A Purty Little Thang

One-a-Day Photo Challenge

Day Thirty:  Nature

Mother Nature watered her plants for a while in the wee hours of this morning, then turned her spray nozzle up to "blast" and hosed down everything as if it had deliberately played in mud while wearing its best clothes. She banged things around with loud claps of thunder for hours, letting us know with no uncertainty that she was in a no-nonsense mood. I, for one, stayed in bed and kept out of her way. I didn't dare let her see a smile on my face. But secretly? I was happy, happy, happy!

Now that she has settled down, I can tell you that Mother Nature herself makes me happy on a regular basis. She does it with hills and mountains, streams and oceans, trees and flowers, clouds and sunsets, full moons and twinkling stars, and every living creature I've ever encountered (except for a few kinds of bugs and spiders, indoor mice, and Fox News reporters). I'm especially happy today because she put a certain squirrel in a certain tree just as I walked underneath its branches in search of a photo for today's "nature" challenge:

When I sat down at the computer this morning, I knew exactly what I wanted to say. And I've said it. I've written enough. I should probably stop right here.

But . . . at the risk of negating any good, nature-appreciation feelings this post may have engendered, I hate to waste something silly that I wrote down yesterday. I was mulling over what I ought to say about the squirrel picture when I realized I'd begun thinking in verse. And worse. I was hearing those rhyming thoughts in the voice of a neighbor who lived across the street from us in Georgia.

Now, I'm warning you, things are about to get cornier than ever, so my best advice is to stop reading right now. But if you're bound and determined to travel with me all the way to Silly City, then read on, and read in a slow, twangy drawl:

About Takin' the Pitcher
One little squirrel was settin' high up in a tree
A-lookin' like hit was just a-waitin' thar fer me,
So I pointed up my lens, as quick as I could be,
And I tuck this here pitcher fer all y'all to see.

. . . and . . .

What I Know about Nature
Now, I know that a tiger is a gret big jungle cat,
An' I know th' earth is round, never mind if hit looks flat,
An' the squirrel in the tree? Hit's the cousin of a rat!
(But hit's a purty little thang, so don't you bother none 'bout that.)



**********



P.S. In rereading these verses this morning, noticing their rhythm, I realized that they can be sung to the tune of The Beverly Hillbillies theme song. You want an earworm? Go ahead and try it. I dare you.

P.P.S. I'll make no apologies for any of this. Silliness is in my nature.

Where the Cold Things Grow

One-a-Day Photo Challenge

Day Twenty-Nine:  Inside Your Fridge

The most interesting thing inside my refrigerator is a pot of chili--not interesting to you, I'm sure, but it holds my attention at suppertime. Other than that, you can see a variety of cool drinks, condiments, and salad dressings, plenty of eggs, cheese, and apples, a bag of salad greens, a tub of cottage cheese, little cups of pineapple tidbits, little cups of sugar-free Jello, and a can of whipped cream to top off the Jello.

I can't guarantee that none of the salad dressings has passed its expiration date, but at least nothing in here is growing blue fuzz. Unless it's the cottage cheese. Maybe I'll just toss out the rest of that without opening the lid. 

Lovely, Indeed, but Not So Dark and Deep

One-a-Day Photo Challenge

Day Twenty-Eight:  Light

Across the road from my house stands a tangle of trees and vines that appears deceptively dense at nighttime and during most of the daylight hours. In late afternoon, however, for a few magic moments, the sun angles its rays into the clearing on the other side of the narrow patch of woods and lights it from behind, making it glow like a Tiffany lamp.

It's easy to imagine barefoot young girls, wearing flowing white dresses and floral crowns with pastel ribbon streamers, joining hands and dancing in just such a clearing as this one, when the light is exactly like this. I know they must do it the minute I turn off my camera and turn my back.

Cheese and Crackers, Crackers and Cheese

One-a-Day Photo Challenge

Day Twenty-Seven:  Lunch

Here at Casa Linda, lunch, like breakfast, is pretty much the same every day. I'm not a picky eater, and I like to keep things simple. 

This is my typical lunch: some kind of cheese, some kind of whole-wheat crackers, some kind of fruit. What isn't typical is the plate in the photo. The plate is there to make it pretty for you.

