Where is Madelene?

I have a bird's eye view of the neighborhood when I open my blinds every morning and watch the parade of dogs and their owners out for a morning constitutional, as my computer is housed in a little alcove in my bedroom. I can see the foothills and watch the sun rise, or the fog roll in and then a tiny woman, probably no more than five foot three walks her huge bushy fur dog down pass my window. For a while she walked just with her dog, then she had a lady friend tag along and they chatted while the dog led the way around the corner over to the open field near Mill Beach where the dogs exercise and enjoy their freedom for a short time.

One day when I was out sweeping my driveway, the lady and her dog came by, I smiled a hello and she stopped and I asked the dog's name. "Madelene" she said with pride. I was allowed to pet her and we talked for a very short time.

I've met other dog owners and have made friends with a woman named Judy who has a beautiful husky dog. Her husband has M.S. and would walk one of their dogs and she the other until one of the husky dogs died. How sad. Judy still walks her dog, her husband is slowing down and cannot walk out now, and I believe that his husky dog was his reason to try to get out every day and now he is lost without her. One day Judy came for tea and I heard a lot about her personal history and hope she finds some peace and contentment, as life has been hard for both she and her husband. I call the Husky "Beauty" as she looks for me when they pass the house. I watch for them to come back from their walk and go outside to give this wonderous dog, with her knowing eyes, a little scratch behind her ears and a loving pet until I see her again.

There are others I admire, a brother and sister who walk two sleek black dogs and they all seem to walk along in a long stride and make good time. Everyone is exercising.

Across the street there are two dogs, puppies really, who manage to get out of their front porch after their owner takes off in her car and here I sit watching them playing around in the street, and have to go and rescue them.

My neighbor to the north of me, has two dogs. Jim takes "Knee High" out when he gets into his motor scooter and they go over to Fred Meyers and shop. Both well known by all the folks in the neighborhood. Jim is 89 and a former ranch manager with a million stories to tell. Laverne, his wife, keeps the new puppy, Skyler, in the house, although he has found the doggie door and loves to be outside. He also likes to bark and let you know he is the master of his yard.

The neighbor to my south has a tiny dog named "Sheba" who stays in the house alone. The neighbor has moved in with her significant other who does not want a dog at his place, so this little old lady, stays alone for hours at a time. Her mistress comes to feed her and visit for a short while but it is sad to hear the barking knowing she is lonely. I call to her from the porch to say hello but she ignores me . . . so I respect her independance and leave her alone.

There are other neighbors, from around the corner, who walk their little dogs on leashes and the dogs pull them along. I miss Pat's dogs, Buzz and Jasmine, pictured above, who were taken way before their time. Jasmine was a beautiful soft dog who loved to come for treats. Buzz, as you can see from this picture, is mending from a fight with a racoon in his back yard. He was a Jack Russell terrior trained to help the deaf and strutted around in his orange jacket with pride.

I find that I do not have an affinity for animals, although I do love them and would never hurt them, I do not feel deprived not owning one. Maybe I just do not need or want the responsibility. Now the owner of Madeline is walking alone, or with her lady friend, I think Madelene is no longer and I'm afraid to ask.

Where The Deer Play

Ten minutes after I pulled down the blinds for the night, and I settled in my chair to watch the Television, my phone rang, it was my neighbor, Laverne, asking me if I knew that our resident deer were chomping away at the bushes in the front yard. I grabbed my camera and opened the door as quietly as I could thinking, please, please, don't let me scare them away. Six of them were standing in my yard eating my neighbors bushes. When I opened the door they all looked up, much like a chorus line, all ears high to the sky and a look of 'yes, do you want something? . . . or more like "don't bother me, can't you see I'm busy', you know 'the look!'

I clicked the first picture through the screen door not daring to open the door in case they took flight, but they didn't move, just nonchalantly continued their repast. I slowly opened the screen door and put one foot out on the mat and took three more pictures as fast as I could. By now they were wise to me and started to leave, no hurry, just sauntered one by one down to the end of the yard and out onto the street. They were heading home to the Mill Beach area where they live.

How beautiful they are. One of the good reasons to live in a small seaside town.

