Sharing of thoughts...



Triggered by raindrops.

Where does my mind go drifting off to on a rainy days?  I suppose that now, as compared to 6 months ago, it goes straight to the backyard.

Prior to JoJo J. Pony becoming part of my life, I rather relished rainy days.  Perfect for staying in, sipping tea, new magazine, crafting, drawing, catching up on cleaning, or organizing or just reading a good book. Now, in my mind's eye, I see two horses, standing outside in the rain, backed into their respective corners, heads held horizontally, sopping wet from top to mid belly; and looking so depressed you might suspect they'd lost their best friends.  It's probably what horses the world over do on rainy days, but I never really gave it a thought until recently.  Now I just feel sort of anxious on rainy days... willing them to go inside, and wishing they could just hunker into a nice pile of fresh shavings and read a good book.  It's only the goat who has the good sense to stay inside when it precipitates.  She'll have no part of getting wet, and is very content to stay inside and meditate while chewing her cud.

I'm sure that 'real' horse people would be chuckling and shaking their heads (at me), with a slight eye roll after reading this.  "There horses"...I know, I know... They're fine.  Well, just in case they are NOT fine with being wet, I towel him off with my giant beach towel when he comes in at night, and he seems to enjoy it! (this is what happens when amateurs own horses...)
I must say (not that anyone asked I realize) that in the last six months I have learned a lot.  About myself, my husband, my friends and horses.  The original title for this post was going to be "Of Horses and Husbands"... but just in case everyone out there read "Of Mice and Men"; I didn't want to give the mistaken impression anyone gets shot in this story.   No, no, nothing like that. 
 
When we got Cricket a few years ago, I didn't want a horse in our yard... I've always loved horses, but I didn't want to lose my garden... and couldn't grasp why we "needed" a miniature horse. Crazy husband...he doesn't think things thru.

Little did I know that a few years later I'd be digging up my entire back yard with a shovel, enlisting family and friends for hard labor too, and trying to re home my plants, making room for a pony for me.  I should know me better by now.  Even the most sensible among us apparently take leave of our senses every now and then.  ...that day last summer when I met Traveler the big white Drum horse, and thought, "Awwww, he's so sweet you can hug his whole face!"....followed by, "I want one!"  and so it began.  Yes, that's right, it's all Travelers fault. 
 By the end of October, JoJo was ensconced in my former "garden" and was eating the last of my zinnias and flossing his behind on my pear tree. (less, literally ~ we have pictures...)

When you see horses on t.v., or in a field or in your friends back yard, or at a place that gives trail rides, or riding lessons, you don't think to yourself, "Wow, what an incredibly sensitive animal that is."  At least I never did.  I may have thought, "Wow, what a gorgeous creature!" or  "Wow, he's HUGE" or even "Wow, so tiny and cute!"  or the "*sigh*, maybe someday I'll have one..."

Horses look big, brave and strong from a distance.... but just beneath that seemingly tough exterior ~ there is a mooshy center.  They are sensitive, emotional, moody, will push your buttons for sport, test you, step on you, try your patience, try to get away with things when they think you aren't looking...and whack you with their giant heads if you annoy them. (please, someone tell me I'm not the only one who sees the similarities between horses and husbands/men... except for the part about whacking you with their giant heads...) Yes, this is the part that almost gave this post it's title.  I'm astounded by the similarities between them.  One of them is enough, of horses and husbands.  I just can't imagine having more than one of either, nor can I imagine ever replacing the ones I have. 

To love such a sensitive creature, (human or animal) despite all the emotions, ups and downs, fears and uncertainties and in JoJo's case a serious language barrier.... well it's quite a thing.  Much like having a significant other, the all encompassing emotional commitment of a horse is huge!  Unlike  your average dog, who loves you unconditionally a horse seems to have more human qualities and takes what you say to heart, and if you offend ~ it won't soon be forgotten.  Everyone who knows horses says you have to be the herd leader, even if it's a herd of two.  So, me being me ~ I explain to him quite regularly that we are a team, a partnership of sorts, BUT ~ I get 51%.  I've toyed with having it put on a t-shirts for us....  That's probably not what "they"  (the horse people) meant.  One of the many things I've learned is I can't be someone I'm not. I'm not a dominant person... so "standing my ground" and acting bigger than I am doesn't come naturally.  So  instead, I talk to much, and explain things in full sentences (just like I do for the rest of the critters) and ask him nicely to pick up his feet, and then thank him and praise him profusely for it and every single other thing that goes even remotely well... little things DO mean a lot.   Perhaps my approach to my new found horsewomanship is unorthodox, but it's all mine...

