tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85912785427442389672024-03-16T00:34:55.416-07:00Gathering Around the TableGathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.comBlogger2257125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-47837394437506435282023-04-15T12:52:00.005-07:002023-04-15T12:52:49.886-07:00Small Celebrations of Gardening, Revisiting a Post from 2007<p> </p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyPR4RkPVax8jMRkwF-sx4auZ5flmiBaIegz3c9NkeCRYm35JfRJDgN_mWNqw1RsZN-4D1ows3YJhGkpUkmpF0dH0T8rrWOklJFmns3sPKDNC5S806df9jZYkfEAkwA9rPUCSivx-9se8F34BTDFcoSWSWLuzJ-f27iNfelLHdTpNY7ztrIxZKQHKg/s617/PXL_20210414_223705282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="617" data-original-width="586" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyPR4RkPVax8jMRkwF-sx4auZ5flmiBaIegz3c9NkeCRYm35JfRJDgN_mWNqw1RsZN-4D1ows3YJhGkpUkmpF0dH0T8rrWOklJFmns3sPKDNC5S806df9jZYkfEAkwA9rPUCSivx-9se8F34BTDFcoSWSWLuzJ-f27iNfelLHdTpNY7ztrIxZKQHKg/w380-h400/PXL_20210414_223705282.jpg" width="380" /></a></div><br />In 2007, this was how I started a blog post in April about gardening. "I return to gardening year after year because of the small celebrations each and every day. It doesn't matter the size of the garden or what is planted, there are always changes, surprises, and celebrations on a daily basis."</span><div><br /></div><div>Twenty six years later this is still true. I love garden beds that look pretty, but I also find pleasure in the day to day things that happen in the gardens. Today I spotted another daffodil bloom. I see it is already time to weed ( even if it was 23 degrees very early this morning). There are plants that need deadheading. I am waiting for it to warm up a bit before I head outside, but I try to take my camera and capture small celebrations each day in the garden beds. </div><div><br /></div><div>In this same blog post in 2007 I went of say, "I am not a life-long gardener. I pulled weeds growing up sometimes. I appreciated the beauty of the flowers in my grandmothers' gardens. Fresh vegetables were a special treat when we visited relatives' houses that had large gardens. I dabbled with containers and annuals early in my adult life. When I turned forty and moved to KF I took on gardening in a more serious way.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now I live in a different house. I took a different approach to flower gardening at 514. I design more containers again, more perennials, and lots of bulbs. I have been fortunate to be able to move plants from Mom's garden beds next door and watch them continue to flourish at my house. </div><div><br /></div><div>The last thing I said in that original post was "gardening teaches you to pay attention." Each day I do a garden tour and look for new growth, grieve over a dead rose, or celebrate the blooming of a spring bulb. I pay attention to what is working and what shouldn't have been planted in a certain location.</div><div><br /></div><div>It has warmed up a bit. It is time for the garden tour for today. I will celebrate those small observations in the garden beds and pull of few weeds.</div><div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><br /><br /></span></div></div>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-14622378403417518522023-04-11T18:01:00.043-07:002023-04-11T22:12:19.226-07:00Near the Window<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOLvDX4HLySPPzwS63F36Dz1uOvAXLY4qGusSbobvhnyKBCqBOHOP3jjZco0ad4l_5H2_kDmdlwWg7TgAd4xBjttdkB840SAC4XV5QOlKqKsldNx6D8k9c3PAmveahHwUCfdi0F_5q1iL58PAR_JSlV21JzGpg1RCnH7e9c2-viP5J1-2uULYKq37Q/s640/web1_poetbusk_091516db_006_7027230.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="399" data-original-width="640" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOLvDX4HLySPPzwS63F36Dz1uOvAXLY4qGusSbobvhnyKBCqBOHOP3jjZco0ad4l_5H2_kDmdlwWg7TgAd4xBjttdkB840SAC4XV5QOlKqKsldNx6D8k9c3PAmveahHwUCfdi0F_5q1iL58PAR_JSlV21JzGpg1RCnH7e9c2-viP5J1-2uULYKq37Q/w400-h250/web1_poetbusk_091516db_006_7027230.webp" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p>When I was young I always enjoyed it when my mother read poetry to me before I went to sleep. I also enjoyed it when teachers read poems aloud in class. I even loved to memorize poetry and stand up in front of the class and recite one the teacher assigned. When I reached junior high I used to go to the library and check out poetry books and read them upstairs in my room. Then I would borrow Mom's manual typewriter and type all the poems I loved. I wonder what ever happened to all those typewritten poems? My upstairs bedroom was my escape growing up and I created memories reading, listening, and singing. Quite a few years ago I captured that time in my life in the poem below.</p><p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Near
the Window</b><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">The lamp near the window glowed long
into the night,</span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">An intriguing plot kept me turning the pages.</span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Curling up with Nancy, Bess, and George</span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I created a life of adventure with mysteries
to be solved.</span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I also picked up the books of poetry from
the public library collection. </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="background: white; margin: 0in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I read the words. I saved the words, hunting and pecking
on the manual keys.<br />
<br />
The stereo filled the hall room with
beautiful sounds.<br />
I wore out certain songs as I listened again
and again.<br />
I joined the Broadway cast of My Fair Lady
and Oklahoma too,<br />and The Ray Conniff singers backed<br />me up on “Somewhere My Love.”<br />How many times could I repeat <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background: white; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Three Dog Night singing “One”<br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">While belting out the lyrics with a
makeshift microphone?</span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Near the window I could breathe in
spring,</span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">In winter the panes frosted, then melted in
a thaw.</span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">If opened in summer a breeze gave a small
reprieve,</span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">The smell of burning leaves crept in at the
closing of fall.</span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">The neighbor kids gathered for Kick
the Can</span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">or Spoons, but</span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I cocooned myself in my bedroom upstairs.</span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Finding comfort near the window with my pile
of books. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background: white; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> And the collection of my
favorite poems.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="background: white; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I still carry those words
and can still recite the lyrical lines.<br />
l yearn to hear those familiar melodies when I<br />sit near the window in my childhood room.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p style="background: white; margin: 0in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> By Christy Woolum</span></span><span style="font-family: "David",sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: rgb(238, 238, 238); line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p><span id="docs-internal-guid-3d01d38a-7fff-f1c9-9528-dd385fdd8715"></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 12pt 0pt 0pt;"><span face="Calibri,sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> </span></p>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-13284871577365456332023-04-10T00:02:00.000-07:002023-04-10T00:02:19.955-07:00Saving The Only Life I Could Save<p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK7b_0_l1-t6DLO03EGFwDVt_rZxd_Iux3D8yPaRhidWquWJgbqeW7jwv5gd9e1vswuxzyAu1xXqKMDIaB2ADzharz5uDduIOu83zr8grJNrwpM3W9cWfRzWgR69d2KRp5yReNYZuH0PaqhOWWqQxl2JERN4cZGunob8zDk0LQpmS2jA--qdJ9tdwI/s4080/PXL_20221015_011144079.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2719" data-original-width="4080" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK7b_0_l1-t6DLO03EGFwDVt_rZxd_Iux3D8yPaRhidWquWJgbqeW7jwv5gd9e1vswuxzyAu1xXqKMDIaB2ADzharz5uDduIOu83zr8grJNrwpM3W9cWfRzWgR69d2KRp5yReNYZuH0PaqhOWWqQxl2JERN4cZGunob8zDk0LQpmS2jA--qdJ9tdwI/s320/PXL_20221015_011144079.jpg" width="320"></a></span></div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br> I love that there is a national focus on poetry each year in April. I love teaching students to read, apppreciate, and write poetry, I love immersing myself in the beauty of poetry, and I love to remember the poetry my mother read me before I went to sleep at night. In celebrating poetry this month, this is one of my favorites. Why? In the last few years I have saved the only life I could save.</span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; font-family: inherit;"><b>The Journey</b></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #111111; line-height: 30.345px; margin-bottom: 1.5em;"><em style="box-sizing: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">by Mary Oliver</span></em></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #111111; line-height: 30.345px; margin-bottom: 1.5em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">One day you finally knew<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">what you had to do, and began,<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">though the voices around you<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">kept shouting<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">their bad advice –<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">though the whole house<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">began to tremble<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">and you felt the old tug<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">at your ankles.<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">“Mend my life!”<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">each voice cried.<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">But you didn’t stop.<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">You knew what you had to do,<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">though the wind pried<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">with its stiff fingers<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">at the very foundations,<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">though their melancholy<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">was terrible.<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">It was already late<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">enough, and a wild night,<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">and the road full of fallen<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">branches and stones.<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">But little by little,<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">as you left their voices behind,<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">the stars began to burn<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">through the sheets of clouds,<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">and there was a new voice<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">which you slowly<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">recognized as your own,<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">that kept you company<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">as you strode deeper and deeper<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">into the world,<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">determined to do<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">the only thing you could do –<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">determined to save<br style="box-sizing: inherit;">the only life you could save.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #111111; line-height: 30.345px; margin-bottom: 1.5em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-Mary Oliver, from <em style="box-sizing: inherit;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dream-Work-Mary-Oliver/dp/0871130696" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: inherit; color: #ca2017; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.1s ease-in-out 0s;" target="_blank" title="http://www.amazon.com/Dream-Work-Mary-Oliver/dp/0871130696">Dream Work</a></em></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #111111; line-height: 30.345px; margin-bottom: 1.5em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As I celebrate National Poetry Month for the next four weeks, what are some of your favorite poems?</span></p>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-2297771148744279562022-08-16T00:19:00.008-07:002022-08-16T10:03:58.881-07:00Remembering Mom: The Land of Counterpane<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjTOFgkMF-OT9TV2sPfzEOm5MwMZB4lJUg80sMr3S2AWvNbXRigs_E5Jqfu_i7CcKUAwcqemuxHfAOTOcVbqUyU0wdPIYmULWsQM__qHmtiP23qOVRJSDRVaPTvrNaj2hYEXxtliLN3Zuup3mtWa3N-isj6FXNQICfI_wxZv6_MfQU6LbiBQhk7DIN/s1032/IMAG0296-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="1032" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjTOFgkMF-OT9TV2sPfzEOm5MwMZB4lJUg80sMr3S2AWvNbXRigs_E5Jqfu_i7CcKUAwcqemuxHfAOTOcVbqUyU0wdPIYmULWsQM__qHmtiP23qOVRJSDRVaPTvrNaj2hYEXxtliLN3Zuup3mtWa3N-isj6FXNQICfI_wxZv6_MfQU6LbiBQhk7DIN/s320/IMAG0296-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I first wrote this piece to honor my mom in 2007. I shared it again at Mom's Celebration of Life in the fall of 2017. My mom died five years ago today. A lot has happened in my life since 2017. There are so many times I sit alone and wish Mom was still with us. She would tell me what to do about the bugs eating my flower stems. She would calm me before I go visit the tax guy today. She would also remember the questions we couldn't answer at Family Dinner because she wasn't there.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibFlxuTG54LFaaroal48S5sG7MsxK2f7JP6Ty3v_T1l4Iubf9J4wgsCo62QkqR5YoD1bjtRezWGlgvg6oDe9u5bhM2N44QYZHQFXHSaJcQ4vY-LbkL30uxCzWa4EDLsgkeILNOTzqtfjiHtPpR2EIIucPoklUiVm4KCHcRFhR09hlXODFBWEaidd-z/s560/DSC_0009.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="539" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibFlxuTG54LFaaroal48S5sG7MsxK2f7JP6Ty3v_T1l4Iubf9J4wgsCo62QkqR5YoD1bjtRezWGlgvg6oDe9u5bhM2N44QYZHQFXHSaJcQ4vY-LbkL30uxCzWa4EDLsgkeILNOTzqtfjiHtPpR2EIIucPoklUiVm4KCHcRFhR09hlXODFBWEaidd-z/s320/DSC_0009.JPG" width="308" /></a></div><p>The Land of Counterpane</p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms"; font-size: 14px;"> Mom was there to comfort me numerous times during illness or injury. When I got a bloody nose rolling in the garbage can, she was there to help wipe up the blood. Before my surgery she sat there talking to me as if everything was normal and we did this once a week. When I cut my arm she used her “for guests only” white towels with the pink tulips to wrap my bleeding gash. When I had the bike wreck by the little park she put ice on my eye and put salve on my road rash.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1492588374785056913" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative; width: 556.023px;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I have a strong memory of being sick at 14 E. Portland in Kellogg. I was about five years old. Mom stayed home from teaching that day. For part of that year Dad was home babysitting me because Bunker Hill was on strike. I still remember feeling special having Mom all to myself for the day. I got to lie in Mom and Dad’s “big bed”. Mom arranged pillows behind my head to help me sit up. She had to give me a yellow liquid medicine that tasted awful, but was there with a glass of water. I spit some of the medicine back in the glass with the water. I think I was concerned about doing something wrong. Mom comforted me and went on as if nothing happened. I also have a memory of Mom reading A Child’s Garden of Verses . “The Land of Counterpane” and Stevenson’s words are still etched in my memory.