Retiring one more time

STORIES

BOOKS . . . BOOKS . . . HARD AND SOFT . . . SCRIBBLERS

IMAGINATION . . . WRITERS . . . WORDS AND MORE WORDS . . . PASSION . . . TEARS . . .

FRUSTRATION . . . SHORT STORIES . . . HORROR STORIES . . . ROMANCE . . . FICTION . . .

NON FICTION . . . POETRY . . . AAH !!! THE LOVE OF THE WRITTEN WORD AND THE

WONDERFUL AUTHORS WHO WRITE THEM.

Four short years ago Mary Evanich and I were riding up to Gold Beach every Friday to take part in the Writer's Group. We met new people, were accepted, heard new and different stories and learned to love the differences in each of the individuals who participated in the weekly readings. All talented folks. All friendly and easy to be with. The weather changed from warm and lovely to cold and ugly. The roads were torn up and the twenty seven miles began to feel like a thousand. Mary and I decided, once the price of car gasolene went sky high, it was time to make a change. Brookings should have a Writer's Group. Well, it had one . . . a closed one. . . so, what to do . . . create one of our very own. Mary and I went to see Suzanne, the director of the library, and she was gracious and invited us to choose a day for our meeting and allowed us to use the small room in the library. This was December 23, 2005 and we advertised in the newspaper and two brave people showed up. Shirley Hyatt and a young man with one arm who did not write but wanted to be a part of the new writing group.

Mary was killed in an automobile accident in February, 2006 and I had to make a decision to either close our new writer's group or take on the leadership. I decided to give it a try knowing I was not a strong leader, nor did I have the experience, but I did have the heart and will to try and pull together a group of writers who loved to write as much as I did. We did fine, sometimes with eight members, sometimes with only three in attendance. It seesawed to twelve, back down to six, up to eight and down to two or three. BUT, each meeting was meaningful and each meeting brought about not only listening to wonderful creative writing but critiques that help the writer to improve and grow and learn.

I am very proud of my group. I will miss them but will keep an open door policy in case they decide to stop by for a cup of coffee and a cookie. I will stop by and see how they are doing just to see and hear the current flow and get a hug or two. I am hoping for a First Edition, autographed be it "Diggs" or "Lola", Family Geneology, Grandfather Tales or even a Tall Tale, or another trip to Spain, an English mystery, or a Fantasy. They are all in the works.

I have met some wonderful loving people and I am proud of them . . . and me. We have all agreed that we have been good for each other. Amen to that.

A Fun Time

If memory serves me right, I would go to a movie, a play, or a musical in the theater or at school, and come home to act out the parts I had seen. Sometimes I would receive gales of laughter or a tiny tear would be shed. I would dance around doing all sorts of dumb gestures and get a roaring belly laugh which made me feel good. Did I harbor thoughts of being an actress some day? No, I really didn't but my desire to sing was always there. I've hummed a lot in my lifetime.

Last evening I came home from a play and the first thought was to 'show' my son what I had seen. I wanted him to enjoy what I had spent the last two hours looking and listening to. He really puts up with a lot from me, but he did smile . . . a grin . . . and even a chuckle.

My daughter Pat and I went to see the local emoters in "The Legend of Molly Malone" with the subtitle "The Pluck o' the Irish". Dori Blodgett our hometown actress and all around director, writer, children's play and dance instructor did a great job using a dozen of our local actors and actresses without a shy bone in their bodies. A lady by the name of Paula Steinhaus was the balladeer who sang the story of Molly between acts. Pop corn was passed to the audience to throw at the villain when the sign went up for audience participation and we 'hissed and booed'; when sweet Molly came out we "Aaaahed" and the hero had his fill of "hooray" . The actors were well chosen for their parts and did an excellent job. The father was a drunk and lost their fish monger business and the mother was a shrew with a sharp tongue and a wish to be noticed. Sweet Molly was being devoured by the mean and nasty villain until the hero saved the day. The melodrama was a first in a long time for me and I have to say I enjoyed every minute of it. I booed and hissed along with everyone else and even belted out a note or two. I haven't heard the old Irish song 'Peggy O'Neil" in years, yet the words and the melody came out like I sang it yesterday.