Normally, I wrap up the cheese and crackers in a paper-towel bundle, grab an apple or banana or cup o' fruit, a diet soft drink, and a book, then head outside. If the weather isn't nice enough for that, I eat at the table in the den, where sunshine can stream through the glass of the storm door and give at least a hint of a picnic.

Plain food seems to taste extra good when it's eaten in the fresh air. Birds sing, breezes blow, Levi and Gimpy romp nearby, and all's right with the world. Then again, lunching indoors has its good points, too. In here, at least, I'm not expected to throw a tennis ball between bites.

Those Colored Glasses

One-a-Day Photo Challenge

Day Twenty-Six:  Color

The house we bought when we moved to New York in 1973 had a large, L-shaped swimming pool. My girls were thrilled, even though it would be months before the weather would warm up enough for them to swim. When we sent photos of the house to our relatives, we included pictures of the backyard and the pool.

My mother-in-law was obviously thinking about the pool area when she picked out our Christmas gift that year. She sent us six of these bright plastic glasses:

I've always liked these. I like the way the light shines through them and the way they fit in my hand. They're sturdy, so they don't tip over, and they hold exactly the right amount of something cold and delicious.

My mother liked them, too. She first saw them when she visited us in 1978, after we had moved from New York to Georgia and again from Georgia to here in Louisiana. It didn't take her long to scout out a store that sold them and get a set for herself. From then on, when I visited Mother in East Texas, I drank from the same kind of glass I preferred at home. Mother's glasses came home with me thirteen years ago, shortly after she passed away.

The glasses aren't as transparent as they used to be, a result of forty years of dishwasher etching, but their bright jewel tones are as rich as ever. The red one on the top row has a  tiny chip in the rim, just big enough to worry with my finger while I hold the fat glass in my hand.

That one is my favorite. It always seems to be the flawed things that have the most character.

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It's already Saturday again--time for another Saturday Song Selection. I was delighted to find this video that fits today's theme beautifully. The song is lovely, and the children's artwork is so special it may cause happy tears.

The song is "Colors" by Grace Potter and the Nocturnals.

Thanks to kidkongdw for posting this video on YouTube.

Click here to read the lyrics.

I Used to . . .

One-a-Day Photo Challenge

Day Twenty-Five:  Something You Made

Today's photo prompt hit me in the face like a splash of cold water. What do I have that I've made? And when did I stop making things? 

I used to make clothing for my daughters and myself. I used to paint bold designs directly onto walls in my house. I used to make Christmas ornaments and paint bright pieces of fruit on carved wooden plaques to hang in my kitchen. I hooked rugs. I painted still lifes in acrylics; they weren't masterpieces but were decent enough to frame. I did crewel embroidery, using stitches so tiny and distinct that a cluster of them realistically represented a woven basket or a fern or a flower. I used to clip pictures from newspapers or magazines and sketch enlargements of them for the sheer fun of it. Pictures like this one I found tucked away in a folder of old poems: 

I don't do any of those things anymore. The last thing I sketched that I liked was a picture of Butch as he slept a few feet away from me. Knowing he'd move as soon as I did, I drew with what was available: a ballpoint pen and a folded paper towel. It was a good enough likeness that I wanted to keep it, but paper towels, I soon learned--especially those that have been folded to keep crumbs from spilling--get tossed in the trash without a second glance.

These days "something I make" is likely to be no more complex than meatloaf or soup or a salad, and the only thing I ever draw is a conclusion. It feels like all my creativity leaked out a long time ago, while I wasn't looking. Sadly, I never even noticed it was gone.

Will You Accept This Rose?

One-a-Day Photo Challenge
Day Twenty-Four:  Guilty Pleasure

I missed the entire first season of The Bachelor by choice. The promos didn't interest me. Then, near the end of the second season, my sister mentioned that the latest bachelor was from our hometown in Missouri, so I tuned in to check him out. From then until now (the 17th season) I've seen every episode. And also every episode of The Bachelorette,  Bachelor Pad, and (so far) three special wedding events. 

I know. I can't believe it myself.  

