Night Burn

Fire is the best of servants; but what a master!  
~Thomas Carlyle 

 

The hero is commonly the simplest 

and obscurest of men. 
~Henry David Thoreau

 

I can think of no more stirring symbol of man's humanity to man than a fire engine.  

~Kurt Vonnegut

 

Out of this nettle, danger, 

we pluck this flower, safety. 

~William Shakespeare

 

Man is the only creature that dares to light a fire and live with it.  The reason?  Because he alone has learned to put it out.  
~Henry Jackson Vandyke, Jr.

~End Quote

Making Sense of Place

Every man is a quotation from all his ancestors. 

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Theodore Dumesnil Place, est. ca 1830

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People develop a "sense of place" through experience and knowledge of a particular area. A sense of place emerges through knowledge of the history, geography and geology of an area, its flora and fauna, the legends of a place, and a growing sense of the land and its history after living there for a time.
The feel of the sun on your face or the rain on your back, the rough and smooth textures of the land, the color of the sky at morning and sunset, the fragrance of the plants blooming in season, the songs and antics of birds and the cautious ramblings of mammals are environmental influences that help to define a place.

Memories of personal and cultural experiences over time make a place special, favorite objects that shape to your hand or body with use, songs or dances that emerge from the people of a place, special skills you develop to enjoy your area--these too help to define a place and anchor you in it.

Through time, shared experiences and stories (history) help to connect place and people and to transmit feelings of place from generation to generation.

~ Thomas Woods

~ End Quote

Heartfelt Thanksgiving

 

The father of the righteous will greatly rejoice,
And he who sires a wise son will be glad in him.

Let your father and your mother be glad,
And let her rejoice who gave birth to you.

~Proverbs 23:24, 25

~ End Quote

One Century Ago...Happy Birthday, Anma!

She was only five feet tall, but she packed some spunk and sass in that little body.

Strength, vigor, intelligence, perseverance . . . and lipstick!

I love her still.

"Grandmothers are just antique little girls."

~author unknown

~ End Quote

Little Notes

Last week, my youngest, asked, "Mom, did Mamom ever read my note?"

I carefully asked, "When did you write the note?"

"It said, 'I love you,'" he continued, "I put it in her coffin. Don't you remember? Did she read it?"

This was getting a bit delicate. He wanted to know if she had it. With her!

I gave him an honest and gentle answer and assured him that she really knew he loved her whether she was able to read his note or not. Well, he was almost satisfied with my answer, and "almost satisfied" is sometimes the most one can expect when he's busy asking questions.

Little notes were on my mind again this morning as I reflected on that conversation . . .

❦ Another of my children loved to leave little notes to my mother -- everywhere! In her sock drawer, among the kitchen utensils, between lingerie . . . I still find them when I go to visit my dad. They have become sacred little things, and I think everyone leaves them right where they are as they reach around them for whatever they need.

❦ Before the advent of the Post-It® note, my mother had a little box that held a stack of note paper squares. Before I headed back to college one year, I drew a picture on one of them and slipped it into the stack. I knew she would find it one day and smile. A few years later, I reached into the box for a note square, and that little drawing was on the top of the stack. *grin* It's probably still there.

❦ When I was a little girl, Mama was packing to go on a trip with my dad, and I was "helping." Perched on the bed beside her suitcase, I was busy checking out the pockets in which I found a tiny piece of elastic. It was about an inch long and yellowed with age. Somehow I knew it was important as I held it up with a familiar, questioning look on my face. She smiled and said that it was put there by her Aunt Emily to remind her that she was always thinking of her. Then she took me into her closet and began to open her jewelry box, her other suitcases, etc. Those little bits of elastic were all over the place! I was in awe.

❦ My oldest had his own twist on the note-writing idea when he was a little guy:

So, I'm having a busy day today -- busy thinking about little notes.

~ End Quote

Exposure: Week Forty-three

 A picture 

of a 

reunion

Last week I got a note from my cousin, asking what I thought about moving the family reunion venue from Kentucky to Louisiana this year. That all sounded great until I looked at the date . . . my birthday! Whoa!

She didn't know that it would be my birthday when she wrote the note, and she certainly didn't know which birthday it would be, so when I wrote to let her know about my tentative summer plans, she became even more enamored with the idea. Marking a half-century with that crew would include quite a roast, I think. They are a tight-knit and loving lot . . . still makes me nervous, though. Mom's side is where I get my prankster gene. ;-/

Here's a shot of our very first "reunion" -- I was only ten years old at the time. (Yes, I am having to set vanity aside to let this be a true "exposure challenge.") I promised.