</span><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><i>When I was sick and lay a-bed,</i></span><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><i>I had two pillows at my head,</i></span><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><i>And all my toys beside me lay,</i></span><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><i>To keep me happy all the day.</i><br />Actually that day the toys were oranges, scotch tape and a box of Kleenex. I must have become restless as the afternoon wore on. Mom allowed me to wrap the oranges like little gifts with Kleenex and scotch tape. I thought it was a marvelous way to spend an afternoon in bed. I think I even gave Dad a gift of wrapped oranges when he got home from work.<br /><br />Looking back on my sick day I remember the softness of the pillows and bedspread in that big bed. I also remember the warm light from a lamp glowing on my tissue paper gifts. The most important part of that day was the gift of time spent with my mom. Touching my forehead with her cool hand helped erase my fears. Listening to her voice recite the words of “The Swing” and “The Land of Counterpane” as she sat by the bed made me feel better. Holding the little blue book of poems and recited poems she seemed to help take me to another time, a sunnier day.<br /><br />That was an early experience with comfort. Mom provided a safe haven in that Land of Counterpane. I didn’t understand it as a young child. My life continued to be peppered</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"> with numerous illnesses, heartbreaks, and injuries. In different ways Mom has always provided that comfort and safe haven for me. I understand its significance now.</span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1492588374785056913" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative; width: 556.023px;"><div style="clear: both;"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1492588374785056913" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative; width: 556.023px;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1492588374785056913" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative; width: 556.023px;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">I miss you Mom.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLObrBbw3DZTxqMBlk-xdJo2BPXlAb2gwg3PkJdenip1Oxbo9i9hisZZtgSkprnjXM7Mm0jDTNifkNdZIThq-3LnaEue2AcXXjgXdDCIfcszj4b7GD62m8EbkzJTTqgdAPIActMOTr3pc7NSaWJkvl-6gloiCP-sqFUZX1wt-RGDdxAiWgdyW8Iy8J/s2048/IMG_0193.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1869" data-original-width="2048" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLObrBbw3DZTxqMBlk-xdJo2BPXlAb2gwg3PkJdenip1Oxbo9i9hisZZtgSkprnjXM7Mm0jDTNifkNdZIThq-3LnaEue2AcXXjgXdDCIfcszj4b7GD62m8EbkzJTTqgdAPIActMOTr3pc7NSaWJkvl-6gloiCP-sqFUZX1wt-RGDdxAiWgdyW8Iy8J/s320/IMG_0193.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="post-footer" style="background-color: white; background-image: url(""); background-position: 50% 100%; background-repeat: no-repeat; border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(132, 44, 94); font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.6; margin: 10px 20px 20px 0px; padding: 0px 0px 20px;"><br /></div><p><br /></p>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-4413620529623141322022-06-28T15:32:00.004-07:002023-04-11T18:06:15.919-07:00A Sign of Hope<p><span data-offset-key="7l8u7-0-0" face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5FVWFDi8RM3kkv8uH9V3mF4qfv_soDNUeg4xM9Vrr0yzBVhx5CIYA1U9TSZbgecpjzwSA7BBLARdMQs0JWIWnUM4yDngm1fM2wnHwLlxTljnCJhC-db3ll4y9F4ngoyTCSJDe_2OI_vqqLL3MbZo-xjz0zvSlDktzrq41oKBEqsEcmrOxdXbSbOlE/s4080/PXL_20220628_002450867.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5FVWFDi8RM3kkv8uH9V3mF4qfv_soDNUeg4xM9Vrr0yzBVhx5CIYA1U9TSZbgecpjzwSA7BBLARdMQs0JWIWnUM4yDngm1fM2wnHwLlxTljnCJhC-db3ll4y9F4ngoyTCSJDe_2OI_vqqLL3MbZo-xjz0zvSlDktzrq41oKBEqsEcmrOxdXbSbOlE/w151-h200/PXL_20220628_002450867.jpg" width="151" /></a></div><br />When I retired I moved back to my hometown and moved in the house next door to my mother. As I began building and designing gardens, she continued to tend her established gardens encircling her backyard. <p></p><p><span data-offset-key="7l8u7-0-0" face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;">My mom died in 2017 and my brother also moved back home into her house, our childhood home. I wanted to honor Mom in some way in my backyard. My husband came up with the idea of a memory garden. In the spring of 2018 my sister and I both chose plants from Mom's gardens and planted them in our respective gardens. </span></span></p><p><span data-offset-key="7l8u7-0-0" face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;">One favorite flower I moved was one of her peony plants. I have waited four years for it to bloom. In a time when the world has turned completely upside down, it bloomed. My heart was filled with hope as I cut that bloom </span></span><span face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span data-offset-key="7l8u7-1-0" style="font-family: inherit;">yesterday</span></span><span data-offset-key="7l8u7-2-0" face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;"> and put it in a vase. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><span data-offset-key="7l8u7-2-0" face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span data-offset-key="7l8u7-2-0" face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUZ5ZDQ-8uJEUGD4Lp9QgcTmHmQpwdmO7OJSdV3FSjKteVOS6dOKYN2w1IEHgyClWUvZ_bWwHz1zb1HHuEzm4RK79T6IvcTmLcC50pXERYZy7ZkjHvU6zOhJ5W3rOBmUBNlBxZXERNpAWofSQ6pWJeceWerJFv-2vJv8JZrOevEjMtKrg4cL8S-13z" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUZ5ZDQ-8uJEUGD4Lp9QgcTmHmQpwdmO7OJSdV3FSjKteVOS6dOKYN2w1IEHgyClWUvZ_bWwHz1zb1HHuEzm4RK79T6IvcTmLcC50pXERYZy7ZkjHvU6zOhJ5W3rOBmUBNlBxZXERNpAWofSQ6pWJeceWerJFv-2vJv8JZrOevEjMtKrg4cL8S-13z" width="240" /></a></span></span></div><span data-offset-key="7l8u7-2-0" face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span data-offset-key="7l8u7-2-0" face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><p></p>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-10369474305390792602022-06-06T13:27:00.007-07:002023-04-10T23:52:06.408-07:00The House of Belonging<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip7B82lVGCkqSGIMnZgMCc67BuaSR8IQD1RsZk-kOemwWnWvNza7qWwvlNvF_AKJS-Vqz6-SIgysdnT2ek6FLFTVyYynrXGrcBOOzQgRbE2EDFum3J9VBtv4o8scme_fTQeLAMUiLM8m0zixoT0pSCH6n2jUpvAkT4zaOFHQXjyY591xDSCI5BEt3S/s3072/PXL_20220514_003118056.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2692" data-original-width="3072" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip7B82lVGCkqSGIMnZgMCc67BuaSR8IQD1RsZk-kOemwWnWvNza7qWwvlNvF_AKJS-Vqz6-SIgysdnT2ek6FLFTVyYynrXGrcBOOzQgRbE2EDFum3J9VBtv4o8scme_fTQeLAMUiLM8m0zixoT0pSCH6n2jUpvAkT4zaOFHQXjyY591xDSCI5BEt3S/s320/PXL_20220514_003118056.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p> Every Sunday I look forward to reading Maria Shriver's <b>Sunday Paper.</b> The purpose of this online newsletter is to " inspire hearts and minds, move humanity forward, live your wildly authentic life." Each week she writes an essay "I've Been Thinking" , which has been difficult for her in recent weeks because of all the heartbreaking events in our world. </p><p>The newsletter also has interviews, book recommendations, recipes, and articles of interest. She always ends her newsletter with a poem. One poem she posted yesterday really resonated with me.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrq4l0JMRyPMQ8OtkKiShPMTV8jpGHVqlMLHUJdQNAGGgL-RuvBMMY5s9Bz3heIVeCIsAs966p6_WRUTEDxXSMvZLeWx--SpLYAIkPGeS_nB256dWOzKe7v_jEXEARahjSI2GavI41To_YPT0EoMGqYSDNCav-5F05WPXOsYN2np1wG_-TA1Mgczo3/s1080/unnamed.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrq4l0JMRyPMQ8OtkKiShPMTV8jpGHVqlMLHUJdQNAGGgL-RuvBMMY5s9Bz3heIVeCIsAs966p6_WRUTEDxXSMvZLeWx--SpLYAIkPGeS_nB256dWOzKe7v_jEXEARahjSI2GavI41To_YPT0EoMGqYSDNCav-5F05WPXOsYN2np1wG_-TA1Mgczo3/s320/unnamed.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I love the last two lines. " There is no house like the house of belonging." I live in a house of belonging. I ask friends and family to come visit, I host dinners here, and I have surrounded myself with all the things I love. It is a small house, but it suits me just fine, It is my place of adult aloneness. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhX2LWIfkUJMen0tPOk5t-FuYxB0a5FBICFGEaQqHM4FWmy0HpnTtSHjcgFW19k2r5RDQ49za3vw0LzOgAP7vzC-FLtfEu9dlER_Elu_XTlST4s1bStZ7igDd16zXMdrgC4rFUvRo4KRTafdpyDEaXifWC5ciWZyEQlTAvgdVq_Oa_ti8e4I5JMCmU1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="241" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhX2LWIfkUJMen0tPOk5t-FuYxB0a5FBICFGEaQqHM4FWmy0HpnTtSHjcgFW19k2r5RDQ49za3vw0LzOgAP7vzC-FLtfEu9dlER_Elu_XTlST4s1bStZ7igDd16zXMdrgC4rFUvRo4KRTafdpyDEaXifWC5ciWZyEQlTAvgdVq_Oa_ti8e4I5JMCmU1=w241-h320" width="241" /></a></div><br />I live with a dog and a cat. I spend a lot of time alone and I find peace in the aloneness. Friends and family are close when I want companionship. I do miss my husband every day. I am blessed that he taught my how to embrace a well-lived life.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirFRF0sipHe46ZkX2sESvWbA4yr9cA4wuAO53osAehmn3ShFrS3oUEOxig9V9t0Girk8lAdyg_r4k9gS9yzI1idKAa1DzZeuoMERbsb9Yui-5fhhO7TSWvVIbfhboNkSkUqQj9o4CVnJ3V6DqRPvVnfHpMafUSwK3fdijFTGLCyL-Uz7TVIZep-j7P/s3147/PXL_20220606_195131271.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2850" data-original-width="3147" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirFRF0sipHe46ZkX2sESvWbA4yr9cA4wuAO53osAehmn3ShFrS3oUEOxig9V9t0Girk8lAdyg_r4k9gS9yzI1idKAa1DzZeuoMERbsb9Yui-5fhhO7TSWvVIbfhboNkSkUqQj9o4CVnJ3V6DqRPvVnfHpMafUSwK3fdijFTGLCyL-Uz7TVIZep-j7P/s320/PXL_20220606_195131271.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">This is my house of belonging. I have worked diligently the last seven years to create a house that is surrounded inside and out with all the things I love in life. I definitely belong here.</span></div><div><p></p><p>You can find The Sunday Paper <a href="https://www.mariashriversundaypaper.com/">here</a>.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqJzZcrxoDzaS5tWu43yPVKC6JMOVf9hbwZP_IbTHsjmkbFN9Rsa6M-pluT68D9l_hscdq0WDsbEqGNTge9T7OiGVvUk2pePbwrTkHwwhJeDTzV-jdGZmjF-Rh1xFuD4hcAWEHlB9Kq7EY2IEO4r0aCF_DtkA1D41YE00kUb1vg6z9xsNhtl1ZGZKm/s2923/PXL_20220504_235534096.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2621" data-original-width="2923" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqJzZcrxoDzaS5tWu43yPVKC6JMOVf9hbwZP_IbTHsjmkbFN9Rsa6M-pluT68D9l_hscdq0WDsbEqGNTge9T7OiGVvUk2pePbwrTkHwwhJeDTzV-jdGZmjF-Rh1xFuD4hcAWEHlB9Kq7EY2IEO4r0aCF_DtkA1D41YE00kUb1vg6z9xsNhtl1ZGZKm/s320/PXL_20220504_235534096.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p></div></div></div></div></div>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-38750476184307729342022-06-01T23:48:00.002-07:002022-06-01T23:48:09.566-07:00Weeds Are Flowers Too!<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_os4rJCRJl4pzWzlHgZZXV2BbxWwcs1wQhxwtKeWajWxt3We2ABqnhSr97_7FjM6cBXv-IhsW1D1wEKhaKKia8AnVBC1SoRB5hQ7mOn5a3r0m2VHrKLsFgHmJoY-5TsoIBfzvKKuukugn1J83fIRvC5FLtOQSs0QTX-bBJKW1OcQlbIzaI9EoG1t/s251/images%20(10).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="251" data-original-width="201" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_os4rJCRJl4pzWzlHgZZXV2BbxWwcs1wQhxwtKeWajWxt3We2ABqnhSr97_7FjM6cBXv-IhsW1D1wEKhaKKia8AnVBC1SoRB5hQ7mOn5a3r0m2VHrKLsFgHmJoY-5TsoIBfzvKKuukugn1J83fIRvC5FLtOQSs0QTX-bBJKW1OcQlbIzaI9EoG1t/s1600/images%20(10).jpg" width="201" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I love this quote by A.A. Milne. It is late spring, we have had many rainy days, and the weeds are flourishing. It is certainly their season to shine.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCGxUpNPqKOXo__IfYGQ1psGQ8oDn9ZFBvDujzhIcgtoFrWlvuNlcen4q2LGMi6jjkQL0Mo7mGCbpOGPvHBc0kmYf17az9rig9nfAwKY4rIATYteIfNJTZI765BBLsDsFT8ulZOX-T2cR3al2zKYYfuqKAe-ybU2tMKziC2ep8UNOh7K77ian8Hf5W/s4080/PXL_20220601_204158047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCGxUpNPqKOXo__IfYGQ1psGQ8oDn9ZFBvDujzhIcgtoFrWlvuNlcen4q2LGMi6jjkQL0Mo7mGCbpOGPvHBc0kmYf17az9rig9nfAwKY4rIATYteIfNJTZI765BBLsDsFT8ulZOX-T2cR3al2zKYYfuqKAe-ybU2tMKziC2ep8UNOh7K77ian8Hf5W/s320/PXL_20220601_204158047.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Today I felt like I needed to get to know a whole bunch of weeds. I wish each and every one of those weeds was a flower. Weeding is just a part of the process of gardening. I try to break up weeding into smaller tasks as not to get overwhelmed. Today it worked.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_kPJFp3dCCjlfDlMiEIKfNpT-jcvJCqSyruLjY4kSKfzrJxk1_yJaxwuUIiAlBONfLZzwscR1TnY2d7GS23lEZh36USbN0kDdY93FzHQw50-SQc1skN_KGIdP7iHJ--p7jMgtEnzfDb9AEUPggQ0_PkN5MQYDn910YjxfADDP2HmQfJAcjuOXzqNo/s4080/PXL_20220601_204128972.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_kPJFp3dCCjlfDlMiEIKfNpT-jcvJCqSyruLjY4kSKfzrJxk1_yJaxwuUIiAlBONfLZzwscR1TnY2d7GS23lEZh36USbN0kDdY93FzHQw50-SQc1skN_KGIdP7iHJ--p7jMgtEnzfDb9AEUPggQ0_PkN5MQYDn910YjxfADDP2HmQfJAcjuOXzqNo/s320/PXL_20220601_204128972.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />When I weed I bring my favorite tools. I also have my water, iced coffee, and music. Today I had two dogs assisting. Riley is always with me, but today we were joined by his cousin Cleo. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcSX3i4u72W2Ri4s5SP548kQVNLoBEA_J2KPRZ-Al9XTqijEoNPcbN_0KS5OrNxY7Ipm2JsyjKPT3M9xgWpL1Wt374GW9-GEGeVQI9vBiKLQgBpjZIZ5fqjemtObzuVVztWXMTK172t3JDp6OGRcpaW3euxzKVj2469P9FHh-AiAwzUKhNlY-6HCl2/s4080/PXL_20220601_204410653.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcSX3i4u72W2Ri4s5SP548kQVNLoBEA_J2KPRZ-Al9XTqijEoNPcbN_0KS5OrNxY7Ipm2JsyjKPT3M9xgWpL1Wt374GW9-GEGeVQI9vBiKLQgBpjZIZ5fqjemtObzuVVztWXMTK172t3JDp6OGRcpaW3euxzKVj2469P9FHh-AiAwzUKhNlY-6HCl2/s320/PXL_20220601_204410653.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br />The weather was perfect. The weeds were plentiful. I discovered a bunch of new muscles. I felt a sense of accomplishment when I finished my first little section. Who could ask for more?<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSvKtXpsOvyFibJ9hh9WMOX8I-4ozYFt854fwX302lMS3832wGX2FFespbReLXzeX_LS07fk3z1cS9lz8e25EuEu_94esQDLlQINu4k7vyCZiuwm6u7DxIA4DBttlbTYuCqwMWTPzA7RjIzib95WBTtt3yTJ0mYxAkKCD5U9d5EhJDP4pQK_GOkNuA/s4080/PXL_20220601_204223136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSvKtXpsOvyFibJ9hh9WMOX8I-4ozYFt854fwX302lMS3832wGX2FFespbReLXzeX_LS07fk3z1cS9lz8e25EuEu_94esQDLlQINu4k7vyCZiuwm6u7DxIA4DBttlbTYuCqwMWTPzA7RjIzib95WBTtt3yTJ0mYxAkKCD5U9d5EhJDP4pQK_GOkNuA/s320/PXL_20220601_204223136.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-33479753488673631472022-05-30T07:45:00.007-07:002022-05-30T07:45:51.905-07:00The Rain: A Silver Lining<p><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">"Rain, rain, go away</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Come again some other day</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We want to go outside and play</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Come again some other day".</span></p><p><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Yes, it continues to rain at 514. Today I am focusing on the silver linings rain has provided in my gardens. There is much to appreciate around my place because of the rain.</span></p><p><span style="color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidyA2CgPorJj3WVSY1Is6hMmKU9b-xxhnwXVuCXy4-e-EmcZBJ9slBXahdulvear_0PGwPpTz38OVOyDnDi3hmIOCOW0J3syvn0J_EwhtaUCUQxcHUtOBomkLnL9_Z_EFTQrRMS51Nzy5nsDvwdhyEVTO0xUtOdgk-D2bF8BG2bPUhY7kwb_XibNuN/s3336/PXL_20220516_025314004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3336" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidyA2CgPorJj3WVSY1Is6hMmKU9b-xxhnwXVuCXy4-e-EmcZBJ9slBXahdulvear_0PGwPpTz38OVOyDnDi3hmIOCOW0J3syvn0J_EwhtaUCUQxcHUtOBomkLnL9_Z_EFTQrRMS51Nzy5nsDvwdhyEVTO0xUtOdgk-D2bF8BG2bPUhY7kwb_XibNuN/s320/PXL_20220516_025314004.jpg" width="295" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">We got to enjoy a double rainbow.