If you had asked me a few months ago how things were going, I'd have probably started sobbing....( yes, it's true ~ just ask my ever patient husband! (who, no, I would not replace)....)  Now... I feel better about things... and JoJo ~ and the life altering decision to bring home a pony for me to ride... (I've no confidence, and am terrible at riding too, as it turns out, go figure.) 
 Such a big, huge, wide learning curve this thing called life is.

So I will end this rambling with words of thanks, to the friends and family and my wonderful Hubby for all the help and support (moral and otherwise) for getting me thru the last 6 or so months of my life altering decision to get myself a little pony.

Horses know nothing of money, status, beauty or accomplishment... Horses see only our hearts, and they accept or reject us based on what they find within.  In short, horses do naturally what humans can pass a lifetime without ever mastering.

- Mary Midkiff

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Easter 2013

Wishing you

 a

Happy Easter!

Hope Spring has Sprung where  you are!

 

Happy St. Patrick's Day! 2013

Happpy St. Paddy's Day to ye'!  

 I thought I would share some of my favorite Irish quotes/sayings; and some art from across the years to go with.

 

Wishing you a wonderful day filled with leprechauns and the finding of  the pot of gold at the end of your rainbow! 

 

May you never forget what is worth remembering,

Or remember what is best forgotten.

 

 May your troubles be as few and as far apart as my Grandmothers teeth.

 

May you have warm words on a cold evening, a full moon on a dark night,

and the road downhill all the way to your door.

 

May you always be blessed

with walls for the wind,

a roof for the rain,

a warm cup of tea by the fire,

laughter to cheer you,

those you love near you,

and all that your heart might desire.

Mouse on the Barroom floor.....

 

Some Guinness was spilled on the barroom floor
when the pub was shut for the night.
Out of his hole crept a wee brown mouse
and stood in the pale moonlight.
He lapped up the frothy brew from the floor,
then back on his haunches he sat.
And all night long you could hear him roar,
‘Bring on the goddam cat!’

 May those who love us love us.

 And those that don’t love us, May God turn their hearts.

And if He doesn’t turn their hearts, May he turn their ankles,

So we’ll know them by their limping. ~

"May the dust of your carriage blind the eyes of your foe!"

 

May you have no frost on your Spuds,

No worms on your cabbage.

May your goat give plenty of milk.

If you inherit a donkey, may she be in foal.

A Stitch in Time Saves Nine.

So true in so many ways; and not just as it pertains to sewing.

What, you might ask is she doing talking about sewing?  Good and valid question.

Made by Scott's Gramma



I see so many pretty things out there in Blogland... crocheted goodies in rainbow colors that make me drool.... little ornaments, flags, bunting, banners... cute little stuffed animals, fully jointed, handmade teddy bears, mice, wooly things, blankets, embroidery, quilts, chicken hats (sure they have them for both chickens and humans....) scarves, wrist warmers, amazing socks, tea cozies, fabric art.... It goes on and on. ~ I am drawn to them all like a moth to a flame!

  I want them. 

Made by my father's Mother

I want them ALL ~ In every eye dazzling shade imaginable!

Worse than that, when you are a crafty minded person you want to make them yourself! 

Of course, if you've been here before you know I am a bit sewing challenged.... I kick myself for not taking "home economics" at least one time in high school.  Hind sight is a bugger.  Even still, I have an affection for sewing things... old buttons, sewing boxes, darning balls and those cute little tomato pin cushions with the little strawberry dangling by a string.

Usually it goes like this:  I see a REALLY good idea for something I want to make. ( For example the lovely flag bunting for our tent at the fair a few years back. ) I rummage through my fabric box (yes, oddly I have one of those too?)  gather the supplies.... draw a picture of what it should be like, cut out a cardboard pattern from a cereal box... and then turn the whole mess over to my Mum. 