I've heard laughter makes the world go 'round and I believe it. I haven't had that much fun in a long time. Hooray to the cast , the fiddler (one of my Chetco writers) and the banjo player for their efforts. I didn't throw any popcorn but watched a little girl about eight or nine go through about fifteen cups of it as she got up out of her chair for a better aim at Seamus McRancid the meanest villain in town. I wanted to hand her my cup, but she was very busy taking aim and doing a very good job of it.

The fact that this was a fund raiser for the abandoned animals and a building of a new building to shelter them and to house the thrift store added pleasure to the evening. It was a success as there were no empty seats. A check for four hundred dollars was presented to the President of the foundation, from the highest scorer of a card players club. We didn't hear what was made for the night but I am sure they did well. A good cause.

I didn't nod or fall asleep as people of 'age' tend to do, but came home grinning and still recall a few of the events to make me laugh out loud today. I hope you will look up and see what your local artists are up to and enjoy their work, be it a school play, a local theater group or a chance to see a play like "The Phantom of the Opera", now that is worth a trip. I have seen the production in San Francisco and the one in Las Vegas and I would go again given the chance.

Favorite Things

The tune in my head holds the ending of a song from "Mary Poppins" as I hear the lovely Julie Andrews singing "these are a few of my favorite things" and the words remind us how truly well off we are. It goes without saying that my five children are at the top of my list, with the grandchildren close behind. Painting, Poetry and Writing would come second, third and fourth on my list, but, those are things that are part of my personality and God given talent that I failed to recognize or improve, although I do find it is never too late to open the mind and heart to new venues.

As for special things, a crisp apple, juicy and tart, a huge dill pickle from a barrel and Jewish Pumpernickle bread fresh and crusty. A good novel to take the mind and heart away to adventure and romance. A rainy day to play the old records to sing and dance to. A walk on the beach, or along a pathway in the forest to enjoy the sights and sounds. My camera to record what I see and feel. A good movie, especially a 'period piece' that teaches a lot about history and geography and introduces us to an era which existed so long ago.

Estate sales and yard sales to hunt for those books and whatever treasure that can be found. Meeting people and laughing as we rummage through boxes and look through the tables filled with all those things we use to own and either threw away or gave away, and now have the chance to own again.

Lighting a candle in thanksgiving for family, friends, and all of my favorite things.

I hope you find your list and make good use of it. I'm on my way to walk through the Antique Mall and see what new 'old' pieces have come in since my last visit. Make your day a good one.

Music

The collage above is of my granddaughter Erin when she was about two and a half years old. Her mother had taken her to a festival and the band was setting up. They were walking toward the band stand when Erin heard the music and she took off to center stage and danced to everyone's delight. She is still dancing as you can see. She is that tall dark beauty on the left of the group of her salsa dancers.

Right now, I am listening to "Ruby"and the singer's voice is familiar, yet I cannot bring his name to mind. It is slow, melancholy, listless, yet beautiful and haunting. I have a station on the radio playing the old tunes which bring back so many memories, some sweet and others sad. I recently wrote a musing about dancing which I read to the Chetco Writer's Group who vary in age from teenage to octogenarian. It was well received because it brought back other eras from the early thirties to the current day starting with the Virginia Reel, the waltz, the fox trot, a lively polka and even the Hokey-Pokey.

The voices of the ballad singers took you to a warm and haunting place with a promise of romance . . . and off key singing has never hurt anyone as far as I know. We all need a symphony in our lives which takes us to a completely different world. The wonderful golden voice tenors, the baritone and the lilting soprano all contribute in making our moods change. Lucky for all of us, it takes all kinds of music to make our world go around. I hope you have a radio on, or one of those new fandangled I Pods with thousands of songs to play, hopefully an old tune or two.

We all hear a different drummer. Listen to the beat. Sing . . . Dance . . . and smile a lot, chuckle or give out with a good old belly laugh and change your mood to open your heart and mind to enjoy today.

