My Christmas Wish for You

This was written by Fra Giovanni Giocondo, a Franciscan friar, who wrote it to a friend on Christmas Eve, 1513.  And it is my Christmas wish for all of you, near and far.

There is nothing I can give you

which you have not;

But there is much, very much , that

while I cannot give it, you can take.

No heaven can come to us unless our hearts

find rest in today. Take heaven!

No peace lies in the future which is not hidden

in this present instant.  Take peace!

The gloom of the world is but a shadow.

Behind it, yet within reach, is joy.

There is radiance and glory in the darkness, could we but see,

and to see, we have only to look.  I beseech you to look.

Life is so generous a giver, but we, judging its gifts by

their covering, cast them away as ugly, or heavy, or hard.

Remove the covering, and you will find beneath it

a living splendor, woven of love, by wisdom, with power.

Welcome it, grasp it, and you touch the angel's hand

that brings it to you.  Everything we call a trial, a sorrow, or

a duty, believe me, that angel's hand is there; the gift is there,

and the wonder of an overshadowing presence.

Our joys too:  be not content with them as joys.

They, too, conceal diviner gifts.

And so, at this time, I greet you.

Not quite as the world sends greetings, but with

profound esteem and with the prayer that for you now and

forever, the day breaks, and the shadows flee away.

Be Kind

As we come to this time of year I like to reflect on what I might be able to change in myself during the new year.  I love Christmas.  I enjoy Thanksgiving.  But I do look forward to what is ahead.  Call me an optimist.  I guess I'll take it!

What am I going to work on?  Well.  I do need to up the exercise and slow down on the food intake.  Who wouldn't benefit from that?  And I might want to work on some of the things I have left sitting around...both in the house and out.  Lots of projects to do.  But there always needs to be an incentive to get off ground zero and launch into it!  Ah...ambition!  Mine seems to have got up and gone.

In the last few days a thought has come to me.  I need to work on my attitude.  Of late, it has gone south.  Small things irritate me.  I feel grumpy and grouchy for no reason.  And there are times I do not realize it.

I need to work on being kind.  Not only in the words I say, but in the things I let myself think...and do.  Kindness is not easy.  Sometimes I feel as if I am "entitled" to be ugly to others...either in word or deed.  That is wrong.  So wrong.

What is so difficult about being kind?

1. It takes effort.  Yes it does.  It is a simple thing to feel that we have been wronged.  Sometimes we have...but many times it is just our conception of a situation.  I am going to try to count to 10, or take a minute or two to look at myself and what I am doing.  Is it them, or it?  Or is it me?

2.  Have patience.  I am short on patience.  I would like to think that it is just part of my DNA..a convenient excuse...and that is all that it is.  Taking it slow and easy is hard.  But it will help me when I am pushed to rush to judgement and choose a harsh word or worse, a bad attitude.

3.  And last of all, look the situation over.  See the other person's point of view.  Perhaps they are having a bad day.  I once was guilty of making a server in a restaurant weep because I acted impatiently.  And my words hurt her.  I apologized to her later.  She was surprised, but I really needed to let her know that it wasn't her fault. 

So here it is.  In black and white.  Hold me to it, friends and neighbors!  Please.  

Be Kind.  My motto for 2019...and hopefully, beyond.

Goodbye to my jigging friend.

And here he is...JR Strickland in one of his best poses.  Jigging with his wife Dot.  To the music he loved.  

I first met JR and Dot when we moved to Gainesville.  Our paths didn't cross very many times in those early years.  We would see them and visit out at Vaught's or see them on the Square for music events.  It wasn't until we retired and started attending the Tuesday music jams that we really got connected.

JR loved music.  Dot loved to sing.  And they both enjoyed moving to the music.  They would get up when the fiddle launched into a lively tune...Sally Goodin or Fort Smith...and off they would go.  JR usually would invite me and Andy to get up and join them.  What fun.  And what an inspiration he and Dot were to all of us.

I saw him last Thursday.  He and Dot were in their new-to-them car.  We said HI....how are you.  And of course, he said fine.  I gave him a hug, just because we had been missing him since we were out of town so much lately.  As I walked away I remembered the Thursday night of Hootin an Hollarin this year.  He got up and talked to us a little.  His family was visiting and they were going to another music jam on Friday night so "don't look for us here, but we'll be back on Saturday for sure."  I think he jigged a little.  I wish I could have seen him on Saturday but there was such a big crowd . I might have caught a glimpse of him and Dot in the lookers-on while we square danced. 

