Spring?

Apparently I’m not the only one confused by this strange weather. There was evidence in my back yard that our resident black bear had awakened from his slumber and ventured out for a snack. He seemed to stumble over my previous attempt to construct a stone wall at the back of the property because some of the stones were scattered. Also, one of my ornamental concrete rabbits was tipped over, and it appeared he had taken a dip in the pond. Poor thing – I’m sure he was not a happy camper.
This morning I spotted two fat robins hopping through the front lawn looking and listening for worms or bugs beneath the surface. I don’t know about the habits of worms, but I imagine they have gone a little deeper to keep warm.
However, I did see some tulips about three inches above the ground in the front bed. Even if we have more snow, I’m sure they will be able to tolerate it and I can look forward to some color in the front lawn.
As confusing as it seems, we must remember that we haven’t even finished with February. March can be brutal around here, and I can even remember some very cold and strange Aprils.
I am reminded of the Easter when I took my five and two year old children on a train trip to visit my grandparents in West Virginia. We left Union Station on a beautiful sunny Sunday evening. The children were dressed in their very Springy Easter finery and when we arrived in Pittsburg early the next morning, there was 2 inches of snow on the ground. The first thing I had to do was buy sweaters for my children before we caught a bus to travel to West Virginia. So I’ve learned not to trust the calendar that much.
Don’t put away your boots, coats, gloves, and hats just yet. And rearrange your winter wardrobe for a little variety before pulling out the frilly frocks.
I will spend March and April dreaming about Spring and making plans for my gardens. With my new Wishing Well, I must re-design my front flower bed, with my son’s help of course. And if he is still willing, we will move Frog Town to the back yard and replace it with a concrete patio and extended front porch. That should keep us busy for a while.
In the meantime, I hope the black bear has returned to finish his nap and when he reawakens, Spring will have sprung and he can find sufficient vegetation without having to vandalize our bird feeders.

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A” Mooooooving” Experience

My view was expanded recently when I attended the funeral of a friend. I normally do not like to attend funerals, and especially the actual burial at the cemetery. It is so FINAL. But I decided I owed it to my friend who had lost her husband of many years, to accompany her and her family in this farewell.
The earlier service had been very uplifting and I learned much about this very quiet “gentle”man whom I had admired but had not known very well. He was always quietly in the background, but spoke pleasantly when spoken to.
During the service at the cemetery, as the mourners gathered near the open grave, which was located near a pasture, we were joined by a group of cows on the other side of the fence. They stood reverently at attention throughout the scripture reading, prayers and comments by the pastor. There was no shifting of feet, no swishing of tails, flapping of ears, or movement of heads. They appeared totally absorbed in what was happening. When the flag was removed from the casket and folded for presentation to the family, the cows watched attentively. When the gun salute was fired, they did not flinch, and when Taps was played, they continued to stand with heads slightly bowed. Their quiet, reverence seemed to add a spiritual element to the solemn atmosphere .
When the funeral director dismissed the mourners following the closing prayer, the cows, as a group, quietly turned and walked away.
That is a funeral service I will never forget.

Eighty is not so bad!

I am still mobile (somewhat); I still have my wits about me;  my general health is good, and I have wonderful memories.  But most important, I still have dreams and goals.

Although I dreaded this particular birthday, I was surprised to wake up this morning, feeling like the same person I’ve been all along.  I have a wonderful family and more friends than I can count.   My blessings are boundless.

My groundhog friend has promised that Spring will be here in a few weeks, and I can’t wait to get started on outdoor projects.  Now that I don’t have to build my own Wishing Well, getting that started will be one of my priorities.  Every time I go out the front door, I l look at the front flower bed and envision my new Wishing Well in the center.  My front lawn will be so spectacular – a real showcase!

While waiting for Spring to arrive, I will attack the indoor projects and resurrect my craft room and sewing room so that I can finally get on with all the projects that are making my head burst.  I finally feel motivated!

My new goal is 90, but I have so many things on my “bucket list”, I’m not sure that will be enough time.  There are family and friends to visit, quilts to make and photographs to organize, and on and on.

So look out, World, this dizzy dame is still on the loose!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let’s’ Talk About Depression

My view from the Hill has certainly changed in the past three years.