The First Day of Spring

The first day of spring and if we are lucky it will be a beautiful day once the fog lifts and the sun comes out. As soon as the weather turns I can hardly wait to get out in my yard and start the Spring chores. Yesterday I took my clipper and my ratty old garden gloves and put them to work pruning the Marguretta bush. I had no idea it had to be pruned all the way back, but once the long black branches sticking out ugly and useless caught my eye, I got the message. I must have worked a good hour and left with the feeling that I had not even made a dent in the work that needs to be done. I gave no thought to the stiffness I would feel this morning, but you all know about hindsight. I'll survive once I get in the rhythm of gardening . . . you know . . . bend, stoop, on your knees . . . where is that chair to help me get up? Aah, the plight of the octogenarian.

As you can see from my porch railing where the Bird House sits temporarily (my son has promised to hang it on a pine tree limb) there is a birds eye view of the ocean. Granted you really have to use your imagination of my ocean front view as the mill and the saw dust pile has a way of getting the attention. The open field are where our resident deer live. They cross over and wend their way through the empty field beside my back yard and walk behind the garage to the driveway and out onto the street. Sometimes they come around the corner of our street and are fun to watch as the leader stops every so many steps to listen. I am not sure what she is looking for but then she starts up again and the other follow. This pattern is repeated until the leader starts running and they all pick up speed to follow her into a huge lot half way up the street where they spend the day eating everything in sight. Sometimes they walk out through my driveway and stop to eat whatever appeals to them. I hope to get a picture of them one morning. One or two have meandered up my little pathway in the front garden and stopped at the base of the front porch to indulge their appetite in the cut back rhodies. I've tried red pepper and cinnamon but I think it just makes it taste better as they have yet to leave the plants alone.

The old white wicker rocker seat houses another bird house but will have to be hung soon. The seat is about to fall through but I love it and will keep it there as long as I can. I envisioned a big basket of colorful flowers in that seat, but haven't gotten around to it. My intentions are good. I have potting soil on my shopping list this week.

I recently heard a quip about 'those who blog, must have big egos' which made me wonder about why I blog. I started off thinking about 'musing' something I have done for a very long time. I welcome the chance to blog as my musings no longer stay hidden in the drawer. Granted not everyone is interested in what I muse about, but I write because I love to write and it keeps my mind alive and it is a way for me to have a conversation with my family and friends when I cannot be with them in person. I will have to wait for 'comments' and decide.

Enjoy your first day of Spring. Make it a point to go outside and take a walk, even if it is only around the block. Greet someone with a smile and you will be sure to get one back.

Musing about Spring and Stuff

A friend sent me an e-mail with the best of the Geographic Magazine pictures of the year and this one caught my eye. Not only do I see the ravages of winter leaving us tomorrow, the official day of Spring, but the early worm out to find a new beginning to its life. A time of hope as we see all of the tiny flower begin to grow and all of the budding trees which will overcome the cold and wintery winds to unfold and shade us in the coming summer months. New beginnings, how we all need them from time to time, never more so than right now while our world has become so topsy turvy and we try to take our one day at a time . . . but, is that enough?, complacency . . . should we be writing to our leaders and asking them to stand up and be counted for, or better than that should we be on our knees praying? I'm a candle lighter, you know one candle gives us light to see, think what many would do. Just look at the painting and see how much the candle light shows up the greed of Ebenezer Scrooge.

On the other hand, as I gaze at this picture I see so many things. A heart, in fact several hearts large and small, a tiny spider in its web, a black eyed susan daisy, a silhouette and an owl, even a few birds. Imagination is such a wonderful attribute giving us the chance to take our minds onto exciting thoughts. It brings to mind a poem I wrote when a friend and I visited a small park that we liked to spend some time in. It was a cold brisk day and as we sat there these words formed in my mind:

**********

Winter is Leaving, slowly it seems

trees still naked, gray and stark,

benches free, not a soul in the park

familiar roads turning and twisting

high rocks of granite, sunshine glistening

box elders with burls, old and gnarled

standing gray and bent, getting ready to bloom

as the sap runs up from winter gloom

winds are shifting, up high in the sky

clouds theady patterns please the eye

winter is leaving, slowly it seems

the sap is running to the top of the trees

buds are forming, soon leaves will abound

slowly and surely spring comes around.

******

How many pictures painted in different medium and photographs nudge our imaginations. I love to muse, now if I could come up with some answers it would be nice, but I'm only a me, so I'll go and light a candle and say a prayer for each and everyone of you. You are my light.

