09/30/18

30 days hath September, April June and November . . .
part of me thought September would never end and
yet another part of me is sad to see it go. We of
yesteryear, grew up with September being this most
amazing month where we celebrated Labor day
knowing school began the next day, 'twas the
beginning of fall and our grandparents came to visit
after all the crops were in. I do understand that those
of us who house these memories are a dying breed,
but dying or not, they are ours. My own memories
of this month . . . bear in the yard three times, plentiful
visits from deer and the odd checking in of the elk.
September also brought visits from my children, family
and not to forget first fires and Autumn Equinox. All told,
it was a glorious month. Good bye September . . .

a fab september
first fires bear deer and elk
october awaits

09/29/18

Today is one of those days . . . pure magic! I get
to see my kids just as they are flying in from Mexico.
I have often wondered if we ever understand the
actual meaning of true love until children. I am so
excited, I feel I could burst. The phenomenon called
children . . . and a truer word was never spoken!
PHENOMENON! Our babies are this kind of enigma!
From that first burst into the belly, until one's own
passing, there is no greater experience. Children are
the Santas that secretly load the surprises under the
Christmas tree. Love, hope, joy, sorrow, wonder . . .
and fear to end all fears. Speaking of wonder, I have
to wonder all the time, what did I ever do to deserve
my children?! Gifts from the gods, make no mistake!
I pray, I prove myself worthy!

to all my children
gifts from the gods that you are
i feel unworthy

09/28/18

Today, I am blest with a day on my own. I've
always been a person who appreciated, nay
required, solitude. Time alone is a precious
gift. I find myself simply enjoying thinking
about it and planning how I'm going to spend
it. Alas, there is always an abundance of chores
that need seeing to; no need to plan those. How
then, will I spend my allotted gift?! Perhaps, I'll
write a few letters; I've always enjoyed correspondence.
A walk sounds intriguing, so I do pray for a nice day.
I have some boxes of mementos that need going
through . . . ah, what a day I'm going to have . . .
but wait, my man isn't even gone yet and I'm
missing him already.

a day on my own
such moments to be cherished
must share them with you

09/27/18

I had to dress up the other day to go to a party. It got
me thinking about this whole dress thing. I remember as
a child, my mom dressed me in hand-me-down play clothes
and I don't think either of us gave it any particular thought.
When I started school, my aunt, who was a professional
seamstress for the 49ers, made all my clothes. I got the
impression the two sisters rather got a kick out of dressing
me as as if I were a live doll. I suppose puberty and all the
wrath of the gods that entails, brought about an actual
interest in dressing. I just had to have an opinion, a say,
and began paying attention to peers and style. I didn't find
much time in college for anything as unimportant as dress.
But, once I started teaching, slowly but surely, I began to
acquire the wardrobe. I had actual taste and choices. Of
course, money played a part, but I dressed! And did so for
over 40 years. Now that I find myself retired and living in
a 120 year old cabin, I suppose I look like something out
of an L.L. Bean catalogue! But, then came the party . . . I
began surveying the remnants of my teaching wardrobe.
I'm not quite certain what stirred me more, the collection of
clothing or my lack of interest in it. Still, it was somewhat fun
to mix and match and put an outfit together. But, when I got
home, 'twas back to my comfy LL Beanies! Is that called full
circle, or what?!

taking an interest
me dressing up dressing down
all around the town

09/26/18

Alas, much negativity is heard about men, perhaps
today and always. I disagree . . . I was reared by a
phenomenal man, WITHOUT PAR! My sons . . .
the artist and the photographer, are remarkable men
that I respect and admire as much as I love them.
My grandsons, who both serve in the armed forces,
are lovely men. So, why all the hoopla about men?
Me thinks, 'tis once again that the many pay the price
for the few. And, make no mistake, in every genre of
life, there is much good and little bad, but human
nature being what it is, 'tis the naughty, not the nice,
that is focused on. I swear, sometimes I even feel
sorry for Santa! So, midst all the mire, I salute the
good guys . . . we're rooting for you, really truly!

