My Christmas Wish For You

My Christmas wish for you is:

That all of your bells jingle and
your stocking not be filled with coal,

That visions of sugar plums dance in your head
and your children stay nestled, all snug in their beds,

That all of your twinkle lights, both inside and out,
May they sparkle and shine and never go out.

That peace on earth, good will to man,
would be more than a verse written in sand.

And that you find the star, lit from above
and spend Christmas day with ones that you love.

Merry Christmas to all
and to all a good night.

And The Light Shone Round About Them

We have children in the neighborhood.  There are two.  A boy around the age of 11 or 12 and a sweet little 10 year old girl.  This might not sound like a big deal to you but in the land of perpetual summer when children in the neighborhood usually references anyone under the age of 50, this is a major big deal.

The little girl makes my heart go pitty pat.  She is just the right size with a long blond pony tail and strands of gold that manage to escape their band and fall willy nilly into her eyes.   And glasses... did I mention the glasses?  It's like having Miss A living across the street.  Well not quite but you get my drift.  Everytime I see her I think of our sweet Allie.

In recent years our end of the street has been devoid of exterior Christmas lights.  I gave up the tradition after waging a losing battle of keeping the lights on and one by one everyone else seemed to follow suite.  But this year the elderly couple to our north are expecting their 8 year old granddaughter for the holidays and were under strict orders from their daugher to get it done.   They did.  A few days later the house with the children lit up with strings of lights twinkling from the eaves and carefully wrapped around the palms.



The Kid couldn't stand it.

I came home from shopping one afternoon to find him draping stand after strand over the shrubs along the front of the house.  Half of them didn't work so as one strand went out another came from the confines of the garage to replace it.  Eventually we had a continuous line of lights.

The next thing I noticed was the college student on the south side of us, home for Christmas break, standing on a ladder, staple gun in hand, a strand of lights trailing behind.  Eventually our dear friend's across the street said they could no longer live with the guilt and headed off to the nearest Lowes (because they had previously discarded all of their exterior lights).  Even the perpetually grumpy neighbor two doors down has a lighted wreath hanging from his front door.

Before we could say Santa Clause is coming to town our end of the street was lit up, like, well,  Christmas.

Now back to the Allie clone across the street.

I was outside walking Henna last night and she was out riding her bicycle.  She stopped to pet the dog and chat.  (She is a chatter.  Just like someone else I know and love.)  In the course of the conversation she was telling me in one continues breath how

"much of a dud the neighborhood had seemed because nobody decorated for Christmas not like her old home in Arkansas and then her dad put up some lights and then the next day like magic the whole street was all lit up and she guessed it wasn't so bad after all."

Whew.   She never slows down.

But it did make me smile to think how our neighborhood of bah humbugers had unwittingly come together and made Christmas a little brighter for a little girl in a new home and a new town.

May your days be Merry and Bright and your Christmas filled with Light.

Simplifying Christmas

I used to love the Christmas season.  The hustle and bustle of gift  shopping.  The smell of fresh baked cookies and bread.  Decorating.  Hanging tinsel from the tree.  I think I fed off of the excitement of two little boys and I cherish those memories.



Since those days many Decembers have come and gone.  And with each passing one my enthusiasm for the holiday has diminished a little year.  I avoid the mall like the plague.  On line shopping is much easier and far less stressful.  I rarely bake, mostly because I will be the one stuffing myself full of unwanted calories, and most years it is all I can do to muster enough energy to decorate the tree.

I have been known to blame my holiday indifference on Florida and the fact that the boys are grown.  When your children become adults with lives and families of their own it's a game changer.  But that's not fair.  Christmas lights twinkling from palm trees and boat parades are holiday traditions too.  Perhaps not mine but it is unreasonable to reject them simply because they weren't previously a part of my life.  And the adult children?  They should be allowed the freedom to create their own family traditions.

I've thought a lot about my Christmas malaise and this year have granted myself permission to do as little as possible without guilt or remorse.  It took me three days to decorate the tree which I had decreed was the only decorating that would be done because, well, who wants to put all that stuff away anyway.  As I sorted through the bins of holiday decorations I decided to clean house, toss what was broken or no longer meaningful.