Depression is such a debilitating, mysterious, “depressing” disease! For years I have known many people – friends and family” who were said to suffer from depression. But ashamedly, I didn’t understand it and just shrugged it off. Now, I know better. It really does wipe you out.
Whenever I heard that someone didn’t want to get out of bed , I thought to myself, “they’re just lazy”. Now I know better. I have always been a very energetic person, eager to get up and get the day going. Now, most mornings, I just lie in bed and think about all the things I “should” be doing but don’t have the energy to do. When I finally drag myself out of bed and force myself to get dressed, I lack the energy, motivation, or desire to do anything else.
Fortunately, my primary care doctor had the wisdom to order some home health care for me to try to help me with the problems associated with Vertigo. The visits from the Physical Therapist and Occupational Therapist have been a real blessing. Not only have I learned some techniques for dealing with Vertigo, their visits pulled me out of my depression for a few hours each day.
My training as a Stephen Minister has enabled me to recognize my own symptoms and to deal more intelligently with them. I am truly blessed in that regard. I owe apologies to all who I shrugged off in the past. I realize now how real their feelings were.
As the dark cloud begins to lift, I am beginning to look forward to a future I had given up on. My dark journey began three years ago when my husband, my best friend and companion of nearly 50 years, died after a short illness. I suddenly realized he had been my rock, my anchor, my purpose for living and once I took care of the necessary duties surrounding a death, I felt there was nothing left for me. My family surrounded me with love but I began to feel smothered. It has been quite an adjustment on all sides, each of us trying to maintain our own identity while sharing our space and our lives with each other. But taking lessons from the three cats and one dog, we are learning.
Today I have decided to get myself re-organized, and back on track. I am determined to use the skills I learned from the Therapists and overcome as much of the Vertigo as possible and stop using it as a crutch. My advice to others suffering from depression is to take stock of your strengths and become more active. Look forward instead of backward!

The Dreaded “C” Word

Introducing Two Awesome Grandsons

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If you have followed my blogs, you have met my two cats, Tiger and Prissy, and some other members of my family. But “Nanny Time” with my two youngest grandsons, Jason and Aaron has been limited. Last week I had the opportunity to take them to Galax, Virginia to visit with my sister. Jason will be 14 next month and later in the same month, Aaron will be 13.
Traveling with two teen age boys may not sound like much fun, but it was AWESOME. I knew they were well-behaved and that would not be a problem, but to hear the praise of my sister and brother-in-law and some 30 other strangers they met was very heart-warming. It made me feel very proud of them and the job their parents have done.
We began our journey with a stop at Natural Bridge, which I was concerned might be a bit boring in comparison to their “I-things” (which are strangers to me). But on the contrary, they were full of interest and enjoyed conversing with the Ranger we met. At my sister’s place, they learned to drive her golf cart and spent time feeding the fish in her huge natural pond. Then we went to the Alpacca farm nearby on the Blue Ridge parkway, and again, they were extremely excited to feed and pet these delightful animals and learn about their habits and care. Jason is going to study more about this so he can raise his own. (In Manassas City? – I think not.)

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Putt-Putt golf in Mt. Airy, North Carolina might have been enjoyable except that Nanny couldn’t take the heat so this event became abreviated.

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The real feature of the week was a Saturday block party which consisted of neighbors from a 5 mile radius. This was arranged by a recently arrived family from Michigan who met everyone at their “moving in” yard sale. About 15 families from the surrounding area, many of whom had lived there “forever” were practically strangers to each other (a wave as they passed on the narrow roads) became fast friends at the picnic. The food was varied and delicious; a rousing horse-shoe tournament and gettting-to-know-you conversations filled the afternoon, and the culimination of the day was a huge bon-fire, complete with roasted marshmallows and a sing-along. Being in the Eastern edge of the Bible Belt, the songs were mostly hymns and familiar choruses. The youngest couple had brought a banjo and a guitar, along with their lovely voices and their three young children. A full moon and scattered clouds provided a fabulous setting.
Have you ever attended a picnic with 30+ strangers that went from 4 o’clock in the afternoon until 11 o’clock at night? My teen-age grandsons made themselves completely at home in this setting and were practically the first to announce they would be attending the “Second Annual Peaks Mountain Block Party” in 2016.
Unfortunately, we had to pack up and head north on Sunday so the boys could start school the next day . I reluctantly released them back to their parents, having formed a tighter bond with them and gained a more appreciative insight into the lives of teenagers. They were pleasant travel companions, charming house guests and good ambassadors for their generation.
And that’s not just my opinion. Thank You, Ron and Laura, for sharing them.

