Thank God it's Friday the 31st! Family farms in my childhood, family farms today, and, something sweet for the bitter pill of a farm bill....

Today was the day to share: 

"A Vivid Memory"
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Does it have to be happy?  Can it be one of the terrible ones?  You know, those that you swore you were going to forget and never remember again as long as you lived but have not managed to do?

Ok, I'll play nice today.  It won't be one of those. But, I never got to see the Budweiser Clydesdales. Merde!

When I was very small, I lived on my Grandparent's farm, and the next-door neighbor was a farmer from Italy.  On days when I visited my Uncle's farm( I used to walk up there from my Grandparents farm.  No one bothered little kids in those days).  On such days I would sometimes get to ride home atop this horse, back all the way to my Grandparent's farm from the farmer's fields.  This is where my love of horses started, I'm sure.  I was crazy about Pal.

One day we were invited to a family birthday party -Italians can throw the most amazing parties!  Anyway, Pal was a beautiful Palomino (Light Sorrel) Belgian and the pride of the farm.  Of course, his name was "Pal".

Pal was much lighter than this horse below( picture borrowed from the side along the bar) and looking like a Spanish Palomino in color, as does this Mare.  I SOOO wish I could have Sadie!  She comes with free shipping! 

Anyway, Back to the Party!  On the day of the celebration, there were colored streamers flying from the small balconies of the house, and some in the banks of cypress on each side of their driveway.  That day, Pal was shined up and glowing like he was made of silk, and his tail and mane were braided with colored ribbons.  He was gorgeous!  He was saddled and the little kids got rides the whole afternoon!  My grandpa had to carry me home that evening because I wouldn't leave!

Meanwhile, back on the Farm!

Who would have thunk it!

And now for something completely different:


Tracy Lee Stum's chalk Pix

Easter Sunday

Rejoice!

Bee and Jimmie at a family Easter egg hunt

Elle and her Uncle, stalking the hidden treasures

The two Big Sisters helped each of the Little Sisters to collect Eggs and the hunt.

Tuesday Tails- a Sad tale of Bully and Henry

Bully and I are by the coop fence next to to the river.  There was an overnight flight cage, to the left.
The Mallards took baths in the river and then flew in to get some corn.

Bully was my White Leghorn Rooster.  He protected his hens from all and sundry but lost one of his eyes to my Bantam Rooster, Henry.

I loved them both so much but as is the way with all farm animal "Pets", if they outgrew their usefulness or - on our farm-crossed swords with Psycho Dad, they ended up in the stew pot.  That was Henry's fate, and he died before my eyes, gasping for his life on the ground, with me forbidden to pick him up or even to cry.  Mother would have come then, you see.   

There is a whole space of time that I can't remember very much regarding my pets, especially my dogs.  I did save one of my cats from summary justice by pointing out the difference in the hairs in the chicken coop wires with those of my black and white cat.  I think The Paternal Unit, himself a student of the Law, thought it was a very clever legal move on my part, and conceded the trial to the defense.   I say that good forensics is the very foundation of a successful legal challenge.

On a happier note:  We can now have chickens in suburbia, in the form of five hens.  DH and I are still "thinking about it."  We can even have two mini goats, but that will never go anywhere.  The most I can hope for is to baby sit a little goat in the winter to eat the weeds in the back forty.

In the Olden Days

I don't think I've told this before.

When I was a kid, no more than 11 years old, I tried to make a pet out of anything I could catch.  Well, one day I caught a hummingbird. 


I was weeding under a hedge in my mother's garden, and there was a aerial fight going on around me between a couple of hummingbirds.  The hedge was a fence with a thick honeysuckle vine growing on it, the old kind with yellow flowers.  The two birds were really at it, when suddenly one of them fell to the ground.   Just as quickly it flew up to a vine that was about two foot from my head.  It sat there, sort of stunned, probably falling into torpor or something.. I learned about torpor much later.  I carefully reached up and picked it gently off it's perch, and as calmly as I could, carried it into the house.  By the time I got inside with it, I'd mapped out a plan of how I was going to take care of it.