A funny thing happened on the way to placing the wallpaper angel on top of the tree.  Without my realizing it, the rest of the house became sprinkled with Christmas.  It may not be the over the top Christmas wonderlands that are portrayed in magazines and on tv but who needs that stress.  As  I looked around the house I saw my Dad in the old wooden sleigh he made for my Mom over 60 years ago,  Bubba in the scent of cinnamon wafting from the candle in the kitchen, Stephen in the tall wooden angel holding tightly to her star,  my Mom in the ancient glass ornament that hung on her tree as a child, B is here as a jolly fat snowman fishing from  his too small boat (a gift she ha probably forgotten she gave), Allie and Gabe in handmade paper ornaments,  and Chris in the wallpaper angle that presides over it all.

That's when it hit me.  By simplifying Christmas, eliminating the junk, the trendy stuff with no meaning, and sprinkling what remaines around the house I will never be alone for Christmas.  Everyone I love and cherish is right here with me.

Isn't that the way it's supposed to be?

P.S.  The Kid and I even went to the mall on Thursday.

Another Season Ends

We have traveled from here to there and back again.

Thanksgiving was all it was supposed to be, a week of family crammed into a Little Red lit by the light of the fire.   There was snow and turkey, giggles and guffaws.  Uno was introduced to Miss A and the G-man and played for hours on end.  Just enough snow covered the ground for just long enough to make snow angels and engage in a few snowball fights.  Mostly the little ones would lie in wait for an unsuspecting adult to venture outdoors and then, well, you know.

It was truly a blessing to find our ailing friend on the mend.  The change in him from the time we left in late October until our return was truly amazing.  Another reason to be especially thankful this year.

Eventually the fire burned itself out, the ashes hauled away in the rusting metal pail.  Floors were mopped, furniture covered to protect from the harsh glare of winter.  The pipes were drained and the shades lowered on our fourth season at Little Red.

As we turned our attention south, to palm trees and sunshine I couldn't help but think what a joy our little corner on the lake has been.  She is the gift that keeps on giving, memories made with friends and family, fiery sunsets, kayak adventures, campfires and three new friends I feel like I've known forever.

Just think, come May we get to do it all again.

A Very Good Week (Almost)

It has been a very good week.

Except for the silver fish...

And the sleep number mattress that will no longer hold air...

And the wash cloths that I purchased that really aren't wash cloths and must be returned....

And,

Oh right, this is about a very good week.  Maybe I should start over.



It has been a very good week.

The bedroom is painted.

New carpet has been ordered.

I went to the mother of all yard sales on the island last weekend.  Great finds...for cheap!  The best kind.

We celebrated the successful completion of "spa treatments" with good friends.

And received continued positive updates on the health of another.

Perhaps the best news of all...Thanksgiving is just around the corner.  It is my favorite holiday, and will be spent with the people I love most in this world.

Leaving NC this afternoon with Miss A and the G-Man.  Pointing the car north towards the cottage and colder weather.  Looking forward to a weekend with these two all to ourselves before Mom & Dad and Uncle Chris arrive next week.

Something tells me next week is going to be a good one too.

Under Budget And Ahead of Schedule

Recently The Kid informed me that it might be time to take a look at "freshening up" our southern bedroom.  The carpet is showing its age.  The comforter shrunk several years ago leaving the mattress exposed.  The bedside lamps were too small.  And if I were to be honest, the bathroom paint color really did not blend well with the tile.  Bottom line...the room is tired.

He did not have to tell me twice that it was time for an update.  He had me at hello...in a you can go ahead and spend a little cash kind of way.  I was all in.

It was all about the bedding.  I knew that nothing else could move forward until I found the right comforter.  The one that said light, airy, salt and sand without seashells, palm trees or hibiscus blossoms.  I also wanted color.  Because, well I'm all about color.  Oh, and I didn't want to break the bank in the process.

The task at hand was daunting.  I searched high and low.   Scoured the Internet for hours on end.  Like Goldilocks in the land of the three bears, my findings were either too bold, too drab or too corny.  No just right.  Frustration began to seep in around the edges of my enthusiasm.