A Walk On Lone Ranch Beach

I took my new digital camera for a walk on Lone Beach yesterday and found out I really did not know how to use it. I spent time catching a bumble bee on a flower, and a bird up in a tree but not a bee, a bird or a flower showed up in my camera. I had been pushing the wrong buttons. So. . .live and learn. Today I had a second offer to go back and redo my walk and I would like to put all of the pictures on . . . but then there would be no room to write to tell you all about this magical place. There is a pathway leading from the parking lot to the beach and right now spring is making itself known as there are a myriad of colorful flowers of purple, yellow, white and even the blooming dandylions waiting to turn yellow and take over the entire area., I hate to admit they are all Oregon weeds. The trees are budding and the wild berry bushes are sprouting as well, so people will be going down this pathway with buckets to fill with the lucious berries. I can taste a cobbler coming up.

Walking along the beach at a minus tide is always an adventure. A search for the illusive agates, but only sugar agates thrive on this beach. There are colorful rocks and little pebble like stones but no beach glass or shells although the drift wood and seaweed are strewn along the beach. Today I found a Christmas tree, no longer green but brown, tossed by the waves since Christmas time. I found a walking stick and walked, or should I say teetered, over a lot of rocks to get onto the sandy beach. It was a minus tide and I could walk way out to the big sea stacks and look into the tide pools. I have pictures of sea anenomes on rocks, mussels, sea weed patterns which look like hyrogliphics. The wind was cold and was blowing the pollen in the air around and my eyes watered . . . and my nose followed , there I was no kleenex just sniffling away, but there was no way I would give up my walk along Lone Beach today. I walked the entire length of the beach, that is up to the area where the big river flows into the ocean and then I cannot get across its width. I turned back reluctantly as it was time to leave. There was so much more to see and so many more pictures to take. If I am lucky, I'll get another chance before long and take my camera for an outing again.


The tide is coming back in so the waves are really pounding to shore. It looks like it is way off but it is amazing how fast the ocean comes back and swallows up all that sandy beach I've been playing on.

Behind the driftwood is a river flowing into the ocean. It is running swift after all of the rain this past month. The sea stacks usually have a lot of seagulls sitting on them, but today there was only one and I tried to take its picture but it was too far away.


In the picture with the trees there is a blue bird. I tried hard to get in closer but it flitted and moved to another branch. I know it is hiding in the limbs and mocking me.

My walk in beauty was just the reprieve needed from the constant barrage of negative news on the television and in the newspapers. My spirits are high and I wanted to share some of this awesome beauty with you. Make today the best you can, reach out and do one good deed today. I did. Hugs to you.

What do I know? - - - - - - Not Much !

Just when I begin to think I know it all, I am brought down quickly. I did a little research about St. Patrick. I had written a short poem to send to all of you to wish you good health on this day and Google Land enlightened me with a bit of Irish lore.

St. Patrick was not Irish, he was born in Britain around A.D. 390 to an aristocratic Christian family and had little or no interest in Christianity. When he was sixteen he was kidnapped and sent to tend sheep as a slave in the chilly, mountainous countryside of Ireland for seven years.

Due to this he became a very deeply believing Christian and, according to folklore, a voice came to Patrick in his dreams, telling him to escape. He found passage on a pirate ship back to Britain, where he was reunited with his family. He began to hear a voice telling him to return to Ireland. That's something he should have thought twice about because he found himself constantly beaten by thugs, harassed by the Irish royalty, and admonished by his British superiors. He died on March 17, 461 and was largely forgotten. BUT, slowly, mythology grew up around Patrick and centuries later, he was honored as the patron saint of Ireland. There were no snakes in Ireland as the ocean waters keep the land much too cold to allow snakes. Snakes represent evil and Patrick drove the old evil pagan ways out of Ireland and brought in a new age.

Until 1970 St. Patrick's Day in Ireland was a minor religious holiday celebrated by having a big dinner. The Irish charitable organizations originally held banquets in places such as Boston, Savannah and Charlestown. Irish immigrants started to parade in order to keep in touch with their Irish roots, and wearing green became a show of commitment to Ireland. The well meaning monks used the shamrock to explain the Holy Trinity, and of course the Irish Travel Companies found a great way to bring tourists to Ireland and one more good reason to celebrate.

