WinterWonderland

Wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas and a most Happy New Year.

It was a time when I was very young, either just before starting school or just after, I really don't remember. David, my little brother was walking and talking, but he was still a baby; a time before my brother became my responsibility. It's kind of like looking through a small window, this is how I hold this fragment of memory. The when and where's and why are all gone...only a small pain to look through.
What town in California, I don't know. I remember the small trailer-house we pulled behind our old green pickup truck. What had happened, I can only guess. My dad could have been drunk, and he and my mom were fighting. She knew enough to run. Where does one go for safe with two little kids, no money, and no one to turn to?
I remember being handed a single slice of white bread with a ladle of blackbeans in it. A bend-over blackbean sandwich. I had to walk fast to keep up with my mom, who was carrying David. I remember how hard it was to eat that sandwich while walking so fast. It was the best thing I had ever eaten. I was so hungry and the thought of dropping any beans made my uneasiness even greater. To be so hungry, and to have to wolf down something that tasted so good, and the thought of loosing any of it, because there wasn't enough to start with.
All three of us hurried down some street not knowing where we were going, just running away from him, the situation, something. We hadn't run far and I remember standing outside a church, mom urging me to finish the last few bites of my tightly held sandwich. Two big bites, a mouth full, and having to swallow it down, cuz we had to get inside that church fast.
There was shame attached to that bend-over bean sandwich, other people, normal people, didn't eat bean sandwiches. Those people in that church was better than we were. We were poor and in trouble with no place to go. We sat in the back so as not to be seen, less than, needy, alone, hungry and afraid. No help came. I don't remember leaving that church. All I saw in there were people better off than we were.
Time went on, we went on, I guess back to the trailer and my dad, or someplace else, I don't remember. I do remember the feeling of needing help...rescued, no one came to the rescue, not even God. It always made me sad, then mad. My mother, my little brother and how sad for that hungery, frightened little girl, me. It was hard to believe those church people with their words of, "Jesue loves you, yes he does..." and "Jesus saves all the little children of the world".
Time moves on, it gets better, then worse, then better again, just moving on and on, over and over. Like a wolfed down bend-over blackbean sandwich; it tastes wonderful but you're left hungry because it wasn't enough, and you wish you had eaten it slower, or better yet, had another one.
Yes, life is like a bend-over blackbean sandwich...at least it is to me.

The Rainbow

Convenant arch, a bow, bridge of colour in light.
With mystery and magic knowledge might.
Each day and night in tune with you so far away,
The secret kept on cryptic wings of love,
Me so low, and you so high above.
And yet you touch me.
Teardrops fall in sorrow and gladness,
Dark clouds come and go, Rainmaker.
And yet I remember, never to forget you.
It is in the smallest things, the gift of life.
In work and play, learning.
You fill my cup with understanding.

Where Strong Things Grow

While driving back to the cabin the other day, I stopped to take a picture of a pine tree growing out of a rock. The pine tree thrives where it's roots must be stronger than its surrounding neighbors. It is a symbol to me that life isn't always easy, and yet, with determination one can stand tall and grow with potential difference. Viva la difference!

Grange Hall Dance and Dessert Auction

The saturday night grange hall dance and dessert auction was a sweet success.
Proceeds from the toe-tapping foot-stomping event went to the Arts Council and the School Library Fund. A good cause with good music and good friends makes for a good time.

Hot Rocks

It's snowing this morning and I'm heating sooth river rocks on top of the woodstove. I use them as natural hotwater bottle. There is something magical and mystical about the healing heat of ancient stones. Sore muscles are relax and soothed, cares and worries are lifted, and a feeling of peacefulness flows like the gentle touch of love.   

A Little Spring Cleaning

Yesterday morning after starting a fire to warn up the cabin, unbeknownst to me, my horse SunDance had knocked off the outside chimmey vent. Oh no! The stove pipe started smoking bad. Thank goodness I keep my welding gloves by the stove. I promply through red hot burning firewood out the front door and opened up the back door to clear out the smoke.
What a wonderful way to start the day, and me still in me jammies. I felt like Cinderella  scooping out hot ashes into a large stainless steel salad bowl. It was a bomie thirty-five degrees in the cabin so I closed the back door and waited for the stovepipe to cool down. I had ment to clean it the daybefore but was lazy and had put it off.
While cleaning the stovepipe, Sundance kept nickering and trying to help me, or maybe he was just laughing. The whole process took most of the morning and by late afternoon I had the mess cleaned up and another fire going. The cabin was warm and cozy again, then I looked in the mirror. "Oh no! So that's what a middle aged Chinderella looks like." Thank goodness for soap and hot running water. All-in-all, it still was a good day.

Hay! Whatcha Doing?

The windows in my world,

Happy looking I see,

My friend.

"Yo Mama",

He nickers and whinnies.

"Sense and sensibility"

Can you see what I hear?

My horse is a force of course, a source to wile the hours away.

We walk, we talk, we dance and play,

 He's always got something to say.

Yeehaw!

Whoope!

Hooray!

I feel like a child again.

Crazy they say, she must be a fool,

Has she totaly lost her mind?

Oh no!

Spirit's way, a talking horse?

No way!

Hahaha.

They don't understand the words you nay and nicker.

Oh! You don't say!

Your great-great-great grandma is a secret.

Flicka?

Oh my word! 

Go figure!

Your great-great-great grandpappy was really Trigger?

Yeehaw!

Whoope!

Hooray!

I feel like a child again.

And best of all,

My SunDance talks,

He's always got has something to say.

Looking In The Mirror

My Mother was born in the Congo,
My Father came from the Stars,
Together they built the pyramids.
From a dark hole I was born.
Divine hands raised me,
To the light of the night sky,
Now I shine in perfect light.
For a thousand years I sat alone,
Thinking-I cupped water in my hands,
No words I write are untrue.
I am old, and young, and middle aged.
All my sisters are Queens.
All my brothers are Kings.
I've been called a brat and a snot,

What care I what they think of me.

Cow Crap

Finding the answer to the mystery of yellow snow and ice.

Who's Been Munching On My MoJo?

Who's been munching on my mojo? I'm guessing some of my four legged friends likes sweetgrass, and that's ok, last week was really cold and snowy, so they must have stop by in the night for a nibble at my fencepost art work.

What Are Large Canvas Oil Paints Good For?

Had to nail the back door to the cabin closed because the wind kept blowing it open. Several weeks later when it started getting real cold, I nailed a blanket over the door frame. The problem with the front door was a little more tricky to handle. When you can see daylight all around the door jamb, you know ya got a draft problem. When the temperature drops to below zero degrees, and the cold creeps in like unwelcome ghosts, it's time to get creative and come up with a solution fast... can't nail the front door shut for obvious reasons. Well, maybe I could, but then I would have to crawl in and out a window...not real practical. 

So as the snow kept piling up outside, Sarah and me cuddled in front of the woodstove. I thought about crying for a moment or two, then it came to me, use an old painting canvas I had rolled up in the closet.

The good thing is, the painting though not finished (someday I'll get more paint), is rather bright with colour. My painting canvas helps cut down on icy drafts, and it warms my soul with memories of earler times.