I  wish I had one more time to hold his hand and smile at him as we kept time to one of those fast tunes......maybe even Orange Blossom Special!  Who knows.

Dance on and play on JR.  We'll see you again...and perhaps jig a little.  I hope so.

Cousins

Seems as if everyone has cousins. Just one of the joys of growing up. Most cousins live near. But some are a distance away. Mine lived in towns at least a few hours drive. They would come to visit on Sunday...sometimes unannounced. I can remember turning the corner as I walked home from church and seeing their car parked in front of the house. I hurried as fast as my little short legs would go,all the time whispering to myself "They're here! They're here!" You have to travel back to those early years to remember that feeling of heart-stopping excitement.  So many things to do. So much fun to have your kinfolk there. As you can see we ranged from nearly grown to almost baby. But everyone had a good time.

My mom had Sunday dinner on the table. Wonderful food and plenty of it. My aunts usually brought dessert. As soon as it was polite to say excuse me, we were allowed to leave the table and run outside to play. I brought out my dolls and we girls had a tea party. The older ones got out the ball and bat or set up the croquet wickets for a match,boys against girls.

As the afternoon deepened into evening we were called in to have left-overs before our company left for home. The sunset and gathering dusk saw the cars pulling out on the road...headed home.

Going back inside to help my mom get chairs back in place and the dishes washed and put away, I felt the longing for cousins who might live a little closer. But somehow, I knew even back then that these surprise visits were the best of all.

Oh the beauty of the morning

A foggy start to my walk today. But the drops of dew made the roadside shine when the rising sun finally broke through.

I just had to stop and admire each fragile flower and glistening weed.  The spider webs wore capes of sparkling diamonds.  The grass glowed emerald green.

The morning is such a wonderful time to be alive.  I usually hit the road before sunup. Then  I have the extra pleasure of seeing the world light up before me.

Step after step, gravel crunching under my boots.  My cadence marks time with the dawning of the day.

Most of the birdsong is gone by this time of the year.  Nests have been built and emptied.  The small ones have learned to fly.  The flocks are beginning to think about packing up and moving to a more hospitable place.  More seeds.  More water.  Better place to rest and relax.

But the rabbits are out on the road, nuzzling the gravel in search of what?  Are they sharpening their teeth?  Finding a few stray leaves of grass?  Who knows.  It is a mystery to me.  I do tell them as best I can that they need to be more cautious.  Some varmint quicker than I will see them and pounce before they can hide.  But I have come to realize that they do not sense fear when they see me coming.  And maybe that is a good thing.

Because I am enjoying the beauty of the morning.  And just thankful that I am able to walk and see and enjoy what my Maker has given me.

Requiem for a Bee Gum

Yes, and here it is.  The empty honey comb, lately robbed by our hive of erstwhile bees.

We have often had a hive of bees wherever we lived.  Our venture with a conventional hive a few years ago turned out to be a disaster.  A black bear found our bees and in a few short minutes, with the swipe of his muddy paw, he toppled the hive and helped himself to a giant portion of honey and comb. After consulting with the MDC we found that once a bear has tasted honey it will return for more.  The solution?  Make a bee gum and just enjoy seeing the bees doing their thing.

Andy found a hollow tree, fitted it out with a few frames of pre-made comb, poured in some bees we got from a friend, screwed on a bear-proof top, and chained it to a tree. All went well.  They settled in and soon had that bee gum humming with activity.  And no varmint came near to disrupt their happy home.

We checked them frequently.  They were busy bees all through the summer and fall.  During the winter they seemed to be thriving.  This spring we were delighted to see them ranging out to gather pollen.  What a joy it was to see them working their little wings and tails off, bringing in the where-with-all to make their little colony thrive.  They kicked out the drones at the appropriate time.  And left them to die on the front porch....or near by. [This cruel but necessary practice is the part of beekeeping that makes me sad].

