Uneventful

We took a group of twelve children to fish last night at a farmer's pond nearby; most of them caught a fish. I only caught a nibble with the fishing rod and reel but I caught a lot of pictures with my trusty little camera.

The sun went down slowly.
The wind kept the gnats away.
Delighted children squealed.
Nobody got hurt, or mad, or lost, or exposed to poison ivy. Nobody got sick on the hot dogs.
Thank goodness it was an uneventful evening!

Out on the Country Roads

You never know what you might find at the end of a country road. We pulled off the main highway so I could take some pictures of the clouds and suddenly, just over a hill, we found this barn almost swaying in the wind. The farmer was kind enough to see us taking pictures and opened the gate for us to get closer. He said "sure, go ahead and take some pictures before it falls down." From the looks of it, I suspect that day is coming soon.

The sun was really bright so I stood in the shade for this second shot. Notice the sunbeams at the corner of the barn.

April Skies

I took these pictures within a twenty-four hour period Friday to Saturday evening. I don't think I'll ever get tired of looking at the sky.

Running in Circles

Clay got a new job and a new apartment in a town about an hour from here. She doesn't drive yet, so we found an apartment close to work and close to church. Moving furniture wasn't too bad, but I've been down there now four times in the last three weeks.



Today, Turtle and I, Art and Carina, and Zaya and Mim all went for a visit. There was a rattlesnake festival up town, and cowboys everywhere in the streets...a little too exciting for my taste--since I had come to help out with laundry. (she doesn't have a washer or dryer yet) and the only laundromat was closed so the owners could go have their pictures taken with a rattlesnake, eat rattlesnake meat, or participate in the "snake of the day" contest. Anyway, I drove for about twenty five miles looking for a laundromat and finally gave up, so I could go spend some time with the grandchildren.




When I got back to the apartment they were exploring with their father and had discovered a tunnel under the street nearby. It was really an enchanted looking place, and perfect for taking pictures--the graffiti and cement making the door at the other end look like an inner city exit to Narnia, so I explored a while with them, but, being a proper grandmother, I became a little nervous and afraid they would stick their hand up through a crack onto the highway, so I steered them gently back toward the little park and apartment complex.

Zaya and Mim told me they had made two major discoveries on their field trip with their father:

First, that large mound of black stuff they were standing on in the tunnel was safe to stand on as it was really just hardened asphalt, and second, that horse poop floats. That's how it got all along the grassy ditch. Recent rains had washed it down from the stables up the street.

Interesting stuff.

Snowball Bush

For a week or so in April, this bush bears snowballs. They start out small and greenish, then suddenly flower into round dripping white blossoms. For a few days, or until the next high wind...they are gorgeous.

She's at that Age

If you get her picture before she sees the camera, she looks like this:





















but if you wait until she sees you...she looks like this:
















See, here it is again:
Before she realized I had the camera out:













After she saw the camera:

Strange Looking Shrubbery

My neighbors have a strange little shrub on their front lawn. It boasts a sunken middle--rather like a green leafy pudding-filled breakfast roll. Like a fearless investigator, I sneaked over there with my camera early one morning when my riders were late for the commute.

Ah. Poor meter reader guy. I'll bet he remembers that one.

















It causes him no end of trouble--
That bush which resembles a bubble.
Each month when the reader
Examines the meter
He thinks about making shrub stubble

Spoonerism

Turtle just created a spoonerism that made us both laugh. He said:

Well, it's 200 miles away...as the fly crows.

I tried to locate a picture of a crowing fly, but this was the closest I could find.
He does look like he is trying to
say something, but not wake the world in the
early morning.

I think I know the subconscious reason for the slip though: Turtle has a new hobby; he ties flies. Flies, yes. Like fly-fishermen use at the ends of those long whips they call fishing lines.
Anyway, he wrestles with string, scissors, wires, fluff balls, and silk to create little poofs of fuzzy stuff that resemble an insect or a baby mouse and hide mean hooks. He has to use tying tools for making tiny knots and magnifying glasses to see them. He calls it relaxing. Go figure that one!

The Sounds of Early Morning

A moisty, overcast morning is perfect for listening to bird orchestras. Today I heard a woodpecker playing percussion, robins twittering in soprano, and--from the high swaying vestibule of newly-leafed branches--the hollow-piped baritone of cooing doves.

Enjoy.

It Must Be Green Again

My husband Turtle is colorblind.
Not totally colorblind, mind you, so that his world is black, white and all gray in- between, but a faded sort of colorblind that can't tell the difference between red, orange, and yellow; that only sees the blue in aqua and purple (making them the same color); and that cannot tell the difference between green and brown.

Poor guy.

I feel sorry for anyone who can't see green. Especially at this time of year, when glorious green sings mightily under the pale blue sky.

I sigh contentedly out the car window,
"It's so beautiful out there."

He says: "What? Oh. It must be green again."

A Full Week

Starting with Easter morning and seeing the glorious sunrise as I walked up the hill to church, and ending with a joyful phone call from my daughter announcing that she has found a church to attend that she likes and is comfortable with, my week has been too full for writing. The next month promises to be more of the same, so I'll have to take each moment as it comes.

After a great Easter service last week, we journeyed to the home of our son's fiancee's family. They live a few miles from the city, on a beautiful couple of acres where birds swarm to the feeder, and the volleyball court fills a corner of the back yard. Our older daughter, her husband, their two children, our second daughter, and our son were there...as well as a family reunion about the size of our congregation on a good Sunday. There were so many people to meet and absorb names for, that I gave up. Hopefully, we'll renew acquaintances at the wedding. Anyway, it was a great time for relaxed visiting, and I give Beverly and Brian thanks for hosting it.

Monday, Claye and I headed to a little town about sixty miles from here to investigate the art scene and beg for a job. Believe it or not, we came home with a job and an apartment only three blocks away. All week, Turtle and I have been taking loads of stuff down and finding room for it in the tiny apartment, getting electricity and water on etc. etc. etc.

At school, I'm preparing for four things--concurrently: We have an accreditation visit for the next three days, so, of course we wanted everything spick, span, and ready; I'm working with my seventh and eighth grade Bible classes on a two hour program/performance for the 26th of April; I'm hosting a junior high level academic tournament on the 21st; and I'm preparing for the senior graduation. Life is tooooo full right now.

Ah well. It isn't too full for pictures so here are a few that I took this week.

My Lively Spring

On this glorious Easter morning everything silently whispers the thrill of new life...resurrection! Yes, it's true. I took these pictures in my yard. Everywhere--through the dry grass and the bedding of last years leaves--there's fresh green, and vibrant spring colors. The ancient peony is poking her knobby fingers up in a grab for sunshine, and new rose leaves dress yesterday's dry, dead vine. Pink tulips sniff at the air; the first little lilac dares to open; dandelions and daffodils shout joyfully in brilliant yellow golds.
The pear tree's thin white blossoms sing,
and blue-grape hyacinth bells all ring--
a tremolo against the wild warm winds.
It's Easter.
The day Death died.




And I can't help but think how I, too, will one day rest beneath the fall leaves and the winter snow. I'll leave quietly then--no frenzied bucket list to clutter my last days.
No. I plan to come back.
So all the things I haven't done can wait for that long morning in the sunlight.
My lively spring.
My resurrection day.

"Our Lord has written the promise of resurrection, not in books alone, but in every leaf in springtime." --Martin Luther.