Hiding Places in Old Spaces

I went round the yard today with the intent of trying to capture on camera a bright yellow butterfly that kept drinking the nectar from my bright red hibiscus blooms.  He was also flitting around the last of the summer lilies.  In the process, I saw interesting little oddities that I call "hiding places".  Old homeplaces seem to have lots of hiding places and spaces.  I'll take you on a picture tour:

This rusty old hand water pump has been hidden itself until we recently cleaned out some old shrubs that had taken over.  The pump was once a hiding place too - it hid our spare house key - but now it only hides a rogue spider or two.

 This mushroom that's a product of our recent wet weather hides bugs from the chickens and could also be a hiding place for little fairies that live in the moss.  Don't fairies live under mushrooms?

 This old knot hole in the tree is a hiding place for little squirrels.  I've seen them scamper in and out.

 This red bloom is the hiding place of the pretty yellow butterfly that's perched upon it. It's interesting how the color of the leaves camouflage the butterfly.

 This was once a majestic black walnut tree.  It finally died and we haven't cut it down because we promised someone the wood to make beautiful things with.  I hope they cut it down soon as it is near our house.  It hides insects that the woodpeckers love to devour.

 Another old tree that we recently lost is ready for the ax but meanwhile it's nooks and crannies hide Theo sometimes as he's stalking the birds.

The last of the summer garden!  The vines hide one of the last tomatoes.

 This old tiling normally hides the bottom of my summer flower baskets filled with wave petunias which spill over it's sides.  This time of year the baskets begin to die away - but it's waiting to hold next years flowers.

 These century old bricks that we've dug up around the place camouflage this old metal duck decoy quite well, don't you think.  Look how the colors blend.

 This old flower pot was hiding many, many ants when I turned it over this afternoon.  Now, they'll have to hide elsewhere.

 This old ivy covered fence hides our neighbors house.

 This overgrown ivy hides an old rusty lantern.

 This "secret garden" has hidden cardinals, brown thrush and best of all the grandchildren as we've played games over the years.  This is the place that prompted me to write "The Secret Garden" that you can find at this older post.

 The fork in the tree hides whatever finds it way there.

 The mossy ground hides old bricks that over time find their way to the surface. We've dug hundreds of them up as we've cultivated new flower beds and gardens.  The brick factory in town must have given the whole neighborhood free bricks back in its heyday. 

 This very, very old tree hides many squirrel nests that are only obvious in the winter months when the leaves are gone.  It also hides the sky and provides a beautiful shelter from the sun.

 The old remnants of a flower pot hid a seedling until it burst forth looking for the sun.

 We call this the "whale" house.  It hides the well pump that once generated the water for the house until the county ran water lines through our area.  When our granddaughter Chloe was a tiny thing, she had heard us call it the well house.  One day she asked if I could open it up so she could see the whale that lived inside.  I suppose she thought a baby whale lived in the little one.  I really don't know what the little one hides since I have never opened it up to look.  Maybe spiders and snakes?  That's why I haven't opened it.

 Another hole in a tree hides lizards and squirrels I suppose.

This birdbath is not frequented very often by birds as it's Theo's favorite hiding place to wait for them.  He also likes to drink from it.

 This weedy patch hides a watermelon that sprouted from a half eaten watermelon this summer.  A huge vine grew and there's four large melons almost ready to eat. 

This old building hides the garden tools inside and sports some oldies on the outside.

This old bird cage hides a hummingbird plant that grows through it and a stray lizard or two.

It's amazing what you see when you get the camera out.  And just think - all these were hiding from me until I went looking. 