I can't think of a single redeeming quality of this show, yet there I am again, every Monday night, sitting on the sofa in front of the TV, dinner plate balanced on my lap and diet soda handy on the table right beside me. And I'm happy that the show is coming on. And happy that it's two hours long.

So why do I watch? I used to tell myself that the fun thing about the show was trying to predict who'd be the last bachelorette standing. These days I go online and read spoilers, so I know who the "winner" is almost from the beginning. And still I watch. So, no, that part's fun if you have more self-discipline than I do, but that's not what has me hooked.

Here's what I think it is:

I enjoy people watching. As an introvert, I've spent plenty of time lurking near the periphery of parties and other social gatherings, just listening, watching the other people there, paying attention to their facial expressions, body language, behavior in general, trying to detect their true natures. And I think that's what appeals to me about The Bachelor: It's a great opportunity to observe total strangers and make judgments about them. Those judgments might change from week to week, depending on how the show is edited, but it's affirming to know by the end of the season that I picked out the "good people" early on. What makes it better than real life is that my judgments, right or wrong, have no consequences--for those strangers or for me.

One part of the show I especially like--and maybe the part that generates the most guilt--comes at the end of each episode, when the bachelor passes out roses to the bachelorettes he wants to keep around for a while. I love watching the women's faces while they're all lined up, waiting to see whether they'll get a rose or get dumped on national television. How wicked is it to get such a kick out of watching them squirm?

I am not proud of this, but I'll keep watching anyway. It could be worse. At least it isn't Honey Boo Boo.

A Relative Term

One-a-Day Photo Challenge
Day Twenty-Three:  Something Old

My house is full of old things. I've been thinking about them, trying to decide which one to photograph for today's post. You've already seen some of the oldest items I have: the letter written to my great-great-great-grandfather in 1858, my great-grandmother's family bible  from the late 1890s, the bone-handled knife that was my grandparents' wedding gift in 1919. I haven't yet shown you my grandfather's WWI army enlistment document or the pouch of rations booklets my great-aunt saved from WWII, but those deserve respectful posts of their own someday.

So I looked around. And decided, finally, on this:

I first became acquainted with Frances Denney's Interlude in 1967, and it immediately became my favorite scent. I wore it for years and years and years, never tiring of the fragrance or the frequent compliments it generated.

It's still available, apparently. The bottle hasn't even changed much. And it's still drawing rave reviews. It tickled me to read some of those reviews and see that they were as much about memory associations as they were about the product.

When I came across this old bottle of cologne in my house, I was surprised to find it. I had  stopped wearing scents in the early '90s, after grass and pollen allergies suddenly expanded to include other people's colognes and aftershave lotions. According to my calculations, that makes the bottle of cologne in the photo more than twenty years old.

Old is a relative term, don't you think? Twenty years seems ridiculously old for cologne, but you see the cracked-glass lamp that's behind it in the picture? That lamp was my mother's. I don't know for sure how old it is, but I dug around a little bit yesterday and found it in a snapshot dated December 1960. And that walnut table the lamp is sitting on? That's actually the Danish Modern cabinet of a sewing machine, a gift from my father when my younger daughter was ten months old, making it 48 this month. The lamp and the sewing machine are much older than the cologne, yet I don't think of them as being past some unspecified expiration date.

Old cologne, on the other hand, has an ick factor. I wouldn't wear it even if I didn't have allergies. Nevertheless, curiosity got the best of me yesterday. I threw caution to the wind, took the lid off the bottle, and took a big whiff. You know what? It smells as good as I remembered.

Thinking Outside the Shoebox

One-a-Day Photo Challenge
Day Twenty-Two:  Your Shoes

At the bottom of the photo above are two pairs of shoes grabbed from my closet at random. ("Random" in this case means they were at the top of the heap.) These are representative of the shoes I wear now: always flat, almost always with non-skid soles.

At the top of the picture, lined up carefully and lovingly on an overturned basket, are a few pieces from my collection of four-inch shoe sculptures. Those represent the kind of shoes I always imagined myself wearing.

Heh.

Reflections and Connections

One-a-Day Photo Challenge

Day Twenty-One:  Reflection

In this photo the northeastern corner of my den is reflected in the dome-shaped glass that covers a wedding portrait of my great-grandparents, Dora and Joe Elliott. Seeing them this way, with my bookshelves appearing to be behind them, makes me feel as if I've captured an image of their spirits standing together in my home. I know that isn't true, but I like the idea of it anyway.