Among my many plastic purses of the era, I had a clear one, consisting of  two rounded halves that snapped together to form a sort of flattened sphere with lattice like bars, in other words it looked like a perfect bird cage.  It was also very soft and flexible so I thought this would be best for "my" bird. Over the next few hours, I fed "my" new pet sugar water, first from a spoon and then from a white flower from the garden.  The little bird was very willing to eat! 

I called a pet store to find out what sort of cage I needed.  They advised me to bring the bird in.  It was the best advice to give as it turns out, because even if what happened next hadn't happened, they would have talked me out of my ridiculous idea.

I was carrying the plastic purse with  my very precious hummingbird inside out across our huge lawn - we lived by a river - and I tripped.  I fell with arms outstretched like a wide receiver getting a ball across the goal line, and ,thus, squeezed the (very flexible) purse open.  Instantaneously, out flew the hummingbird, which made a bee line for the tallest eucalyptus tree it could find.  It was probably saying something like, "thank you for all the sugar water", for all I knew as I picked myself up off the ground.  My little brother was crestfallen, too.  Our  mother was too far away to have tripped me, though she had probably wanted to.

Later in life, when I am over my childhood regrets, there now floats a happiness for the one that got away.  Over time, as I learned more, I realized that hummingbirds have Guardian Angels, too, and those Angels will trip up the ignorant child who makes off with one of "their" hummingbirds.

And a first blossoming, ever, for a little succulent from June. Those babies really grew over the winter!

 

Balcony Gardening

Helen from Golden Apples mentioned in a comment that she had to give up her big garden and missed it.  I thought I had web sources but actually have a book that has small garden spaces in it, including balconies.  I found that it's very hard to find sources on the web with balcony garden pictures.  But here is one collective source:

Google Pictures of Balcony Gardens

Annuals, planted from seeds, that can stand a half day sun, planted in light weight pots, should be great.  I wouldn't hang anything on the railings myself  simply because if it fell, it has the potential to create horrid problems for the gardener and whomever it hit on the way down.

The gardens in my book have small fountains fit in somewhere, and the sound is really lovely in summer evenings when it's still cool enough to have a slider open.  Around here we have no air conditioning, and I want a water feature for the shade patio for that reason.  Mine can be big and heavy but the light weight ones that are small are perfect for a balcony.  My sister had a lovely little balcony garden when she lived in an apartment.  I think this summer I'm going to get her a small self contained water element for her garden.  I think it will cheer her up and take her mind of bad stuff.

I went to the gym today and have a new goal now.  I'm going to work on being strong enough to climb the local mountain by June.  My trainer is excellent, and you bet that I know how lucky I am to have him.  He's given me exercises that I can do at home, to combine with walking, that will make my leg (s) a lot stronger.  I keep looking longingly at the weights and the bars from time to time, but my wrists are now built more for knitting more than Clean Jerking weights.  Even one of the 35 pound bars hurts them when I tried a few curls.

I remember the good old days you see.  When I worked as a carpenter in my teens I was so strong that I could carry 100 sacks of roof rock up a ladder in the desert.  I could Clean and Jerk 150 pounds.  That was pretty good for a 124 pound gal.

Boy, don't us old folks like to brag about our good old days. lol  I like being strong though.   I'll go knit the socks and leave you all be!

Memory Lane, Farmer's Market Flowers, An Insect!, and Friday Fill - in

While putting away Thanksgiving, Christmas and Valentine's Day decor, I ran across my mother's watercolor box and her paint brush box, something that was made for her by her father. Some of her brushes, well, probably all of them, and a few of mine were in it.

Mother loved to do watercolor when she was younger. It was a hobby she didn't get to indulge in after marriage but she just grew all kinds of flowering plants after that as soon as she had some place to do this. I still miss my mother a lot and probably always will. I feel close to her in my garden, though she had a thing about weeds. She loved flowers and the good insects, like the posing mantis in the picture.

Mother's Water color box and brush box-with some of my brushes, too.  Found while cleaning and de-decorating.

Cosmos, I think.  From the WestSide Farmer's Market - these are the background for the heart shape on Valentine's Day

I thought about photo shopping the props out but thought, a beauty like this little Diva would not mind the industrial setting. Human High Fashion models, after all, have posed in junk yards with much finery. Kudos to DH for the lovely photo.