Similar theory for the tea cozy I had to make, maybe you remember it?  Saw a sweater at the thrift store... loved the pattern, though it was sized for an elf...  I got it anyway and decided to re purpose it a bit.  I even cut out  all the pieces of fabric/wool felt for it... and the marched up the stairs to turn over the goods to my seamstress/Mum.  She wants me to learn to use the sewing machine in the worst way.  Well, me too ~ sort of.  I'm scared of it. That sharp little needle flailing around, a breath away from my fingers.  Makes me a little faint to type about it.  So, "Sit down here" she says.... "hold it here",  points to the tea cozy.... "Now put your foot on the pedal, and press it down...."  "just guide the fabric..."    Fine, I think...  I can do it.  Sure.  So, I depress the pedal... and off I go.  Good for about 3 inches... "getting close to the edge there" she says... I try to steer back, but the tension is getting to me... *snap* goes the thread.  It seems my tension came out my foot; she said my eyes widened, and I stomped the foot pedal to the floor; the machine tried in vain to keep up, but alas ~ it finally panicked too until the thread had the good sense to break.  She finished the sewing... after she pulled the broken thread out, and re threaded the needle.  You can still enjoy my section of sewing if you look close though; it would be the tight, knotted, zig-zaggy spot....

Thrifty tea cozy, and awesome Emma Bridgewater mug



We all have things we are good at... or at least some things we are better at than others.  Should we play to our strengths?  Or play it safe? You wouldn't hand a chain saw to a clumsy person right? There's a fine line between trying to learning new things and sewing yourself to a table cloth.

Wee granny squares, and tiny sewn heart ~ the extent of MY sewing?

I can muddle thru little things, sewn by hand with needle and thread...  small decorative things. And a tiny bit of crochet... Even then, I usually end up discouraged and bleeding from a finger tip, or two.



Made by my Mum when I was a wee lass, presumably with my out grown pajamas?



My latest great idea is to make a little string of birds and beads ~ I keep seeing them all over the place... fun fabrics, fun colors.... little bell on the bottom.  Nice. Got to have one.  

Sure, I could buy one, but why would I want to do that?  Then what would I do with my box of fabric bits? (and what would Mum do with her free time?  Read a good book in comfy chair or something? *pfftt*)

So what I've come up with is this.  Sewing skills can skip a generation, sometimes two. 

My Grandmother, Irene

My lovely Grandmother was a bookkeeper. (like myself)

  She knit exactly one hat, in awful shade of peach... Mum said when she was  a teenager, Grammy bought a sewing machine.  She tried to fix a ripped hem on the sleeve of her nightgown, and sewed the sleeve shut completely. She never used the machine again.

My Mum used it for many years to make clothes for her home economics classes.

My Great, Great Grandmother, Engrid

I remember my Grandmother saying that her Grandmother made all their clothes (not her Mother mind you...) from swimsuits (the long wooly ones) to frilly girl dresses. (Grammy had two sisters).  I never once heard her mention her mother sewing anything.

Rug, made by Engrid

 In fact, I have a beautiful rug beside my bed that my Great, Great Grandmother made... I wiggle my toes when I stand on it, trying to absorb some sewing skills thru osmosis...  No luck as of yet. 

Cross Stitched by Scott

Even my husband can sew.... and has a seemingly endless tolerance for making little x's with thread.

Grampy's sewing box.

Come to think of it, my Grandfather sewed too. 

 The "sewing box" was kept in his room... and when I wore the face off my stuffed monkey, it was he that made Monkey a new nose.

Good thing I wasn't a pioneer woman ~ can you imagine what my clothes would look like?

A little man who wasnt' there.

                                       "Antigonish" (1899)  ^{William Hughes Mearns}

 

Yesterday upon the stair

I met a man who wasn’t there

He wasn’t there again today

Oh, how I wish he’d go away

When I came home last night at three

The man was waiting there for me

But when I looked around the hall

I couldn’t see him there at all!

Go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!

Go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door

Last night I saw upon the stair

A little man who wasn’t there

He wasn’t there again today

Oh, how I wish he’d go away

I've always liked this... and thought it would be fun to paint it on the risers of the stairs; one line per step ~ assuming you had the proper 14.

Who doesn't love a good flight of stairs after all? 

Or imaginary little people for that matter.

"Hmmmm", she said, chin resting on thumb, forefinger tapping her cheek....

Interesting aside:

 My Grandmother's ancestors on her father's side came from Antigonish, Nova Scotia

 

   

Happy Valentine's Day 2013

Hope you find a moment of unexpected joy today!

 

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY !

Blizzard of 2013

Blizzard of 2013.... doesn't have the ring to it that Blizzard of '78 has;  but  then again, it's hard to compete with such a classic.  I was just a kid at the time of that famous storm... I remember being  amazed to see snow mobiles going past us down the street!  We and all the neighbors were out walking to the corner store, everyone was pulling their plastic sleds behind them,  so they could tow the groceries home.  Only a few things stand out in my mind from that storm.  My Grandmother had just come home from having open heart surgury... and there was a BOAT  LOAD of snow to play in.  I do remember putting on my mother's far too big for me tall rubber boots and jumping off the porch into a snow drift....  the boots plunged in the drift, and I followed, up to my waist in snow...  the boots of course got stuck, I began to panic and I had to bail out of them... and climb out of the drift and run back into the house in my cold wet socks!

Interesting learning curve our childhoods are....

I did not do any drift diving this past weekend.  We were busy trying to stay warm huddled near the fireplace.  Felt like we'd stepped back in time... It reminded me of that Irish saying I like,
“Firelight will not let you read fine stories but it's warm and you won't see the dust on the floor.”

We had a wind up radio to keep us amused... and took turns cranking it up to keep it going.

Levi

Had some good chuckles with Mum over old stories and talked about the woodstove we will be installing to make sure that we can properly keep ourselves warm in future Blizzards.

I always let myself forget about the shoveling part.  I'd be more in the camp of tramping it down, but the husband and the Mother seem to think shoveling is the way to go. So outnumbered, I do as they wish.  Mum's father, Grampy to me ~ was a fine shoveler.

 

The Grampy.

 He never hurried, and he had a system.  He had a small square metal shovel, and he waxed the cutting edge with Grammy's old candles... he would chop, chop, chop (like three sides of a square) and scoop, and fling. The path's were works of art.  Clean lines, perfectly vertical sides... *cough* until I came running around the house and tried to leap from one side of the perfect and down to the grass path, to the other... I never made it of course... only knocked the snow down in a crumpled mess and sullied his perfect work.  According to Mum, I was not the first generation to do it... seems she was guilty of the same crimes 30 years before me.... Needless to say, this did not please him.  Usually bad behavior elicited a loud cry of "Glory be to God Irene! ~ Do you see what she's doing?"

Ahhh yes, the memories....

JoJo

Dressed like a utility worker with my crank flashlight, how appropriate.

The animals didn't enjoy the windy snowy storm very much... JoJo was a bit wide eyed from all the things clunking on his roof... and his crazy Mother showing up in her bright yellow crinkly coat, carrying a scary wind up flash light.

 

I was looking pretty good by Sunday however, when all the ice chunks started falling out of the trees and bouncing off of him... He was NOT pleased.

Mum.   Peanuts...  for the squirrels.

Mum was sure to keep the bird feeders filled. 

 Cricket seemed to not notice the weather and spent the time frolicking and running around...



Cricket.  
The odd green glow in his nose is reflecting off my coat....

 and even Belle the goat, who hates snow, rain, sleet... any form of precipitation really, came out to look around and squint in the brilliant sun.  The chickens opted to stay in their coops and admire from there, no sense in getting your feet all cold for nothing. (anyone know how to knit chicken and duch socks?)  The dogs of course LOVE it!  Nothing better really!

Marley and Ava

 I'm sure the neighbors must love me... as I'm forever trying to beat the frozen cages open... and the beat the ice out of the bowls... quietly. ??  ha ha  Sorry.... but it has to be done!!

When I wasn't pulled up to the fireplace, or shoveling or mushing thru the snow to bring food and water to all the outdoor critters, I was in the kitchen snuggled near the stove waiting for water to heat up....to do dishes, or bring to the horses, or to just stand next to, cuz it was warm there! 

1978 I'm standing on top of the neighbors picket fence!

As is always the way, after the storm has passed ~ you get the most brilliant blue sky to set off the twinkly white snow.  We only got a foot, as compared to the two or three other places got, but it was plenty ~ and it's already melting away!

 

I'm so glad we live in New England, can't imagine living anyplace else really...

 

Front lawn at sunset.....Saturday after the storm.

There's little else like playing in the snow, enjoying the fine art of shoveling, frozen fingers, and the sound of wet gloves sizzling by the fireplace....

Seems I've always been happy to play in the snow!