And then late one afternoon, the seas parted and there it was, hiding deep in the bowels of some now forgotten on line mega store.  My heart skipped a beat.  The colors were perfect. They screamed light, airy, sun, salt and sand.  There was nary a Palm tree insight.  And....it was a close out.  The price was perfect.  

I held my breath and took a closer look. That is when the wind beneath my wings ceased to blow and I came crashing down to earth.  It was a close out.  Kings were no longer in stock.  I was crushed.  My enthusiasm for the project shattered into a million pieces. The pity party had begun.

And then the light bulb came on.  If one store carried this perfect for me bedding ensemble then surely there must be others.  Close out or not.  The search began again, in earnest.  And then I found it.  Lost in the bargain basement of Macy's on line, on page 256,  buried beneath Tommy Bahama and Martha Stewart.  My joy hath no bounds.

It arrived on Monday.

It is perfect.

And I?

Am under budget and ahead of schedule.

Anybody up for a little shopping?

A Change Of Pace

There is rain on the roof this morning.  In south Florida.  In November.

Unthinkable.

But oh so welcome.

The ground is thirsty.

Cooler temperatures are also welcome.

A change of pace is a good thing.

Now and then.

Amber Eyes

What goes on behind those amber eyes?

What does she see?

Does she wonder where we go when we disappear?

Or how and why she travels from there to here and back again?

Are her dreams filled with images of squirrels and geese?

Or are they more bent towards soup bones and steak scraps?

Perhaps she plans her escape.

Waiting patiently for me to drop my guard affording her the freedom to run at will.

Does she know we love her?

Would she ever run away for good?

What goes on behind those amber eyes.

I wonder.

Push Play

It has been seven days since I have been here.

One week.

I have no idea what became of that week.



I have accomplished little.

I have been gone from home almost every day.

My camera has remained on the kitchen counter where it landed after our arrival.

And now I find myself recycling photos.

Rewinding to a time when having a camera in my hands was a priority.

I produced some good stuff in those days.  Images that made me smile in satisfaction as I perused the  archives.

Creativity was alive and well.

I think it's time to push play.

A Very Good Week

On this beautiful Friday morning I am happy to report it was a very good week.



Four wonderful days were spent in NC with the grandkids.  It doesn't get much better than that.

After a very long day on the road we arrived safely in south Florida.

The Kid tended to some quarterly "business."

Encouraging news was reported with regard to the health of a dear friend.

Days have been spent sweeping the dust out of the house.  It is amazing how much collects in the corners when a house sits idle and unused for the better part of six months.

Afternoons and evenings were reserved for catching up with good friends and neighbors.

I'm still adjusting to the change of environment.  Gone are the crisp cool mornings in their place warm sunshine and sea breezes.  Something tells me it won't take long!

Happy Halloween my friends.  Don't let those ghosts and goblins get you down.

It Was A Blast

This past weekend was spent taking in a Blast of a volleyball game.



The 8 & 9 year old B Blasts had it going on from the top of their pony tailed heads to the bottom of their brightly colored sneakers and our Miss A was in the thick of it.



It was all action.  All the time.
And occasionally the ball even found its way over the net.


Serve it up girl.



Grammmy!  Put that camera away!
(I was so busted.)




In spite of the loss the Blast was all smiles giving high five and congratulations to their opponents.
(But seriously, how fair is it beating someone half your size?  Just sayin.)

Oh, and this one?

He won.

But then again, the other team failed to show.

I think they were afraid.  Rumor has it the Blaze is a darn good soccer team with a coach who knows how to win.

Happiness

"Happiness often sneaks in through a door you didn't know you left open." ~ John Barrymore

The Discomfort of Comfort

Comfort food.  Those words conjure up images of macaroni and cheese, chicken noodle soup, scalloped potatoes, pasta, chicken pot pie, mashed potatoes.  (Just to name a few.)  It is all about taste and texture and comfort.

When the weather turns cool and the leaves begin to fall my desire for said comfort food reaches new heights.  I can't get enough.  It is an addiction of sorts.  Rich, creamy food washed down with the gifts of the season, pumpkin this or that or perhaps an apple pie or tart.  Eventually it happens..the discomfort.