 

You've got to do your own growing, 

no matter how tall your grandfather was.  

~Irish Saying

~End Quote

Exposure: Week Thirty-three

A pair of
pictures showing
comparison/  
contrast.

Different times. Same spot.
Different ladies. Same outfit.
Different ages. Same pose.
Different ears. Same rings.
Different lips. Same stick.

What we love we shall grow to resemble.
~Bernard Of Clairvaux

~End Quote

Exposure: Week Thirty-one

A picture of 

a photography 

tradition.

I have made it widely known that I think long and hard before establishing a tradition. Traditions are bossy -- downright bossy. In a spirit of self-imposed authority, they offer free tickets for nice, long guilt trips if broken, and they will bind you quicker than you can say, "Let's do that again!" For one given to procrastination, like myself, the likelihood of keeping a plethora of traditions is slimmer than slim. For all these reasons, I am slow to create them.

That is not to say that I dislike traditions; in fact, there are some that I truly love -- and those would include what I like to call "photography traditions."

When my oldest child was three months old, we visited a local portrait studio. I loved his little under-the-blanket shot so much, I decided to do the same with all of the other children. When I was pretty sure that I had given birth to a caboose, I gathered the portraits in one place for my husband:

A tradition well worth keeping for me.

Beginning with that year, I began bringing all of my children to the same studio for an annual group portrait. When I consider that this tradition has been ongoing since the fall of 1988, I laugh. Twenty-three consecutive years is a long time for such an endeavor, especially for me!

Whenever I look through the portrait album 

and watch my children grow up all over again, 

I am so grateful to have the years documented.

This last little tradition is more than thirty years old and was born one hot Sunday afternoon on my parents' patio. My dad, resident camera enthusiast, decided that family photos were in order: a couple of rolls of them . . .  ;-/ . . . and all before lunch! By the end of the photo shoot, we were past the point of cooperation. Finally, we resorted to creative sabotage. In one shot we all blew bubbles with our gum, and in another we all ran out of the shot, leaving him to be photographed alone. We continued until either we were out of ideas or he was out of film - I don't remember which. Over the years, we have traditionally mimicked our favorite of those shots: "Everybody look at Papa!"

It takes an endless amount of history to make even a little tradition.
~Henry James

~End Quote

Exposure: Week Thirty

A picture of 
someone 
you miss.

We don't plan to miss people, do we? Do we? Perhaps "plan" is a poor choice of words, but I knew from first glance at the list of challenges that I would post this today.

 








I missed her then; 

I miss her right now; 

and I will miss her tomorrow. 

Every tomorrow.

What I didn't anticipate was the weight of "missing" I would be feeling today. Old "missing." New "missing." Without a doubt, I could write sequels to this post.

"I miss you . . ." It is my song.

I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long.  
If we're in each other's dreams, we can play together all night. 
~Bill Watterson, Calvin & Hobbes

~End Quote

Exposure: Week Twenty-nine

A picture that can always make you smile.

Always!

First fish!

Many men go fishing all of their lives 
without knowing that it is not fish they are after.
~Henry David Thoreau

There he stands, draped in more equipment than a telephone lineman, 

trying to outwit an organism with a brain no bigger than a bread crumb, 

and getting licked in the process.
~Paul O'Neil, 1965

There's no taking trout with dry breeches. 
~Miguel de Cervantes

Even if you've been fishing for three hours 

and haven't gotten anything except poison ivy and sunburn, 

you're still better off than the worm. 
~Author Unknown

"Carpe Diem" does not mean "fish of the day." 
~Author Unknown

The charm of fishing is that it is the pursuit of what is elusive but attainable, 

a perpetual series of occasions for hope. 
~John Buchan

~End Quote

Gentle Touch

It's Mother's Day again, isn't it?

Gardenias were Mama's favorite, and this wonderfully blooming bush was a gift to me on my first Mother's Day without her.  It speaks honor and comfort to me, and I wanted to pass it along on this morning.

Our dwarf varieties are in dressed in beautiful array, as well. The year that Mama passed away these bloomed continually from May until November, an unusually long season for my plants. In the fall, I was only seeing one or two flowers each day, and the last flower bloomed on Mama's birthday. That still makes me smile.