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUhYOp-tTKMIRTcpCushP5dZMtGSMGY5AIcpuBM8zed077e379J2xkzUE_P2clL54yg_Etm41jVQhoIYMRJmprzNMKKPTdlJBVek4dzxuxMGUCh7C1fZx74SWzpePwyZsz6Q0Tg6V0_vVtNdSuWjx8QNSI7osWSWJ18sNmnMyAk-Nog_yq4gazGYuw/s4080/PXL_20220514_002814724.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUhYOp-tTKMIRTcpCushP5dZMtGSMGY5AIcpuBM8zed077e379J2xkzUE_P2clL54yg_Etm41jVQhoIYMRJmprzNMKKPTdlJBVek4dzxuxMGUCh7C1fZx74SWzpePwyZsz6Q0Tg6V0_vVtNdSuWjx8QNSI7osWSWJ18sNmnMyAk-Nog_yq4gazGYuw/s320/PXL_20220514_002814724.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">The tulips are lasting longer.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ8JPjUHk7E9Wv2oTnK1Lrp16qXO9zDOB2ige7yQQFRkWkdfJ3V5h4pUkciWk5g_2U3OlKVShOU1fR36y4QXkdK83Ts7STNdizXuziNIlS8e1l3gOwTZXHTeQVtaB5m7PVzYVHirErAiWdnzEp_FAQfdmvRUQaqpcYvogHY8Nfq-gKGY827ar_i2wi/s4080/PXL_20220528_011008068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ8JPjUHk7E9Wv2oTnK1Lrp16qXO9zDOB2ige7yQQFRkWkdfJ3V5h4pUkciWk5g_2U3OlKVShOU1fR36y4QXkdK83Ts7STNdizXuziNIlS8e1l3gOwTZXHTeQVtaB5m7PVzYVHirErAiWdnzEp_FAQfdmvRUQaqpcYvogHY8Nfq-gKGY827ar_i2wi/s320/PXL_20220528_011008068.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">The columbine's color is more vivid.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6wU3NK0nKRxUxygbi2aq9GgV_rv_cvAxwf3FN2pd3mt0dwQdNfYURUozgbhRuprT1BaLQOFxHZB2V7h7CVeS0jylS8mdb6CGBUSkp4xvaIo7kFJh5cv9CxcikN9ZysH1hBeewsk1mRzQcF5MBw--1VVpOMpwU55PjZxIvktXvmDYt5N1PbdWh-pGq/s4080/PXL_20220529_192621548.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6wU3NK0nKRxUxygbi2aq9GgV_rv_cvAxwf3FN2pd3mt0dwQdNfYURUozgbhRuprT1BaLQOFxHZB2V7h7CVeS0jylS8mdb6CGBUSkp4xvaIo7kFJh5cv9CxcikN9ZysH1hBeewsk1mRzQcF5MBw--1VVpOMpwU55PjZxIvktXvmDYt5N1PbdWh-pGq/s320/PXL_20220529_192621548.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">The lily garden is exploding.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhTIhON6TKrPupbMRgC2_bZ7DuRm1VhslwH-xf29PrjVmOyj0iC6lV61KOpBBOz7nPymHnic9CPlp04Rn3OJSGA21aAU8FovRV1C4Dnb1cu4ZOVYmTU5BM13bBadwjSMlvhEmrGdv0AjGPz7JpN1L1e6cLs0eF3l7gzB2TZ6-Y3hpGfKomtI1F8gwM/s3858/PXL_20220522_233819834~3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3858" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhTIhON6TKrPupbMRgC2_bZ7DuRm1VhslwH-xf29PrjVmOyj0iC6lV61KOpBBOz7nPymHnic9CPlp04Rn3OJSGA21aAU8FovRV1C4Dnb1cu4ZOVYmTU5BM13bBadwjSMlvhEmrGdv0AjGPz7JpN1L1e6cLs0eF3l7gzB2TZ6-Y3hpGfKomtI1F8gwM/s320/PXL_20220522_233819834~3.jpg" width="255" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Bouquets are lasting longer.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6F0Ir72CgpP_KFoqG2hGfL-wNzUS93i3hQy5cdu-D-u_fl2qwmtHBsBbg7fK8IdY0ywei_yaw7skwIpLciV-SIHClSxA1pC236odIItC3QNa_NvZYfJijc8I-52lDc4yYeJdfPdk4AXb4oCZPtQTPxfEjiqwG1JyaRp1uHhLV1j8vwpJeSbRed3d4/s4080/PXL_20220530_014351740.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6F0Ir72CgpP_KFoqG2hGfL-wNzUS93i3hQy5cdu-D-u_fl2qwmtHBsBbg7fK8IdY0ywei_yaw7skwIpLciV-SIHClSxA1pC236odIItC3QNa_NvZYfJijc8I-52lDc4yYeJdfPdk4AXb4oCZPtQTPxfEjiqwG1JyaRp1uHhLV1j8vwpJeSbRed3d4/s320/PXL_20220530_014351740.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">The lilacs are also lasting longer. </p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> “Colors shone with exceptional clarity in the rain. The ground was a deep black, the pine branches a brilliant green, the people wrapped in yellow looking like special spirits that were allowed to wander over the earth on rainy mornings only.” – <strong style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Haruki Murakami</strong></span></p><p> </p><p><br /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></p>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-60045544972473496962022-05-25T16:19:00.004-07:002022-05-25T16:19:58.661-07:00Ten Things To Do When You Can't Garden<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmTDliImrlLK9-UHDArwjbGOQrPu4dQUdkDcqyxwApZ6bvtf3WuMqlT0eoYOCRwDLcBli2_jRp45kyDfP4rFFojTPI3Kz9J1tmOm_0tSgKFkwsLNjIdb5rIQ_O4cNUKWX3apVmCRtlhRD8SpTiz9LWfd0briAUS4emCohNNbpWoTELgVkxVyZ8j64i/s820/IMG_1430.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="820" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmTDliImrlLK9-UHDArwjbGOQrPu4dQUdkDcqyxwApZ6bvtf3WuMqlT0eoYOCRwDLcBli2_jRp45kyDfP4rFFojTPI3Kz9J1tmOm_0tSgKFkwsLNjIdb5rIQ_O4cNUKWX3apVmCRtlhRD8SpTiz9LWfd0briAUS4emCohNNbpWoTELgVkxVyZ8j64i/s320/IMG_1430.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />Where I live we have had a cold, wet spring. Don't get me wrong. I know we need the rain, but when the temperatures are cooler, it is hard to plant a garden. I realize I could bundle up, wear a rain poncho, and go out and pull weeds, plant containers, and put out my garden décor. I don't want to. I only last a short time outside when I get wet and cold. I have found some other ways to use my time.<p></p><p>Ten Things To Do When You Can't Garden:</p><p>1. Go shopping for plants. Eventually it will warm up, right?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAwI9io7R7YeR6PXk-Q2nYuyS3H4CAe72-_ZC-eCMLlVzfM8Kl38Q6mvrxxWjCANJ-NpxmnUSIsX2TKTiaUeXSs4mdHlTUvQwEbqkMa1PCFayVRNDHBzgzPi3cTEOwM7kAPOQtViRlYfZaUfDZ0y8ymOLcPgJ1aCUIgbbrF1gYGUg4M5hQ_lZRY9u1/s560/PXL_20220501_204354155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="422" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAwI9io7R7YeR6PXk-Q2nYuyS3H4CAe72-_ZC-eCMLlVzfM8Kl38Q6mvrxxWjCANJ-NpxmnUSIsX2TKTiaUeXSs4mdHlTUvQwEbqkMa1PCFayVRNDHBzgzPi3cTEOwM7kAPOQtViRlYfZaUfDZ0y8ymOLcPgJ1aCUIgbbrF1gYGUg4M5hQ_lZRY9u1/s320/PXL_20220501_204354155.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><p>2. Start trays of plants from seed. They will get to be planted someday.</p><p>3. Fill up the bird feeders.</p><p>4. Go to another store shopping for plants. You hate to have them sell out the first day it is warm again.</p><p>5. Arrange bouquets with my spring flowers.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwDmX7b_xWhIcyUjFXmdpErQJGciQ9s3E8YS7NtbRNiAWHr4yMbQy16Tws_Zg5kI7fkVjhPeesYlAGkRAXmsp4YzI5dLNC6eeO2fUL8ygTPKB_c9tLuBjHejCm7JfAjK6X0zTsuZIbPDTb15oBhOIo5B1WkXPLSA3cOf8mr_dTdv7NhrFvV_lIyjtH/s3858/PXL_20220522_233819834~3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3858" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwDmX7b_xWhIcyUjFXmdpErQJGciQ9s3E8YS7NtbRNiAWHr4yMbQy16Tws_Zg5kI7fkVjhPeesYlAGkRAXmsp4YzI5dLNC6eeO2fUL8ygTPKB_c9tLuBjHejCm7JfAjK6X0zTsuZIbPDTb15oBhOIo5B1WkXPLSA3cOf8mr_dTdv7NhrFvV_lIyjtH/s320/PXL_20220522_233819834~3.jpg" width="255" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>6. Cuddle with Riley, drink coffee, and read a good book.</p><p>7. Reorganize the She Shed and deadhead the plants that wintered over</p><p>8. Plant flowers in the containers in the garage and hope there is enough sun to keep the leaves green.</p><p>9, Go to one more store and buy plants. Do you see a pattern here?</p><p>10. Take Riley outside and have him do a Sunshine Dance.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-z0I6MeLwqnQvV00xou5NQv7ooaUfu1slbwY9dgI00J5cI-3MBSiQL0BOvttCF9sAM8qi1184IPaiSMa-QajJX_CzR4NHDHz6NORAIekWB1OPm8fq8BjslzbPa2-9NxwX3oGZ2Xnuz1O9Sn7Dj3JgWSWaF2xP4QWiTthrqzBLoKCYq_IkOqHTYkf/s618/PXL_20220420_004310198%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="465" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-z0I6MeLwqnQvV00xou5NQv7ooaUfu1slbwY9dgI00J5cI-3MBSiQL0BOvttCF9sAM8qi1184IPaiSMa-QajJX_CzR4NHDHz6NORAIekWB1OPm8fq8BjslzbPa2-9NxwX3oGZ2Xnuz1O9Sn7Dj3JgWSWaF2xP4QWiTthrqzBLoKCYq_IkOqHTYkf/s320/PXL_20220420_004310198%20(1).jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><p></p>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-61307379780965154322022-05-20T11:41:00.004-07:002023-04-10T23:52:55.817-07:00A Creative Rendezvous, Part 2 CCRT<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqLOGMLvOjjF4WCaqhOFHIK-jcafuNViE8D7mdt6Efe7AMv5Hf16_m85zOTphmBrZ4d6xxz2SyBUzS-Z0d_PTpMz5X48QpsuGxfK7Lyp7b8Qb2QVZaYRjsQhJOyRsPGcmVoy5iueIC_je3UDbI2u_iY4JajjvJ-4NWAHUl6U1hoYX73TCNdrEv8Hvk/s4080/PXL_20220511_203549088.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqLOGMLvOjjF4WCaqhOFHIK-jcafuNViE8D7mdt6Efe7AMv5Hf16_m85zOTphmBrZ4d6xxz2SyBUzS-Z0d_PTpMz5X48QpsuGxfK7Lyp7b8Qb2QVZaYRjsQhJOyRsPGcmVoy5iueIC_je3UDbI2u_iY4JajjvJ-4NWAHUl6U1hoYX73TCNdrEv8Hvk/s320/PXL_20220511_203549088.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p> I love going on trips, but it always takes a bit of time for me to get back into the routine of daily life when I return. This explains why I am slow at posting Part 2 of our Creative Rendezvous. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtPwNUNLxNPnYJt6dL_ckCaBov85NURElolfqnbCCWrHc1g-BeK0OsV0FHYlNRk5Rqx_RwjWLxnRr9NYI0DOTOCsdIeMUGLOxwl980CTQHS4y4chqgTjyUfaEf-AZV9XHJUHDIcdGgffvdCrhs6KzK_0qMr7uUVlJSYNlc_NMPOy4BNqU_dVP5R-i0/s4080/PXL_20220511_194834941.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtPwNUNLxNPnYJt6dL_ckCaBov85NURElolfqnbCCWrHc1g-BeK0OsV0FHYlNRk5Rqx_RwjWLxnRr9NYI0DOTOCsdIeMUGLOxwl980CTQHS4y4chqgTjyUfaEf-AZV9XHJUHDIcdGgffvdCrhs6KzK_0qMr7uUVlJSYNlc_NMPOy4BNqU_dVP5R-i0/s320/PXL_20220511_194834941.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijFBLBvulf82C1qhbvi8rlpmbEkeDrEEXptlCD007KDUwf_d3i48UVhnpsidIjDjc9kDvNyNiEUfLOp8N4WEGFFrpuQUGZ-1x5e0gKnfh-y94obhLfKLom_R4J84W4j_p4Ivuw14ay9X292W09qSxpStkBGcdovLLtcgTHj53rYrljFmj2sNVo4JLn/s4080/PXL_20220511_200418846.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijFBLBvulf82C1qhbvi8rlpmbEkeDrEEXptlCD007KDUwf_d3i48UVhnpsidIjDjc9kDvNyNiEUfLOp8N4WEGFFrpuQUGZ-1x5e0gKnfh-y94obhLfKLom_R4J84W4j_p4Ivuw14ay9X292W09qSxpStkBGcdovLLtcgTHj53rYrljFmj2sNVo4JLn/s320/PXL_20220511_200418846.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Crafts was a big part of our time spent in Missoula, but we also enjoyed trying the food of Missoula while on our creative rendezvous. There were many amazing spots to try. The Catalyst came highly recommended and it did not disappoint. I had breakfast for lunch and loved the cup of hash brown casserole that came as a side<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-lN_wHZq_LXz_eSA-49tPwPrs7BqySb29qZRXuU9yhnAUEXeEeJgMDP-wNBjTSiB8b6e9bgBIFkTw38Pji5XRvXAgOSBIMeqaP3ZFnfKnl3bZ7SsiFDzgR3_JSUFnPFyglgKUk_E9SNjFk9Sg1gyoorujGJbU4boBF6lTOUXFlXzyMXfF5tag-aP/s4080/PXL_20220511_194208161.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-lN_wHZq_LXz_eSA-49tPwPrs7BqySb29qZRXuU9yhnAUEXeEeJgMDP-wNBjTSiB8b6e9bgBIFkTw38Pji5XRvXAgOSBIMeqaP3ZFnfKnl3bZ7SsiFDzgR3_JSUFnPFyglgKUk_E9SNjFk9Sg1gyoorujGJbU4boBF6lTOUXFlXzyMXfF5tag-aP/s320/PXL_20220511_194208161.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>They had lots of coffee drink selections also.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVX8DfGDAxcTiMFwzNPj9eLmvwffXKzoqZ7M0ruyE4MqY-eOn4_q02uTxIm5Qebxds72csJ8Jl6z0qEa-QRQdtpHrdzLOmrDwCm_fk94V4Uq_GHaShqfiy3aA1TzvQKuvCofqO4W8aOXnRD-CTTKezleLvD3t0XPhzikJXfQCGUy7XKqxs0qOc808N/s3295/PXL_20220511_005244765.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="3295" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVX8DfGDAxcTiMFwzNPj9eLmvwffXKzoqZ7M0ruyE4MqY-eOn4_q02uTxIm5Qebxds72csJ8Jl6z0qEa-QRQdtpHrdzLOmrDwCm_fk94V4Uq_GHaShqfiy3aA1TzvQKuvCofqO4W8aOXnRD-CTTKezleLvD3t0XPhzikJXfQCGUy7XKqxs0qOc808N/s320/PXL_20220511_005244765.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Another place we tried for dinner was the Tamarack Brewing Company. We loved this place also. Fun drinks, delicious food, and we had a great waitress. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmlljRt2lDrYeQud7GEooXU8q4RRJohOwToO4OJu_IyFoVZ3nB8fcdJrM20TplZToz_K5CBFySIhRFgRLr8zsOOpPsSNm7SmgQrvbrHy-TLgbFas0B5F_b4L7CI6HIEzzhvqS6mNKUsPNs774ZKcy-qmRdAEubKhaGQmX_y8-hFedmLq2g7z-ELFd0/s3204/PXL_20220511_011626693.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3204" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmlljRt2lDrYeQud7GEooXU8q4RRJohOwToO4OJu_IyFoVZ3nB8fcdJrM20TplZToz_K5CBFySIhRFgRLr8zsOOpPsSNm7SmgQrvbrHy-TLgbFas0B5F_b4L7CI6HIEzzhvqS6mNKUsPNs774ZKcy-qmRdAEubKhaGQmX_y8-hFedmLq2g7z-ELFd0/s320/PXL_20220511_011626693.jpg" width="307" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2jOWIHzT0XFqKRRvlDVgFRQBmozp2EtGn9K3XRD0DVRyCoianzBTxU0Yzdth-2mpeQc86adt_DBeGRo3uiyzkrtQlJzh1ANq11s-4XYzpUFg4jD5Tccv9KZQRLaWLzoKL2EvtViqtBMulNlfZ2gzRxS2SPp8jqMn4yWYyEMio4BcXycbupr0Fmob4/s4080/PXL_20220511_011609779.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2jOWIHzT0XFqKRRvlDVgFRQBmozp2EtGn9K3XRD0DVRyCoianzBTxU0Yzdth-2mpeQc86adt_DBeGRo3uiyzkrtQlJzh1ANq11s-4XYzpUFg4jD5Tccv9KZQRLaWLzoKL2EvtViqtBMulNlfZ2gzRxS2SPp8jqMn4yWYyEMio4BcXycbupr0Fmob4/s320/PXL_20220511_011609779.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit-UO9kIj10ocN8IcoUXK9o8XdrHvEjwfGPyMvGAvAh2Fc0AdRTuxnGOHHuJnblGNafHpQ1tEUy2DCIiNax12KivhJ5q0uLUH3gswAWi0aIbuIhPk9eLqvRDnCqG9KVvqU9K95g5IqDVQWm02bCledXdBi7N_AHl0K2w-kg_rqi4QwTBdrI2q89Q0D/s4080/PXL_20220511_011607365.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit-UO9kIj10ocN8IcoUXK9o8XdrHvEjwfGPyMvGAvAh2Fc0AdRTuxnGOHHuJnblGNafHpQ1tEUy2DCIiNax12KivhJ5q0uLUH3gswAWi0aIbuIhPk9eLqvRDnCqG9KVvqU9K95g5IqDVQWm02bCledXdBi7N_AHl0K2w-kg_rqi4QwTBdrI2q89Q0D/s320/PXL_20220511_011607365.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4EHrrzjrWWY_8J6Ciq6v4AAAeFy9t1okmzc1ltGUSbsizMXRVoKleRua2D988NZJGFsn9Fq5pH56NaZvslbIfVArgGYRqUkwsX9fFRw4robVc8unlV2Cuiug5fcMs1GBPhuhPjHWFwVXqPZI_69BpA6tXsda44-DWtyPZO93ABzMUJwLOQyWBya16/s4080/PXL_20220511_010831538.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4EHrrzjrWWY_8J6Ciq6v4AAAeFy9t1okmzc1ltGUSbsizMXRVoKleRua2D988NZJGFsn9Fq5pH56NaZvslbIfVArgGYRqUkwsX9fFRw4robVc8unlV2Cuiug5fcMs1GBPhuhPjHWFwVXqPZI_69BpA6tXsda44-DWtyPZO93ABzMUJwLOQyWBya16/s320/PXL_20220511_010831538.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP9Ya_xvVqa1V0JfiXpCqH4HbgxQUX7Fz_p7xWH6vLw1afmMv8D9WOLJNu5mx0LCVY8pmeKehHaMh2CqQ2Kq_P2DvEAyu7kr1wO1hydAzlpCPrM8Sp0cXrpvJqbZpotuG6F1ryEajPDA3vvUzQl5SOyduO2FmWWay9kztXJo1B2k34-SumnBqOahVK/s4080/PXL_20220511_010820729.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="2432" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP9Ya_xvVqa1V0JfiXpCqH4HbgxQUX7Fz_p7xWH6vLw1afmMv8D9WOLJNu5mx0LCVY8pmeKehHaMh2CqQ2Kq_P2DvEAyu7kr1wO1hydAzlpCPrM8Sp0cXrpvJqbZpotuG6F1ryEajPDA3vvUzQl5SOyduO2FmWWay9kztXJo1B2k34-SumnBqOahVK/s320/PXL_20220511_010820729.jpg" width="191" /></a></div><br /></div></span></div><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">My brother had told me about a vegan doughnut place he had visited while in Missoula. He raved about how delicious the doughnuts were. We stopped on our way out of town at Veera Donuts. He was so right. The cases of doughnuts looked like an art gallery of deliciousness. We brought him home a couple to enjoy also. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYTLidfr6cIkQ3smv6-cePeOALG_bqqS7zZcvFyJ8855Dtv7mKVILTifOPR-Bxl6iUB6zoxGFE44yNHNddYOBxZaeHAELrKY-181JrRykilWRYqFe2VIA-hsLmPYZ23JhZsnE2H0AW1GgTKNYeB7Xv6mOz9lmmYBfFLANAddTmfNdO0P3bZPOK0avz/s4080/PXL_20220512_211151284.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYTLidfr6cIkQ3smv6-cePeOALG_bqqS7zZcvFyJ8855Dtv7mKVILTifOPR-Bxl6iUB6zoxGFE44yNHNddYOBxZaeHAELrKY-181JrRykilWRYqFe2VIA-hsLmPYZ23JhZsnE2H0AW1GgTKNYeB7Xv6mOz9lmmYBfFLANAddTmfNdO0P3bZPOK0avz/s320/PXL_20220512_211151284.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPE3fWO0ZnvjfTYXD81xB2P1MaVMfefZ26IRsRXJXfjC2YrGR1xftbIroweVPTUU9CgrQNryN6uBEsvzzjsYzGfN3dwdxf08TdFtcWojZbX2K1a_9aqcByhVqnIM0q8F7C4qV4A8smaJrdco3JBGzflwQEI0stovN5YJXt_8TzyrwMVEPKROfxQe7g/s4080/PXL_20220512_185030309.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPE3fWO0ZnvjfTYXD81xB2P1MaVMfefZ26IRsRXJXfjC2YrGR1xftbIroweVPTUU9CgrQNryN6uBEsvzzjsYzGfN3dwdxf08TdFtcWojZbX2K1a_9aqcByhVqnIM0q8F7C4qV4A8smaJrdco3JBGzflwQEI0stovN5YJXt_8TzyrwMVEPKROfxQe7g/s320/PXL_20220512_185030309.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1VQp9rAPQ18F_cvgxIIWBqjBjTwdt-POk2icexejcsVNJ4m9eMuN4KKW9aXQRjlTLQUXKT4zR-ek8UFKyKEypXksH-331mq4-lpwZf2E9E5ZGeJy_SF5IQJeWQV0LNZSTvmllCJ3dfNTlseDdB1qLFN7fIQMeI5c0-z3Rty7WeiylFq2Kns3xZqjU/s4080/PXL_20220512_184454823.