My Summer of 1965

In the Spring of 1965, based on a letter I had submitted during a contest telling why I would like to be a Summer youth delegate to the United Nations, I was informed that  my entry had been selected.   As luck would have it, a friend from church had applied and her entry was also selected .   We were the only delegates selected who knew each other prior to trip.  Early on the morning of June 7^th,, we were picked up in Charlotte by the bus that had picked up youth in all major cities from the South.   Kids continued boarding the bus as we traveled towards New York City.  There were 26 of us plus chaperones when we checked into Times Square Hotel that evening.  We were one excited group of kids.  When all the others got in from other parts of the United States there were a total of sixty-one.  We all ranged between the ages of sixteen and nineteen.  I was not quite seventeen.  In addition to our UN involvement, we also had the prospect of visiting the 1965 New York City World’s Fair.  This little farm girl was on cloud nine.

Over the next few days we attended the summer peacekeeping sessions.  I wish I could tell you that the meetings we attended were full of excitement  and that we learned a lot, but truthfully the trip was not as well organized as it should have been - and most of the meetings were rather long and boring.  We could sit in on the sessions, but there was very little acknowledgement that we were there and there was not much in the way of explanation at the end of the day by the coordinators.  In only one of the sessions – the last one - were we encouraged to ask questions and comment - and I was, and still am proud of the sincerity and interest that we expressed that day.  We were having our say - and we were saying it loud and clear.

Later that year, a Resolution was adopted by the United Nations General Assembly.  It was Resolution number 2037 (XX) – “ Declaration on the Promotion Among Youth of the Ideals of Peace, Mutual Respect and Understanding Between Peoples”.  I've often wondered if our little peacekeeping pilot program was instrumental in the making of that resolution.

   

You can see the resolution at this link.    Excerpts of this resolution include the following paragraphs:

“Young people shall be brought up in the spirit of peace, justice, freedom, mutual respect and understanding in order to promote equal rights for all human beings and all nations, economic and social progress, disarmament and the maintenance of international peace and security.


 Young people shall be brought up in the knowledge of the dignity and equality of all men, without distinction as to race, colour, ethnic origins or beliefs, and in respect for fundamental human rights and for the right of peoples to self-determination. 

 

Young people must become conscious of their responsibilities in the world they will be called upon to manage and should be inspired with confidence in a future of happiness for mankind.”

This resolution seems to have been seen through a crystal ball.  The young people of 1965 are now those of us approaching our retirement years.    We have lived up to the words of the resolution.   We have been and still  are instrumental in promoting equal rights for all human beings and all nations.  We have seen much economic and social progress and have always been concerned about international peace and security.  We have fought for the equality of all men.  No other young people throughout history have been more conscious of our responsibilities in the world and we have been called upon and met the challenge of managing and inspiring confidence in a future of happiness for mankind.

The summer of 1965 will be etched in my mind as long as I live.  We were typical teenagers and did what typical teenagers do – we roamed the streets of New York City after our chaperones were asleep – even taking the subway to Coney Island in the middle of the night.  I’m not overly proud of breaking the rules, but would break them again just to experience all that we experienced that summer. 

Our New York City trip was followed by a few days in Washington, DC where we saw the sights and also were allowed to sit in on some congressional meetings.  Roaming the halls of Congress - we were a spunky lot.   We were teens during the tumultuous years of the 1960's.  I'm sure our parents did have their moments when they wondered if we would ever grow up.  I, like others of that time period,  had just enough rebel in me to create a little havoc, but enough self respect to not let it carry me away.  Sometimes I think it takes that kind of spunky mixture to fuel the flames of the future.

 I don’t think I fully realized until later in life how much of an impression this trip made on me.  It fueled my interest in peacekeeping and social justice and instilled in me a confidence that we can make a difference.  Seeds were planted that week and I've often wondered what the others in our group brought back home with them.  Are any of our group of kids in the Capitol Building now as lawmakers?  If they are, I'm hoping they're using the same fire and imagination that we had that Summer - the Summer of '65.

 

Look! Up in the sky...it's a bird... it's a plane...it's Super---?