Today is Dora's birthday, which coincidence escaped me until I began writing this post. She was born this day in 1871 in Neosho, Missouri. Her grandson, my mother's youngest brother, was born on her 65th birthday in 1936 and was also named Joe. Five years later, on Dora's 70th birthday, my mother worried the family (according to her later recollection) by not showing up for their double birthday celebration. That was the day she eloped with my father.

How's all that for some reflection?

The Way Love Grows

One-a-Day Photo Challenge
Day Twenty:  Someone You Love

The brand-new photo snapped for purposes of today's challenge is this one, showing my hand holding a Christmas card:

The delightful boy in the picture is my great-grandson, Owen. He's the someone I love. His mother, my granddaughter Kalyn, took the photo on the card. She's someone I love, too. Kalyn's mother is my daughter Kelli, whom I also love.

Love, in a heart where it exists at all, expands effortlessly and boundlessly to encompass each new generation, each new child. It's like magic, the way love grows.

Tootsies

One-a-Day Photo Challenge

Day Nineteen:  Sweet

These little newborn shoes are yellowed with age and flattened from fifty years of storage, but every time I see them I remember the tiny feet that wore them when they were brand new. How pink those little tootsies were. How soft when I pressed them to my lips. How sweet, those perfect baby feet with their nibbly toes.

********

Basking in thoughts of babies, I'll dedicate this week's Saturday Song Selection to both my daughters, precious baby girls who grew up to be bright, beautiful, loving women. I wonder if they've known, as they've navigated their lives so far, that they've held my heart in their hands every step of the way.

___________________________________________________

The song is "For Rosanna" by Chris de Burgh.

Thanks to Winsford MM for posting the video on YouTube.

Click here for the lyrics.

Grab Your Coat and Get Your Hat

One-a-Day Photo Challenge
Day Eighteen:  Something You Bought

While I was Christmas shopping for others, I bought this knit cap for myself:

It might make you think I'm a sports fan. I'm sure that if I were a sports fan, I'd join the throngs who cheer for LSU, but the truth is I've never been interested in sports. Unless you count gymnastics and figure skating.

This cap was the first one I saw on that shopping trip, and I'm a big fan of warm ears.

Nourishing the Enemy

One-a-Day Photo Challenge

Day Seventeen:  Water

Frankly, I'm sick of water after nearly two weeks of rainy days. This morning, waking up to the beauty of early-morning sunshine streaming in through lace curtains, I breathed a sigh of relief and felt my face reshape itself into a big grin. Thank goodness for a dry, sunny day!

Minutes later, outside with the dogs and the camera, I took a few shots of the puddles of water still standing in the backyard; they're shining like glass today but didn't photograph well. I thought about taking a short drive to snap a picture of a still swollen canal or bayou, but (now that I don't have to) I avoid getting out on the roads during morning rush hour. 

In the end I decided to post this close-up of water droplets on one of the several varieties of weeds that are trying to take over my lawn. The rain has been good for them. They're looking greener and healthier every day.

Early Morning Mist

One-a-Day Photo Challenge

Day Sixteen:  Morning

I took this photo of a treetop just beyond my back fence early yesterday morning, when the air was damp but not actively dripping for a change, and I could take the camera outside without damaging it.

It's raining again this morning, so a picture of the same scene today would look slightly blurrier.

Actually, the image above is a fairly accurate representation of my relationship with mornings. I'm not a morning person. I like mornings just fine, but the early hours aren't the best part of my day. My mind is misty then, like the sky in the photo, and my  thoughts shoot off in all directions, criss-crossing each other without apparent direction,  the way these branches do. That makes me a slow starter. It takes a little time--and often a little caffeine--for the mist in my head to burn away.

At the moment, while I'm clearheaded, I'm taking a closer look at this photo and noticing all those dark clumps in the treetop. Are they nests? If so, I hope they're bird nests and not those of some other, less desirable creature. They appear to be made of mud. And look how many there are, all clustered together in the tallest part of the tree like some sort of avian, high-rise condos.