The discomfort that comes from over indulging.  Eating too much of a good thing which leads to further discomfort.  The kind that comes when your clothes no longer fit.  Some say it is nature's way of preparing for the long winter.  Like squirrels and nuts the body stockpiles fat cells to insure survival during the long, harsh winter to come.

You would think that after all of these years my body would know better.  There is no such thing as a long, harsh winter in south Florida. There is a Publix and a Winn Dixie near by.  Both provide plenty of food to insure that I survive the 70 degree daytime highs and long walks along the beach.

And yet it happens every fall, right on cue, the desire for the comfort of food and the packing on of pounds.  What is a person to do?

For now I will squeeze myself into my too tight jeans and hope that when I reach the warm sea breezes in sunny Florida my craving for salads and all things healthy will kick in.  Until then?

Don't nag, just pass the mashed potatoes.

Numbers On My Days

The sky is gray.

Rain is falling.

The wind is blowing.

Trees are barren.

There are numbers on my days.

From Brown To White And Back Again

Fifteen years ago I took the plunge.  After decades of fighting the grey that had overtaken my hair I surrendered, waved the white flag (literally) bid farewell to Lady Clairol and let Mother Nature have her way with me.



I admit the first few weeks were difficult.  Every time l looked in the mirror and that head of white looked back at me I would gulp.  Who was that old woman?  Certainly not me.  Eventually I grew accustomed to my new look.  The new, more natural me was just that, a more natural me.

Fast forward fifteen years...my white hair is turning brown again.

And it aint pretty.

The well that services Little Red is deep and plentiful.  Our water is cold, clear and very usable however there is one itty bitty problem.  It is full of iron.  While not harmful to drink the iron content is so high that it stains everything, including my hair.  It is turning a dull, muddy shade of brown, much like a tea stain on a white linen tablecloth and it won't go away.

I have tried washing my hair in the sink with filtered water heated on the stove.  That process slowed the staining but did not eliminate it.  We had a filter installed that after three months I have declared a waste of money.  The only viable solution it seems is a whole house water softener.  The problem, we have nowhere to put it.  It needs to be installed where the well water enters Little Red, which is the kitchen.  The unit is too large to fit under the sink.  We have space in the utility room, but that is located at the opposite end of the house and would require a pricey reroute of our plumbing.  The biggest obstacle in our path however is that we winterize the cottage before we head south.  Shut everything off, drain the pipes and turn off the heat.  The unit we need can not be winterized.

Short of washing my hair with bottled water or shaving my head there is little I can do to solve the problem.  Unless... I leave town, go to Florida for the winter, grow out the dingy brown, and return to my au natural state.

That could work.

Until we return in the spring when the whole murky process begins anew.

As my friend Di Di would say, "it's a first world problem."

Indeed.

Falling Leaves and Such

Sunday was a fabulous fall day.  The sun was shining.  The sky was a brilliant shade of blue.  The afternoon temperature settled nicely around the 65 degree mark.  We deemed it a perfect day to tackle our end of season outdoor work.



Leaves were mulched.  Porch furniture was hauled to the barn and replaced with the wood holder that was then stacked high with firewood.  Leaves were mulched.  Planters were emptied.  The canoe and kayak moved from the lake to their winter residence in the barn.  Did I mention leaves were mulched?

Most of the afternoon was spend on or behind a mower.  We have found that it is much easier to mulch the leaves as they fall instead of raking them.  Our other option is to pray for a windy day when the leaves are blown to the woods behind the barn.  Since we can't count on the latter we opted to mulch on Sunday.  It took all afternoon but eventually the job was done.  Completed.  Finished.

As dusk settled over the lake we sat with a glass of wine toasting our accomplishment.  Nary a leaf could be spotted on the newly mowed lawn. (Actually it is a stretch to call our property a lawn as one has to search in order to find actual grass.  But it's green and requires mowing so it qualifies in my book.)  We headed off to bed feeling quite pleased with ourselves.

Over night it rained.

The wind kicked up.