 

Happy Mother's Day, with love.

Veritas

When a knight won his spurs in the stories of old

He was gentle and brave he was gallant and bold

With a shield on his arm and a lance in his hand

For God and for valour he rode through the land

No charger have I, and no sword by my side

Yet still to adventure and battle I ride

Though back into storyland giants have fled

And the knights are no more and the dragons are dead

Let faith be my shield and let joy be my steed

Against the dragons of anger the ogres of greed

And let me set free with the sword of my youth

From the castles of darkness the power of the truth

♔♕♖♗♘♙♚♛♜♝♞♟♔♕♖♗♘♙

Be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might.

Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.

For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.

Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.

Stand therefore,
having girded your waist with truth,
having put on the breastplate of righteousness,
and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace;
above all, taking the shield of faith with which you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one.
And take the helmet of salvation,
and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God;
praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit,
being watchful to this end with all perseverance and supplication for all the saints.

~Ephesians 6:10ff

It is my prayer.
Amen.

~End Quote

Photo Credit: Angelle

Helen's Bourbon Balls

Ingredients:

• 1 package of Nabisco Nilla Wafers (3 cups)

• 1 pkg of Domino 10x confectioners sugar (3 cups)

• 3/4 lb whole pecans (3 cups) crushed in a blender

• 6 oz Bourbon (I have used Maker's Mark the last several years but Helen had always used a cheaper brand such as Yellowstone)

• 2 oz white Karo syrup

• Additional amount of powdered sugar for the rolling process plus wax paper

Instructions:

• Fill an 8 oz measuring cup to 6 oz mark with bourbon, and then add the 2 oz of Karo syrup to the 8oz mark. Carefully stir until the syrup is dissolved.

• Give John the spoon to lick.

• Use a large Ziplock bag and place about a third of the wafers in it (don't eat more than two). Using a rolling pin, crush them until they are crumbs. (If you use the processor on both the pecans and the wafers, you will have a smooth pasty bourbon ball, tastes good but isn't like Helen's.)

• Pour wafers into a large bowl and repeat the process until all wafers are crushed. Pour in the crushed pecans and sugar and mix.

• Make a well in the center and pour in the bourbon/Karo mixture.

• Give Helen the measuring cup for her to lick.

• Slowly stir all ingredients until it is stiff and moist.

• Using whatever method you can, spoon out about 3/4 of a teaspoon and roll it into a ball using wax paper and the additional powdered sugar. If the mixture becomes dry, just stir it up and it remoistens itself.

• Refrigerate made balls for the bourbon to "age" with the other ingredients properly.

Information:

• The recipe makes approximately 120½ bourbon balls. I think. We sampled the ingredients and the finished product while we made them -- hence the "approximately" bit.

• Helen & John were my maternal grandparents. They were an impressive pair, and I miss them.

• Recipes sometimes lose their essence from generation to generation. This one did not! I am grateful, indeed.

• I used the exact brands mentioned in the recipe. Substitute at your own risk.
• Special thanks to Liz for getting the bourbon balls to say, "Cheese!" (top photo)

• In the photograph below John was singing "Let Me Call You Sweetheart" to Helen. Sweet, don't you think? I think my mom took this shot on their back patio.

~End Quote

Ovals

When you start with a portrait and try to find pure form
by abstracting more and more,
you must end up
with an
egg.

~Pablo Picasso

~End Quote

I Do . . . Still

"This is my beloved,

and this is my friend."

~ Song of Solomon

Last year . . . *smile*

~End Quote

Recipes

Memory is a peculiar thing, sometimes gentle and consoling, other times so painful. What a trigger of emotions it is! I suppose that's a given, and not terribly profound, but I'm really not trying to be profound.

This week, my friend lost her mom, and in listening to her speak from the depths of her loss, I heard myself. I don't just remember myself saying the very things she was saying -- I still say them now, three years after my own mother passed away.

For example, one thing that I feel so often is the desire -- the deep and intense longing -- to ask her questions. [Oh, Liz, I know you understand this.] Thankfully, my mother shared her thoughts with me freely and abundantly -- told me stories about herself and how she faced the many stages of her life with their varied joys and challenges, told me what it was like to mother me (poor soul), told me what her thoughts were about being a wife, a daughter, a niece, a mom . . . oh, my . . . she had answers for everything. I didn't always agree with her, but she had answers. More often than not, she had the answers. I am so grateful.