I've just now searched on the Internet and in the Audubon bird guide book, trying to figure out what kind of birds build nests like these, but those searches were cursory and unsuccessful. If you know the answer, will you tell us, please? Otherwise, this could end up as one more unanswered question among those that already clutter up my foggy morning brain.

Happy Hour

One-a-Day Photo Challenge
Day Fifteen:  Happiness

I showed you a dog picture when the photo challenge prompt was "makes you smile," so maybe you aren't too surprised that I'm posting another one to represent today's theme.

Gimpy and Levi

Happiness? They have a lot to do with my happiness. Toys have a lot to do with theirs.

Books: The Places We Go and the People We Meet

One-a-Day Photo Challenge

Day Fourteen:  Something You're Reading

"Books are the plane, and the train, and the road. They are the destination, and the journey. They are home."

--Anna Quindlen, How Reading Changed My Life

E-book text has been distorted in this photo 

to avoid copyright infringement.

What can I say? I'm a diehard rule follower.

I am a nester. A homebody. Home is a sanctuary, a place where I can do as I please, scratch where it itches, and, more important, let the walls fall down and simply be who I am. But I like to travel, too, and I enjoy meeting new people--just not too many of them at one time. Does any of that help to explain why books have played such an important role in my life?

From the comfort and safety of my home, I can open a book and find myself in another place or even another era, having an experience that may be exciting, frightening, romantic, enlightening, deeply moving, or all of the above. I can get so well acquainted with the characters that they become friends--or enemies--almost as if they were flesh and blood. I learn who and what they care about, what motivates them, what scares them, and whether or not they can be trusted. And I learn all of that quickly, without a lot of real-life dilly-dallying and annoying small talk.

As much as I love books made of paper and ink, I've learned to appreciate the fact that I can download an e-book at any time of the day or night, which means I'm never without late-night reading material. The library is still the most cost effective way to read, but I'm grateful for my Kindle.

The e-book I'm reading right now is Murder on the Mind by L.L. Bartlett. It's about a former private investigator who is recovering from a brain injury and suddenly finds himself having visions of people and incidents connected to a real-life murder. I chose this book because the writing seemed good and the Kindle edition was free on Amazon.com. It turns out that the price was a pretty good marketing strategy. The book is part of a series, and, at a third of the way into it, I feel pretty sure I'll be willing to pay for others in the same series.

Finally, I'm going to turn this particular photo challenge topic into one of my regular "What I've Been Reading" posts. Opportunistic much?

Murder on the Mind by L. L. Bartlett:

Crazy Little Thing by Tracy Brogan:

The Inner Circle by Brad Meltzer:

To read a description and reviews of any of these books,

click on its image above.

Not Yet Ready to Bag It!

One-a-Day Photo Challenge

Day Thirteen:  In Your Bag

This photo challenge is eating my days, chewing them up and swallowing them, leaving me with a messy house but a smile on my face. I'm enjoying the pursuit of the goal.

The search for photos that fit each day's theme has made me pay attention to everything around me, things that are so deeply imbedded in my surroundings that I never even notice them anymore. Now I'm seeing them again as if for the first time. It's been a fun, eye-opening experience, but it comes at a cost. I know that If I continue to neglect other responsibilities until the end of the month, the people at TLC may resurrect Clean Sweep and come to my house to shoot the first new episode.

I've decided to give myself permission to tweak the rules of this challenge. Just typing that last sentence strikes me as silly, because I've never actually seen any specific rules. I assumed that the object was to take a new photo each day to represent that day's theme, and I've been following my own assumption religiously. How anal-retentive is that? Especially since I've had the list of prompts for the entire month from the beginning.

It's been extremely time consuming to start each day with a brand-new search for a shot to match the photo prompt, then upload the images to my computer, choose the best one,  edit it if necessary, upload it to Blogger, write something about it, post it, then spend the rest of the day thinking about how I wanted to interpret the next day's theme. From now on, I'm not going to consider each new day a blank slate.

