It was toward the end of the 10 mile race and a young woman came in toward the finish line. Everyone clapped! Even the elderly couple sitting on a bench stood up and clapped. She wasn’t first, as a matter of fact, she was probably close to last. She was a runner. They clapped for them all. I’m not a runner and have never been to the end of a race before, it touched me to the core that everyone, just for finishing was acknowledged.
It got me quite emotional. It makes me want to clap my hands for others!
When I want something done, I get it done, make it, whatever is necessary. I must confess, I guess you could describe me as impulsive, maybe even impatient with some things.Yet, there are times when I can be incredibly patient, even slow. Gardening is something that slows me down and can be so rewarding. It takes time for harvest, eh? The reward is worth waiting for. Our squash garden is at the point of “oh no honey, we can’t get in!” Even though we built a pallet fence to give the plants opportunity to climb, some of these renegades are just having too much fun traveling on the vine. I have no idea which one this flower is, it may be butternut, spaghetti, or a zucchini squash.
Did you ever stop and just appreciate the wonder of nature? In a couple of months, this beautiful flower will have transformed into a big ol’ squash, beggin’ me to make some soup. In the meantime, I find the deliciousness of saute’d squash greens, garlic & onion to be ridiculously amazing, so there is some reward for this impatient gardener!
I think one of the best ways to remain positive, at least for me, is to appreciate the various stages of life and life’s gifts.
It may be a garden, a project of some kind . . . .What do you find yourself “enjoying along the way?” What drives you nuts waiting for? What do you find exciting, comforting or enjoyable about “stages”?
Enjoying the Adventure! (patiently waiting for squash for dinner!)
Usually, robins, yellow finch & chick-a-dee visit my sisters bird feeder tree. I was minding my own business washing a piece of fruit at the sink and I hear her husband say, “Oh! look at that!” My sister is quite the accomplished photographer and preparing for a show in the fall so she ran off to get her camera. I got out my cell phone. Poor sissy, he flew off just as she came back. She would have got a much better photo. I got a great memory!
Red Shouldered Hawk baby. My, my, my! Beauty is everywhere, sometimes it sneaks up in surprising places!
Enjoying the Adventure (A little more than my sissy on this day!)
I have one primary reason for trying to promote a more positive world. This one reason actually represents many people, possibly even multiple generations and I take this silliness that I write about everyday very seriously. This photo is of my grandson. He literally owns my heart and always will. I never understood why my friends who became grandparents were so weird about their little human beings. I now know. He and his generation are what drive me. Like most grandparents, I want him to grow up in “a better world”.
This child is a curious little bug. I remember seeing the world as something new all over again when my kids were his age. It didn’t matter if it was something gigantic, or as simple as a rock in the backyard, everything was fascinating. Our children (and grands) mimic what they see. When this young, they don’t quite fully understand vocabulary, but they watch every move and sound you make, and of course, repeat your vocabulary at the most in-opportune times! I think that the photo my daughter took of him on the USS MIDWAY in San Diego is the perfect encapsulation of the curious learning sponge that a toddler can be.
He is about two stories up, on a glass floor, looking into the belly of the ship. I wish I was there, so he could tell me what “he sees”. But at this point in his life, all that excited talking sounds like gibberish. Oh, and does he talk. He also listens, and watches, and observes, and copies. I’ve not written much in the past couple of weeks, first I was away and had no internet, imagine that! Then, it was just plain to hot & humid to think. Not really, but it sounds like a valid excuse. However, I think the glass floor photo is what has had me in a writing quandary because I want the words to be “just right”. This child gives me such hope, and joy, and yes, even fear. This child makes me want a better world. I want a lot of things for him, you know the typical ones, health and abilities, the awareness of his place among others in the world. I hope he makes good choices. I hope that he is safe from harm.
There is one particular thing I hope for this child. I hope he can see beauty around him, and not loose his curiosity. I think all the other stuff, for the most part, may fall into place if he can see, hear, smell, touch and experience beauty. I believe that if we are able to fill our senses with an attitude of looking for beauty, no matter where we are, it will change our mindset. That attitude will give us hope of something better, it will bring us to a place of creative energy that enhances all of our senses.
In my hope for his future, I will recycle as much as I can. I will be cognizant of ways that I can preserve rather than consume. I will have high expectation of leadership that will affect his life. I will do whatever I can to teach him what I know about life and getting the best out of it. For example, I will encourage him to care about the natural environment, but also teach him about the environment of the tongue.
In consideration of the future, and let’s face it, our current reality, let’s do what we can to promote beauty!
