stories, photographs, adventures…the next chapter
Cee’s challenge topic this week: 5+ items
While visiting friends last month at their cozy house by the lake, I noticed hats-at-the-ready on a wall near the back door.
Perfect for grabbing before heading outside…to enjoy another day in the sun.
Inspired by Frank at Dutch goes the Photo. The prompt: Wall
One November day last year, I caught the last colors of nature…holding on tight… before winter arrived…
…and erased them from the landscape.
Inspired by: Becky’s Blue July Squares
I drink coffee every morning. Always out of the same mug – which is the perfect size for me. Large.
My daughter recently updated my go-to mug as a birthday gift. Purchased from a local pottery in the Washington DC Monroe Street Arts Walk area; my grandson in tow. So, technically, they both chose it for me.
A unique – work of art mug – handmade by Kuzeh Pottery…which is owned by women.*
I like that!
And I love my new mug…a beautiful shade of blue…holding just the right amount of coffee.
*I am hopeful that I live long enough to see women owned businesses so plentiful that mentioning this fact is redundant.
Inspired by Lens-Artist Challenge #53: Your Choice
Happy Anniversary to the women who host the Lens-Artist Challenge – celebrating one year by…suggesting that you respond to today’s challenge with any subject that’s near and dear to YOUR hearts, as we’ve done with our images today. If you’d prefer some guidance, choose any of the four subjects we’ve selected this week (Friendship, Imagination, Connected or A Country that’s special to you).
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What subject is near and dear to my heart?
My family…and scenes like this one from post Christmas 2017 festivities.
Enjoying a family sing-along.
Complete with my husband, son-in-law, son & daughter on guitar and my 18 month old grandson on his new kid-size djembe drum.
I am carefully balanced on a step stool trying my best to capture the moment. While singing.
Inspired by V.J.’s Weekly Challenge #56: Language
This week, let’s think about language. Notice the places where words flow confidently and those where words falter.
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You did too much
My mother admonished me after I made my way down the stairs into the living room…two days before Christmas in 1986. After I discovered blood where there shouldn’t have been any. My hand smoothing my slightly rounded belly – as if that would stop what was happening.
What I feared was happening…
As I called out from the small confines of our brand new second floor bathroom. A short distance from a third bedroom…finished a few months earlier. Space for a new family member.
My voice unheard over the cranked up stereo down below…You Better Watch Out You Better Not Cry…in anticipation of the holiday to come. My 4 year old daughter over the moon excited about Santa. And her grandparents’ visit.
You Did Too Much
Four words.
Language that jumpstarted slivers of guilt. Mixed with grief and anger and fear.
Compounded by my doctor….who, hours later with eyes averted, added…
These Things Happen.
It’s Probably For The Best.
What did I do?…
The unanswered question wrapped around my heart…until the day almost a year later…when my beautiful healthy son was born. And I exhaled.
No words necessary.
Our family of four complete.
Inspired by: Becky’s Blue July Squares
The year was 1971.
Joni Mitchell released Blue – one of my favorite albums…ever.
A few years later I was able to see her perform in concert on a cold winter night. Up in the balcony at The Music Hall in Boston. It was a magical evening spent with this amazing singer/songwriter.
My well worn vinyl copy still survives…
BLUE
by Joni Mitchell
Inspired by a challenge I recently discovered: Becky’s July Squares.
The theme for July is ‘blue‘, and I suggest we stay connected on our square adventures by either;
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Looking across Lake Champlain in Vermont…
…and spotting New York State in the distance.
A perfect day.
Nancy Merrill is hosting a photo challenge. The prompt this week: Grandparents
IN A NEW POST CREATED FOR THIS CHALLENGE, SHARE A PHOTO OR TWO FEATURING GRANDPARENTS OF ANY KIND.
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I think of my grandparents often. I have written about them in this blog many times. I miss them still. I have included links to their birthday posts for those who would like a peek at the lives of these exceptional grandparents. Two of my favorite photographs are posted below.
My four grandparents were the definition of unconditional love.
Opa – my mother’s father, wrote me countless letters (which I still have). I was his “Pen Pal.” He showered me with words of encouragement and support in all my childhood adventures. His sense of humor is family legend. He awakened my love of all things cards and games. Opa and I would sit across from each other playing Pinochle for hours on end…one of my last memories of him.
Oma – my mother’s mother, learned to drive a car so she could make the 45 minute trip from NY to visit me – her first grandchild. At the age of 47. She baked birthday cakes for her grandchildren and made a mean macaroni and cheese. She wrote to me at camp and sent postcards from her and Opa’s many trips around the USA. We became very close as she spent her last few years near my home.
Grammy – my father’s mother, lived many hours away from my family…but she wrote me countless letters – full of details of her life “down South” with her sisters. After Papa died, I got to know her better as she made extended visits to stay with us. She was a character and not afraid to speak her mind. An expert seamstress, she made dress-up outfits for my sister and me. Doll clothes too.
Papa – my father’s father, made an impression on me during the short time I knew him…as he died unexpectedly the year I turned 10. I still have a few of his letters. I remember him as a quiet, sweet and patient man who made me feel special.
[As a grandparent to a spectacular 3 year old, I now understand how much fun it is!]
Inspired by Frank at Dutch goes the Photo. The prompt: Outdoors
Outdoors…
Where my family of 4 played, walked, explored, planted, vacationed and amassed countless memories.
We also discovered…it was the only place where you could carefully pick out a Christmas tree.
From many tree options.
And cut it down yourself.
For 28 years we piled into the car and drove the few miles to a local Christmas tree farm. Usually in early December. In later years, when the kids were in college, we went the weekend after Thanksgiving – so they could both participate.
It began with just my husband and me. Then with our daughter. Five years later our son completed the family group. His first visit, at age 4 weeks, was in a front pack I wore close to my chest.
Up and down the paths we’d search. The kids running ahead. Often in different directions (hence no photos from those years)…Here’s one! No, here’s one! Look I found it! What about THIS one?
We hunted for just the right tree. Tall, but not too tall. Wide, but not too wide. No big gaps (or gapes as they used to giggle) between the branches. We also learned to avoid the blue spruces with their prickly needles. Sometimes it took a while for nature to cooperate with our requirements. And often there was snow to tromp through…adding to the adventure and challenge.
We’d agree – finally – on the perfect (or near perfect) choice. Cut it down. Carefully tie it to the roof of the station wagon. And bring it home.
If we weren’t buying it that day, we attached a tag with our name written on it to the top branch. Nearer to December 25th, we’d return – with our handsaw. And hopefully remember where our tagged tree was!
Once our children stopped coming home for Thanksgiving to participate in the weekend tree tagging, this tradition came to its natural end in 2009 – our last family trip to the tree farm.
one letter UP ~ diary 2.0 