In my early childhood a green shamrock, a real one, was mailed to our house from Ireland. It was well received and placed under the glass of a small table for everyone to look at it . . . but not to touch. It wasn't sacred or anything like that, but it was something from the old sod and treasured.

The article went on to say that on any given day 5.5 million pints of Guinness, the famous Irish stout, are consumed around the world. On St. Patrick's Day, that number more than doubles to 13 million pints.

So now you know some of what I know. I can hardly wait to Google about something else I think I know....and do not... as for my poem which I wrote before I googled -------

A thousand welcomes the Irish say

wishing you health and cheer

New York parades, and Boston too

celebrate with green beer

Corn beef and cabbage or Irish stew

brown bracken and Irish brew

In honor of a special saint

who chased the snakes away

giving us this special date

so we can dance and play.

Erin Go Braugh !

Giving Thanks from the Receiving End.

The weather is stormy, a gray mist hangs over us as the wind has died down and everything is silent, so I am thankful for this quiet Sunday for I can do so many different things . . . or nap. It seems I've accomplished quite a bit after an early run to Fred Meyers to stock up on the weekly groceries and got wet doing it in the height of the storm. I edited one of my stories in hopes that I can change it a little, and eventually finish the novel for my friends and family to enjoy. I did enjoy a snooze in my chair after making a roast beef sandwich with a dill pickle slice in it. The pickle reminded me of the big barrels they used to have in a little store over on a street called Flint Street . . . now that name is over seventy years old . . . five pennies and you got a pickle the size of two fat saugies (hot-dogs) and just as long, so good I remember the taste today.

On TV some of the political pundits are telling us about the big company, IGA, that received billions of dollars of bail out money, are now going to give their people big bonus checks because, as they said, it is legal. My tongue runneth over with caustic words that want to spew out and scream of the injustices we can do little about. That is our trouble, we do not know how to protest. Someone started a tea bag issue with the White House but I'm sure as fast as they arrive they will be disposed of and no one will know about the 'cover-up'. So much for my soap box thoughts; I am still thankful I am an American and that I can vote and I know right now who I will and wont vote for in the coming elections.

The real reason I started this blog today was to thank the fisherpeople who go out in their boats, or a charter, and catch those big beautiful ling cod and clean them and package them and share them with the folks they love. Today I am one of the loved ones. I got a packet with two pieces of ling cod that were even lovely to look at. I broiled them with a little lemon and garlic, heated the homemade clam chowder my neighbor Laverne brought over last evening because she knows I love chowder and I planned a spinach salad with bacon, red onions, mushrooms, hard boiled eggs and believe it or not a homemade dressing of cidar vinegar and mustard that turned out pretty tasty. So being sated after such a grand meal, I have to take the time out to say I am thankful before hand for the food ---- and say my blessing; and now I am thankful to the fisherman who caught this ling cod and shared it; the daughter who saw that I recieved some; and most of all the Almighty for introducing us to the vast ocean with all its sea creatures for us to eat. My daughter is off to have a crab dinner . . . um . . . wonder if there is any left over? After all tomorrow is another day and I may wake up hungry.

Be thankful for all you do have. Count your blessings every day. You are one of mine.

Octogenarian Thoughts Today

I attended a birthday party for a friend, last evening, who turned seventy-three and is one of the bravest of the brave as he has struggled all of his lifetime as a survivor of polio. He is not bogged down in self pity, but full of creative ideas as he chips and carves the many beautiful pieces of wood he has in stock. He is working on some beautiful wooden bowls and is going to fill them with pieces of wooden fruits, and will polish them to heighten beauty. We call him "The Sultan" because he is the lone male with five women at his birthday bash every year. One of our ladies, Maggie, made him a Sultan's hat and he wore it proudly. As we left the restaurant he led the way as he rolled high and mighty on his wheels while we followed. Everyone in the restaurant was smiling. That was an earlier time, last night he had a couple of gentle men to help him tame his wild harem. Dee came with baloons; the birthday cards were hilarious and he was pleased with his gift certificate to his favorite luncheon spot where he will take his lady love soon. There is nothing like a get together with friends willing to share love and laughter.