Last night, our dog Fox woke us up several times with his incessant barking. We know his barks, just as you would know what is wrong with a child by his whimpering or his tone of voice.   It was not the "Beware, strange person around" bark - it was more of a "something's invading my territory" bark.  So other than being annoyed, we were not too concerned and tried to sleep through it.  After a while, hubby got up and turned the porch light on and he stopped barking.  He just wanted us to know that there was a little something out of the ordinary going on.

This morning when we stepped out the door, Fox started back up again.  He was barking up a tree - not a "wrong tree", mind you - just a tree in our yard.  We looked up and this is what we saw:

 

If you'll enlarge the photo, you'll see that one raccoon has his arm around the other.  They were kits - Mama Raccoon was most likely nearby.  Baby raccoons (kits) are totally dependant on their mother until the age of about 16 weeks - then they start wandering around on their own and usually become pretty independent at about 9 months.  These looked to be about four or five months old.  A mother raccoon can have up to eight babies at a time but usually only has between three and five.

 

Fox was ever vigilant - just daring them to come down.



Oops, Fox fell down on the job.  I walked back out a little later and both raccoons were almost down the tree.  Fox saw them and made sure they scooted back up.

 Hang on baby!  This old tree was a hard one to climb.  He kept slipping backwards a little, but hung on for dear life and slowly made progress.

"Maybe if I hold my ears just so, I'll navigate a little faster".

 

 

Fox was very proud of himself.  Well done, old boy!  Maybe we'll start taking you 'coon huntin'!

 

Fox is a Finnish Spitz breed.  As you can see, he looks like a fox, so his name fits!  He's the most wonderful dog we've ever owned.   Read below if you want to know a little more about this breed.

 

  Here's an excerpt from the American Kennel Club Website.

 

Resembling a red fox, the Finnish Spitz is a northern breed with erect ears, a dense double coat and a plumed bushy tail. He is a lively animal, with a keen, intelligent expression and brisk, quick movement. Medium-sized, the Finnish Spitz comes across as an agile, workmanlike dog with no exaggerated or showy features except for his lustrous golden-red coat, which ranges from pale honey to deep auburn.

And from Puppydogweb.com

Description: The Finnish Spitz, or Finsk Spets, is the national dog of Finland. They are an independent, reserved, cautious and sometimes aloof breed. This does not, however, overshadow their friendly and loyal nature towards their family. As they were bred to be hunters, they need to be kept in a secure fenced yard or else they may go off on a hunting expedition. Finnish Spitzes are sensitive and strong minded, but also loyal to their human family. They especially love being with children. They are intelligent, sturdy, and easy to care for. They have often been described as "catlike" in cleanliness. They have a happy temperament, and are still used today for hunting in Finland. Finnish Spitz have been described as showing "devotion and self-sacrificing faithfulness." They are said to be courageous and selfless, but at the same time demand reward at a job well done. They do very well under poor circumstances with their owner, but alone in a kennel they become depressed and unhealthy. Finnish Spitz are largely used for hunting birds, especially the capercaillie, a large bird of Finland. They are a small to medium sized dog, making up for size with their loud bark. They are reddish brown and gold in color, and have prick ears that are a trademark of the Spitz. Their tails curl over their backs, touching the outer thigh of one side. A favorite hunting dog of the Finns, the Finnish Spitz is very popular as a companion in other countries.

Angel - the Elusive Rat... and Dyson, the good guy.

My granddaughter has been wanting a rat...yes I said a rat...for over two years now.  She's ten years old and ten year olds think rats are cool.  Having icky thoughts about rats, my daughter told her she could have a hamster instead so off they went to the pet shop on Monday.  She tried to hold the hamsterss, but they were all little biters.  The pet shop owner told her she would have to wear gloves for about a month or so while she handled it in order to train it not to bite.  "He bites? I don't want him", she said.  "Then you need a rat".  Pet store employees can be so annoying, can't they?  Gen's eyes lit up because that's what she wanted all along.  "Oh, OK" said mom and home they went with a 3 week old rat and all the accessories that said Pet store employee could talk them in to buying.  They named her Angel - a name my daughter has changed several times since Monday.  The last name I heard her call Angel was this afternoon.  #$*#@~*# is what I think she said.  Maybe I heard wrong though, I don't think she uses words like that.