A Love Story

Al and Tiger

Al and Tiger

Al and Tiger

When my husband, Al, and I moved to the Valley 10 years ago, we declared that we would be pet free. In the three years prior to our move from Northern Virginia we had buried three cats – cats that we loved and had been close companions. But our family thought differently. They thought because we knew nobody in the Valley we would be lonely. So as soon as we finished unpacking, early one morning my grandson arrived with a cat carrier, complete with kitten, a littter pan and bag of litter and a bag of “kittten chow”. “Mom said to bring this to you and not bring them back” was his message.
So, we now had a kitten.
He adjusted to us immediately and we named him “Tiger” because of his beautiful striped markings. He and Al bonded immediately. His favorite sleeping place was either on Al’s shoulder in the recliner or between his ankles on the bed. There was no question about whose cat he was.
As the weather warmed up and we let him outside, he began exploring. He instinctively knew the boundaries of our property and when neighbors walked their dogs, he bounded to the sidewalk and somehow conveyed to them that they were not to cross the line. A full size Schnauzer was so intimidated by him, that she would force her owners to cross the to the other side of the street as they approached our house.
Tiger soon discovered the storm sewer network under the street and would disappear into the drain near our house and reappear several houses away, which really concerned Al. But there was no way to prevent him from playing in what he considered his private playground. At least he came home in response to Al’s whistle.
Often when Al went on his daily walk down to the bottom of Chrystal Hill, Tiger accompanied him part of the way until Al made him turn back. Then he would sit on our sidewalk and watch for Al to return. They were true companions. I became involved in several Volunteer activities so they were frequently alone at the house. Al spent his time reading or watching sports on TV and Tiger was always nearby.
After about three years, I decided Tiger needed a kitten to play with. but I failed to consult him. A neighbor had a female cat who was producing a litter of kittens about once a year, thanks to a big long-haired yellow cat that begam roaming the neighborhood. Tiger considered him a trespassser (like the occasional dogs that came by) and they became serious enemies. When the neighbor’s cat produced a female kitten with tiger stripes and a few white markings, I brought it home and introduced it to Tiger. At first, he would have nothing to do with her, but he learned to tolerate her. When she got old enough to venure outside, Tiger became her protector and made sure she stayed within her boundaries. I named her Priscilla, but we call her Prissy.
Tiger had become used to having the run of the house, but when I brought Prissy in, I installed her in the master bedroom until she became litter-trained. From that time on, Tiger would not enter my bedroom. They eventually each staked out their sleeping quarters in the house and respected each other’s space; the same with their eating corners.
We have always allowed Tiger to come and go via the garage door which we would leave up a few inches until bedtime. Sometimes Prissy would follow him into the garage. One evening there was a cat fight in the garage and we saw the big yellow cat running away. Tiger came in with a bloody eye and Prissy came in shaking and ran and hid.
The next day we took Tiger to the Vet and were told he didn’t think he could save his eye. So I bathed it and put drops in it several times a day and gave him antibiotic pills while Al held him and talked soothingly to him. But when the Vet rechcecked him, he told us that the eye was full of cancer and would have to be removed. He adapted very quickly to being “half-sighted”, but his wandering days seemed to be over and he became more contented to stay home. This gave him and Al more time to keep each other company.

As Tiger and Prissy became more tolerant of each other, they eventually established a “play” routine. I think it was partly to garner our attention and entertain us. While we sat down to watch TV news and game shows, they assembled in the family room, Prissy on the foot stool near Al and Tiger on the floor nearby. First they engaged in a staring session, then, apparently one would signal with a twitch of an ear and the fun began. They raced though the house, over furniture, under furniture, sliding on rugs, occasionally tackeling each other and rolling around on the floor. This usually lasted 10 or 15 minutes until they would each flop down, tail wagging slowly until they fell asleep. When bedtime came, Prissy got on my bed and Tiger got on Al’s bed.

If one of them happened to be outside at bedtime, the other one would not settle down and would parade from one door to the other until everyone was safely in the house. Tiger beacame very protective of Prissy whenever the yellow cat came prowling around. Neither cat particularly appreciated visitors and after an initial greeting, would disappear for the duration of the visit.