The beauty of Nature
The beauty of Relationships
The beauty of Creativity
The beauty of Words, both spoken and written
The beauty of Learning
The beauty of Living life to it’s fullest
As we look for the beauty of life it really does have an effect, first on our selves in present time. It is difficult to get involved in all the negativity when you are looking in a different direction. Your quest for beauty will also affect others deeply, even into the future. You never know how a seemingly little positive thing we do can have great effect as we gaze into an unknown future.
Yes, this is a photo of a burning chair, and kind of sad, but I’m thankful for it. Being an antique dealer and lover of all things old, I have a deep respect and honor for old, inanimate objects like pieces of furniture, trinkets, jewelry, photos and crystal. What do I mean by honor? Well, a long long time ago, in a land called, “antique” furniture and other items were made by hand. Carvings were just that, literally carved by hand, not manufactured. China tea cups were painted with the greatest care. It is a fascinating world of beauty and craftsmanship.
I have foundmyself sitting at marked up old kitchen tables with obvious wear marks and wondered, as my fingers ran across the surface, who sat here? Did they drink coffee in the morning? Beer or wine with dinner? Did they tell family stories and argue about who was washing the dishes and play poker?
Antique mirrors intrigue me too. As I gaze at my own reflection I wonder who else has looked into this beautiful mirror and checked themselves out? Does this fit? Is this a good color? Am I pretty? Will he like it? Did she have self doubt of great confidence?
Check out my blog, The Brow Bag Letter to see my appreciation for antique photos, they slay me. Most photos are anonymous that are still here with us today. Names unknown, people forgotten. So yes, I honor inanimate objects without apology.
Imagine me, the one that loves and honors antiques burning a 100 year old chair in my fire pit. I do try and re-purpose or refinish what I can, but this one was without hope. The caning was ripped and it had some breaks in the wood. Truly not savable, so yes, I burned it. As I placed it in the fire and felt the warmth of the embers, I wondered, who sat in this chair? I sat and relaxed with a glass of wine and contemplated the possibilities, which of course reminded me of special memories.
Sometimes memories seemed burned up or long forgotten, like the people in antique photos, then something triggers a memory, and you are THERE. again, in your mind as if it is just happening.
This chair remind me of:
Coffee with Mom on a Saturday morning and sitting at the table while she ironed Dad’s shirts. There were many great conversations about family, love, boyfriends and girly silliness and giggles.
The day a man from Church that stopped by the house and I invited him in for a cup of coffee. As we sat there in the kitchen talking, my incredibly friendly German Shepherd was growling every time he lifted his cup. Evidently Corey didn’t think he was trustworthy and was very protective. Grrrrrrrrr
My hubby and I met at a local park, and we sat on a bench getting to know each other, I think it was around five hours later that we finally got up!
When your memories are triggered, I hope they are wonderful! Learn from the bad & hurtful ones, and don’t let it happen again! Be empowered to make change happen. Appreciate the ones you are reminded of all the time. Enjoy those that sneak up on you. Relive the moment and think, how can I create memories that are this special for someone else? Who could I share my life with that would be blessed if 40 years later they are “there again” via memory?
I appreciate the burning upside down chair. I’m thankful for those who sat in it for many years. (Considering the shape it was in, it must have been well-loved). I could ask what triggers your special memories, but I think I’ll be more specific . . . in honor of the burning chair. What special memories do you have that involve a chair?
For those who follow my blog in many parts of the USA, this photo would not need words, however for those of you who live in the city, or around the world who wouldn’t understand the comedy of this photo . . .
I live in Central Pennsylvania in the shadow of one of the most progressive schools, Penn State University “WE ARE!” Although Central Pennsylvania is quite rural, and State College isn’t a very large town when the students are on break, because of the University, we have about every convenience and fun things to do that most cities have to offer. However, about 10 miles out of this growing mini-city live the most unique and awesome people. They are called the Amish, or Pennsylvania Dutch.
These folk are hard-working farmers for the most part, but you often see Amish men doing carpentry work and you certainly know “it’s being done right” if the Amish are doing the job! Occasionally, the women sell homemade food, such as cookies, breads, “woopie pie”, fresh brown eggs direct from the farm, or homemade soaps and candles at flea markets. Due to their strong Mennonite-Christian beliefs they do not use many of the modern conveniences we American’s take for granted such as, electricity, cars & trucks, computers, mechanized tractors, and so on.