Angel was the perfect little Angel when they got her home.  She crawled in and out of Chloe and Gen's hands - Gen even put Angel on her shoulder and she crawled up under her hair.  It made me cringe.  Angel even proved to be very photogenic.  See....

Now for the rest of the story...

The deal was that Angel could only stay in Gen's room, but seeing how sweet she was, Mom gave in a little and allowed Gen to bring her downstairs to socialize.  Since she handled that so well, Gen asked if she could take Angel into the bathroom and close off all the doors so she could have a little more freedom.  Sure, why not?  Little did they know that there was a tiny hole underneath the sink cabinet between the cabinet and the wall.  The hole was hidden well - but guess who found it?  I knew you would guess.

This was Monday night.  Today is Wednesday and Angel was still in hiding.  They would put food on the floor and Angel would run out and get it but was back so quick they couldn't catch her.  She teased them like this for two days.   The hole was too tiny to put much of anything other than a straw with peanut butter on the end - barely an inch square.  Angel would follow it to the edge of the hole but wouldn't come back out.  They even devised a little makeshift trap out of a plastic container that had peanut butter in the center and was held up by a pencil.  They put it on the floor outside the hole in the cabinet.  It was so unstable that if you barely touched it, it would fall down.  Angel managed to go into it, lick the peanut butter off the pencil and get out without missing a beat.  Did I say that rats are smart?

Gen was distraught and Mom was at her wits end.  As a last straw they called Grandpa.  Off we went with a handsaw blade to try to cut the hole a little bigger.  The hole was in an odd position near the floor, so Mom had to do the tedious job.  It worked - it was now about 2 inches square which was as big as it could get.  Angel was living in a 2" wide by 2" high space that ran against the wall on the floor from the front of the cabinet to the back - and she was staying just beyond Gen's arm reach.  Golf clubs, back scratchers, kitchen utinsels, sticky tape on a long stick - nothing worked.  This is when I think I heard my daughter muttering Angel's new name under her breath.  Then she walked out of the room to turn down the thermostat.  It was getting hot in there - after all, there were five of us in the bathroom trying to save Angel.

Krista walked back in and we all gasped.  She had gone after the "big guns".

~Here he comes to save the day~  The Dyson Vacuum.  Oh my!  These things are powerful bad boys.  Would Angel be bald from the suction.....or worse?   I could just imagine her sucked up into the vacuum somewhere and us not being able to get her out.  Or it sucking all the breath out of her little nose.  By this time, I don't think Krista cared - not even a whit.  "Stand back", she said, brandishing the hose as if it were an AK-47.  She loaded it with a little brush attachment and put it as far back in the hole as possible.  I was in charge of pushing the button.  Button pushed, hose pulled out - nothing.  "Let's do it again", she said.  She was enjoying this way too much.  Hose inserted, button pushed, hose retrieved.  Angel's little body was on the end with her legs just a kickin'.  Bingo!  "Close the hole", Krista shouted as I pushed the button off.  Gen was quick on the draw.  Hole closed.  Angel caught.  Back in cage.  No worse for wear.  Whew! 

If it were my rat - which is like saying if it were my million dollars which I won't ever have either, I would put old Dyson right beside Angel's cage for a few days just to show her who's boss.  And if she's not overly traumatized by being sucked out of a hole, maybe she'll start living up to her name.  I, for one, prefer Angel to the new one muttered under someone's breath.

Did I say rats are smart?

Growing older..... So what?

Since I don't seem to be coming up with much writing material of my own lately, I'll share something my sister sent to me today in an email message - the author is unknown, but it could be from any one of us over 50, don't you think?  Words of wisdom, for sure.  I have changed some punctuation.  This person loved commas.  And I've altered the wording a little to better reflect how I feel about aging.