What we found on Monday morning?  Our newly mowed lawn had vanished.  Completely covered in freshly fallen leaves.  More leaves than were on the ground when we started to work on Sunday.  How could this be?  All that work!  All those leaves!  All that time!

Mother Nature has a sick sense of humor.

Caption Contest (Updated)

If I were to hold a caption contest for this photo what would you submit?

Think hard now.

I know what mine would be...I'll tell you tomorrow.


My caption would be (drum roll please)...Goosing Geese

Feel free to continue to add captions to the comment section.  (Thank you Audrey & Pappy)

It Was A Very Good Week

Autumn shifted into high gear this week.  Night-time temperatures dipped into the high 30s on a couple of occasions inviting us to have our first fire of the season (and second and third).



On Tuesday we made a day trip to Ellicotville, NY with our new old friends. Fall foliage, shopping and a brew pub were on the agenda.

I made my first batch of French Onion Soup in a gillion years.  It was wonderful.

Chris showed up on our doorstep late Wednesday evening.  He came to watch our great-nephew Patrick's high school football game on Saturday.  Go Bridgers.

The full moon Wednesday night was nothing short of magnificent.  When I wakened at 6:00 AM on Thursday morning the moonlight reflecting off the lake was a sight to behold.

An envelope arrived in the mail addressed to Pappy and Grammy.  Neatly folded inside we found two carefully drawn and colored pictures from our sweet G-man.  Thanks Buddy, you're the best.

The boat and dock are scheduled for removal from the lake today.  That makes it official.  Summer is over.

I'm looking forward to a weekend of family, football and fun.  Hope yours is all you wish it to be and more.

Time Keeps on Slipping

Time is slipping away.  Soon we will be packing up our summer threads and loading the car for the trip south.  Melancholy has begun to sneak in the back door.  It isn't that I don't like Florida.  I love palm trees and walks on the beach.  I especially love our time with friends and neighbors who make me laugh and share of themselves so graciously.



But my heart?  My heart is here, on the lake shore in this land of my childhood.  The land where the dandelions grow.  It is embedded in the perfectly imperfect walls of Little Red and along the 1/2 mile lane I walk on an almost daily basis.  It can be found on an early morning paddle and around a fire pit on a cool fall evening.

I see it in the subtle shades of pinks and purples that hug the lake and whisper sweet nothings long after the sun has set.  It runs with the white tails that sneak across the clearing behind the barn on their way to wherever the spirit leads them. It embraces the bright greens of early spring and the fading yellow and golds that tell me summer is gone.

In due time I will pack my bags and fly south with the birds.  I will enjoy the warmth of the southern sun on my face and the sight of swaying palms.  But my heart?  It will remain here, at Little Red, and patiently wait for my return.

New Old Friends

We are off on an adventure today with our new old friends.  I know that I have mentioned them before but have not shared the story of how we reconnected with these lovely people.

On a Sunday morning in Florida last winter, The Kid and I were deeply involved in painting the house when Henna sounded the intruder alarm.  Standing on our front porch was a strange gentleman who told me he was looking for The Kid and did he still live here.  Hesitant and puzzled I stammered around and finally acknowledged that yes he did still live there.  It was then that The Kid rounded the corner, took one good look at the stranger and in instant recognition greeted him as a long lost friend.  Indeed he was.



Denny and The Kid grew up together in the wilds of a tiny community known as Pardoe.  They have many stories to share about life in the country in a time when kids had the freedom to roam at will. They peddled their bicycles from cornfields to strip mines and all parts in between and managed to get into a little mischief along the way.  Ahh, the good old days.

Denny and his wife happened to be spending a few weeks in south Florida.  He had our address and was determined to try and find us before heading north again.

To make a long story short we spent a wonderful day catching up, convinced them to alter their plans  and return later in the week to spend the night with us before heading to the Keys.  We learned that they live about an hour from us here just across the Ohio border .  We knew we would see them again over the summer.

It has been great fun watching The Kid reconnect in a good way with his childhood.  He has resurrected a friendship from his past and in the process I have gained two new friends.

This just proves that even if you are covered in paint on a warm January morning in south Florida, you should always answer the door.  You never know who might be standing on your front porch.