All went well into the hot part of late spring and early summer.  And then a few weeks ago Andy went down to check on them.  He came back with some bad news.  No bees were flying in and out.  No activity at all.  We feared the worst.  Colony collapse?  Some other catastrophe?  Maybe some invader had found a way in and caused them to scatter.  Bees are pretty defensive.  They don't just surrender without a fight.  

I went down to look the scene over.  Made me sad to see just a few bodies scattered here and there.

The other morning Andy fired up his smoker and opened up the lid.  Nothing was there.   A few wax worms.  And lots of empty comb.

They had swarmed!  Yes, those little guys that we nurtured and provided a home for all this time just packed their bags, took their queen with them and went off to find someplace better to live.

Andy split the gum and we examined the remains.  Not a pretty sight.  They had filled that entire log with comb....layers thick.  They were good at what they do best...making honey and making new bees to take their places as they grow old and die.

I miss them.  But I know they are out there somewhere...maybe not too far away.  A hollow tree.  A cleft in a branch, high up where they can soar.  

Happy hunting bees.  We wish you well.

Sizzlin'

I love this old picture of my mom, her sisters and some friends from around the 1920's.  A swimming hole in Panther Creek near Panola IL was their favorite place to cool off.  That's my mom, Florence, in the middle.  Her sister, Taty, is to the right, and her older sister Rosa is to the left.  

Don't you know that it was a hot day on the farm when these girls put on their swim suits, tied up their long hair in handkerchiefs and took the plunge?

Soothing cool water that is moving ever so slowly.  Sitting back and letting the current take you where ever it may go.  The best place is a shady spot downstream where you can close your eyes and just relax.

In those days before we had air-conditioning, the swimming hole was the only place to cool off.  Whether you were working out in the yard, playing ball, or working in the hot kitchen, it really helped to take a little time and jump in the cool water.  Though I think my Grandmother had a summer kitchen set up in a building outside the house, it was still a steamy job preparing food for a hungry family of mostly boys and hired men.  I never did ask my mom if Grandma got to go for a swim.  But knowing her, she probably didn't.  Just mopped her face with her hanky and went back to frying the pork chops and boiling the potatoes.

Aren't we lucky with our air conditioned homes, cars, and every convenience known to man?  But it is still nice to head for the creek on a hot summer afternoon and take a dip.  

Last one in is a rotten egg!  The only way to stop a sizzlin' summer is to take a dip in that cool, cool water.  Hope you all are enjoying some of that right now!

Extravagant Beauty

I looked up extravagant in my dictionary just now.  Going beyond reasonable limits: too ornate or showy: wasteful.  Truly, I have to argue with those definitions.  Especially when you are looking at butterflies feasting on milkweed, their favorite food.

I saw them gathering in a flock near the edge of my road when I drove home the other day.  I hurried home, parked the car, grabbed my trusty point and shoot camera and walked back to where they were hovering over a few purple flowers.  I know from experience that they are shy and will flit away as soon as they sense any kind of movement.  I started my picture taking across the road, with the zoom on full.  As they continued to feed I edged a little closer, step by step.  Finally I was just a few feet away.  Not minding me at all, they continued to crawl across the blossoms and fly a few inches and try the next bunch of flowers.  What joy!

We used to have lots of milkweed and butterfly bush near one of our fields.  But for some reason it died off.  Our first year, when we were building the house, I would sit in a chair near the flowers and take picture after picture of these gorgeous flyers.

This was the first time I had seen butterflies near our home for a long time.  I tried not to hurry.  I wanted to concentrate on getting the perfect shot, watching in amazement while they did their butterfly ballet in front of me.  The light was leaving but I kept shooting.  I finally had about ninety shots when I ended. 

I kept thinking.  How beautiful these creatures are.  God could have made them just ordinary colors, just given them a few swirls of gold here and there.  I would have been satisfied with that.  But no.  He gave them this extravagant beauty..above and beyond what we would give ourselves.  You know the scripture about the lilies of the field...how they toil not neither do they spin?  At yet, our Maker has given us these tiny beings..right here under our noses....because He wants to remind us how much He loves and cares for all of us.  Extravagant beauty...extravagant Love.

Sunlight and Shadows

I learn so much from my life up here on the hill.  Sunlight...and shadow.  How I love to see the Caney hills in all their glory.  But my favorite time is at sunset...or late afternoon when shadows from clouds move across their flanks in ever changing waves.  Bright green to dusky purple.  First one valley lit up and glowing only to be plunged into darkness in the next second or two.

