow detrimental.  Some folks dismantle theirs completely like the one in the foreground.  Others have wheels on them and are pulled out of the water in tact like the one in the background.)

wOakleaf_frost

I lasted about 30 minutes. When I could no longer feel my fingers (no gloves),  I retreated to the comfort of the cottage, warmed my hands, changed my lens and set out again.  The air was crisp and clear and I just couldn't stay indoors.

wCoveMist_frost

By the time the sun peeked over the tree tops to the east I was a popcycle.  My feet were numb, my hands were frozen, and all that was on my mind was a hot cup of coffee...okay maybe a little sunny Florida too.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Green Acres

wtractor

Green Acres is the place to be
Farm livin is the life for me
Land spreadin out so far and wide
Take Marco Island just give me that country side

wAllie_cart_smile

Allie loves visiting the cottage.  She has taken to refering to it as "the farm" and we're perfectly fine with that.  It is a bit like a farm.  One without crops and/or farm animals.  (Unless of course you count Henna.)  But it is out in the country.  We also inherited a few farm-like toys tools when we acquired the place.  Things like a very large lawn tractor with a pull cart.

wtractor_2

The kids love this.  The G-man prefers to ride up front where the action is while Miss Allie is content to bounce along in the rear.

wGabe_tractor

Yes, that is a fishing lure clutched in his sweet little hands.  I'm pretty certain the hook had been removed but you can never be too careful with the G-man.

waxe

On this day there were chores to do.  Wood to chop and move to the house in preparation of a warm fire on what was promising to be a cold night.

wloadingwood

The kids were all eyes watching Dad split wood and load it into the cart.

wAllie_tractor

That's right, you can do it girl.  It's not too heavy.  Just watch out for splinters.

wAllie_Gabe_cart

Doing the happy dance, G-man style.

wGabe_pfhht

Hey Grammy, pffhht.

wAllie_cart

I sure hope my brother doesn't get his hands on that axe.

wtractor_3

Green Acres we are theeeeeerrrrrrre.