This And That

Autumn has a firm grip on Western Pennsylvania.  So much so that we had our first fire on Saturday afternoon.  Within a couple of hours Little Red felt like August in South Florida.  At one point we actually had sleet pelting the windows.  I am not ready for this.

Saturday was upset day in college football.  If you are a fan you must have thoroughly enjoyed the chaos.  I know I did.

I purchased a very large crock with a very large crack in it at an auction over the weekend.  For $2 it is worth salvaging.

On Sunday we celebrated family birthdays and a new job at my Big Sis' house.

Which reminds me...Happy Birthday Bethany.  (Just in case I slip up and forget on Thursday. We all know my birthday track record is questionable.)

I have the green light to ditch the sneakers for short periods of time.  I call that forward progress.

The neglected yellow cottage next to us has a new tenant.  This should prove to be a good thing for all involved.  Unfortunately Henna is having a more difficult time adjusting to the increased activity.

This morning it was cold on our walk, however the sun is shining and things should begin to warm up soon.  Thus far we have avoided a frost but I am afraid that milestone is just around the corner.

Happy Monday everyone.

The Earth Is Art

"The earth is art, the photographer is only a witness" ~ Yann Arthus-Bertrand

Wild in Pittsburgh

Buctober was a one day affair.

It came and went in a flash.



The build up to the event was slow and steady beginning upon awakening early on a cool Wednesday morning.

It continued as we checked into our river front hotel then boarded the T (Pittsburgh's underground transit) for the short hop across the river into downtown.

It swelled as we caught our first glimpse of PNC Park,

and walked across the Roberto Clemente Bridge.




It picked up in intensity as we strolled along the river walk and chatted with the tail gaters.



Even Mother Nature was a fan, turning the river into a sparkling vision of black and gold.



This banner first appeared at the 1979 World Series.  It was reprised last season and somehow made its way from Florida to Pittsburgh for the big game.  We were privileged to add our names to the faded and frayed sign, to become part of its legacy and lore.



Over two hours before the gates opened the black clad crowd outside the stadium was swelling and abuzz with excitement.

You could feel it.  It was in the air.  Something special was about to begin.

By game time the noise was deafening.  The crowd, now on its feet,  rocking and swaying to a rhythm all its own, riding an adrenalin wave so high and wide it appeared to have no end.



For four fantastic innings it was magic, unlike anything I had ever experienced.

And then the unthinkable happened.

A grand slam home run sucked every single molecule of air from the stadium with one swing of the bat.

Neither the team nor the crowd recovered.

Our beloved Buccos went down in defeat.


And yet...

It was the most fun of any sporting event I have ever attended.  I have no regrets.  I would do it again.

And the best part of all?

There are only four months until spring training!

Let's Go Bucs!!

Fog

On most fall mornings the fog on the lake is heavy, a dense shroud pressing in and around, concealing  the world from prying eyes.

By mid-morning the fog begins to lift and sunlight slips between the cracks illuminating the day in promise.

We all need a little sunshine to slip between the cracks of the daily grind,

To find promise in the day to come.

I've also found that a healthy dose of caffeine works well too.

It's Buctober Baby

Happy first of Buctober!



For the second year in a row our Pittsburgh Pirates have made it into the post-season. After twenty years of toiling away in obscurity at the bottom of the heap, our boys are back.  It's been a crazy year of ups and downs with the team keeping us on the edge of our seats until the final day of the regular season.  The Kid and I have been with them every step of the way...literally.  I don't think we missed watching more than an handful of games all season.

My biggest regret last year was that we didn't attend the Wild Card game in Pittsburgh.  By all accounts the atmosphere was electric and the Buccos didn't disappoint.

Now it is a new year.  A new post-season.  I don't know what will happen when the team takes the field tonight.   We have some injuries to overcome.  But I know that this year The Kid and I will be there, lost in a sea of black at PNC park, hopefully spending the entire night on our feet shouting to the roof tops.

Rooting for our boys of summer.  Rooting for Cutch and Ike and Gabby and Neil.  For Jordy, JHay, Starling and Travis.  Rooting for Edinson, Mark, Tony and the rest of the bullpen.  And of course rooting extra loudly for my man, Russell.