The last few weeks have been difficult for many of us.  Life comes and goes.  We celebrate...those beginning and those ending.  The peace I find on my porch in the evening has brought a few thoughts to mind.

What would life be like with only sunshine?  It is trite, but true.  We don't appreciate what we have until it is no longer there.  The coolness of the valley we walk in sometimes blinds us to what we have experienced in the warmth of the sun as we climbed higher up the hill.  I began to realize that sometimes shadows are actually angel wings covering us and giving us shelter from the sorrow that we feel.  We don't always feel comfort, but it is there and waiting for us to accept it and move on.  

Move on we do.  Into the bright light of day and joy and relief from the burden we have borne.

What would our lives be like without the contrast of shadow and sunlight?  We would have nothing to appreciate when the light was gone.  Just bright day after bright day.  I must confess than when I am in the valley I truly wish for ease and comfort and light.  I wonder if I will ever feel that warmth and ease again.

But then it comes.  The sun appears on the hill.  I climb up and over that ridge.  Shadows still await me but step by step I gather courage to go on.  

Step by step..from shadow into sunlight.

Untangling

Have you ever had one of those days?  A day when everything goes upside down, backwards, and seemingly gets so knotted up that you feel as if you will never be able to have a clear or sane thought again?  Today was one of those for me.

What do I do when my mind refuses to slow down and behave?  When too many choices come rushing at me, all demanding my attention?

I go for a walk.  Those of you who know me know that being outside is my great healer.  This spring has brought few if any days when I could get out for a long walk.  The rain, the sleet, the wind, the cold.  All of these conspired to keep me  inside and twiddling my thumbs.  Not good for my mental state, that is for sure.

This evening I went for a walk down to our north field and into the woods where we had timber cut last year.  Miraculous is all I can say about what I found there.  Dozens of tiny flowers, blooming away.  Clear yellow, bright blue, soft hazy mauve.  A complete rainbow of color and every shape and size in the book.  But most of all there are dogwoods.  One towers well over 30 feet above the sloping hillside.  The rest nestle in the crook of the gently rolling earth.  Peacefully, they seem to reach out and say "All is well."  Such pure white beauty.  And when you see them against the blue sky they dazzle your eyes.

I could have stayed there well after sunset but the terrain is rocky and rough back up to the road.  I have to watch my step.  Any little hole or rock may trip me up and send me flying.  But finding my way home, I kept that image of the clear white beauty of the dogwoods in my mind.  And not surprisingly, when I got home, my mind was at peace and my heart was calm.  All it took was a walk down where the dogwoods grow.

Escape

True confession time again.  Yes, I do not like housework.  And today, the first really nice, less-windy and more warm, sunny with a dash of clouds kind of day....yes, today, the temptation was just too much for me.  I left the broom and dust cloth, the Scrubbing Bubbles and the Windex, on the shelf and escaped.

Andy and I have always been a team, ever since we kept our 1950 Chevy Carryall running and half-way on the road when we were first married 50+ years ago.  I helped him change oil, put in new spark plugs, check the battery, install new hoses.  Whatever needed to be done was done in the driveway of our rental home there in Wisconsin.  Rain or shine, freeze or thaw.  There we were.

I am really good at being an extra pair of hands.  I can find a wrench.  I can dig around and unearth the oil can, the antifreeze jug, the needed piece of short wire that will hold until we get something better.  

Today was such a day.  I could see he needed help getting the disc on the tractor.  And I was his Girl Friday..or Saturday as the case might be.  Go get the oil can...and I got it.  Go get the socket wrench..oops wrong one...go get the RIGHT one.  (I'm a little rusty with reading that fine print on the sides of tools.  I used to be able to find them in my sleep.)  Find the right size chain to weigh down the front of our little 8N.  She is small but she is tough and ready for any job we have.

Finally he was ready to go.  Down to the garden he went with me trailing behind.  I was curious how our new-to-us disc would do.  I must say that it worked like a charm.

And the best part?  I was outside, on a beautiful spring day in the Ozarks, watching my husband do what he loves.  Worth every minute.  And a welcome escape.