hail to the good guys
dont let the baddies fail you
glorious men rock

09/25/18

Pondering womenkind of late . . . what an amazing,
glorious, miraculous circle of all ages is SHE. One
of the good things about aging, is that rare ability
to step back and appreciate in a manner for which
you never before had time or inclination. I find myself
observing my young daughters, each with their own
children of different ages and stages, and I am in
absolute awe. I also find myself dropping the jaw that
I was ever there, capable and successful. I look at the
one year olds and think to myself, "Wow, what a life
awaits you!" And then, the little gals in grade school,
being introduced into scholastic life. I see myself in a
surrealistic movie of the mind . . . first grade, going to
college, getting married, having my own daughters and
teaching. Every now and then, an accidental glance in
the mirror catches me out and I think, "When did this
happen to you?" Still, I am ever so grateful that this
kaleidoscope called life, was ever gifted to me and
my sweet SHE descendants.

thinking of the shes
pondering the gift of life
may they be so blest

09/24/18

This whole moving process from a residence
in the mountains to a tiny, tiny 120 year old
cabin, has to be one of the most amazing
experiences, E V E R !!! I have half a notion
to name my cabin, The Lost and Found. I've
lost so many things, I can't even tabulate . . .
but on the other hand, I'm finding things I
haven't seen in years. One of the treasures
at the forefront would be 100 year old photos
a la black and white. Some of them have been
the postmark, in 1907 . . . 111 years ago. I
feel humbled to even hold them in my hand.
Oh, there's my dad's, great uncle Len, holding
onto his dog for dear life. Great, great aunt
Elsie, on my mother's side, is feeding her
chickens. I'm not sure that any of us have
ever turned photos of our daily lives into
post cards, 'tis a thing of a very distant past.
All of this makes me wonder . . . will future
generations ever find the odd photo and query,
"Is that great, great aunty Linda-Dale? Doesn't
she look quaint, the way she's dressed?" Life
has to be the strangest journey any of us ever
takes.

via olde photos
traveling into the past
feeling nostalgic

Real Photo postcards, are a category some

people collect and are worth more than regular

mass-printed cards. It was easier in the early

days to get them than to have regular photos

made. Not everyone had cameras. ~Sally White

09/23/18

Oh where, oh where, is the sun hiding?

Having experienced the arrival of over 60 Autumns,
along with the diminishing of the sun, it may seem
a bit redundant to ask the question. Crazy as it may
seem, the late arrival of the sun in the morning and
its early disappearance at night, always catches me
out. I'm sure all of us awaken early through decades
of habit . . . alas, the job awaits, doesn't it?! Still,
during this time of year, we rise in the dark. I don't
know about you, but I find it a bit eerie. I find myself
wondering if this is Mama Earth's way of prepping us
for Halloween, ha! Still, I'm looking forward to Fall . . .
celebrating wondrous Autumn colors, collecting leaves,
buying acorns, putting together table decor and lighting
as many candles as I can. Without a doubt, Autumn's
special beauty is without par.

tis so dark so soon
already missing the light
so love my candles

09/22/18

What is it about Autumn that so moves the soul?
I've been thinking about this in the few days prior
to its arrival. Perhaps we accept the shorter days
in exchange for losing some of the Summer heat.
I imagine we're all in love with those magical Fall
colors, to say nothing of pumpkins and squash and
the delicious foods created from them. And, as I'm
so enamored with my porch, it's just nice enough to
still sit out there with just a sweater. Won't be long
though, before I'll be sipping hot tea rather than
cold beer. One thing for certain, living each day to
the max is just a joy in Autumn. Blessed be!

what say you to this
magical colors of fall
are souls black and white

09/21/18 - Autumn Equinox

Me thinks I'm dead . . . or mostly dead! This cabin
that has been the life of me, is most certainly going
to be the death of me! Yesterday, I raked the yard
and hauled leaves. We spread brown bark in the
walkways, arranged picnic tables and chairs. My
man even installed solar lights along the entry path.
We wanted to end the day sitting on the porch and
watch the new lights come on, but we were too tired
to move. We sat under a tree and just chuckled, o.k.
cursed, about aging! When finally we got up and sat
down in the porch, we only stayed five minutes . . .
go figure! Slept like the living dead, though!

