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A Show of Hands
(posted September 27, 2010)
If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of
all children, I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life.~Rachel Carson
My granddaughter and I were busy making hand paintings last week. She's becoming quite the artist. I painted red and white stripes on her hand then she pressed it onto paper. I added the blue, the stars, a flagpole and ... voila!
As you can see, she is still learning to print her name. She knows all the letters but sometimes gets them out of sequence.
She's a keeper, that one. I'm filled with gratitude for the precious gift of being able to spend time with Jayla and her big brother. Their view of the world is so pure and innocent.
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Flowers for You!
(posted September 16, 2010)
As the summer blooms fade in my gardens there still are enough cuttings to fill several vases in my house. These flowers are from me to you, delivered to your desktop with the following note: May you be filled with joy and peace, Kathryn.
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A Mouse in the House
(posted September 5, 2010)
Twas just before daybreak, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, except for the mouse.
As for me, I was nestled all snug in our bed,
with visions of my grandchildren dancing in my head.
When down in the kitchen there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the stairwell I flew like a flash,
throwing off my covers, making a mad dash.
Moonlight through the windows made the raindrops glow
as I raced to observe the chaos below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but overturned dog bowls, food scattered everywhere.
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More rapid than eagles his curses they came,
as Greg whistled, and shouted, and yelled out such names.
"Damn it, you mouse, you scoundrel, you vixen!
You startled me so much that I nearly shitzen!
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane do flurry,
when they meet with an obstacle, away they do scurry.
So into the family room the cursed mouse did scoot
with a mouth full of dog food, Greg hot in pursuit.
He was dressed in grey sweats, from his head to his foot,
and, bending over, under the sofa he looked.
A bundle of newspaper he swung like a bat,
searching for the culprit who’d vanished just like that.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard both my dogs
prancing and digging away with their paws.
As I drew back my head, and was turning around,
they were stuffing their mouths with the food they had found.
Their eyes-how they twinkled. Wagging tails-so merry.
Their cheeks bulged like chipmunks', their noses were buried.
Their big gapping mouths were chewing like cows,
as they gathered the bounty while Greg chased the mouse.
Greg looked grumpy, unshaven and in need of a bath.
And, in spite of myself, I started to laugh.
A glare from his eye and a twist of his head,
soon gave me to know I should head back to bed.
He spoke not a word, as to the kitchen he shuffled,
he filled his coffee mug, withholding his rebuttal.
But I heard him exclaim, as I turned out the light,
"What a helluva morning; hope he stays out of sight!"
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