I sat and listened as we plotted and planned some special 'things' for daughter Pat when she turns fifty in May. She made the mistake of passing her friend on a morning walk and shouting out "That's my friend Dee who is fifty." Dee isn't upset having her age bellowed out like the proverbial bull in the china shop, but ---- she is planning and plotting and had us in hysterics with her ideas of what she intends to do. Pat's brother John has been sending her some really interesting and hilarious cards about the challenge of reaching mid life, getting in a few 'licks' after Pat's barrage of age related cards when he turned fifty. She is in for a few more surprises, and I'm not talking.

It just brought to mind that age is just a number. In our own mind we are forever young. Life passes so quickly we do not have time to be bogged down with negative thoughts, but ----' live our lives as if today was our last day on earth.' I have no idea who said that to begin with, but I think they were clever and smart to come up with those words. We have today and it is before us, one second at a time, all day, so use it wisely and share your love, your thoughts, words and deeds today.

So, if you are about to have a birthday, celebrate, make it the best one yet, it is one of the most important days of your life. I wish you good health, a bit of wealth and a lot of love in your life.

A New Digital Camera with a View Finder

My son John sent for a digital camera when he found me using my old camera with film in it. It is almost passe and before long we wont be able to buy film for the camera, although I find that hard to believe, as everyone cannot change cameras just because the world is going by faster and faster in this new electronic age. I am delighted, now, how to use it ! I had a digital camera that my daughter Patricia gave me and I was learning to use it but it was very hard without a view finder. The screen was fine but I could not see the picture so I returned it to her and she shared it with her daughter, Erin, to use with her students in the photography class. See . . . it didn't go to waste.

I've spent the last several days snapping pictures and I am making notes as I go . . . as my rententive mind has gone by the wayside along with a few other important body parts. I think I've got it down pretty good and I am going to give you a preview of the pictures I took. Some at Crescent City where the Sea Gulls were teaching their new babies how to waddle into the big waves. It was a sight to see, hundreds of them. The old sea lions moan and groan as they laze on the big raft, and I took one of my son who enjoyed the views too. The next batch are from Harris Beach where the ocean was calm, almost like a sheet of glass. It was low tide and the sun was setting so it was the perfect place to be. The big sea stacks stand by for the waves to crash around them and that makes for good picture taking. Of course, the sunset is beautiful. It is almost an old fashioned sepia photo. I already love the camera and taking pictures is one of my favorite things to do. I hope you enjoyed seeing them.

Sweet dreams when you get there.

The Beautiful Ling Cod

Thanks to my daughter and her friendly fishermen, I had ling cod for my dinner tonight. Broiled with lemon juice, a little Bay seasoning, a tad of butter and the short twelve minutes of cooking seemed like a very long time when the aromas blended with the green broccoli and the yellow summer squash. I find it amazing that the body knows when you feed it properly. Every part seems to take part in the romance with food and the feeling of satisfaction becomes the award for the day. So my heartfelt thanks to my dedicated fishing folks.

Boy, that was good . . . I wonder when they will catch another one? I hope soon. I hope a big one with pieces to share. I might even make up a batch of cookies for the fishermen. Yes, I might just do that, after all it is always better when you share. Okay, daughter mine, order up . . . good night gracie, sweet dreams when you get there.

Sights along the Oregon Coast

Writing about the sights we see when riding along the Coastal Highway is one thing, but to take out your camera and actually take a picture brings to life the actual beauty of the entire area. There are many more pictures but these are just a few of the scenes I described when I wrote my blog about my latest trip up the coast. Read my stories, then check out the pictures and I think you will enjoy the trip all over again.

Here you see the ocean calm and windless; the sand dunes that go for many, many miles; the Devil's Cauldron that is awesome to look into; a lovely sunset in Brookings; Sea birds and the huge Sea stacks.

Take yourself outside, the sun is shining, hooray, first time in days that it has been this bright and beautiful. I'm off to find the broom and sweep up the pine cones that settled on the porch and the walkways.