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1VQp9rAPQ18F_cvgxIIWBqjBjTwdt-POk2icexejcsVNJ4m9eMuN4KKW9aXQRjlTLQUXKT4zR-ek8UFKyKEypXksH-331mq4-lpwZf2E9E5ZGeJy_SF5IQJeWQV0LNZSTvmllCJ3dfNTlseDdB1qLFN7fIQMeI5c0-z3Rty7WeiylFq2Kns3xZqjU/s320/PXL_20220512_184454823.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div>Of course, a trip out of town is not complete without visiting a bookstore. Fact and Fiction had a wide selection of books, with a focus on books about Montana. The shop also featured Montana authors. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKr6z9U9AMwZ5_65I3RWnAMtzNbhFWHrHefaci8LryrvBuQkLJIFtrxA4RoKnEazC45t4XsHqep1vbOnZR-fq6uS8A1pza4IWtoCRkHkTs4ekzK79nHKtHIRRpZbuslAVP73D0lrGbXpRg1LJvuwSoW91dq-GmhJ0pEjsm4arH_ter5zMKWNaiflj2/s4080/PXL_20220512_175309263.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKr6z9U9AMwZ5_65I3RWnAMtzNbhFWHrHefaci8LryrvBuQkLJIFtrxA4RoKnEazC45t4XsHqep1vbOnZR-fq6uS8A1pza4IWtoCRkHkTs4ekzK79nHKtHIRRpZbuslAVP73D0lrGbXpRg1LJvuwSoW91dq-GmhJ0pEjsm4arH_ter5zMKWNaiflj2/s320/PXL_20220512_175309263.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwpWLEy70fxg8FvJLvj9t2dOAmzhqLHqVQ6ot_Vj-YXtSgp-fvj9yZiYEhA24Qe-lmNbfn3AHquE-7AF408K4-OGW9tQAHQAjPZ2egyjIEIsIK1ZqDm-HHIk6tl_ImBvFU9UyoqZc4FrW-UZRQByNvlP4BbotCY_lo19zVoo8aBXR4ZhUSZnaUQfXr/s4080/PXL_20220512_175259700.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwpWLEy70fxg8FvJLvj9t2dOAmzhqLHqVQ6ot_Vj-YXtSgp-fvj9yZiYEhA24Qe-lmNbfn3AHquE-7AF408K4-OGW9tQAHQAjPZ2egyjIEIsIK1ZqDm-HHIk6tl_ImBvFU9UyoqZc4FrW-UZRQByNvlP4BbotCY_lo19zVoo8aBXR4ZhUSZnaUQfXr/s320/PXL_20220512_175259700.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaR0ctV1a_I0k_9HWiq19JoIXYNAYab2SfSyOLC-7r4FYq3sma-oCGu9OX1Y3BXCPdUFd8MGfQnvKSyBNXSIuvizykus-NfKglDgq_Ck11FGL9xmxlgDHSjDRFJNI_Ay8u6HSKw7_Rv-y230gRsZSLPeGzDTBCkx3cmpW_btNGtIvxZo6FY50CAXxC/s4080/PXL_20220520_183320001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaR0ctV1a_I0k_9HWiq19JoIXYNAYab2SfSyOLC-7r4FYq3sma-oCGu9OX1Y3BXCPdUFd8MGfQnvKSyBNXSIuvizykus-NfKglDgq_Ck11FGL9xmxlgDHSjDRFJNI_Ay8u6HSKw7_Rv-y230gRsZSLPeGzDTBCkx3cmpW_btNGtIvxZo6FY50CAXxC/s320/PXL_20220520_183320001.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">A usual stop while in Montana is the Travel Center in St. Regis. We didn't need food then, but we enjoyed the gift shop. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUgyPFav6VwrZoUfVVDalJbtQm1JPmUKiO0oQvIkwB4RKQrGVWwZfdo5JgE0MkIpW3xK0S6XkZsVcDD3qYrkbHABQRwkOwiQ7odfOfBc8eFOdURgGIw21bWzs45Pixoj60jYqhb-VmeJFHTnLs3lD5FNKYLCJ77Uq7FKvX6QQiKd0LeQnXU5nNexhf/s4080/PXL_20220512_211912268.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUgyPFav6VwrZoUfVVDalJbtQm1JPmUKiO0oQvIkwB4RKQrGVWwZfdo5JgE0MkIpW3xK0S6XkZsVcDD3qYrkbHABQRwkOwiQ7odfOfBc8eFOdURgGIw21bWzs45Pixoj60jYqhb-VmeJFHTnLs3lD5FNKYLCJ77Uq7FKvX6QQiKd0LeQnXU5nNexhf/s320/PXL_20220512_211912268.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnuVtSfAyxSycu4z9qkbHmX6k78DsJIN2MjzM-hMLU0GUI91tT1djhLI-fmHUgq3mHIp0_AtGW_1h3Rmt8NISS4bHTwinuGF_Qqu08B5LO3QEVFKa4ijXNXxt9HTwvdbca8mX8-u_Etoti9esS8H5r-xc2IYAl5BE-Rj4yjS4DbZ4Y2Cnh0B14x4Wz/s4080/PXL_20220512_214950500.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnuVtSfAyxSycu4z9qkbHmX6k78DsJIN2MjzM-hMLU0GUI91tT1djhLI-fmHUgq3mHIp0_AtGW_1h3Rmt8NISS4bHTwinuGF_Qqu08B5LO3QEVFKa4ijXNXxt9HTwvdbca8mX8-u_Etoti9esS8H5r-xc2IYAl5BE-Rj4yjS4DbZ4Y2Cnh0B14x4Wz/s320/PXL_20220512_214950500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">There is nothing like getting away to rest, relax, be creative, shop,laugh, eat, get lost, and enjoy the companionship of a friend, a sister, and Riley. I think CCRT needs to be a tradition now!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA2PFgxzyXhE7T0JVJKvVPyufxwohDmLw-PCgr3rR4JzjbF4rVUD20H2aHvFaDoeMVSrRwUSPDYx--XORFSSoZqupmLyVP0x2H9tBB6ONlQfBjR0g7CSXeg4os9nI7-Ft1rHCRzwqWEcYvQkONAMWDcEwLK5pauN5foL_yEBo0WUksqOtGRuamN5du/s4080/PXL_20220511_185416324.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA2PFgxzyXhE7T0JVJKvVPyufxwohDmLw-PCgr3rR4JzjbF4rVUD20H2aHvFaDoeMVSrRwUSPDYx--XORFSSoZqupmLyVP0x2H9tBB6ONlQfBjR0g7CSXeg4os9nI7-Ft1rHCRzwqWEcYvQkONAMWDcEwLK5pauN5foL_yEBo0WUksqOtGRuamN5du/s320/PXL_20220511_185416324.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcCegfSbbueF-frb2DL2T_pWFVIXBucXF5Bb_U4NfaFrw0n5v1tAG5OsBdsi0gjheNeq6lexxtTCLaNDVaG0_118EKZB-Wrtjh03UYZHbqB4Loua8uokuGvvuaonJBbzaucKvuXnXJf4XTrApnkQgdGeZfpK1CQa15I0HFN2tpSGn7Vs0OnRTSWkT1/s1367/PXL_20220510_215102894%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="1367" height="94" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcCegfSbbueF-frb2DL2T_pWFVIXBucXF5Bb_U4NfaFrw0n5v1tAG5OsBdsi0gjheNeq6lexxtTCLaNDVaG0_118EKZB-Wrtjh03UYZHbqB4Loua8uokuGvvuaonJBbzaucKvuXnXJf4XTrApnkQgdGeZfpK1CQa15I0HFN2tpSGn7Vs0OnRTSWkT1/s320/PXL_20220510_215102894%20(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p><br />Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-66001070684087621442022-05-14T22:35:00.012-07:002023-04-10T23:51:25.860-07:00A Creative Rendezvous, Part 1 CCRT<div class="separator"><br /></div><div class="separator"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjNt3CYF9viyBm9mAMi_oBi-PkEuncYPkvkPhUfIukruqstsQVXCqbURI4cW4ZLGOgU0mAmqlW9M3iKvolh7hu9YLZUuIPCYuJ4NP8Ibg3TCoSSM5vucuZ42LoQ7Kfwph2xg1nbP5-CH0XAb335b1ISSeuLivkXX66V3PJGzf7aWRhrWl0RztZHnqYt" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="662" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjNt3CYF9viyBm9mAMi_oBi-PkEuncYPkvkPhUfIukruqstsQVXCqbURI4cW4ZLGOgU0mAmqlW9M3iKvolh7hu9YLZUuIPCYuJ4NP8Ibg3TCoSSM5vucuZ42LoQ7Kfwph2xg1nbP5-CH0XAb335b1ISSeuLivkXX66V3PJGzf7aWRhrWl0RztZHnqYt" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">My sister Carol and her husband Paul have created an online business called Grow Me a Story. Their mission</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1c2838; font-family: "Crimson Text"; text-align: left;"> is "to create a virtual community for those seeking to deepen the joy and meaning that come from practicing the art of creative living."</span><span style="text-align: left;"> I have participated in this community by doing a book study of </span><b style="text-align: left;">The Artist's Way</b><span style="text-align: left;"> by Julia Cameron via Zoom they led, by contributing to the online Sacred Community Garden, reading their blog and listening to their podcast that includes interviews with people leading a creative life. You can find their website here: </span><a href="https://www.growmeastory.com" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">https://www.growmeastory.com</a></div></div></div><p></p><p>One suggestion for fitting creativity in your life is to do a Creative Rendezvous. They suggest you take yourself on a fun and playful outing each week. This is to provide inspiration. The main goal is to have fun. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdeMuqH8V74A1S50xmDbSxgWXnhuDPE8NUkiemHxmQDi-fTR1CBq_nu5Z2iXvvGWXxEQQf_z_c6Q8om0h_zAdnA4yhb6Pnxdl1175Zw1EAoNrRzCtOvwW2157H7tA637oYS3a9PIHudrrkEipajmfZQH_9fmtbdkGE3JHLRLlCuRydqpRlC_aRkso9/s4080/PXL_20220510_215102894.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="4080" height="94" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdeMuqH8V74A1S50xmDbSxgWXnhuDPE8NUkiemHxmQDi-fTR1CBq_nu5Z2iXvvGWXxEQQf_z_c6Q8om0h_zAdnA4yhb6Pnxdl1175Zw1EAoNrRzCtOvwW2157H7tA637oYS3a9PIHudrrkEipajmfZQH_9fmtbdkGE3JHLRLlCuRydqpRlC_aRkso9/s320/PXL_20220510_215102894.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />This last week I planned a Creative Rendezvous for more that a few hours. I planned a four day stay at a vacation home in Missoula, MT. My friend Tracy, another member of the Sacred Community Garden joined me, We also brought my dog Riley on the road trip. We were so excited my sister Carol could join us for a couple of days.<p></p><p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKeExl89yfMSHS_TPJniTJuzOqmgtv8EVykwdNcJ0-H5oxaJIZg7qXbQco-E26izKOleI9tmrYkT6vzgT_a6UkbQn-ea-SXW8KCCIswaI23t4v-7mce7TG2reCG8LMYvq18JtV158wLSYx0DDFlMGb1UcbGepRTDMNb0r5GXAOefGY0v4XRBEFCLjr/s3512/PXL_20220511_175728689.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3512" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKeExl89yfMSHS_TPJniTJuzOqmgtv8EVykwdNcJ0-H5oxaJIZg7qXbQco-E26izKOleI9tmrYkT6vzgT_a6UkbQn-ea-SXW8KCCIswaI23t4v-7mce7TG2reCG8LMYvq18JtV158wLSYx0DDFlMGb1UcbGepRTDMNb0r5GXAOefGY0v4XRBEFCLjr/s320/PXL_20220511_175728689.jpg" width="280" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carol created flowers on a floral scrapbook sheet.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieEIbrAGrMR6DPROIskgQ9-dZyWFezxXeQ19KC9DjPfSvWPgK-lqjY9KHiY5CtRtWIOR4HxAawNYm_QZw8YmJcjJl1f1kUdAM9iaKP-VxNXjF_B8mtiK8LmMth5EIzULNjeLN2FnCL7nTK_hGuC3607mJ2kDSK2OJIwdsrDCv1mkWkzhXm05XAr28h/s3608/PXL_20220511_175827797.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3010" data-original-width="3608" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieEIbrAGrMR6DPROIskgQ9-dZyWFezxXeQ19KC9DjPfSvWPgK-lqjY9KHiY5CtRtWIOR4HxAawNYm_QZw8YmJcjJl1f1kUdAM9iaKP-VxNXjF_B8mtiK8LmMth5EIzULNjeLN2FnCL7nTK_hGuC3607mJ2kDSK2OJIwdsrDCv1mkWkzhXm05XAr28h/s320/PXL_20220511_175827797.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I created a collage celebrating our family dinners,</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">It was an amazing Creative Rendezvous. We planned many parts ahead in case we needed supplies. We did some fun crafts using paints, photos, lettering, and other mediums. Tracy surprised us with sheets of photos she found on our Facebook pages and had printed. The little pictures were perfect for many of our craft projects. Carol created the row of flower paintings at the top of the page.</span></div><p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisQv4xJOzrdfiW1CtQYrpr_EdEUm8ryEoc2iQGwpZ_vojycGkbZ1lODAuvkBHeyxYetWmvRlsCdKzvY8UQvsj7S0aSfMb9VKF__pBgaQmzWKL1W9G1K3tC6kj-qT09Na2HaSupUHo7rJubeRIm_WSwC2RhUh0oBXCARG1voYd8Vu06_gNkwcILtPNs/s4080/PXL_20220511_205733354.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisQv4xJOzrdfiW1CtQYrpr_EdEUm8ryEoc2iQGwpZ_vojycGkbZ1lODAuvkBHeyxYetWmvRlsCdKzvY8UQvsj7S0aSfMb9VKF__pBgaQmzWKL1W9G1K3tC6kj-qT09Na2HaSupUHo7rJubeRIm_WSwC2RhUh0oBXCARG1voYd8Vu06_gNkwcILtPNs/s320/PXL_20220511_205733354.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fiesta Ware at The Import Market</td></tr></tbody></table><br />We wanted to visit places that would inspire us. The Import Market was one. We all had memories of shopping at the Import Market in Spokane. Walking in the store was like walking back in time with the baskets, incense, candles, bright lanterns, posters, and now Fiesta Ware. Just all the bright colors were an inspiration. <p></p><p></p><br /><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLLTRiHZM8Zp7Yn81miUfmj-G8ag9Q711Ka3S8EGowa7J75_X-EBwk83DT6lhZbe9cYgV0Doxh8HXGbWc0dd8rZD58ZH8OMhUT07CSLePLBMHSMPeBn5pkCUyqS0Sbh36fowc2wq5ZqxTXvSabIBScqlL5zUBY-isfn62ws_9hET1oMStlNb-8U0IX/s3634/PXL_20220515_051635938.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3634" data-original-width="2984" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLLTRiHZM8Zp7Yn81miUfmj-G8ag9Q711Ka3S8EGowa7J75_X-EBwk83DT6lhZbe9cYgV0Doxh8HXGbWc0dd8rZD58ZH8OMhUT07CSLePLBMHSMPeBn5pkCUyqS0Sbh36fowc2wq5ZqxTXvSabIBScqlL5zUBY-isfn62ws_9hET1oMStlNb-8U0IX/s320/PXL_20220515_051635938.jpg" width="263" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tracy created a special collage of Riley photos for me.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEUhxGdOwgxNxV_mwvIK4MgpP_sA_2os3UtPRbuEGRjYvRPPgTHEt0HOs7BQ9OSNv569qAiJlxhw-GBibBn1eGlzJU5ckQdC2K0YlBSNKw7A9gGvJNkK0dZ97tSK6HkLvTb9kZ1sePGxwpqtL0PCKUYSQ_UuU85pJ7j0vMLiJjGLwxUAel73oLj3M/s4080/PXL_20220515_051610989.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="2482" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEUhxGdOwgxNxV_mwvIK4MgpP_sA_2os3UtPRbuEGRjYvRPPgTHEt0HOs7BQ9OSNv569qAiJlxhw-GBibBn1eGlzJU5ckQdC2K0YlBSNKw7A9gGvJNkK0dZ97tSK6HkLvTb9kZ1sePGxwpqtL0PCKUYSQ_UuU85pJ7j0vMLiJjGLwxUAel73oLj3M/s320/PXL_20220515_051610989.jpg" width="195" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She also created the front door of my house with photos and flowers. I just love it.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">We engaged in creative chats, we read, we wrote, and we created. I think we met the goal of the rendezvous. We were inspired and we had fun. Riley always wanted to be near, but couldn't do the crafts. Poor Riley. Stay tuned for more of our creative adventures in Part 2.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6HYkn_NcQovo8FSs32zscl6VsB0FQOIVMlX0rWxP9Na_BKNv_xnAkoICwDbnW2bF7I0YqjbzkgM8mub2tng_Y8WeGUWkNzofsgmBxDUzQLsdFto4iSKCxjV3TLgXMhMuhrR5iv2cAHEa6V7xk0C22qXj6MmjvbgxpbMxWnTJN129fzfdBCV4t2nr/s3851/PXL_20220510_220838874.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="3851" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6HYkn_NcQovo8FSs32zscl6VsB0FQOIVMlX0rWxP9Na_BKNv_xnAkoICwDbnW2bF7I0YqjbzkgM8mub2tng_Y8WeGUWkNzofsgmBxDUzQLsdFto4iSKCxjV3TLgXMhMuhrR5iv2cAHEa6V7xk0C22qXj6MmjvbgxpbMxWnTJN129fzfdBCV4t2nr/s320/PXL_20220510_220838874.jpg" width="255" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">“Wherever you are is always the right place. There is never a need to fix anything, to hitch up the bootstraps of the soul and start at some higher place. Start right where you are. "</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">― </span><span class="authorOrTitle" face="Lato, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">Julia Cameron</span></div><br /><p></p><h3 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; font-family: Montserrat; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0.5rem; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj8DJnnbFcQsUAvmZkJZKqcOb2jX-elKugdWwG2SDKnvbCDvp_9_u3yd9VnTh2DBoMZHbXvMAk46aZRMBA5sK3ybzR9YLWDXxV91179E2XXloMlBIQjjTtv89-j_fUvLzaRTuKekh9RebCG7iRwcd247UByCTNkLRHW-BOKe_jOvnWRaLuOuk4Yiv96" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="241" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj8DJnnbFcQsUAvmZkJZKqcOb2jX-elKugdWwG2SDKnvbCDvp_9_u3yd9VnTh2DBoMZHbXvMAk46aZRMBA5sK3ybzR9YLWDXxV91179E2XXloMlBIQjjTtv89-j_fUvLzaRTuKekh9RebCG7iRwcd247UByCTNkLRHW-BOKe_jOvnWRaLuOuk4Yiv96" width="181" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Import Market<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPDnANsUaBuDfmvaI7stGsWREA9Y7rwZkPRq-p9uKfeq0EwqSw4H-LXQGLnWBxrln7-TP7rsnBSLGWAG8eUQ_7b-v_03zj88k4WvXpMZEjp2ZVtdV2yhOcUuXXMlsnifsEIKGh-8ZOEfgGh-SBE5hxCc8fFlUPpkDOyccRRsaiB28H4RfRuaDPmcyu" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="241" data-original-width="320" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPDnANsUaBuDfmvaI7stGsWREA9Y7rwZkPRq-p9uKfeq0EwqSw4H-LXQGLnWBxrln7-TP7rsnBSLGWAG8eUQ_7b-v_03zj88k4WvXpMZEjp2ZVtdV2yhOcUuXXMlsnifsEIKGh-8ZOEfgGh-SBE5hxCc8fFlUPpkDOyccRRsaiB28H4RfRuaDPmcyu" width="319" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was a cozy and comfortable vacation rental.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /></h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-53528558853077427352022-05-01T12:16:00.006-07:002022-05-01T12:21:52.754-07:00The Rivers of My Life<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcpjdSUuymu2moA-G3BjhVmB-UX_SlmN8RpZYOAywi_85y3eDQKVJbayYeYYAkHJ7ZLvDL9O7kJ9f7v8QGN2hty0TFeBD613D4k93A2WopQxOKMoQ3_5bOh2JEsBFH7gUW1b6wLBCC8cn2jJXCZWz0COqU6prUwCmVBzXj7sph0F1ssjHS8gYJeRn7/s797/DSC_0220.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="797" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcpjdSUuymu2moA-G3BjhVmB-UX_SlmN8RpZYOAywi_85y3eDQKVJbayYeYYAkHJ7ZLvDL9O7kJ9f7v8QGN2hty0TFeBD613D4k93A2WopQxOKMoQ3_5bOh2JEsBFH7gUW1b6wLBCC8cn2jJXCZWz0COqU6prUwCmVBzXj7sph0F1ssjHS8gYJeRn7/s320/DSC_0220.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The North Fork of the Coeur d' Alene River<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Once again National Poetry Month has come to an end. I enjoy and celebrate poetry all year long, but I always focus more on my favorites in April. The last poem I chose is by poet and author William Stafford. I have stood by many rivers during my lifetime. A river is a good place to pause and reflect on the passage of time as the still beauty of the current passes over the rocks. What I have I done with this life? I have tried to live it the best I can.