Little garden visitor, posing, daintily, for her portrait.  I know, the props leave MUCH to be desired.  Lol

The Famous Friday fill -in!

1. "Finally", I cried.
2. "That bean casserole sure takes some getting used to"!
3. Dad says: "And, so, you don't like my cooking?"
4. " Beanie" is my favorite nick name for my little dog Wolfie.
5. It took a long time, but he comes to us when he's called.
6. I sometimes have regretted that but really, though, I wouldn't have it any other way.
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to watching more Downton Abbey, tomorrow my plans include eating pretzels and watching more Downton Abbey, and Sunday, I want to make a pizza!

Yarn Bins R Fun, and Cleaning out..

This morning, after a marathon of toast eating, tea quaffing, and self-preening, I dashed off to see a Man about a Knee. DH was driving so he got us there in time.

After the big chinwag with my surgeon, because I was still feeling like a whole person, DH asked if I wanted to go get some of the short teeny needles I'd been covetting, as my fav LYS is just down the hill in Pacific Beach. I lept at the chance to mosey on down and have a rustle through the yarn bin as well. I warned him of this when we pulled up in front of the store.

What I found was some yummy Mini Mochi, Yesssss! I got an odd ball and the last of another dye lot but same color. I'm planning on making some fingerless gloves for a DD who is going to the Frozen North (San Francisco, or, to be more extact, Berkeley) and will be needing them! and if she doesn't want them, I will wear them!

 

When we got home, DH dashed off on his own little errands, and to go push weights around and run up the artificial hills at the gym, and I tackled a mystery box I'd unearthed the day before in the SR. What I found was a treasure trove of old sewing patterns from a friend's stash who had moved away, to be with the kids, a few years ago.

Super little net hats from the 60s.  I want to make some.

Puff stars and fabric flowers, Yay!  And some other neat kitchen gear

Fabulous gloves and funky slippers, and some very interesting smocked pillows

This is the last post for the weekend, unless all hell breaks loose (where is my brain?) somewhere, and I just can't keep my mouth shut about it.

This and that

I'm reading this book, you see, about people who lived on the Galapagos Islands from before WWI, and this morning felt my Wanderer's Gene pressing hard against the wall of every cell in my body. I want to leave this place and go sail away! I asked DH if he ever felt trapped. He said, "How do you mean, trapped", or something of that nature, and I answered that I felt trapped in place. When he left for the gym, I said, "Have fun"! He said, "Thanks, I'll see you when I get back, if you're still here!"

My grandfathers both gave me the "W" Gene; whenever I start traveling I just don't want to come back. In his younger years, my mother's father was a ship's mechanic in the Merchant Marines, and traveled twice around the world before he was 19.

My father's father was just sort of a soldier of fortune in that long period of revolution after the Mexican-American war, when the US attacked a struggling Mexico shortly after Mexico had won independence from Spain. Anyway, Pepe was from New Mexico/Colorado, and a total French/Spanish Patriot of Mexico if there ever was one. He had this "We don't need no steenking borders" sort of attitude, to paraphrase that now famous line from the movie, "The Treasure of Sierra Madre". But, the sanguine part of all this, looking back, is that I have a Wanderer's heart.

I'm reading this book called "My Father's Island", written by Johanna Angermeyer.  In it is everything a human could want to know about all the bigger philosophical issues of Life with a Capital "L".

I recommend this very well written book for a fun read and that it is educational as well.  I didn't know that these Islands were taken over, more or less, by the British, for one, and it must have been a real fight for Ecuador to get them back.   Or, that American Tuna boats regularly fished illegally there, too?  Well, well.

Anyway, Mz. Angermeyer has been promising a sequel for ages but it's still not out.  If she publishes it, I'll be in line to buy a copy!

The Yukon Leaves sock got it's gusset, as I quit fussing about whether it will be too deep for the tiny foot it's being created for and just to got on with it!  Also, my hand, which is still cranky is not THAT cranky anymore.  Gott Im Himmel!!!!   I hate cranky appendages!

Over and out from the netbook... wheeee!

San Diego Mission De Alcala Photo gallery...

Since I mentioned the Mission De Alcala in a comment on the last post, I found a lovely online album by Rich Strobel.

HERE is his album of Mission Photos.  Gorgeous work!  Enjoy!