Patience

I went down the road today to check on the dogwoods.  All the recent freezing weather has me in a tizzy.  I am in a hurry to see all the spring flowers and lovely trees in bloom.  I have no patience for spring surprises like snow and low temperatures that bite the petals on the redbud and ruin the peach crop.

But I have learned that patience truly is a virtue.  I am not a good cook, or baker, or seamstress.  The reason?  I am impatient.  Why does this wonderful dish take so long to make?  I'd love to bake this gorgeous cake, but two hours?  I think not.  Even cookies try my short attention span....get 'em in the oven, bake 'em, eat 'em...that's my plan.  And let's not even touch the topic of sewing.  My daughter can tell you about some disasters that I tried to get her to wear.  Rolling eyes and that 'come on Mom' look!  You get the idea.

However, my life up here on the hill has helped me learn one of life's lessons.  Not everything has to be done at a rapid-fire pace.  And good things happen when they are meant to happen.  I took a short walk down to the glade on the westside of my hill this afternoon. I looked and looked for familiar flowers that I see this time of year.  And with patience, I found them, clustered in small groups, vibrant with color, small but mighty, facing the frost of the last few mornings, still there and blooming.  Patience.

I looked up at the sky.  Who has time to look up when you are concentrating on getting this job or that task done?  Guilty as charged.  Hanging out the clothes this morning I stopped and really looked at the April sky.  How can any sky be bluer than a spring-kissed one?  Thin clouds added  mystery to the whole picture.  They seemed to say, "Just wait and see what comes next.  You won't believe it."

Patience.  That's all it takes.  Slow down.  Let life come and surprise you.  It is worth the wait.

Front porches

I was born in a small town in north-central Illinois.  The railroad splits it north and south.  We lived on the north side, but truly there wasn't much difference on which side of the tracks you lived.  We were all neighbors.  We all had front porches.

There is a song about wishing the world had a front porch.  I think that's how it goes.  Anyway, I ran across this old picture of my grandfather, my aunt and my grandmother sitting on the front porch of my childhood home there on N. Center Ave.  This was many years before I was born.  Lolly still lived there and so did my dad, Bill, and his little sister Pearl.  Nell was married and gone to Kewanee by this time I imagine.

I love this picture.  I remember that porch.  We played on it when it was raining.  We sat there and waved to people going by.  We hollered at our friends to stop and visit for awhile.  But mostly we just sat and talked.  Or at least the grown-ups did.  

I had many a doll tea party on the porch.  Nina has the table and chairs now.  It was a small version of a table and chairs you often found in drug stores and cafes...an ice cream set, is what we always called it.  Four chairs.  Room for me and three of my best friends.  Or one friend and two of our dolls.  Or just me and three dolls.  Tea served in the Blue Willow tea set I loved.  Maybe a cookie or two.  But always tea.  Soft summer breezes blowing across the yard.  Mowers making that swish-swish sound of blades moving rapidly.  No one had a power mower back then.  Only the old fashioned reel-type ones.  No gas.  Just arm and leg power.

How peaceful it would be if we could make people in charge of our rag-tag world sit down and sip a little coffee or tea on the front porch.  Get to know one another.  Share ideas.  Or just sit and enjoy the view of people peacefully passing by.  Stop and wave.  Share a joke.  Be friends.

What a wonderful place our world would be...with a front porch.

Feeling Spring

As I tell my friends, I have wintered well.  In fact, TOO well.  It seems as if ever since Thanksgiving, my will power and get-up-and-go have disappeared.  Added pounds and lack of exercise have not helped my mood.  

But today, yes, today I laced up my hiking boots and made a trip down over the north-facing field, into the woods.  The sky was that unbelievable robin's egg blue.  Wispy clouds looking like the smoke I used to see as the trains would pull into station in my hometown.  I wondered if there might be a celestial locomotive up there in the sky, chuff-chuff-chuffing away.

This morning I got up early.  Early enough to see the sliver of moon in the eastern sky.  Did you see it?  It was marvelous.  I went out on the porch and stood by the railing, listening for turkey gobbling.  I didn't hear a sound, but Andy when he went out a few minutes later, heard several down in the southeast...probably in our neighbor's field.  That time of year.  Birds finding places to build nests, little critters ready to make forays out of their safe holes and into the bright sunshine.