Buctober may only last one day.  It may last a month or something in between.  But this year there will be no regrets.  Win or lose it's been a wild ride and we will see our boys through to the end.

Absobucinlutely.

It's Buctober baby.

LET'S GO BUCS.

Just Today

After almost two weeks of a glorious Indian Summer with temperatures touching 80 during the day and dipping into the mid 50's at night, rain has arrived.  It isn't unwelcome.

It is the kind of day that invites one to curl up on the couch with a good book and a pot of home made vegetable soup simmering on the stove.

Outside my window fallen leaves litter the ground and a lone geranium struggles to hang on to summer.  It's single white blossom a stark contrast to the yellows and oranges of the season.  I can't hear the soft melody of the wind chimes swaying in the breeze but I know the tune.

Tomorrow the sun is scheduled to return.  It too will be welcomed as there are still many projects to complete before the cold November winds begin to blow.

But today, just today,  I will stay indoors contentedly watching the rain fall and the soup simmer.

Summer

"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." ~ Dr. Seuss

Recalculating

I admit I wasn't on board when The Kid and the boys first hatched the idea.  It's not that I'm not spontaneous, okay, I'm not.  It takes me a little time to recalculate; get my head wrapped around the change of plans.  But once I do I usually jump on board the train and ride it with abandon.

That's what happened this week.

We were in Nashville last weekend (the purpose was for me to help B shoot a wedding on Sunday) when someone got the crazy idea that The Kid and I should venture to Atlanta and take in a couple of baseball games.  The Pirates would be in town and if they played well, could clinch a playoff berth.  When Chris offered up some of his Marriott points the deal was sealed.  While I was busy stuttering and stammering and spitting out reasons why this was a bad idea, reservations were made and tickets purchased.  We were on our way.

On the drive from Nashville to Atlanta I readjusted my thinking and by the time we arrived at Turner Field on Tuesday evening I was all in.



We had amazing seats four rows behind the Braves dugout for the first six innings.  A combination of a Buc win and a Brewer loss would clinch a trip to the post-season.

With momentum building, we made our way to the section behind the Pirate dugout where several hundred Pittsburgh fans were gathering.  At the end of 8 and 1/2 it was a 3-2 ball game with the Pirates in the lead.  As the Pirates were taking the field for the bottom of the 9th the scoreboard flashed the news that Milwaukee had gone down in defeat.  We were three outs away from a clinch.



The crowd, such as it was, was on their feet.  Minute by minute the excitement mounted.  And then the final out...BUCS WIN,  BUCS WIN, BUCS WIN.  We are on our way to the post season.  And the crowd went nuts.

What a thrill to be there and be a part of that victory.

It was so much fun that we decided to do it again on Wednesday.  That game didn't go our way but it seems that our seat location placed us squarely in the camera's frame whenever a right-handed batter was at the plate.

We were on television.  All.  Night.  Long.



And everyone we know who watches Pirate baseball saw us.  My phone lit up with texts from family and friends and we obliged by waving to one and all.

Our little trip to Atlanta was a fun filled two days of baseball.  Memories were made that I will cherish for a long time.   As much as this pains me to admit, I owe The Kid and the boys a big thank you for pushing me into the change of plans.

Just don't let it go to your heads.

P.S.
It seems Henna had a good time too.

Spontaneity

Don't despair.

I haven't forgotten you.

I have been otherwise occupied.

First there was company,

followed by a long car ride,

and a wedding.

There was supposed to be a final long car ride,

but,

I have been encouraged to "be spontaneous"  thus plans have changed,

there will be more car riding,

baseball,

possibly more baseball

before that final even longer car ride,

unless the plans change yet again.

Spontaneity is not for the faint of heart.

It Is The Way Of Things

There were two pair of geese in the cove this morning.

I am somewhat surprised as it is the time of year when they begin to gather in large flocksin preparation for the long flight south.

It is also goose season.

As much of a nuisance as they are with all of that pooping,

I hate to hear the sound of gun shot.

I hate to think that one of our residents is now missing its mate.

But it is the way of things.