<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM6gw3K_NKglupHpviT8Z3JZaU9jqNE8PfXK5J7WY1epKny1SdMueWTpsz5NzOSFftToK3F69JzoOmQs0OYF63cYFx54tLZUP7F78hnTWuWLxR3s6-cOgLVnIhqc2XeLP3AcrBWDAtv4XCfiRva_nT-NVu6pnXsUgkda8mZIwqIU95pN8RV6lRvNYJ/s665/2020-10-13%20(16).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="665" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM6gw3K_NKglupHpviT8Z3JZaU9jqNE8PfXK5J7WY1epKny1SdMueWTpsz5NzOSFftToK3F69JzoOmQs0OYF63cYFx54tLZUP7F78hnTWuWLxR3s6-cOgLVnIhqc2XeLP3AcrBWDAtv4XCfiRva_nT-NVu6pnXsUgkda8mZIwqIU95pN8RV6lRvNYJ/s320/2020-10-13%20(16).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spokane River</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTWBdvEDbKglwybkdPxcgfwgUjZl0rWVVe8xSRDUihFIiZjhFbZLGGpEGpEvHAWMpYZk2jP-SK4qfRZOA0CWNDN-US6hcE-btL6ZTdhvmTnUdso-NKGGpCRaEiTHGxi5odf48h_FjP4F1sQTOqzX78v3WkaxRg5a1MbkBZguEyxIjDNq2a0xuJDwhN/s752/IMG_0036.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="752" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTWBdvEDbKglwybkdPxcgfwgUjZl0rWVVe8xSRDUihFIiZjhFbZLGGpEGpEvHAWMpYZk2jP-SK4qfRZOA0CWNDN-US6hcE-btL6ZTdhvmTnUdso-NKGGpCRaEiTHGxi5odf48h_FjP4F1sQTOqzX78v3WkaxRg5a1MbkBZguEyxIjDNq2a0xuJDwhN/s320/IMG_0036.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">South Fork of the Coeur d'Alene River in Kellogg</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><b style="font-size: 16px;">Ask Me</b></p><p><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">Some time when the river is ice ask me</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">mistakes I have made. Ask me whether</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">what I have done is my life. Others</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">have come in their slow way into</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">my thought, and some have tried to help</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">or to hurt: ask me what difference</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">their strongest love or hate has made.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">I will listen to what you say.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">You and I can turn and look</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">at the silent river and wait. We know</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">the current is there, hidden; and there</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">are comings and goings from miles away</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">that hold the stillness exactly before us.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">What the river says, that is what I say.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">William Stafford</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwgWlBSuEPMtCn2aNSj_ohQi5OMGiD-4c7MEAX7830bWhmZ-V0t0AakBSAUtHd4xOu2OSsMoLQCCN-V8W1xbXJ2JPlP2tK3jytFJ68L1kc9Bf8BzJjOzlxss4dfhwylPT7xuFb5u9YPoM_fJKb1bRtSI_A9RH_ttm5dbUTfQo6DA60WlIAd4U0Wc2i/s747/2020-10-13%20(15).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="747" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwgWlBSuEPMtCn2aNSj_ohQi5OMGiD-4c7MEAX7830bWhmZ-V0t0AakBSAUtHd4xOu2OSsMoLQCCN-V8W1xbXJ2JPlP2tK3jytFJ68L1kc9Bf8BzJjOzlxss4dfhwylPT7xuFb5u9YPoM_fJKb1bRtSI_A9RH_ttm5dbUTfQo6DA60WlIAd4U0Wc2i/s320/2020-10-13%20(15).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clark Fork River</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAZoih6zYNLkhaP2Opt_FicFME6OUvk2lQ3aluymqTsAqmFX3xXda_3fSmnKuMuLVBb6nDbpOPczfrckzNhxNNJc0H0VteEp_Ax0Aw_KCUNtONBZSkX3vC4gKdkikkZZn8MkgyLUpVSf4QoxynWlXNYua9iYN8epB6vNcbXeflUCJLIva0KqNZ9eKp/s535/IMG_1133.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="535" data-original-width="463" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAZoih6zYNLkhaP2Opt_FicFME6OUvk2lQ3aluymqTsAqmFX3xXda_3fSmnKuMuLVBb6nDbpOPczfrckzNhxNNJc0H0VteEp_Ax0Aw_KCUNtONBZSkX3vC4gKdkikkZZn8MkgyLUpVSf4QoxynWlXNYua9iYN8epB6vNcbXeflUCJLIva0KqNZ9eKp/s320/IMG_1133.JPG" width="277" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kettle River</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht9ZItfyDa_vNO41Lv9ZZ4KDfVLbQmiK1VLKklSxldU4ufkn3bioB7RHW5xIwI1LwRIiFBJV9leVtXWcNrAqiq3hDKE5697JAMkNEUBoU7qPWcWfmhSwe0ERZ-b5C6VaUwks7RSlIC2VTwbdsUzTHXFT9WWOBUaf9mYaL7GdKKrg37jpzO8RkcSSBw/s824/IMG_4823.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="824" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht9ZItfyDa_vNO41Lv9ZZ4KDfVLbQmiK1VLKklSxldU4ufkn3bioB7RHW5xIwI1LwRIiFBJV9leVtXWcNrAqiq3hDKE5697JAMkNEUBoU7qPWcWfmhSwe0ERZ-b5C6VaUwks7RSlIC2VTwbdsUzTHXFT9WWOBUaf9mYaL7GdKKrg37jpzO8RkcSSBw/s320/IMG_4823.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chewack River in Winthrop, WA where Everett spent many hours during his childhood.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBdp2zopJQ1DNpwrBAAQNjwTGkdcm4BAlFT6vt4qRg8sVS4k9PnxZxp1A9VHFY7RDeOt5C70JUau0xVaznhFiLVVz47A22oLLVGaAs0M-ZvEzGdiU1ITk8KEWH5pXEyTqnu_R0zwoCISuAqKYCnxr7-ld-dFIN-QFkuWCv9OPM4t4J6BovnUwLmcDW" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="384" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBdp2zopJQ1DNpwrBAAQNjwTGkdcm4BAlFT6vt4qRg8sVS4k9PnxZxp1A9VHFY7RDeOt5C70JUau0xVaznhFiLVVz47A22oLLVGaAs0M-ZvEzGdiU1ITk8KEWH5pXEyTqnu_R0zwoCISuAqKYCnxr7-ld-dFIN-QFkuWCv9OPM4t4J6BovnUwLmcDW=w256-h320" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Clearwater River</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><p></p>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-58060639713423307612022-04-29T13:09:00.001-07:002022-04-29T13:09:12.588-07:00Pleasures of Ordinary Life<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKq_mB815VUMnZMa8q9amWuuXSS2vAn-uzPWNVv6vilaMp4Mudled4BYEbO_LVVmmJ5wkez8qduhT6ok5ZW-2fkr8ECyQ7TfphhLrnsmbOQWTCvFaK0RmINc37EOKi_7HsedqGHnvu5IwWJTw8yLNNJE3qc7DyUVvWZ5-yczpQRal1nqQvtsjhvSGQ/s2048/IMG_0392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2001" data-original-width="2048" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKq_mB815VUMnZMa8q9amWuuXSS2vAn-uzPWNVv6vilaMp4Mudled4BYEbO_LVVmmJ5wkez8qduhT6ok5ZW-2fkr8ECyQ7TfphhLrnsmbOQWTCvFaK0RmINc37EOKi_7HsedqGHnvu5IwWJTw8yLNNJE3qc7DyUVvWZ5-yczpQRal1nqQvtsjhvSGQ/s320/IMG_0392.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />I am so thankful that years ago, especially when digital cameras came out, that I took time to capture photo images of my ordinary life. When you hear the words ordinary life you might think it describes a ho hum, boring existence. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK8W1Ff6MjBQTGqVJKvfEMy0mOD4vfAlQRiVg6Rzs7KoevaEts5x0Fnia1QqzIHMfKQ2zjTQwF7aw6CmHExbV0DhOsSmsw_83azedN1nqecaAeA4jXpm70L8lBFMHPvUKyGYtBJ0qE7Cb1BL_Aj8Ul0RxogpZRwT5jAii0J3gWC8AQpT0j1YRohfq5/s2048/IMG_1941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK8W1Ff6MjBQTGqVJKvfEMy0mOD4vfAlQRiVg6Rzs7KoevaEts5x0Fnia1QqzIHMfKQ2zjTQwF7aw6CmHExbV0DhOsSmsw_83azedN1nqecaAeA4jXpm70L8lBFMHPvUKyGYtBJ0qE7Cb1BL_Aj8Ul0RxogpZRwT5jAii0J3gWC8AQpT0j1YRohfq5/s320/IMG_1941.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>This poem helped me realize there are many pleasures in living an ordinary life. I didn't get that PhD I dreamed of, I never purchased a fancy car, I have never traveled abroad, I don't own expensive jewelry.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh58yDwfZR307QARk90YS90UWYhm-yV2QnKoeO6cW5ZzEaT9P5azw_OW-1mmQH_hQShRfLydU2hAFNfPa7vyYH7XXd8cY1S62J5zbhX4XbwhB3VEwC4iF14fJz3wTc3ZZjDlJmlgIcld-lpmKWaDFnhrvw1gFl_r-2ij9f51Caq0LhcWXZv-KBq1r2F" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="256" data-original-width="320" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh58yDwfZR307QARk90YS90UWYhm-yV2QnKoeO6cW5ZzEaT9P5azw_OW-1mmQH_hQShRfLydU2hAFNfPa7vyYH7XXd8cY1S62J5zbhX4XbwhB3VEwC4iF14fJz3wTc3ZZjDlJmlgIcld-lpmKWaDFnhrvw1gFl_r-2ij9f51Caq0LhcWXZv-KBq1r2F" width="300" /></a></div>I haven't published my writing, learned a foreign language, or filled a closet with a hundred pair of shoes, but guess what? I have lived a sweet, sweet ordinary life.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVsdRu8kH6pt05K6LeHOn83lhc__x84Dwlx6kcPG9cC9UHyF0RZPkv9kJbXfKrEX8Zv5rP15awzZ7DdgyQg3niGFmVhA9bCwio-FsH72aKZIdjBhGWykAr4OlBblp6DHtOwYmgD5eORUTAst8bo9XW8flazbJQlretBZLcM1KEF7bNCze8-Vou4wfy/s568/PXL_20210605_021117261%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="426" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVsdRu8kH6pt05K6LeHOn83lhc__x84Dwlx6kcPG9cC9UHyF0RZPkv9kJbXfKrEX8Zv5rP15awzZ7DdgyQg3niGFmVhA9bCwio-FsH72aKZIdjBhGWykAr4OlBblp6DHtOwYmgD5eORUTAst8bo9XW8flazbJQlretBZLcM1KEF7bNCze8-Vou4wfy/s320/PXL_20210605_021117261%20(1).jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><tbody><tr><td style="padding: 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Pleasures of Ordinary Life</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></td><td style="padding: 0in; width: 1.25in;" width="120"><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"></div><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="padding: 0in; width: 15pt;" valign="top" width="20"><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div></td><td style="padding: 0in;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I've had my share of necessary losses,<br />Of dreams I know no longer can come true.<br />I'm done now with the whys and the becauses.<br />It's time to make things good, not just make do.<br />It's time to stop complaining and pursue<br />The pleasures of an ordinary life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggAx0bAXfnr0Yeu5Qb3jU2cvRIRzSmT7kQlZu6J7-Bxcir6oiwvkbKU9Zl2XZNebTC_L6PglF3qKzcvUgzcQ8nSO1Db4b9j57s69OoKWS9bStnNhNv3b0efPOZ1ckE7je2Cxv-odEKwY7isiEwF3_Hh_2g_wZsDShlI216KjABKBTeI2-ICAfsg0gr/s2048/IMG_4420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggAx0bAXfnr0Yeu5Qb3jU2cvRIRzSmT7kQlZu6J7-Bxcir6oiwvkbKU9Zl2XZNebTC_L6PglF3qKzcvUgzcQ8nSO1Db4b9j57s69OoKWS9bStnNhNv3b0efPOZ1ckE7je2Cxv-odEKwY7isiEwF3_Hh_2g_wZsDShlI216KjABKBTeI2-ICAfsg0gr/s320/IMG_4420.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />I used to rail against my compromises.<br />I yearned for the wild music, the swift race.<br />But happiness arrived in new disguises:<br />Sun lighting a child's hair. A friend's embrace.<br />Slow dancing in a safe and quiet place.<br />The pleasures of an ordinary life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Yqs3Tj3PkWpH86dHDXYloSGDj_jCJu7pakb8paS2k57zMIZPUruwPWFjm3741rCR2yyb2iRO0U6ZjAYmJDT8FOwz_HYb7XW53U68eAYoMmd2ef1KZcKO8V5GJUSVDM_53nCyy_uZv-Fx_L8-GgyKbT4GKASb5K7pFgCljWGcKCqNyMVKLJ20SKPG/s3264/PXL_20210916_235833660.PORTRAIT%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Yqs3Tj3PkWpH86dHDXYloSGDj_jCJu7pakb8paS2k57zMIZPUruwPWFjm3741rCR2yyb2iRO0U6ZjAYmJDT8FOwz_HYb7XW53U68eAYoMmd2ef1KZcKO8V5GJUSVDM_53nCyy_uZv-Fx_L8-GgyKbT4GKASb5K7pFgCljWGcKCqNyMVKLJ20SKPG/s320/PXL_20210916_235833660.PORTRAIT%20(1).jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div class="MsoNormal">I'll have no trumpets, triumphs, trails of glory.</div></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It seems the woman I've turned out to be<br />Is not the heroine of some grand story.<br />But I have learned to find the poetry<br />In what my hands can touch, my eyes can see.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The pleasures of an ordinary life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzz197o3ZTokLzGY79dqlVRSdylO_NbbbVJzma4_DCByoc4kWIODV810ffHSDIFjkbG-oX0DvstDImOz3vR4Pu9SfO92FZtpu161VLQIQX6ZQZHCl_oKWRb3V6cUuPnVlxnL_Eqs8MpB6A5fqUaLqPm2WeejlSuR8DhwKStO6meLay5NnGIUMmG-wq/s1600/IMG_0186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzz197o3ZTokLzGY79dqlVRSdylO_NbbbVJzma4_DCByoc4kWIODV810ffHSDIFjkbG-oX0DvstDImOz3vR4Pu9SfO92FZtpu161VLQIQX6ZQZHCl_oKWRb3V6cUuPnVlxnL_Eqs8MpB6A5fqUaLqPm2WeejlSuR8DhwKStO6meLay5NnGIUMmG-wq/s320/IMG_0186.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-align: left;">Young fantasies of magic and of mystery</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Are over. But they really can't compete</div><div style="text-align: justify;">With all we've built together: A long history.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Connections that help render us complete.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ties that hold and heal us. And the sweet,</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sweet pleasures of an ordinary life.</div><br />Judith Viorst</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirf8F74tythTfFjyHk3vIn9IgGC-l2_-WLXNTPww86Xatgns11OoJAVcxEIArKQOMS9STJNe8uY6qhu6znILxxl2_mIv564aFJM0kJoOV5TZd_P3jP3smqsCXkSKlBsCq-AuWpUY5fQ3AekCMn1JQV0GH3eTHI5KJb0TQBljv89lGSwAGQGZP-_Ufr/s2048/IMG_3402.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirf8F74tythTfFjyHk3vIn9IgGC-l2_-WLXNTPww86Xatgns11OoJAVcxEIArKQOMS9STJNe8uY6qhu6znILxxl2_mIv564aFJM0kJoOV5TZd_P3jP3smqsCXkSKlBsCq-AuWpUY5fQ3AekCMn1JQV0GH3eTHI5KJb0TQBljv89lGSwAGQGZP-_Ufr/s320/IMG_3402.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVb68iDYk3pVBdao4MKlu6jtIGvdiEVzAJHzkgp_XsUfefgNGmTsyqOq8YzGz82Q-9lUIMghqyvFq9Ooulv7DPxi7HaHs5miZXbgyp0R9VPHmdNB1jTKqWKTbXt9tL-VkcZ7dmuFiQxUjO_oACX8JDSWFdeal5b4ihG7sQAsbES9DAPhljELetkzOQ/s2048/IMG_0443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1870" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVb68iDYk3pVBdao4MKlu6jtIGvdiEVzAJHzkgp_XsUfefgNGmTsyqOq8YzGz82Q-9lUIMghqyvFq9Ooulv7DPxi7HaHs5miZXbgyp0R9VPHmdNB1jTKqWKTbXt9tL-VkcZ7dmuFiQxUjO_oACX8JDSWFdeal5b4ihG7sQAsbES9DAPhljELetkzOQ/s320/IMG_0443.JPG" width="292" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></td></tr></tbody></table>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-561471683116633372022-04-25T01:13:00.007-07:002023-04-10T23:54:07.010-07:00Woman Who Loves Gardening<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnb4BAQT1CNSwwbO_lZDTqObI4O1dGR_q1TFSS7hCDRyfCP-UX580oYIMG2JN9uv1rPG_PNAbBqeQ7EL97cnf7YCNnhHKIFu4GEBkj-GEt75GPnz8NNs4PjMuc7fql2Vu4JUJhIJ6k0F28gSInwTAxTFq3frpdd_uPM0ZLSkR42QKG_DVVTKJHyupU/s758/IMG_0230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="758" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnb4BAQT1CNSwwbO_lZDTqObI4O1dGR_q1TFSS7hCDRyfCP-UX580oYIMG2JN9uv1rPG_PNAbBqeQ7EL97cnf7YCNnhHKIFu4GEBkj-GEt75GPnz8NNs4PjMuc7fql2Vu4JUJhIJ6k0F28gSInwTAxTFq3frpdd_uPM0ZLSkR42QKG_DVVTKJHyupU/s320/IMG_0230.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />I wrote this poem in June of 2007. Reading it again today brought back memories of gardening with Everett at Martin Creek. Enjoy!<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiILQv3VavOMPIoLc5WZlXBhxWthQyQvfxF-SgmotzIyQW5po-962K6TQUR8FVDZJAjMmPgAZ_jC6C8blnmpV65zR7_cjmDcpu5Tjle9MBTs7TfJuonCGtatGXtGbL99FDn7QWBTeg48qoY_7W8EIJ2Dc8SWdAzicW5Sz6qPwcebp4LjP4HF8KNbssh/s245/20170630_101212%20-%20Copy.webp" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="220" data-original-width="245" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiILQv3VavOMPIoLc5WZlXBhxWthQyQvfxF-SgmotzIyQW5po-962K6TQUR8FVDZJAjMmPgAZ_jC6C8blnmpV65zR7_cjmDcpu5Tjle9MBTs7TfJuonCGtatGXtGbL99FDn7QWBTeg48qoY_7W8EIJ2Dc8SWdAzicW5Sz6qPwcebp4LjP4HF8KNbssh/s1600/20170630_101212%20-%20Copy.webp" width="245" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Woman Who Loves Gardening</span></p><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I have dirty nails</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">and rarely paint them, living out</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">my long growing season in the flower garden, trellises</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">giving view to clematis, climbing Peace</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">where aromatic flowers</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">grow in profusion.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I pull the weeds</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">in the early morning</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">gritting my teeth</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">wiping sweat from my brow</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">and listening</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">to footsteps of my husband</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">coming in range to help.