In my trip down the hill I had to be careful.  Lots of hidden rocks and holes down there, up above our creek.  I can see my neighbor to the north's house.  Later on, when the trees leaf out, all of that will be hidden from me.  I love the sycamore trees down in the bottom.  Oh to be a bird and fly off my hill to scope out the scenery in the valley!

Trees have minuscule buds on them now.  Spring wild flowers will be popping their heads up out of the leaf piles before long.  I explore all the nooks and crannies where I might see a little sign of bloom but I am too early up here on the hill.

Turning to go back up to the road I discover that I have ventured down below the fence.  This may be trouble for me.  With a compromised knee and an artificial hip I have to be careful about climbing and stretching beyond my limits.  I am glad there is no one to see me on hands and knees, kneeling as I push down the barb wire and gingerly shift my weight over and onto the other side of the fence.  What a joke!  Glad that I made it without falling on my face.  I probably would still be there trying to get up when lunch time rolled around.

Walking out in the open, back up to the house, I turn around to take in that gorgeous view of Caney that I love so well.  

Yes, spring is here.  Or almost.  And I am feeling it.  

Ghosts

Can you hear it?  Can you hear the fiddle music, the tap-tap of shoes keeping rhythm to the beat, the chant of the caller in the set?  Can you see them circling the floor, bending to pass under an out-stretched arm, swinging and smiling and moving as one?

Square dancing as we have known it in Ozark County died a natural death a few years ago.  It expired with a smile on its face.  Memories of by-gone days, of full platforms and floors full of friends old and new, all gone and now just a faint tune you hear now and then on the wind.

Andy and I learned to square dance in 1985, thanks to Verda Faye Hambelton.  She took us under her wing and taught us the moves...and Andy learned the calls.  And so many other people helped us along the way.  We danced in ElkCreek, Cabool, Mountain Grove, Ava, Norwood, Forsyth, Taneyville, Branson, Kissee Mills, Bradleyville, Springfield.  You name a town, we probably danced there.  Sometimes it was once a week.  Often times it was two or more.  If a fiddle was in the band and they could keep the beat, we danced.  

Why did it die?  Why are we still dancing?  The answer to the first question is easy.  So many of the dancers just couldn't dance anymore.  Some of them passed away, others would have liked to have continued but their bodies just wouldn't let them.  We have danced with young people, middle aged people, octogenarians and some who had hit the 90 mark.  But now the crowd has thinned to the point that it is hard to get enough people together to make a square.

Hootin an Hoolarin used to be the place to meet and greet all our square dancing friends.  We kept adding platforms because there were so many dancers.  On Friday and Saturday night you would have to wait your turn in order to find a place to dance.  We danced until after midnight on Saturday..not wanting to let it go.

Why are we still dancing?  Now that is a good question.  There is just something about hearing a good square dance tune. Your feet naturally start tapping.  We enjoy teaching anyone who wants to learn how to go through a set.  We are open to welcoming new dancers to the floor.  Lessons?  Everyone has time constraints these days.  Other things that need to be done.  And we understand them.  The best way to learn how to dance is to come to Hootin and Hollarin, or the Old Time Ozarks Festival in West Plains.  We are more than happy to include you in a set...to start you out.  It isn't hard.  Even if you think you have two left feet, you can do it.

A ghost?  Yes, square dancing, as we fondly remember it, has joined those things that "used to be".  We understand that time has passed us by.  But as long as we can revive that ghost, we will be out there doing our best to keep up and make the night sing with calls and laughter.

And somewhere those long ago dancers are smiling and keeping up with the tune, tapping their feet and listening to the call.

Legacy

Good teachers are all around us.  Great teachers, ones who live with you long after you have become an adult, come along rarely.  And this is to honor two of them.  One, a high school teacher, the other an elementary teacher.  But both had such an impact on the lives of their students, an impact that will always be remembered in their communities and beyond.

"To teach is to touch a life"  How very true.  We become teachers not because it is a just a job.  It is a true vocation...a calling.  We feel it in our hearts before we even step into a classroom on our own.

And these two women were so dedicated to their lives of teaching it was not hard to tell what a difference they would make.

Tributes are written now that they are gone.  How she loved her students and went the extra mile to see that they felt important and wanted.  How she put in extra effort to make sure that her pupils were well prepared.  Listening.  Offering advice.  Caring.  That servant's heart that we all seek in our life.  These two women had it all. 