You can always recognize an Amish person by their mode of transportation —horse drawn buggy! Their farms are BEAUTIFUL! The Amish also wear clothing that certainly identifies them in a crowd. The men wear black pants and vest, usually a white or blue shirt, and straw hat. Wow! —-they have the biggest hands, probably due to the hard labor on the farm. The women wear very modest dresses, ankle length, fastened with straight pins, generally black or blue, and a small bonnet to express humility. Although they keep to themselves for the most part, they are incredibly friendly, and helpful people. If a barn is destroyed in a fire, the entire community will get together, and it will be re-built within days.
You have to be careful driving in the area of the Amish farms because you never know if a horse and buggy will be around the bend! It is truly like stepping back in time and quite the opposite of the contemporary conveniences, amazing research, and forward-thinking-studies performed at Penn State University so close by.
Imagine my surprise when I stopped at Sheetz Convenience store the other day which happens to sit across from a weekly flea market. Here stands a group of Amish men, ordering sandwiches on a touch-screen computer!
Dear God, what is the world coming to????????
Enjoying the Adventure,
Please visit my other Blog: Brown Bag Letter –a blog of stories celebrating “personal history”. You will find antique anonymous photos connected to stories people have shared with me about their grandparents and family folklore.
I encourage you to visit other bloggers at the following sites. You’ll find almost everything imaginable that can be written, in every form, from all over the world!
Oh did hubby get points yesterday, his display of love brought tears to my eyes.
We have a huge yard and I honestly LOVE taking care of it. I call my lawn-mower “Therapy” (because it is!) and I really don’t mind all the trimming & burning & trimming & cutting & trimming. Did I say trimming? This isn’t a manicured suburban yard.
We are in the country and all the care is just basic survival tactics, or that green grass could become a jungle. You have to trim trees, bushes and stickers so they don’t slap you up-side the head when you mow and the yard doesn’t become a thistle farm either. Not only does the Thistle need to be controlled, but there are also Stinging Nettle plants that would like to take over the grass and free me from Therapy. But I need Therapy! By the way, stinging Nettle tea is really good for you, but touch it raw and your fingers, legs, whatever body part, will burn for hours afterwards. Hubby has taught me how to pull these nasty buggers from the roots without much drama and pain.
However, there is one evil demonic plant that I am terrified of because I am so FREAKING ALLERGIC to it. When I come across this pretty-looking, nasty ass plant I end up miserable for weeks. The itching is so bad that you will literally bleed and then you wish you could use a wire brush on top of that, you know, the kind that removes resistant oil paint off of metal. You beg your husband for a stainless steel scratch pad, rake and heavy duty sand-paper from the garage. But he is smart, he doesn’t get it for you, he knows your desperate and although you hold three degrees when it comes to poison ivy you will do any stupid thing you think will work, including hazardous corrosive chemicals if you think it will give relief.
I grew up in New Jersey and we had poison ivy there that grew in the ditch near the peach orchard and it looked like this, it had distinctive red and green leaves. You really couldn’t miss it.
Here in Pennsylvania it (did I call it a nasty ass plant yet? Yes, I did, and I meant it too!) looks like any other green plant, no red leaves, it’s kinda pretty, but bitchy women can be pretty too. Looks can be deceiving. . . you know that! So, for quite a few years, I would wonder, “How the Hell did I get poison ivy?” I didn’t see any red leaves anywhere! Well bless my freaking soul, it looks so “regular” here. It’s just green, blends in and it’s a sneaky bastard, AND IT HATES ME. (Yes, I return the sentiment!)
Are you asking at this point why I titled this blog, “You know your LOVED . . .When”? OK, let’s get to that. Hubby and I spent some time this afternoon weeding and trimming (There’s that word again!) around our black raspberry plants so we can pick those wonderful treasures of Black Gold easier. When I brought Therapy over with our trailer for the trimmings, do you know what I saw? POISON IVY CLIMBING UP THE WALNUT TREE! Yes, I said shit. I may have said it twice, or three times, I don’t remember. I can’t be responsible for my language when it comes to pure evil. So, I mention to my husband, be careful around that tree there is a poison ivy vine climbing.
What does my Prince Charming do? Yes, he is from England, he always sounds like a prince, but today? HE IS PRINCE CHARMING FOR SURE! He started pulling the vine off the tree. I’m freaking out, NO! Please be careful, I don’t want you to get it! It took him three trips to the fire pit, and the ivy is gone, roots and all. (He was careful and he’s not allergic to it, at least for the first 67 years of his life. I hope that holds true at 68.)
Sometimes he tells me he loves me. Other times he shows it. What possesses a man to show love like this? Who wants flowers? Who wants chocolate, or jewelry? Well, OK, they are nice too, but he literally sacrificed his life and sanity for me!
Enjoying the Adventure (Darn it, this display of love will be hard to top)