The most painful reality in all of this is that some of those answers were known only to her. And now they are gone with her. Just like that.

The day after I heard Liz's news, my dad called:"Hey! Do you remember how Mama used to bake chicken? I have the recipe, but it's incomplete." He continued telling me every detail of that recipe, and everything he could remember about that silly chicken dish, while my eyes filled with tears. I could have handled it on some other day, but not on that one. I was so glad he kept talking!

This morning I spoke with another friend who is also deeply saddened by Liz's loss. Ann began to speak of her own mother, whom she lost 20 years ago. She described the ache that just surfaced when she could not find (I should not have been surprised) -- one of her mother's recipes. ;-(

I have shared in the past about a special journal that my mother kept. Unlike her private journals, this one was written to be shared. Tonight I was poking through it and paused on a question that asked, "What was your favorite meal when you were a child? What made it your favorite?" Right there in the middle of the page was a recipe for chili. Of course.

I wonder how many daughters have felt the same over something as simple as a recipe? I wonder how many still reach for the phone when they just need to know? In so many ways, I find myself saying,

"I have the recipe, but it's incomplete."

~ End Quote

Away Game!

Say what
you have to say
in the fewest
possible words.

~ Paul Bear Bryant

Fans!

N'night. ;-)

~ End Quote

My Favorite Marine

His Country . . . he served

His Plane . . . he maintained

His Men . . . he led

His Uniform . . . he retired

His Boots . . . he unlaced

His Smile . . . he retained

His Voice . . . he shared

His Family . . . he loves

~~~~~


Thank you so very much! We love you, too!


~~~~~

Some people spend an entire lifetime
wondering if they've made a difference.
The Marines don't have that problem.
~ Ronald Reagan

~~~~~

~ End Quote

Like Medicine

A merry heart does good like medicine,
But a broken spirit dries the bones.
~ Proverbs 17:22

We praise the LORD for His abundant mercy!
How thankful I am that He watches over this little pair of big brown eyes!

Thank you all for praying!

~ End Quote

Marek

Oh, the National Parks are something else, aren’t they?

I’m not just talking about the landscape – though it can be breathtaking.
I’m not just talking about the history – though standing on the spot where
something or someone . . . it can be moving.

In addition to the obvious, we had the privilege and pleasure of meeting some truly warm, friendly, and helpful people that work for the NPS. Refreshing.

Until we encountered Mr. Grouch at a Grand Teton gift shop, we had only met the friendliest of folks. But, I don’t want to talk about him. ;-/ I want to talk about my favorite staff members...

Nancy . . . patient, knowledgeable, helpful . . . I was really impressed with this woman, so much so, I named my Yellowstone Association membership-welcome-wolf after her (which made her smile). I just don't think she ever had a wolf named after her before. Imagine!

I didn’t get a shot of Eric and his wife, a couple of retirees from Utah who chose to spend six weeks working at the Yellowstone laundry/shower house so that she, a photographer, could have inexpensive access to breathtaking vistas. We enjoyed conversing with them while we waited for our clothes to dry.

I did get a shot of the ranger who said my littlest fella made his day . . .

Q: Why do you want to be a Junior Ranger?
A: I want to be a Junior Ranger because I can see animals – but I really want to be a football player.

Honesty!

Yes, there were many others, but our favorite was Marek. What a sweetie!

This young man was from Poland, spending his summer in the Tetons. (You will thank me for sparing you details of how we managed to have about a dozen separate receipts at the gift shop in which he worked.*smile*) Here are a few tidbits of the conversation that transpired between us:

Me: How do you pronounce your name?
Marek: (I don’t know how to type this – just say it and roll that R like you imagine a Polish fella would)
Me: [practicing] Ma-rek.
[pause]
Marek: It’s just Mark.

Context: My girls had purchased all but four of the huckleberry candy sticks at the register. I decided, as he was ringing up my items, to throw one into my stack. Then another.
Marek: Look! There are only two more, would you like them, too?
Me: ;-P

Me: [holding a fist full of receipts] Marek, would you let us take your picture? Then you could say you got your pic taken with the woman who had the most purchases in your store in one . . .
Marek: . . . ever!

Okay, I know there is no way I captured his quick wit the way he shared it with us, but he was delightful young man, and we all left the store grinning. Thank you, Marek!


~ End Quote