Pictures and Story Poems

Nature At Work


Gusting,swirling, heavy winds blow in from the sea,
bending, crunching trunks and leaves of the Cypress trees

There are sights along the highway
where the trees bend and sway
creating an arch as the limbs reach out to play.

The pine trees are many, all of different names
With cones shaped round or long, dangling in the rain

The Redwoods stand so proud and tall,
they reach up to the sky
forming trees of mystery
with a ride above them all.

Two Lane Roads

Gray,black,pebble and tarred,
two lane roads carry us far.
Redwood trees so very tall
Humbug Mountain, eerie walls

Waterfalls trickling down the side
two lane roads not very wide

Fog and mist along the way
shadowy figures on display
teeming rain, honking horns,
tiny sheep newly born.

Farmer's fences, cows inside,
torrential rains and winds abide
Mountains high and far away
hillsides close with trees that sway
two lane curves to the sea below
crashing waves and undertow

Gray, black, pebbled and tarred
two lanes of road
carry us far

Yesterday

Yesterday was a blustery day, teeming rain and wind, a good day to edit a story I have been working on. I had finished writing in my blog about "Nora" not knowing that she found the doorway that led to infinity. Nora died just before three p.m., hopefully not alone, but then if that was what it was to be, she would not have minded as she liked her own company. The news was not unexpected, and a feeling of thankfulness swept over me knowing that she would not linger for months or years, and along with it a myriad of memories.

Nora was nineteen when I met her. She was with her friend, Jeanne Cohneney (not sure of that spelling), who my husband called Crispin because of her wild unruly hair. They were a pair. Young, good looking, ready for anything and wearing leg makeup due to the lack of nylons, due to World War II. I helped my sister-in-law hand wash sheets and getting the leg make up off of them was a big deal. I brought this up to Nora and from there on, I was number one on her 'hit' list. She spent years telling me I was a martyr. . . So, I liked to do housework. She badgered me because "you have burdened my brother with so much responsibility" . . . well, gee whiz, like I had the children all by myself! The badgering went on for a life time and it only took her fifty years to actually say "I love you." I won!!!

Nora was kind, caring and a lot of good things. She meant well out of the love she felt for her family. Like all of us, she had an emotional problem that took its toll, but then it was understandable as living in depression years with all of its problems was not condusive to easy living. We all have stories to tell and the one good thing I remember most is that she really cared, only we were not suppose to notice.

I'm off to light a candle. Make your today a good one. The sun is trying its best to come out.

Nora

What a tribute it would be if I could 'order-up' a Marine to blow Taps in her honor when she is gone. She had four brothers, three in the Marine Corps during World War II, and one in the Merchant Marines. Nora is a complex lady, full of vim and vigor with a strong mind and had no problem airing her views. She was years ahead of herself with this 'one world government' and we thought she was a raving lunatic. She tried to tell us what was going on around us and politics was not my first option while raising my five children. I had other things to think about and listened to her ravings but did not assimilate the information she was trying to warn us about. Nora was a woman of charm and grace although she would rather not admit to such attributes. Her famous tongue could slice you to pieces and she was a 'free' woman way before her time. She dabbled a bit in painting, loved to travel and was bored with the mundane. She married and had one son whom she doted on. Her family was important to her and she made sure she telephoned around to make sure each and everyone of them was alive and well. None of us lived up to her expectations but she put up with us in spite of our short comings that she dwelled on. She didn't see herself as we saw her, this tall, thin, pretty face woman with brown eyes that could spark and sparkle. We accepted her 'as is' and loved her in spite of herself. She was a loyal wife who stood by her husband dying of lung cancer and fiercely nursed him until the day he died. Within a few short years she was on the road to Alzheimer disease and went into assisted living. She hated being confined. She hated losing her self and it was a sad and lonely existence into nothingness. Now she lies near death and I, for one, cannot be unhappy for her as she will finally be a 'star' shining brightly in the heavens and if I know Nora she will bounce a lightening bolt every now and then if she sees any one of us out of line. I wish her a quick demise as the lingering will be over and she will find the peace she has been seeking for so long. I have already missed her, but now she will become part of the whole and I will be able to light a candle for her soul and go out on a summer's night and know she is shining as bright as she can for all of us to enjoy.