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Sun makes my face red;</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">each sniff with my nose</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">leaves lily pollen behind.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">When I rest it’s the beauty</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">that causes anxiety to shake loose</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">from a woman in need</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">of a quiet place to retreat.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Christy Woolum</div><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>June 20,2007</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPb3owxXefnlVgsW6bok_MvJxC-y5V-jXYx9tD9DPWdxepcsWkIvQ30JIWglltFEDx0aJx-Nc1ZKttWCLLoOdQrjIKxL90r-ILBOhysL9FPbd1-UgOwavGgkICVoZZlDIuBqlAjft75hycOtCg0PS52jq6jAKez_uqE_i2rEdFNUdbR79tjLgNqZEx/s293/IMG_0245.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="220" data-original-width="293" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPb3owxXefnlVgsW6bok_MvJxC-y5V-jXYx9tD9DPWdxepcsWkIvQ30JIWglltFEDx0aJx-Nc1ZKttWCLLoOdQrjIKxL90r-ILBOhysL9FPbd1-UgOwavGgkICVoZZlDIuBqlAjft75hycOtCg0PS52jq6jAKez_uqE_i2rEdFNUdbR79tjLgNqZEx/s1600/IMG_0245.webp" width="293" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></div>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-25785184522229309332022-04-23T16:18:00.001-07:002022-04-23T16:20:24.447-07:00Sunshine Mine Disaster: May 2, 1972, a post from the archives<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTVUru3wcmSrCcLpyuPapvacGR42mWVKfm1EjG16d-dqVbIboJqCWmQUI-HHIi7Ab0yEyuhOnnj3L3qfAElYg1guFqKgZiVGMmoC9pkdHVcjompnQ-bJJIa0fjpwgds8YNJ4UjWfVG4sE/s1600-h/IMG_0726.JPG"><strong><span style="color: #660000;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060183957459909698" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTVUru3wcmSrCcLpyuPapvacGR42mWVKfm1EjG16d-dqVbIboJqCWmQUI-HHIi7Ab0yEyuhOnnj3L3qfAElYg1guFqKgZiVGMmoC9pkdHVcjompnQ-bJJIa0fjpwgds8YNJ4UjWfVG4sE/s320/IMG_0726.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></span></strong></a><strong><span style="color: #660000;">As we near the 50th anniversary of this terrible tragedy, I revisited a post I wrote a while back.</span></strong><div><strong><span style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color: #660000;">May 2nd, 1972.</span></strong><br />There are dates in our lives we never forget. For those of us that grew up in the Silver Valley of northern Idaho none of us will forget May 2nd, 1972. That day a fire broke out in the Sunshine Mine and 91 miners were killed from the toxic smoke of that blaze. <img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060183961754877010" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6NNbq8J-jNNIWfWT7CPr4Lw6dnCBezaiUhgzGDrw_Mq74f6dbHWtTJWcrWgjC7ayUA4oVRQqK815pGOgNrfdSqbnGU-08AwFxsZhMqAMy8Q5NEJbtGKLsYs3bdutBNnAq-SbgiXNkMo0/s320/IMG_0728.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" />I revisited the mining memorial when I was home spring break. A person from the valley can stand and read the information at the memorial and walk around studying the names of the miners surrounding the bronze statue, but even after all these years, it just doesn’t sink in. It was too big, too much to take in. I was seventeen years old when we heard the news of the fire. I lived across the street from a nursing home that became a temporary morgue. We saw hearses from funeral homes as far away as Grangeville and Cottonwood. I kept studying the pictures in the paper of those that had deceased and it still didn’t sink in. It was a dark time . <img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060183970344811634" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9bR_kGQLZPQ0PfjaZfHgOaQqyEZyxMF9STmOG9Fl7_g5y7rozNhsMxLhl5TyNRUixJSGC-9ujmosjpL73GiMmE5B7_2CILpD0XyRfWliDWU4Z2wsLVlBHnZyXFIiPFkmOsRQLMC5epGI/s320/IMG_0731.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" />Recently my niece and two friends wrote an original play and performed it for an Idaho History Day competition. When I watched them perform the play depicting the events of that first day of the mine disaster I was once again brought to tears. This outstanding performance earned them a trip to the state competition and then to the nationals. I am pleased that my niece and her team will retell the story of the Sunshine Mine Disaster in Washington, D.C. in June. It is a story that we need to remember.<br /><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060183970344811650" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPXl8eAxCGCkcMSnLOhaffynGHLeCfNNEiPfO_2OXkS7-aSPPssFXPe_fgfuTmImqA47WRMrDfhvUdSI9kOntWDPIOoUDJSjQ4uGGhe1uWhyphenhyphensGFJWBYpGYGfeBARlZbB4tkeRv55s_lhc/s320/IMG_0732.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" />My prayers today are with everyone impacted that day in May in 1972.<br /><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060184099193830546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_CHn5US9xTLUeCn50jvLKjVgulk3kkijsWcnd0SPpIKUW0DGdWNK0h-l-yZ6131tRZjf79ws46ylW_m-j_5sgcKIyjlBPZLBbNrSzgTOcqxWucqHGT7WDeP-IgSrs62ELYwJZ0rLlsEc/s320/IMG_0733.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-22240104263333043732022-04-20T23:39:00.002-07:002022-04-20T23:39:37.506-07:00The Cataldo Mission: A Single Photograph<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnq3ZwsZ7wpboBHTOTE8VuPCRwrM3pTTYdc-itl3v13ImgJkEDS0zY9g-yLXQg9AJvl1JRDDv7tbN-rYjaRlK2a0UG1ZxvVB4DuF1NaoEOiUWyIU-kA1aG5CY-5VQt9dY6ag3I7mQnPHzsnFSVW91I1vyCSIei_alsxjSmceh1Da3RLxFP02-CA3O7/s867/inside%20cataldo%20mission%20(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="867" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnq3ZwsZ7wpboBHTOTE8VuPCRwrM3pTTYdc-itl3v13ImgJkEDS0zY9g-yLXQg9AJvl1JRDDv7tbN-rYjaRlK2a0UG1ZxvVB4DuF1NaoEOiUWyIU-kA1aG5CY-5VQt9dY6ag3I7mQnPHzsnFSVW91I1vyCSIei_alsxjSmceh1Da3RLxFP02-CA3O7/w400-h276/inside%20cataldo%20mission%20(1).JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />Have you ever been at the right place at the right time with your camera or phone and captured a perfect picture? Weren't you happy that you took that single, special photo? I take lots of photos so I have had this experience happen often. <p></p><p>This poem describes so much about the above picture. This image is <span style="font-family: trebuchet; letter-spacing: 0.5px;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 13.0333px;">the inside of the </span></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Mission of the Sacred Heart, or Cataldo Mission, a historical landmark in Cataldo, Idaho. I was at the right place at the right time. If you have been to this mission, you understand exactly what I am talking about. If you haven't been to this sacred spot it is a "living tale beyond words" . I enlarged this photo and it is hanging in my SheShed.</span></p><p><b style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><i style="background-color: #fcfcfc; color: #424242; letter-spacing: 0.5px;"><span style="background: rgb(232, 232, 232); line-height: 13.0333px;"><br /></span></i></b></p><p><b style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: small;"><i style="background-color: #fcfcfc; color: #424242; letter-spacing: 0.5px;"><span style="background: rgb(232, 232, 232); line-height: 13.0333px;">A</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 13.0333px;"> single photograph</span></i></b></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;"><b><i style="background-color: #fcfcfc; color: #424242; letter-spacing: 0.5px;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 13.0333px;"><br />—portrait of the moment—<br />is an inexhaustible epic,<br />a living tale beyond words<br />superior to a hundred volumes<br />written and fixed.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br /><br />A photograph<br />is consciousness painting,<br />the instant’s art that opens<br />on the unbounded vistas<br />of the inner life.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #424242; letter-spacing: 0.5px; line-height: 13.0333px;"><br /></span><br style="background-color: white;" /><i style="background-color: #fcfcfc; color: #424242; letter-spacing: 0.5px;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 13.0333px;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></i><span style="background-color: white;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #424242; letter-spacing: 0.5px;">-Daisaku Ikeda</span></b></span></p><p><br /></p>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-5573773507023750132022-04-19T23:51:00.001-07:002022-04-19T23:52:45.203-07:00Ten Things I Could Do When I Can't Garden<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzFAzubht5iXeH7qPKo10dwebDiZWfF539fb2p5B1HXgejG9H4ccVwHhsE9HN4c420qK1gphYM58MeG0LTvGGQ0w_P6MKGjaem01Q1QnXR17JcnBiKz99PP2IbwMOfzA-q5Aiz-BBMyYssFnqcNEBSGuHe4BedN4S6e6RKwuROtpxdPvoLmAi4D_c2/s220/PXL_20220420_004310198.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="220" data-original-width="166" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzFAzubht5iXeH7qPKo10dwebDiZWfF539fb2p5B1HXgejG9H4ccVwHhsE9HN4c420qK1gphYM58MeG0LTvGGQ0w_P6MKGjaem01Q1QnXR17JcnBiKz99PP2IbwMOfzA-q5Aiz-BBMyYssFnqcNEBSGuHe4BedN4S6e6RKwuROtpxdPvoLmAi4D_c2/w302-h400/PXL_20220420_004310198.jpg" width="302" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready for a road trip</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The weather is cold. A few days ago there was snow. I can't dig in the soil yet. What can I do instead?<p></p><p><b>Ten Things I Could Do When I Can't Garden</b></p><p>1.Thumb through my collection of old garden magazines and plan a new low-maintenance garden.</p><p>2. Clean the fireplace.</p><p>3. Try to locate the slip of paper that had the list of lilies I planted last October.</p><p>4. Think about organizing the garage... the key word is think.</p><p>5. Browse paint colors at the hardware store. You always need paint samples laying around.</p><p>6. Take a friend/sister/Riley road trip.</p><p>7. Think about washing the windows.</p><p>8. Binge watch every show someone has recommended to me (I think the list is about twenty shows).</p><p>9. While I am binging I can organize every pet record belonging to every pet I have ever owned and figure out what to keep and what to throw away.</p><p>10. Grab a blanket, pillows, lights, books, coffee, and Riley and go to a blanket fort until spring really comes.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLHr_VfWnti6d1xhj4CeWFWoDMgqZCQi9mcGI3_z235viGdfiMfDCa37FhxfFHRW-zXuxpi_R-gkGYVnq_fCrK4xBVGcVKW8KfP3kjFDFIY2J0pNTdbpvdoL-xLX9G4hOx9F8JMP-lTpc90q3g70-s3vLlrnUm8Jh1DI3QXRJTPf8vriCXrzAR7sNn/s700/6a6c26f38d6023359b95653330ddaea7.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="700" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLHr_VfWnti6d1xhj4CeWFWoDMgqZCQi9mcGI3_z235viGdfiMfDCa37FhxfFHRW-zXuxpi_R-gkGYVnq_fCrK4xBVGcVKW8KfP3kjFDFIY2J0pNTdbpvdoL-xLX9G4hOx9F8JMP-lTpc90q3g70-s3vLlrnUm8Jh1DI3QXRJTPf8vriCXrzAR7sNn/w400-h300/6a6c26f38d6023359b95653330ddaea7.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-21906699752107502032022-04-18T22:03:00.008-07:002022-04-18T22:15:33.559-07:00Sounds of Melting Snow<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggN_-nLNfkhEadqgrpDvoPSPl5W3h6q0jNi4e7Zor7g5YNccMZsTV5r8OPelDXCCyFimNxN1JW8009Ie6KEYgsKK0IrnX36fc9eQ55VYN4m2cYucbh2T-u3aRWvHDobIhz-YBnm9Ds2hoQj4psXsSmyXYC-2gOmNB3MU6LBX9i_WCH6ClpFfrNwZ9e/s4080/PXL_20220417_153459396.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggN_-nLNfkhEadqgrpDvoPSPl5W3h6q0jNi4e7Zor7g5YNccMZsTV5r8OPelDXCCyFimNxN1JW8009Ie6KEYgsKK0IrnX36fc9eQ55VYN4m2cYucbh2T-u3aRWvHDobIhz-YBnm9Ds2hoQj4psXsSmyXYC-2gOmNB3MU6LBX9i_WCH6ClpFfrNwZ9e/w400-h301/PXL_20220417_153459396.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On Easter Sunday my garden beds were once again covered with snow.</td></tr></tbody></table> <div>In March I loved the sound of melting snow. I dreamed of bright tulips blooming soon. I walked around the yard to look for little leaves emerging. I moved my hands through the dirt to see if the compost and older soil had enriched together over the winter. I sighed when I saw the weeds that forgot to die. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />Mother Nature wasn't ready for me to move outside and garden. The weather kept returning to winter, the temperature kept dropping below zero, and I often woke up to snow. I am waiting a bit impatiently for the first faint scent of spring again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh92UpAikbA4eLtXOvLtvAJbqYuGk0Dr8D_IANDJT2OgyP1-Q_XJ_z4-GrrXtMIXWAnWWs7DEVFHMpde1olnLYSieRH0LyjqWKEU7zyCLNhUhk_4Q6q8p6gkjafncx3I4wDQBlqtYSRKDpv3TMLGmMdDMcKotu9K1cDLD4zmZ0Y5LgZvqqKNeLWaDGd" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh92UpAikbA4eLtXOvLtvAJbqYuGk0Dr8D_IANDJT2OgyP1-Q_XJ_z4-GrrXtMIXWAnWWs7DEVFHMpde1olnLYSieRH0LyjqWKEU7zyCLNhUhk_4Q6q8p6gkjafncx3I4wDQBlqtYSRKDpv3TMLGmMdDMcKotu9K1cDLD4zmZ0Y5LgZvqqKNeLWaDGd=w400-h225" width="400" /></a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p></div>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-68556049478654379752022-04-17T23:28:00.001-07:002022-04-17T23:31:28.436-07:00My Sister, My Friend<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_-vD4nhbS4CRTMOE3fGg8lm6OOtiArVYCq8OP0uu8QACORMUXW3eGTeD_WEyWSrhqyDlsVSXUhUN7zwDSqrEsQq6sa_fZolllAZbHC_gavxd3xgvVsyLkHZSKT8uhAf3c12geZ8WV9jXhtg9WSmWKEfPtXYxN5oWfuwx8geuekRwXcIrKNBpEhd4/s292/PXL_20220417_234547080.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="220" data-original-width="292" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_-vD4nhbS4CRTMOE3fGg8lm6OOtiArVYCq8OP0uu8QACORMUXW3eGTeD_WEyWSrhqyDlsVSXUhUN7zwDSqrEsQq6sa_fZolllAZbHC_gavxd3xgvVsyLkHZSKT8uhAf3c12geZ8WV9jXhtg9WSmWKEfPtXYxN5oWfuwx8geuekRwXcIrKNBpEhd4/w320-h241/PXL_20220417_234547080.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I first posted this poem in April of 2019. I read it again tonight and it reminded me how much my sister has given me, especially in the last few years. My dear sweet husband Everett got sick and spent a lot of time in the hospital. After four weeks of working to get better, he closed his eyes, said good-bye and went to heaven. My sister was there for me. She was there while he was in the hospital, She was there to take care of Riley. She made me meals. Tasks emerged as I adjusted to life alone. She helped me move furniture, plant seeds, got me out of the house, made me laugh, and listened to me as I shared my sorrow. Along with others she made his Celebration of Life just what I wanted.She was my sunshine when I was surrounded by the dark. I am blessed to have my sister Carol.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJQRhFnH-sIstT-vY70GJdDHIwFsBR2Bb1vR1SgMV3wiOmYmaWfHXCH5qidZosGqBwPMToe8xQeUdLTDFqT47JJyKv2Itv9hymERB4_lGIZJB8LRVwy2VLWkx6f0A1qCal23npkkKp7g6Y_meIYpn-HXRFAmPTU4hH3dbkKU8dokDdC9dpc0NdhAgy/s747/IMG_20181031_155603.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="747" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJQRhFnH-sIstT-vY70GJdDHIwFsBR2Bb1vR1SgMV3wiOmYmaWfHXCH5qidZosGqBwPMToe8xQeUdLTDFqT47JJyKv2Itv9hymERB4_lGIZJB8LRVwy2VLWkx6f0A1qCal23npkkKp7g6Y_meIYpn-HXRFAmPTU4hH3dbkKU8dokDdC9dpc0NdhAgy/s320/IMG_20181031_155603.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><h1 class="entry-title fn" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 0.75rem; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">My Sister, My Friend</span></div></h1><h1 class="entry-title fn" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #333333; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 0.75rem; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium; font-weight: inherit;">Leann Stiegman</span></div><div class="entry-content" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div id="poem-full" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0.75rem; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div id="poem-full" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0.75rem; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: small;">To me you are an angel in disguise.<br />Full of intuition, you are intelligent and wise.<br />Always giving and helping through good times and bad.<br />You are the best friend I've ever had.