I think the impetus for the day was waling out in the
morning and seeing a doe right in front of me. We
have lots of wildlife, so I never thought for a minute
she would stay. Rather than flee, she took a step
forward and gave me a good look-see. Then another
step, and another.  I whisper-shouted to Russel to
come and see. He crept into the kitchen and put some
raw oatmeal on a plate. She didn't eat it out of his
hand, but when he put the plate down, she ravished
it. We're going to watch out for her today; she's rather
a gift of the gods, if you will. Happy Mabon!

living in the woods
different kind of heaven
just bring me my harp

09/20/18

The cabin saga continues . . .

Most of you know we've been working on my 120 year old cabin
for six years now. It was built between 1887 and 1889. The old
blacksmith who built it, carved out two tiny bedrooms in the attic
in 1930 and attached a little (and I mean little) bathroom in 1950.
The first thing my man did was tear down the privy. We figure since
it's not been in use for 68 years (my age exactly), that we can now
dig it up. You may recall from your history studies that old-time
privies used to serve as dumping grounds and are known to be
veritable treasure loads. My cousin has inspired me to dig it up
next summer. I hope it renders some treasures after all that work,
may have to salt the mine, as it were.

I don't think either of us ever thought in terms of living here
permanently, it was just for weekends and parties, right?! But,
when you're nigh onto 70, your priorities change. It's been slow
going but a lot of fun as well. In looking at this whole six year
rehab project, I seem to be doing the same to myself. It must be
part of the whole aging process . . . this need to rehab, re-make,
re-do, restore, becomes as important for the soul as it is for an
ancient cabin I must say, upgrading the cabin is a hell of a lot
easier than upgrading me . . . wish me luck . . . and time . . .
if you will.

want to live longer
much growing to accomplish
a gift of time please

09/19/18

My lovely man finished my porch yesterday afternoon.
I've never had a porch before . . . there can be no
experience its equal! A couple of chairs, throws against
the evening cool, several lit candles, a glass of champagne
to celebrate and a fine cigar. We literally sat there until
it was well dark. Such enjoyment, without par. It made
me think that perhaps this kind of thing is missing in our
daily lives. We're all about the rush . . . rust to get ready,
rush to get to work, rush to get home, rush to avoid rush
hour . . . all to be followed by take out and television.
Now, if we all ended our day on the porch, a cup of tea,
a glass of wine, talking quietly by candle light . . . might
even be the beginning of world peace. For certain, it does
bring peace within . . . and make no mistake, I am a fan!

the gift of a porch
an hour or two of quiet
silence in my soul

09/18/18

I've been thinking . . . always ominous. I grew up
in a warm, loving household, where anything as
fanciful as fairytales was frowned upon. This, of
course, had the desired effect of making me a
voracious reader at a very young age. (I do mean
reader . . . I didn't get my first television until I
had been married ten years.) In remembering my
first encounters with brave wee lasses such as Anne
of Green Gables, Heidi, Pollyanna and Caddie
Woodlawn, I had my first heroines and role models.
I suppose I'll never know just what an impact they
had on my life, but certainly, one of the greatest joys
of my life, reading, was their gift to me. To this day, I
ask myself, who do you want to be when you grow up?
And, I think I'll go for Caddie Anne. That will do just
fine. I'll sneak across rivers with my brothers, like
Caddie, and watch the Indians at work. I will have
imaginary friends like Anne did and scandalize the locals.
Or, maybe I should be Heidi or Pollyanna. Heidi always
adored her elder grandfather, and not to forget Pollyanna.
God knows I could do well with some of her positivity
just now. No, forget positivity . . . even adventures! What
I need just now is bravery! Here's to Caddie and . . .
Linda-Dale . . . get on with it.

so want to be brave
a rich fantasy indeed
make it real woman