After Christmas, as Al’s health and energy began declining, Tiger spent more and more time with him, either on the bed or in the chair – but never far from his side. When Al began sleeping more each day, so did Tiger – sometimes only leaving the bed long enough to eat and make a quick trip outside. The day I had to call the Rescue Squad to transport Al to the hospital, Tiger would not leave the bed when the Paramedics were attempting to transfer Al to the stretcher. I had to physically pick him up and remove him. The whole time Al was in the hospital, Tiger was miserable. He roamed the house, checking all the rooms and periodically staring out windows and doors.

When the ambulance returned Al home, Tiger wasted no time getting up on the bed as the paramedics settled him in. He became a permanent ficture at Al’s side and did not even move when the Hospice nurses were attending to Al. And when Al was conscious, he would stroke Tiger’s head. Nurses and visitors came and went, but Tiger kept a constant vigil for the remaining few days. I didn’t have to explain anything to him – he sensed what was happening. As I attempt to put my thoughts on paper, I realize the depth of the love that they shared.

After Al was gone, Tiger searched the house many times – for at least two weeks, returning to Al’s bed to sleep. Finally, he seemed to accept the fact that this was permanent and turned his attention to me. Suddenly he was “my” cat again and now he is constantly at my feet, on my lap or in my bed, as we comfort each other. If I sit in my chair to read or just ponder, he sits in my lap and occasionally raises a paw to my cheek and looks into my eyes. Yes, it was a real love triangle.

A Recent Visitor

There have been many visitors to our house since January – usually they are invited, or at least expected. This one was neither.
It was a quiet morning and I was working in the kitchen and doing laundry. I noticed Prissy sitting in the dining room, staring at something. Actually, she was crouched in front of the china closet, staring under it. Of course, she ignored me when I asked what she was looking at. Finally, I got down on my hands and knees to see for myself, but it was too dark. Getting up, not an easy task, I fetched a flashlight and got back down on the floor again. With the light I could see a dark lump of something that looked like a partial skien of black yarn.
Suspecting that it was not yarn I got up again to get a tool – a yard stick. When I prodded the lump, it uncoiled and quickly slithered out from under the china closet and recoiled behind the dining room door.
This was not exactly a new experience, but the first time I had to deal with it on my own.
First I went and got the broom and dustpan. When I attempted to sweep it up onto the dustpan, it quickly slithered back to the protection of the china closet. I realized the dustpan handle was too short. Then I remembered the snow shovel.
Instructing Prissy to keep an eye on our visitor, I retrieved the snow shovel from the garage, which I wedged under the door to form a ramp. When I first tried to coax it onto the shovel, it turned and slithered out at the far end of the china closet and stretched out on the floor. Barricaded by the broom, it finally returned to the cover of the china closet. I kept poking and prodding until it finally slithered onto the shovel. I quickly grabbed the shovel, slapped the broom on like a lid and dashed to the front door which, thankfully, I had propped open in preparation for this maneuver. I managed to reach the grass just as our visitor slid off the shovel. Last seen he was rapidly disappearing under the bushes in front of the house.
As I said, this was not my first such experience, but my first solo. Tiger and Prissy have been bringing in small garden snakes every Spring during the rainy season when the back yard floods. But this was the largest one I’ve seen. Usually they are only about 9 inches long. They are black with narrow light green stripes down both sides. I’m told they are not harmful, but they just don’t go with my decor.
Needless to say, Prissy lost her privilege of having he back door slightly open so she can come and go as she pleases. Now she must beg to go out and beg to come in. And she has to go through Customs when she re-enters.

The Cycle of Life

The cycle of life is an amazing thing to consider. Scientists and Engineers have spent years inventing and making machinery work, but long before that, God put living creatures on the Earth. In many instances the Scientist and Engineers have copied God’s creations, or at least the theory that makes them work.

Look at the things that grow on earth. Most of them start with a seed which produces a sprout, and some sort of flower, fruit or vegetable, and sometimes both. then it produces another seed in order to perpetuate itself. Humans and animals are similar in that regard. Warm-blooded animals evolve from a seed planted within the female by the male; in adulthood, the male continues to produce seeds which ae grown and nurtured by the female.

Other animals, such as birds, chickens, fish and snakes produce eggs, but “lay” them outside the body where they are sheltered and nurtured until they “hatch”. In all these instances, the parent animals know instinctively how to nurture their young. Not only did God design them, he gave them the necessary skills and knowledge to take care of their offspring. So far as I know, the Scientists and Engineers have not found a way to perpetuate their products; the manufacturing process must start from scratch.