What I've been up to....

It's the last day of February, and it's windy and sunny and warmer. Spring may have arrived!  I've been trying for two days to use a utility embedded now in Google through their buyout (sometime ago) of Picasa, and it's not working. Maybe I'll finally just toss Picasa for good.

We started tearing down the "Wall of Boxes" that separated the great room into living room side and studio side, and look what DH found out I had in one of the boxes.  I was as shocked  perplexed as he was.

I still want to order other sweater yarn that matches his, except for color, but I can get at least two sweaters for us out of this load.  Yippie!  See, Rho, the humbug is almost gone.  Whew!  Happy surprises and a dust allergy have stopped me for the moment!

 R, this is your sweater.  Obviously Mama didn't figure out that Noro has a mind of it's own.  That's the back you knit, and the one that I should have tried to match.  I will be doing my d*mnedest to match the two fronts!  But it's going to be very pretty.  I don't have a big love for Noro, expensive and spun like beginner's yarn- heck I could do that!- but it is very soft.

This yarn reminds me of the contest for weavers some years ago, where they were to make their best fabric and an interesting one - "unusual" being the key word here.  They all lost out to the one gal who swept up her studio floor, spun all the sweepings and wove the winning entry.  

Onward....

While DH and I were poking around in various faux walls and forgotten drawers, we found my mother's little garden saw.  This is one of the things I saved from oblivion, and something I think I actually remember her using on the fruit trees; when mother died, we went through her things.  I also have her buck saw.  I remember her using that, sawing away at bigger roots and with a Pall Mall hanging from her lips.  She was a smoker but that's not what killed her.  She died mostly of a broken heart, and if it were in my power, I would do a switcheroo; I'd bring her back and send Psycho dad into eternal oblivion.

Next up is news on "The Sock"... I've been gritting my teeth and attempting to force myself to cast on the mate, fearing a really bad case of Second Sock Syndrome was occurring.  Happily, there was an intervention.  The ONE thing in sad sock's favor is that DH defended it, saying that it looked like a Christmas stocking to him.  God Bless that man!  Now, when I cast on, I will think of elves wearing them in a workshop at the North Pole.  

Have fun with your knitting, and with your rabble rousing!  I'm with you all out there fighting the two faced mutant dragons that all just hatched. 

Cthulhu ... Hallelujah Chorus

BUHAHAHAHAHAHA!

The crazies making these spoofy, spooky things are after mine own heart, I tell ya!

Thanks to B for letting me in on these myriad tributes out there!  Oh my dear friends, what WOULD we do without YouTube and LolCats?

When we were young...

This is when the twins were tiny babies and we were doing double shifts, DH at work and home AND Uni, and me at home, feedings every two hours. B is in the background which is just a little dark. See those dark circles around DH's and my eyes? 

DH is at work on a very old computer, I think. He's not here at the moment, and I can't ask him. It might be a teletype.. who knows but that was a long, long time ago.  The stamp isn't from then, I think.  Just a very cute love stamp.  I was 29 and he had just turned 31.  We were both going on a 110 years old at that time of our lives.  We were pretty tired.

Grandmother and André

Memories of Childhood

This is my mother's mother holding my little brother André, who died of grand mal seizures when he was five years old. My mother went into a depression after he passed away, and my Psycho Dad destroyed most of the pictures of André in a  fit of bad temper.  The paternal unit could never admit to producing such a "defective child" and didn't like any reminders.  This is what my mother told me about it later.  Mother was calm and not someone who resorted to hyperbole.

Mother was able to salvage this picture, one of two that exist of my brother.

There's nothing quite like living with a completely out of control male adult to make you hyper aware of your surroundings at all time. Celéste was one year old at the time that that André passed away.

My grandmother died in the same year as my little brother. So now I'm understanding much more about my own early life knowing what was going on with the adults around me at the time.

To youngsters and young adults out there going through hell, I'd like you to know that you can grow up and have a happy life if you can manage to forgive, and get the maniacs out of your life in time if they still haven't managed to become decent human beings. Leave but tell them why. Even if you think they don't deserve a word. That's my advice, because it leaves no questions in your OWN mind that you did all you could. You can forget, once you forgive, and let their influence fade out of your life. You can become a truly happy person.