The sound of gun shot also means the geese will disappear for a spell.

They have an uncanny ability to high tail it to protected areas during our short goose hunting season,

reappearing when the all clear sign is given.

I look forward to their return,

to hearing the honking and the whoosh of feet hitting water announcing their arrival in the cove.



And then I too will begin to gather my flock and prepare for the long flight south.

It is the way of things.

A Hummer Of A Summer

It has been a hummer of a summer here at Little Red.



In June I purchased a bright, red, glass hummingbird feeder and suspended it in the maple tree outside the kitchen window.

It worked like a charm and the little hummers took to it like bees to honey.



In fact it worked so well that a few weeks later I tossed the old red plastic model that hung from a shepherd's hook on the lake side of Little Red, replacing it with a similar green model.

I questioned the clerk upon purchase.  I wasn't convinced that a green bottle would grab the attention of the little birds in the same fashion the red one did.  She assured me the birds would find it.

And find it they did.

We soon found ourselves thoroughly entertained by the aggressive little buggers at all hours of the day and evening.

They were sipping their sugary brew at 5:45 AM while I was enjoying my first coffee of the day.

They were still there at 9:00 PM getting one last gulp before the bar closed for the night.  I swear they are addicted.

Heaven help me if the bottle ran dry.  The would fly right up to the window, flap their little hummer wings and chirp like looney birds in an attempt to grab my attention.  It never failed to work.

And talk about aggressive!  These tiny creatures were so aggressive that they swooped in like kamikaze pilots if we attempted to sit in the chairs near the feeder.  The distinct hum of their rapidly moving wings the only advance warning of an oncoming attack.



About two weeks ago we noticed they were gone.  The newly filled feeders sat idle and untouched for several days.

I can only assume our tiny friends have taken off for points south.

I guess they need to get a head start since they have a long trip ahead of them.  You know, that short wing span and all.

Have a safe trip little hummers.

We'll see you on the flip side.

Eliminate The Unnecessary

“The ability to simplify means to eliminate the unnecessary so that the necessary may speak.” ~ Hans Hofmann

It Was A Very Good Week

It is Friday and looking back I can honestly say it was a very good week.



There were early morning walks and two kayak paddles.  It seems we are choosing paddles over walks more and more often.  Partially because it is both beautiful and invigorating on the lake at 7:30 a.m. and partially because we know our paddle days are numbered as October marches ever closer.

My foot has improved dramatically.  I have my two month check up on Monday and have high hopes of getting paroled from the athletic shoe prison for time served.  It is not yet 100%, more like 85%, but oh so much better than a month ago.

I helped a friend serve a luncheon for a good cause.

A ton of stone (literally) was delivered on Tuesday and we are one step closer to my vision of a flagstone sidewalk becoming a reality.  If this project goes well there may be a flagstone patio on the project list for next summer.

I survived a dinner party.  I don't know if you can call two additional people a party but I survived none-the-less.  We had a wonderful evening visiting with our new, old friends and even managed to get out on the lake for a little boat ride.

It only rained one day.

My Pirates aren't out of the play-off picture just yet.  Hope springs eternal.

It was a very good week.

And...

I have enormous expectations for next week.  My oldest (in friend years) and one of my dearest friends is coming for a visit.  There is a Pirate game on tap (which was the carrot we dangled last April to get this party started) and hopefully a couple of sun filled days to make it perfection.

Oh Pshaw

There are people in my life who do not appreciate the many flower photographs that I post.

To them I say, pshaw.  Get over it.

Although I guess at this stage in my blog evolution I should be more willing to please my readership.

I fear that my little one year sabbatical caused me to lose a follower or two (or three, or ten).

We have now dwindled from the faithful eleven to the faithful five, maybe six on a good day.

But no worries.

I'm happy to be here,

to be back,

in my tiny spot in the blog world.

I answer to no one.

Which means that I can post flower photos until the cows come home.


P.S.  Welcome Ms Mickey.  I heard through the grapevine that you have been visiting.

P.P.S.  Give my grandchildren a hug for me the next time they wander over for a cookie!  

Last To Bloom

They may be the last to bloom, but they sure are pretty.