Some plants reproduce themselves by their root systems, sending out roots that can travel great distances, with sprouts appearing along the way. Birds participate in the propagation of new plants by plucking seeds or berries from a plant in one location and flying to another location to drop them. Squirrels do the same with the nuts and acorns they harvest, and bees and insects use their pollination skills. God planned all of these details before he breathed life into us.

God also provided the food chain for the nourishment and perpetuation of his creations. Most of the offspring of plants are edible by humans and/or animals as are many of the warm-blooded species. Over time, natural causes have destroyed some of God’s creations, while others have succumbed to acts of aggression by other species, sometimes for food and sometimes for other reasons: fear, anger, self-preservation, rivalry, greed and territorial disputes.

I was told that blogging is a form of self-expression. When certain topics come to my mind, I sit down and start writing. I’m not sure where this train of thought came from, except that we have had a very interesting Spring and Summer season, and I marvel at Gods’ creations. Everything seems to be a bit off the usual schedule. How do the birds know when it is time to go South or return North? How do wild rabbits know where to hid their burrows so marauding cats can’t snatch their babies? How do bears know when it’s time to hybernate for the winter?

And what about human babies? Little girls instinctively cuddle baby dolls and stuffed animals, while little boys push anything that has wheels and make the appropriate mechanical sounds.

So, as I sit here at the top of my hill, observing all that goes on around me, I have plenty to occupy my thoughts. I thank God for the ability to see the many colors of spring and summer, the ability to hear the songs of the birds and the chatter of the squirrels, the laughter of the children, the bouncing of their balls on the pavement, the shouts as they race their bicycles and scooters, and the squeals of delight as they run through the sprinklers. They override the annoying sounds of lawn mowers, leaf blowers, rumbling thunder and torrents of rain and other miscellaneous noises. For instance, right now, there is an angry mocking bird sitting on the porch railing sqwaking at Prissy who is trying to take a nap. My guess is they have had a previous unpleasant encounter, and if the provocation continues, the cat will win. And so, the cycle of life continues.

Our Shrinking Generation

Our generation is shrinking – not in girth but in numbers. I attended another Memorial Service yesterday for one of our former social circle. That makes five in the past year or so. They all lived full, wonderful lives, but the holes they leave are very visible. We can sit around and tell great stories and laugh at remembered events, but THEIR laughter is missing.

Probably on every one’s mind, but unspoken, is “Who will be next?” “What will happen when I am gone?”

A word comes to mind – PREPARE. Spiritually, I am ready, but realistically I am not. There are photographs to label and organize; drawers and closets to clean and filter. Long over-due letters and cards to write, phone calls to make, friends to visit. Affairs to get in order.

As we observe the struggle of the families as they attend to the very necessary details of closing out a loved one’s life, we become aware of the pain and sorrow this sometimes causes. It should serve as a “kick in the butt” to get our own houses in order.

Some people are already very organized, but I am not. I have trouble just keeping up with today’s fast-paced life style. It may mean giving up something I WANT to do and concentrate on what I NEED to do. Funny, but that phrase sounds familiar. I seem to remember hearing it when I was young and maybe even saying it to my children. There are WANTS and NEEDS. We have to learn to identify the difference and govern ourselves accordingly. If I’m as smart as I think I am sometimes, maybe I’ll change my life style just a it and take care of some of the NEEDS so I’ll have more time to enjoy the WANTS.

For starters I’m going to stop dreaming that I will ever again wear that beautiful royal blue dress I made for a special party 30 years ago; same with the mauve dress I bought for my wedding 16 years ago, and on and on and on. Somebody out there somewhere is bound to NEED them.

Next, I’ll devote a part of every evening to up-dating photo albums and labeling and adding photos that are stored in umpteen boxes in the basement. Same thing with recipies I’ve collected from relatives and friends over the years. I know which drawer to look in and which scraps of paper contain delicious details, but I can’t expect my daugher and nieces to know that.

And while I’m at it, a list of assets and their location should be up-dated, as well as information about insurance and car title and deeds, etc. I was a terrific secretary to others, but my own filing system leaves a bit to be desired.

I want to leave my children a legacy, but not one that identifis me as a haphazzard pack-rat. When that shrinking circle of friends gathers, I want to be able to laugh WITH them from beyond, not cringe as they laugh AT me and moan about the mess I left.

It’s something to think about.

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