<br />If I had one wish, it would surely be<br />To give you as much as you've given to me.<br />Though I've put our relationship through some cloudy days,<br />You've been my sunshine in so many ways.<br />Through trials and tests, right by me you stood,<br />And you gave me your hand whenever you could.<br />Thank you so much, my sister, my friend.<br />My gratitude for you has no end.</span></div><div id="poem-full" style="border: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0.75rem; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5bA2dYQ7G_dM8GudoJNt6ggjhfLU2pPbR7ggcOmj3yOq8g4R7maka6TyGAssdNYLFMtAoQxeWy5y2qRcaloUPGN76Dm7dKQlch9pSFQDN-u2149xUPRjjdheiIjtRnDCzgdz9CUt6I6_mednO5ZDOZiM2dIXQXjDGENeMbI8InxwRCSjMMT1Gv-Uo/s560/IMG_20191225_122624.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="420" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5bA2dYQ7G_dM8GudoJNt6ggjhfLU2pPbR7ggcOmj3yOq8g4R7maka6TyGAssdNYLFMtAoQxeWy5y2qRcaloUPGN76Dm7dKQlch9pSFQDN-u2149xUPRjjdheiIjtRnDCzgdz9CUt6I6_mednO5ZDOZiM2dIXQXjDGENeMbI8InxwRCSjMMT1Gv-Uo/s320/IMG_20191225_122624.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhowiKN5FOEVYxEpH_GegmNJUVUJb06VonqifZmKqn60a5yWZ1FsJi8DUXyf2k-d0u8eyK_S0vEiIm6mw3CeVGoUFTAswOggXM4N1vn6gi0TSH0wIm8AlOkBaC7C6KwDIt33HGYdziaN7RrvMjeAoapdffJzrTmvII3oRGqed3rB0es6dCAQGlgqct-/s907/DSC_0017.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="907" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhowiKN5FOEVYxEpH_GegmNJUVUJb06VonqifZmKqn60a5yWZ1FsJi8DUXyf2k-d0u8eyK_S0vEiIm6mw3CeVGoUFTAswOggXM4N1vn6gi0TSH0wIm8AlOkBaC7C6KwDIt33HGYdziaN7RrvMjeAoapdffJzrTmvII3oRGqed3rB0es6dCAQGlgqct-/w320-h198/DSC_0017.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjifF4GR3-8yKBGCfbiubL1FhqOQ8rHI_YoHN8eYmf5yIKPuFKX85QNl-LMkOkD9XhwMpC52Du1vtA6T9S111YQFad_YdPN8lHYRUywBcT9yxQrjkY29K30cl_MhH0Y2lMIrmi2v7wUGnECx0tjfj2MpbYMAiNNb45v1EhTD905TFk-zMC-5bdt6XyZ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1470" data-original-width="980" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjifF4GR3-8yKBGCfbiubL1FhqOQ8rHI_YoHN8eYmf5yIKPuFKX85QNl-LMkOkD9XhwMpC52Du1vtA6T9S111YQFad_YdPN8lHYRUywBcT9yxQrjkY29K30cl_MhH0Y2lMIrmi2v7wUGnECx0tjfj2MpbYMAiNNb45v1EhTD905TFk-zMC-5bdt6XyZ=w213-h320" width="213" /></a></div><br /><br /></div></h1>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-69408342860510345492022-04-17T00:15:00.002-07:002022-04-17T00:16:56.201-07:00The Silver Lining in the Snow<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh_y7IXcVPJ4yi-TUHIF4CSCf7mrzEeF-_26oLFIKAAGvOTS-hN4sZY3jIThBSwgP7t_mLuFWGVAWZxQaFoYhk51FxL6Huf9zhF79kvG-lgo9MVB5ylWX_-bOaGZD3u50BhsXEgXZJIPoAF-EA1WAiv9QJj6ccxDYa9-UliTZzDUnpGGuU5umxDhTw/s3343/PXL_20220417_045436847.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="3343" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh_y7IXcVPJ4yi-TUHIF4CSCf7mrzEeF-_26oLFIKAAGvOTS-hN4sZY3jIThBSwgP7t_mLuFWGVAWZxQaFoYhk51FxL6Huf9zhF79kvG-lgo9MVB5ylWX_-bOaGZD3u50BhsXEgXZJIPoAF-EA1WAiv9QJj6ccxDYa9-UliTZzDUnpGGuU5umxDhTw/s320/PXL_20220417_045436847.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Signs of spring have been emerging in my flower beds for weeks. I have already made a bouquet with the small mini daffodils. They are the flowers that bloom first whether it is cold or warm, sunny or snowy. Above is what I brought in today to keep them out of the snow. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcmxvAx5JKIsqQDb3Kdu5ekQjTbPuupRS-_qiZtafbm6O3E0Xyh2xB0YtNjNQLfT54gT2k_1D3s8Hhdr39IZ_1_H8XR6Ss6RBfrmQxvPGPYxBGyEJRI38oMCDbImjHrYerkMINzbHOFoXV40dem-a9GXw4EPZEvWQoK2VwlO2M3yBTVRKuQg5nPsAF/s4080/PXL_20220417_010943963.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcmxvAx5JKIsqQDb3Kdu5ekQjTbPuupRS-_qiZtafbm6O3E0Xyh2xB0YtNjNQLfT54gT2k_1D3s8Hhdr39IZ_1_H8XR6Ss6RBfrmQxvPGPYxBGyEJRI38oMCDbImjHrYerkMINzbHOFoXV40dem-a9GXw4EPZEvWQoK2VwlO2M3yBTVRKuQg5nPsAF/s320/PXL_20220417_010943963.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The grape hyacinths spread all year and when spring arrives the bright purple blooms pop up all over the front flower beds and the raised beds in the backyard. They aren't picky about the weather.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTe4KFQ-QMsGsm1Sf0mPD7fzX5MUw-i-auYmx58T444NlbmsWTiy_LOqMl2KkAO_BbH9O8iqYWGhxYohfwi4hL7zNuk3Hx0o3PRygwkuV-E8ZqiesB8PWUDN2iiF8eplp_iicpqdk5hE-QDQbNmoc94wUCP1KeRzm0Pq2gtAFKwi6NsHOAou-jSPg/s4080/PXL_20220417_011131114.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTe4KFQ-QMsGsm1Sf0mPD7fzX5MUw-i-auYmx58T444NlbmsWTiy_LOqMl2KkAO_BbH9O8iqYWGhxYohfwi4hL7zNuk3Hx0o3PRygwkuV-E8ZqiesB8PWUDN2iiF8eplp_iicpqdk5hE-QDQbNmoc94wUCP1KeRzm0Pq2gtAFKwi6NsHOAou-jSPg/s320/PXL_20220417_011131114.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br />The earlies tulips bloomed a few days ago. When snow began to to fall yesterday,and then again today I went out and picked the tulips to make sure they would survive. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7VEMAdYHqPhYIApbOcSaa-8c0l9OG7hJfQHFEDjNTQUwRm12dfM8oJMFCeyhJQ2fUAP47FKW-jui2IIVgzf_Rsa2gdHw9ItZvZqpGtSIkV04EvrCODGwijVs00JKmwhqPupxjLJqVrLHLPEdTEAj24uM3dafEUewMYfb2uPew2hujud6wjgvkAijd/s4032/PXL_20201224_034404282%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7VEMAdYHqPhYIApbOcSaa-8c0l9OG7hJfQHFEDjNTQUwRm12dfM8oJMFCeyhJQ2fUAP47FKW-jui2IIVgzf_Rsa2gdHw9ItZvZqpGtSIkV04EvrCODGwijVs00JKmwhqPupxjLJqVrLHLPEdTEAj24uM3dafEUewMYfb2uPew2hujud6wjgvkAijd/s320/PXL_20201224_034404282%20(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>The weeds I needed to pull are back under the snow. The freezing temperatures are allowing me to stay inside and finish some projects not completed during the winter. I can now build a fire again in the fireplace. </p><p>All silver linings. Yes, I wish it was warmer. Yes, I wish I could dig in the dirt. It is okay. I still have bouquets, I have color popping out from the snow. I have a nice fire burning in the house. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxrgpUihniio7b6mMtmSzdiqwWEh3VUFckKvs-60BCuViqcRvPQZ5b6DNsI_kIEhyMsVdRQ_mbhqfBCZE-ENmNtav7QSOD07F1NDznhMIqxghra8y9CA1UVDKoMUcLWnxsCh9eutnZaWSFBZ2BVtGAYJROgBTg76DvRX8XIMis5IiTAaXubCUiQ9CM/s3072/PXL_20220410_000156570.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2732" data-original-width="3072" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxrgpUihniio7b6mMtmSzdiqwWEh3VUFckKvs-60BCuViqcRvPQZ5b6DNsI_kIEhyMsVdRQ_mbhqfBCZE-ENmNtav7QSOD07F1NDznhMIqxghra8y9CA1UVDKoMUcLWnxsCh9eutnZaWSFBZ2BVtGAYJROgBTg76DvRX8XIMis5IiTAaXubCUiQ9CM/s320/PXL_20220410_000156570.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Now Riley is having a hard time finding silver linings. He is tired of getting snowed on and coming home wet. He wants to run in the sunshine.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcWjGR0yhfuyxKOvjIBSFFkvl5GcRoJOxxAqGUj-QWquKLhhdMTkAhsfISGav4unEbqvk5s7EAezzlkTs0uJ2cPfY92QFZkywW4a5vqVmjPq6MA7oZOSaAZn7QGjIxIuJ8ZGxMB3i1pimQcK3TdVtWXpUCRNNH1HirT01WweuUzdSRlR71_LntoEZz/s4080/PXL_20220417_040602444.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcWjGR0yhfuyxKOvjIBSFFkvl5GcRoJOxxAqGUj-QWquKLhhdMTkAhsfISGav4unEbqvk5s7EAezzlkTs0uJ2cPfY92QFZkywW4a5vqVmjPq6MA7oZOSaAZn7QGjIxIuJ8ZGxMB3i1pimQcK3TdVtWXpUCRNNH1HirT01WweuUzdSRlR71_LntoEZz/s320/PXL_20220417_040602444.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Grayson is tired of it also. We had a long talk tonight and I tired to explain unpredictable spring weather. He was very puzzled. I guess I have to admit I am a bit puzzled also.<p></p>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-72876374425115308272022-04-15T21:44:00.002-07:002022-04-15T21:44:20.873-07:00An Easter Flower Gift<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div> <p></p><h2 class="author" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: 3.2px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-top: -2px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjtRstuWE14xc4D0SnsnYF-Z63Ke59jqMi6EjacOtaNMOWcXNb-H7iSH5IbEPLrvfi672rMB1C9PlLyr6xjSsM6yNvZqpCRCcRwDPNaADIegWyNrlUcq3hz4_5VhhLFICgONGX6og1Bg2TyVmGO40c9gLMrnvuO10-nIj9PPT1MQ1sPs2Sb4ErSELo" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="694" data-original-width="1000" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjtRstuWE14xc4D0SnsnYF-Z63Ke59jqMi6EjacOtaNMOWcXNb-H7iSH5IbEPLrvfi672rMB1C9PlLyr6xjSsM6yNvZqpCRCcRwDPNaADIegWyNrlUcq3hz4_5VhhLFICgONGX6og1Bg2TyVmGO40c9gLMrnvuO10-nIj9PPT1MQ1sPs2Sb4ErSELo" width="320" /></a></div><br /></h2><div class="content-poetry" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><table align="CENTER" bgcolor="#ffffff" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="2" style="color: #000020; font-family: "Times New Roman"; width: 601px;"><tbody><tr><td align="CENTER"><span style="color: #9c9c63;"><span><b>An Easter Flower Gift</b></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="CENTER" bgcolor="#ffffff" border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" style="color: #000020; font-family: "Times New Roman"; width: 601px;"><tbody><tr><td><table align="CENTER" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody><tr><td> </td></tr><tr><td>O <span>DEAREST</span> bloom the seasons know,</td><td><a name="1"></a></td></tr><tr><td>Flowers of the Resurrection blow,</td><td><a name="2"></a></td></tr><tr><td> Our hope and faith restore;</td><td><a name="3"></a></td></tr><tr><td>And through the bitterness of death</td><td><a name="4"></a></td></tr><tr><td>And loss and sorrow, breathe a breath</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a name="5"><i> 5</i></a></span></td></tr><tr><td> Of life forevermore!</td><td><a name="6"></a></td></tr><tr><td> </td></tr><tr><td>The thought of Love Immortal blends</td><td><a name="7"></a></td></tr><tr><td>With fond remembrances of friends;</td><td><a name="8"></a></td></tr><tr><td> In you, O sacred flowers,</td><td><a name="9"></a></td></tr><tr><td>By human love made doubly sweet,</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a name="10"><i> 10</i></a></span></td></tr><tr><td>The heavenly and the earthly meet,</td><td><a name="11"></a></td></tr><tr><td> The heart of Christ and ours!<br /><br />-John Greenleaf Whittier<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvrjHyl_ZOA_uAZ3r4svX6viYVI3NVXWZUh7q5LD3UuY6wQL6-DltJkU2UHjJPL0pSA42ZGi93FtNQKrDdJe7yUHOYnyEyaxpS_5fD27hI-DnFP-CAhjs2E89Ikbj9XYju9v5IQHLaw0Tbf0aQTIPDmX1votdP3CVOcV99Bw88L49CBIUnEErrPt4I" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="861" data-original-width="1300" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvrjHyl_ZOA_uAZ3r4svX6viYVI3NVXWZUh7q5LD3UuY6wQL6-DltJkU2UHjJPL0pSA42ZGi93FtNQKrDdJe7yUHOYnyEyaxpS_5fD27hI-DnFP-CAhjs2E89Ikbj9XYju9v5IQHLaw0Tbf0aQTIPDmX1votdP3CVOcV99Bw88L49CBIUnEErrPt4I" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></div>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-8992906199370331452022-04-14T23:56:00.000-07:002022-04-14T23:56:01.919-07:00A Kitchen Memory<p> There are so many memories I have of my mother in this kitchen. I remember her standing there frying bacon, stirring potato soup, heating up Campbell's soup, putting an apple pie in the oven, and always cleaning the drip pans under the burners when she was done. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUX5e5Csv9oLViN13-Z_2rrCPNB1Y7SFVivl-UqDwap3qyYJmvYaEqCtLZJKaONc3kADtd3A5bX6AKye3uYbs15NX2WehpaHt2L3-daZ9EGoCVtdBcVbWwXq_DHOFevZd6-1A0DKk_j80WVR_g3naTmhBJW-Ph7otRVGz3m5ecvqpjtowkrtrXs0mr/s320/IMG_3830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="320" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUX5e5Csv9oLViN13-Z_2rrCPNB1Y7SFVivl-UqDwap3qyYJmvYaEqCtLZJKaONc3kADtd3A5bX6AKye3uYbs15NX2WehpaHt2L3-daZ9EGoCVtdBcVbWwXq_DHOFevZd6-1A0DKk_j80WVR_g3naTmhBJW-Ph7otRVGz3m5ecvqpjtowkrtrXs0mr/s1600/IMG_3830.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">A Kitchen Memory</span><p></p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">My mother is peeling an apple over the sink,</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">her two deft hands effortless and intent.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">The skin comes away in the shape of a corkscrew,</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">red and white by turns, with a shimmer of rose</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">where the blade in its turn cuts close: a blush,</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">called out of hiding like a second skin.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Now the apple fattens in her hand;</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">the last scrap of parings falls away;</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">and she halves and sections the white grainy meat,</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">picks up another apple, brushes back</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">the dark hair at her temple with the knife hand.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">The only sound is the fan stirring the heat.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">- Roy Scheele</span><div><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, Trebuchet, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">The last line of this poem didn't happen in our kitchen. Mom didn't have a fan stirring the heat. She just baked, fried, and scrambled no matter how hot the temperature was. Every single time.</span></span></div>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-25489429191642747352022-04-13T22:36:00.002-07:002022-04-13T22:36:38.294-07:00Remember Me<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwq4BVSaRQevShvLF8yW9n75EMjHNqo00nsxX7IXtY0J6OgLXwwNfQgqBJ_inuJsMNCTxClwb-y3vffDB4-eV6AgmXkJttOEGY6X4tcTMkN3OB9SU9p7LQ7IppPtkoVo57hp8s85tSI8WtatGw8T7gP2fn2fQ05H65SMDj_-LjurIobH8EwdEqBBs0/s547/IMG_20190828_182245.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="410" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwq4BVSaRQevShvLF8yW9n75EMjHNqo00nsxX7IXtY0J6OgLXwwNfQgqBJ_inuJsMNCTxClwb-y3vffDB4-eV6AgmXkJttOEGY6X4tcTMkN3OB9SU9p7LQ7IppPtkoVo57hp8s85tSI8WtatGw8T7gP2fn2fQ05H65SMDj_-LjurIobH8EwdEqBBs0/s320/IMG_20190828_182245.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p>The poem today is dedicated to my husband Everett. I can hear him reading the lines in my mind . He was my vase for the bouquets I created. When I wanted to photograph one, a bouquet turned out better if he held them in his hands. I miss my favorite vase JEJ every day.</p><p></p><div style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Remember Me</b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">by Anthony Dowson</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">Speak of me as you have always done.<br />Remember the good times, laughter, and fun.</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">Share the happy memories we've made.<br />Do not let them wither or fade.</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">I'll be with you in the summer's sun<br />And when the winter's chill has come.</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">I'll be the voice that whispers in the breeze.<br />I'm peaceful now, put your mind at ease.</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">I've rested my eyes and gone to sleep,<br />But memories we've shared are yours to keep.</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">Sometimes our final days may be a test,<br />But remember me when I was at my best.</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">Although things may not be the same,<br />Don't be afraid to use my name.</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">Let your sorrow last for just a while.<br />Comfort each other and try to smile.</div><div style="background-color: white; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; margin-top: 6px;">I've lived a life filled with joy and fun.<br />Live on now, make me proud of what you'll become.