It is hard for me to write these lines.  One of these teachers was my very best friend.  Last week we talked about how she taught her students about shadows on Groundhog Day.  Always creative.  Never willing to let any opportunity pass to teach and love and touch her kids with kindness and hope for the future.

The other teacher was so involved with her students.  Especially those who needed extra help.  She recognized their strengths and helped them find a way to succeed.  When I interviewed her about one of her pupils, her eyes shone with unshed tears as she described this young woman's potential.  A true teacher...always with the future in mind.  What a wonderful asset.

And so we say good-bye.  Tears flow.  We miss them.  But their lives live on in what they helped to mold.  Futures bright with promise.  Bright stars shining above.  Guiding these people to a better way and fuller lives.  A true legacy.  And one of which we can be proud.

Rest in peace dear friends.  Until we meet again. 

And on.....

Salter Path, North Carolina.  1967.  Late August.  Andy and I had been married about 2 months and stopped by to visit with his folks while they vacationed near the ocean.  How young.  How untried.  How in love we were.  Just the best of the best.  We had no idea what we were going to do.  Headed back to Wisconsin to familiar surroundings, we had dreams, but nothing really in mind.

I think back on those days.  It would have worried me as a parent to have two young people joining their lives together without a clue as to what might be ahead.  We weren't totally in the dark.  The war was raging in Southeast Asia...and Andy's number had come up.  We knew that was in the future.  But we would make that decision when we had to.  And we did.  But that story will wait for another time.

Yes.  We have just celebrated 50 years of togetherness.  Ups and downs.  Joys and sorrows.  Disappointments.  Unbelievable good fortune. 

Just last night as we were dancing to a familiar tune, in step and smiling at each other, he reminded me that we were beginning our 6th decade with each other.  Can that be so?  I guess it is.  

I close my eyes and smile.  What might lie ahead for us?  I have no idea.  

Love will carry us through it.  And on and on......

Snowed In

I heard the forecast.  I counted the loaves of bread in my freezer.  I checked the stock of staples and canned goods in my cupboard.  I bought extra milk.  I was ready for the coming snow and deep freeze.  

Yes, I was ready.  Plenty to do when I would be inside for who knew how many days.  Books to read.  Puzzles to work.  Little jobs that I had put off for several months like cleaning out closets and doing paper work.  Catching up on all those things I never get a chance to do when the weather is good and I can be outside.

And what have I done?  I have read.  I have checked on my friends on Face Book several times a day.  I have cooked.  I have sat in my rocking chair.  I have taken a nap or two.

I have not cleaned.  I have not gone through my closets or sorted through my drawers.  I have not done my paper work.

I stand at the window and look out at the snow and check to see if any animals have ventured close to the house.  Andy goes out and gets wood to keep the fire in the stove perking.  He walks down to the mailbox and trudges up the hill to bring me the few letters and the daily paper that have come.  

We leave the water trickling a little into the kitchen sink at night.  We check to see that everything is working as it should.  The heat pump turns on about 4 AM and that is a good thing.

Inside.  I am snowed in.  I might go out tomorrow.  I am almost out of milk.  But how important is that?  We can do without milk for a few days.  I guess.

A few days stuck inside is not good for my brain.  I tried to do a crossword puzzle that came with the Sunday paper and it was just too hard for me.  That is strange.  I finally gave up and cheated with a look or two at the solution  I found a few pages over.  I'm glad  they put it a little distance from the puzzle itself.  It lessens the temptation to sneak a peek and keeps me honest.

I have read all the magazines I had stored up to read for days such as this.  I don't dare get out the cookie pans and make a sweet treat for us.  More calories are something neither of us needs.

Luckily I have made some low calorie meals and put them in the freezer.  And apples and oranges are there to snack on.

Tomorrow we might try to get out and go to town.  But I doubt it.  The forecast calls for a warm-up pretty soon.  Which is good news.  I love the snow.  For a little while.  I don't mind the cold as long as I have a way to warm up.  

But this being snowed in is not good for me.  Hopefully I can bundle up, pull on my boots and take a walk tomorrow.  Hopefully breathe in some fresh air.  Hopefully.  Because I have been snowed in too long.