As I said, I have the list. I know what prompts are coming up. I'll take brand-new photos for everything on that list, but they won't be same-day photos anymore, unless I fall behind and have to scramble. Taking the photos in advance will relieve a lot of the pressure by allowing me to put a blog post together in bits and pieces. Doing it all in one fell swoop (why do I always want to say "one swell foop"?) is more than I can handle. 

Hm. 

In rereading everything I just wrote, I've recognized another reason why this challenge is devouring so much of my time: I'm wordy and long-winded. I should have just changed the rules in my own mind, kept my mouth shut, and saved your time as well as mine. I doubt anyone would have known the difference. Or cared about it if they did.

(Ahem.) Back to today's challenge . . .

Here's a photo I shot just this morning to show you what's in my bag:

The tan leather organizer (a Pouchee,  which I love) contains credit cards, checkbook, cash, cell phone, keys, address book, sunglasses, comb, a combination mirror/hairbrush, a pen, a few blank index cards (for taking notes), a pack of chewing gum, and an emergency protein bar. The little floral bag at the lower left of the photo holds toiletries: dental floss, toothpicks, lens cleaner packets, breath strips, and emergency medications such as low-dose aspirin, Tylenol, antihistamine tablets, and Imodium (in case I'm eating out and won't be home for a long time). Sometimes I drop a lipstick in there, too. The brightly colored item at the bottom of the photo is a neat packet of tissues.

That's it. My purse is tidy. If only I could say the same thing about my house. And my mind.

There's a Hole in the Bottom of the Sea . . .

. . . aaaaaand . . . there's a crack in the driveway by my house.

One-a-Day Photo Challenge
Day Twelve:  Close-up

Okay, now, sing along with me:

There's a crack in the driveway by my house,
There's a crack in the driveway by my house,
There's a crack, there's a crack,
There's a crack in the driveway by my house.

There's moss in the crack in the driveway by my house.
There's moss in the crack in the driveway by my house.
(You know how the rest of this verse goes.)

There's rain in the moss in the crack in the driveway by my house.

There's an acorn in the rain in the moss in the crack in the driveway by my house . . .

. . . aaaaaand I took a close-up shot of the acorn in the moss to post for you:

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It's also time for a Saturday Song Selection. This week's song is a current one for a change, one I've been listening to a lot since I heard it recently on "The Voice." It's a beautiful song. I'll admit that its connection to today's post is vague, but I really wanted to share it with you, and there is a subtle reference to photography in the lyrics: "Don't want your picture on my cell phone. . ."

___________________________________________________

The song is "Here With Me" by The Killers.

Thanks to BrBa1015 for posting the video and lyrics on YouTube.

One-a-Day Photo Challenge
Day Eleven:  Where You Sleep

This is it. This is where I sleep.

It's also where I spend my last waking hour each day, reading and, frequently, because my cholesterol medicine is to be taken with food, nibbling a short stack of unsalted crackers, washing them down with a caffeine-free Diet Cherry 7-Up. (I can eat crackers in my bed anytime, baby.)

I love that last hour of the day when the house settles down. The TV is off, the dogs are asleep, and the sounds that seep in from outside are mostly pleasant ones: the croak of tree frogs, the hoot of an owl, a distant train whistle, or maybe--especially lately--a steady rain.

It occurred to me to make the bed before I photographed it today, to pile on the pretty shams and tatted-lace throw pillows you can see peeking out from the corner of the photo. But I don't sleep with those pillows and, to be honest, I don't always make the bed. Sometimes I just close the door.

The pictures on the wall behind the bed are my own water-lily photos, enlarged and framed last year as a thoughtful gift from my stepsister, Donna. The white object hanging by a cord over the headboard is the temperature control for an electric blanket, a 2012 Christmas gift from Kim. On the nightstand, all within arm's reach, are books, tissues, a clock radio, a lamp, a TV remote control, and a telephone. On the chest of drawers is a jewelry box that belonged to my great-aunt Hazel, a lovely antique glass dish that was also passed down through the family (Mammaw's, I think), and two dark cherry-wood boxes, one containing Kadi's ashes, the other holding Butch's. Their collars and tags rest on top.

I like this room. It feels good to me. When I lie in that bed, the reflection I see in the tall mirror hanging on the closet door is that of an old woman who is happy, safe, and contented.

Where do I sleep? I sleep in serenity.