</div>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-28984694649379168712022-04-12T22:30:00.010-07:002023-04-10T23:55:16.377-07:00I Found the Lost Kitchen and the Woman from Freedom<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjXJ-kgqiOaDRYF_X-tBzQmRfRykbjyBCn2bXJUQnu6x3P-hoH5rCFBNHSaaiZbGaFRdVgxDWGZIoA8uVe1cz4h1EIDp58aCZZonH4qSLUMe3mWnE2tim2wQoA7PxeTy755Nhb_fzYUHpSZJNv08d__nttlMZ48IAsiNXuUgeL1rk8ozjTCz2R-h6lu" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjXJ-kgqiOaDRYF_X-tBzQmRfRykbjyBCn2bXJUQnu6x3P-hoH5rCFBNHSaaiZbGaFRdVgxDWGZIoA8uVe1cz4h1EIDp58aCZZonH4qSLUMe3mWnE2tim2wQoA7PxeTy755Nhb_fzYUHpSZJNv08d__nttlMZ48IAsiNXuUgeL1rk8ozjTCz2R-h6lu" width="192" /></a></div><br />A couple of years ago I discovered Erin French. Erin runs a restaurant in Freedom, Maine from late spring to fall each year. She had to make some very creative adjustments during the pandemic. Joanna and Chip Gaines learned about her and their network has produced two seasons of an amazing show called "Finding Freedom" for the Magnolia Network on Discovery+. I first learned about her in an article online, discovered her cookbook, stumbled upon her series, then purchased her memoir. She is resilient, creative, and very hard working. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGrr-HQmCLDrgVnlqTFc8EX44zuUyCgYjN_6RhCcooCUdGYjA25gJPj-C8VhgiGRfgpDKoIzSMlQ20hSLRKkCP75LXsIWxeUQawG74OqEGbhEdlfsyRb1XmnkGV2owZVb6maMeiHoYDwDhTBiAKUcH6rPOxCDNxM3PMpqkFalnqBoegvERp8yG9pcJ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="488" data-original-width="488" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGrr-HQmCLDrgVnlqTFc8EX44zuUyCgYjN_6RhCcooCUdGYjA25gJPj-C8VhgiGRfgpDKoIzSMlQ20hSLRKkCP75LXsIWxeUQawG74OqEGbhEdlfsyRb1XmnkGV2owZVb6maMeiHoYDwDhTBiAKUcH6rPOxCDNxM3PMpqkFalnqBoegvERp8yG9pcJ" width="240" /></a></div><br />She isn't a trained chef. She grew up learning to cook at her dad's diner in Freedom. She is a recovering addict and decided she needed to move forward and do what she did best... cook. It is working. She surrounds herself in her restaurant with a staff of woman friends that have no formal chef training. Her mom was put in charge of the wine. Her husband builds fires, creates cabins, and a bit of everything else. She sources all her food, flowers, pottery, and whatever else from local farms, fishermen, potters, and other local artisans.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjorLsUxIUCFeZcOmnHZ5ncGimuMafUKndB-cE0zNUZeGPChMcjw3UfMlji9ARSn5mAWWxBC7EzJ5GmoiacNPs7QI-2KsQy3w5KPs2cUKouN7TNxJm215l53YEtCiRxV4l8bZe0yf-oCi7xDqAwEobZOf7MN02aser6Y_VwDe-cDp8tjcRgkOd7h74A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="338" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjorLsUxIUCFeZcOmnHZ5ncGimuMafUKndB-cE0zNUZeGPChMcjw3UfMlji9ARSn5mAWWxBC7EzJ5GmoiacNPs7QI-2KsQy3w5KPs2cUKouN7TNxJm215l53YEtCiRxV4l8bZe0yf-oCi7xDqAwEobZOf7MN02aser6Y_VwDe-cDp8tjcRgkOd7h74A" width="180" /></a></div><br />She has inspired me so much. Last week I saw her on Ina Garten's new show "Be My Guest" and she shared her experiences and prepared one of her favorite recipes, Dad's Meatloaf. It was a popular item on the menu at his diner. Last night I prepared this recipe for our weekly Family Dinner. It was so delicious. I couldn't pick wildflowers from a Maine field or have fresh herbs from a local farmstand, but the meatloaf was enough for me. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEheKzfQsvRAv3pzfh5R0H-qYML6iaLwW7bvn-psTvAxkALniQt5dju7xl9YzhtnGXfUUuXs4DuRBnQ43fB5Y5dlWAOcEbxd0atE0WkqfDGKOhijU4G39y7dMk6XA-rY8-nlfPI7PLoOASqKXojDQdGGQWR1ygxDf64ae7z0oPEoq2eMfksoUsIOALyj" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="478" data-original-width="850" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEheKzfQsvRAv3pzfh5R0H-qYML6iaLwW7bvn-psTvAxkALniQt5dju7xl9YzhtnGXfUUuXs4DuRBnQ43fB5Y5dlWAOcEbxd0atE0WkqfDGKOhijU4G39y7dMk6XA-rY8-nlfPI7PLoOASqKXojDQdGGQWR1ygxDf64ae7z0oPEoq2eMfksoUsIOALyj" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><a href="https://www.findthelostkitchen.com ">https://www.findthelostkitchen.com </a><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhohN70y23lcGibg4NZ2jMKSy2anp7PeEjWpsK35mvOOTL8Qh-NF7A0CzpI5GeIKNsSARWNBwAG3F6m5Q46vK8I25AKtWOcW8VJfH-kd2cRmf7wnX0952oL5dIV9iO9p3f41RnctnUDlL40YPVi6nsQ0AQA3xxmg52SGQOJkJodz22s3cXncZB4aQDs" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="640" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhohN70y23lcGibg4NZ2jMKSy2anp7PeEjWpsK35mvOOTL8Qh-NF7A0CzpI5GeIKNsSARWNBwAG3F6m5Q46vK8I25AKtWOcW8VJfH-kd2cRmf7wnX0952oL5dIV9iO9p3f41RnctnUDlL40YPVi6nsQ0AQA3xxmg52SGQOJkJodz22s3cXncZB4aQDs" width="320" /></a></div><br />You can just google her name and spend hours learning about this woman and all she has done for her workers, family, and the people of Freedom, Maine. It is a good story. Check out her series, find her on social media, find her cookbook, or read her memoir. You will find them all worth your time. The restaurant serves dinner four days a week. Since it is so popular they have a unique reservation system. You mail in a postcard in early spring and it is a luck-of-the-draw.<p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFcy76TuHJEe586_ZS7b5aBcdTq587llLl2tHA_UJg_ktQmGA9yI0phBrw9AhMmuSu20MgwCelNC_uwWxr1D82qMksIN8jiHgsSTOo-FIhxDx0qIQiLL08dKGkMUNWJXcX5-UeDkvfbqPe2Iw8JDg2RtTC2VhsWxSZAZYD5hUFp9M62NHg-NnCUOav" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="434" data-original-width="780" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFcy76TuHJEe586_ZS7b5aBcdTq587llLl2tHA_UJg_ktQmGA9yI0phBrw9AhMmuSu20MgwCelNC_uwWxr1D82qMksIN8jiHgsSTOo-FIhxDx0qIQiLL08dKGkMUNWJXcX5-UeDkvfbqPe2Iw8JDg2RtTC2VhsWxSZAZYD5hUFp9M62NHg-NnCUOav" width="320" /></a></div><br />“I wanted to serve; I wanted to entertain and host; I wanted to take in strangers and feed them my love on a plate. As a woman, I felt a most innate joy in caring for people. Something that felt so natural to me, something that I craved to do.”<br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;">― </span><span class="authorOrTitle" face="Lato, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold;">Erin French, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;"></span><span id="quote_book_link_56972994" style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;"><a class="authorOrTitle" href="https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/81650679" style="color: #333333; font-family: Lato, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;">Finding Freedom: A Cook's Story; Remaking a Life from Scratch</a></span><p></p><p>My goal in the next few years is to send in a postcard in the spring, hope to get drawn out, and go see this special place. I have always wanted to go to Maine.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiDJlmH4sFnHSA5MaKFzBV9b1INNEmfMrD4qP9pEJdiyya7AAv19Il7UagjayJfH4JZQ8nCyCW5SdqvxAloRCM7-vRNjjJ-1Y3OMGsmlp2vfd5R5jm3jxtXk1m4z2K3wwclovAWHgsuNLNvTdiXpkcHQXVW-rv87h87fLlYcLQWAC0RcD4bVGNupt0a" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiDJlmH4sFnHSA5MaKFzBV9b1INNEmfMrD4qP9pEJdiyya7AAv19Il7UagjayJfH4JZQ8nCyCW5SdqvxAloRCM7-vRNjjJ-1Y3OMGsmlp2vfd5R5jm3jxtXk1m4z2K3wwclovAWHgsuNLNvTdiXpkcHQXVW-rv87h87fLlYcLQWAC0RcD4bVGNupt0a" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here is the link to the meatloaf recipe:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/dads-meatloaf-12434737">https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/dads-meatloaf-12434737</a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><p></p>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8591278542744238967.post-79754862060515580872022-04-11T00:27:00.005-07:002022-04-11T09:19:11.561-07:00Happy Sibling Day to My Sibs, " We Came Together"<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPa7yw_FcbT6wtd3mfbF6CtIgfnXIHrkQzA4STkA9DV3Z957H21jtqohyukbT_xLgEnOHCuruVjGHVSFP0-qntVhguydQn_bYEqSSdiTtsimleAguZmUgH_UWyrT7__UmHIzEULF0oG80dLU3usWGnXh0-sX3-z8NObJax7Per78LZ7p_3V9VIGfUv/s320/easter.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="320" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPa7yw_FcbT6wtd3mfbF6CtIgfnXIHrkQzA4STkA9DV3Z957H21jtqohyukbT_xLgEnOHCuruVjGHVSFP0-qntVhguydQn_bYEqSSdiTtsimleAguZmUgH_UWyrT7__UmHIzEULF0oG80dLU3usWGnXh0-sX3-z8NObJax7Per78LZ7p_3V9VIGfUv/s1600/easter.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easter at 516</td></tr></tbody></table><br />This poem is a perfect choice for National Sibling Day. It <span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">reminds me of when families get together and share stories. The line I love is "it pulls around us like a drawstring, that time, when we come together." This often happens with us now when we get together for our weekly family dinner. Also, enjoy a collection of sibling photos. </span><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvZo1c9sQogFb3qfHTKIQDvRUIJxMPO7nVkYMDxRb6RQVBaKhlExXUYkHuENtpWQThflPEG0IW47jV_aYmfnpwSN55s1LgPjGzFyZPriRhk_cVHfT9H_xw4SsHu9xJZ1mcwE4lpipus9yhBtJVIDcfDGdza_Cx-5bhv4nQ9OaQ7ljgVbEGEPXrVnS7/s400/2254190_bghklmtz79_m.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvZo1c9sQogFb3qfHTKIQDvRUIJxMPO7nVkYMDxRb6RQVBaKhlExXUYkHuENtpWQThflPEG0IW47jV_aYmfnpwSN55s1LgPjGzFyZPriRhk_cVHfT9H_xw4SsHu9xJZ1mcwE4lpipus9yhBtJVIDcfDGdza_Cx-5bhv4nQ9OaQ7ljgVbEGEPXrVnS7/s320/2254190_bghklmtz79_m.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eagle watching at Beauty Bay</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">All</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">all he would have to say is,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">remember the time I came home</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">with a beard and Dad didn’t know me,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">and we would all laugh,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Mom would say, just by your voice,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">I knew your voice, and my sister</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">would say, the dog kept barking, and</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">I would say, that was the</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">summer I got a camera.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">it pulls around us</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">like a drawstring, that time,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">when we come together,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">awkward and older,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">our frayed conversations</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">trying to thread some memory</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">of each other,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">one of us will only have to say,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">remember the time you came home</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">from the bush with your beard,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">and we were all easy again</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">with each other,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">some will say how</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Mom knew his voice, someone</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">will remember how the dog barked, I</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">will remember my new camera,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">and we are a family again,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">young and laughing on the front porch.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">-Leona Gom </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_tUFgBmZJa6t9_pJ-0s9sEc3vVEpQ0lw0NLhuCy2aVZEEBNfkmeYpy8d3COEPbj3EjghF5M1-lsMtVcvDWCAUW7np0cYDQ6-jDlgemyUY605QD-24f_fly3hPNrwdb3HiXzhBFZo2kewDsSkzc5S_tdPqpqDQFhroHbdqRgJwDLEHYBzEscteB1F2/s320/chi%20chi.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="239" data-original-width="320" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_tUFgBmZJa6t9_pJ-0s9sEc3vVEpQ0lw0NLhuCy2aVZEEBNfkmeYpy8d3COEPbj3EjghF5M1-lsMtVcvDWCAUW7np0cYDQ6-jDlgemyUY605QD-24f_fly3hPNrwdb3HiXzhBFZo2kewDsSkzc5S_tdPqpqDQFhroHbdqRgJwDLEHYBzEscteB1F2/s1600/chi%20chi.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Grandma Woolum's yard with CheeChee</td></tr></tbody></table><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif">With us we remember the time Bill took Carol down the escalator at The Crescent in Northtown in her stroller.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We remember the time Uncle Jack jumped out from behind the couch in our living room.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We remember when Carol decided to shave and when she decided to cut her bangs.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We remember Dad spending eight hours in the kitchen making Tom and Jerry batter before Christmas and we were banned from the room.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We remember the time Bill and I were cleaning the garage and he cut his foot on a broken pop bottle.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We remember when Carol was born and we hiked up the trail to the hospital so we could see her in the nursery .</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1vK623o3H__f0uq1bf1VJaNX5GPbMFTBF0o9rX3ftEXoptF9JcV489D9893IZ43VOYtYV7Jgnjinnt5YrhNxyVvHB5c0nkeWCyPIwls3S0aUbw3uzXCdK2b2O6NXtPgJyra_VP5IKtr-uFJ8H9OJ17WW1Epyob4MHQxr-yYzxnS99jWozY1pxlTc/s400/IMG_5408.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="374" data-original-width="400" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1vK623o3H__f0uq1bf1VJaNX5GPbMFTBF0o9rX3ftEXoptF9JcV489D9893IZ43VOYtYV7Jgnjinnt5YrhNxyVvHB5c0nkeWCyPIwls3S0aUbw3uzXCdK2b2O6NXtPgJyra_VP5IKtr-uFJ8H9OJ17WW1Epyob4MHQxr-yYzxnS99jWozY1pxlTc/s320/IMG_5408.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">dinner at Carol's</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We remember how we came together . </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We came together with Mom to help Dad during his last weeks of life. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We came together when Mom had cancer. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We came together with Mom when Bill had meningitis. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We came together to cheer and support Carol many times when she performed on the stage. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju7wl-epqS5KprTCSGv2v4jlU94OuPAjxogOa28breG0YezqnvDJoViB78x2af-Dd49J4Nmmk8e3XM8qLgBF7irWQqzwBkVkRzpmCcpRD78DDMom3aNiD8gigR6E26ixlN7X4teVYrr4656o2C8UeCU2d5E4YYU99jDrF3lToKY_nlSrtryxvwD8Rt/s894/IMG_0550.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="894" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju7wl-epqS5KprTCSGv2v4jlU94OuPAjxogOa28breG0YezqnvDJoViB78x2af-Dd49J4Nmmk8e3XM8qLgBF7irWQqzwBkVkRzpmCcpRD78DDMom3aNiD8gigR6E26ixlN7X4teVYrr4656o2C8UeCU2d5E4YYU99jDrF3lToKY_nlSrtryxvwD8Rt/s320/IMG_0550.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">together at Auntie Lila's funeral</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We came together during the last part of Mom's life when she needed more help. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We came together when Mom transitioned to the rehab place across the street and did all we could to make her last time on earth as comfortable as possible. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We came together when my husband Everett died. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijKKz_ZWRPMdJm74mFSO8dFrTN1zyAcXoJq6b_vF0WtVTHyT9lcIGwQEGybyMY0f5Ez_hNV63vzTgB98Rq_avreLXjWNfbEEMr3rKkzXM70ClqydWExFuhRBfxZdyKnwo0t6fkVECa87UpTDoYjJdshCMdALEjEsqcGN4Vts6Ugu7YfMTkxKffncxc/s747/FB_IMG_1586562285600.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="747" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijKKz_ZWRPMdJm74mFSO8dFrTN1zyAcXoJq6b_vF0WtVTHyT9lcIGwQEGybyMY0f5Ez_hNV63vzTgB98Rq_avreLXjWNfbEEMr3rKkzXM70ClqydWExFuhRBfxZdyKnwo0t6fkVECa87UpTDoYjJdshCMdALEjEsqcGN4Vts6Ugu7YfMTkxKffncxc/s320/FB_IMG_1586562285600.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had words that always made us laugh when posing for a picture. Here I believe we said, "Uncle D".</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">"it pulls around us like a drawstring, that time, when we came together."</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div>Gathering Around the Tablehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07664367737842132953noreply@blogger.com2