As  I've aged, I've become kinder to  myself... and  less critical of myself. I've become my own   friend.

I have seen friends leave this world too soon - before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it anyway if I choose  to read or play on the computer until 4 AM -  or sleep until noon? I will boldly dance by myself to the "oldies" of the 50's, 60's and 70's - bringing back memories of times of my youth - and at the  same time if wish to weep over a lost love that these memories evoke, I will.

I will walk the  beach in a swimsuit that is stretched over a bulging body and will dive into the waves with  abandon if I choose to - despite the  pitying  glances from the younger crowd. They too will get  old.

I  know I am sometimes forgetful but don't you think that some things in life are just as well  forgotten?   I eventually remember the  important  things....most of the time.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not  break when you lose a loved one .. or when a  child  suffers .. or even when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are  what give us strength and understanding... and  compassion.  They bring us closer to God.  A heart never broken is pristine and sterile... maybe hearts were meant to be broken.

If we are truly blessed, we will live long enough to have our hair turn gray and to have our youthful  laughs be forever etched  into deep grooves on our faces. So many have seldom  laughed, and so many have passed away before their hair  could turn  silver.

As we get older, it's sometimes hard to find the positive, but we learn to care  less about  what other people think and we question ourselves less often.  We can even be "wrong" and live through it.  It's called Wisdom.

I think I am ok with being old - it has set me free.   I like the  person I  have become.  I am not going to live  forever, but while I am still here I  will not  waste time lamenting what could have been, or  worrying  about what will be.  And if I feel like it, I will have dessert with my dinner. 

How do you feel about growing older?

I've been missing in action for a while and do miss following the blogs I normally read.  We're on a working vacation and have had a busy week, but I promise I'll be back to normal (well as normal as my life ever gets) next week. 

Meanwhile, we've enjoyed the 4th with home made ice cream, good beach neighbors, and a Golden Anniversary party we attended last night.  I should have loads of writing material, but frankly, I don't have the inclination to write right now. 

We've had temperature in the triple digits and staying cool is a challenge!  Back soon my dear friends to get caught up on my reading - and hopefully my writing.

Meanwhile, enjoy your summer! 

Finally!

I've been waiting for these to bloom - I divided these this past winter and they're slower blooming this year - but they're well worth the wait.  I love these Asiatic Lilies.  They do make a statement, don't they?  There's sixty or seventy blooms that haven't bloomed out yet.

Can you  spot something hiding in this photo?

It's Big Red hunkered down in the shade of the plants.

And Momma Hen is leading her little chicks to forage for food.

The timing was a bit off for the lilies since we're leaving tomorrow for the coast for a week.  They'll probably be all bloomed out when we get home.  If my neighbors want some fresh flowers for an arrangement, help yourself while I'm gone!  While you're at it, feed the chickens :)

Summer Madness

Summer has finally arrived - not officially, but here in the South, as soon as school is out and the kids kick off their shoes and celebrate, you know that summer is here.  It was an exciting school year for us as our youngest daughter opened up her heart and home to two exchanges students who became part of our family this past year.  Sarah, from Germany went home last week and Nadir, from Spain goes home Sunday.  We'll miss them - but daughter #2 and family are already saving us travel miles to visit them both next summer.

We've been busy lately and I've neglected my house for such a long time.  I'm ashamed to tell this, but just last week I took down my Easter tablescape in my dining room.  Well, in my defense I did put up the bunnies weeks ago....but dishes and tablecloth were still there.  Hey!  I've done worse - once I left my Christmas tree up until February!

But this not about table setting - though I will show you one quick picture before I finish the post.
I've been doing a lot of blogging - not here, but on my other blog since most of my "Life's Happenings" lately have seemed to be consumed by the summer yard sales and flea markets - and an occasional trip to a thrift shop or two.  You can read my summer happenings over at Flea Market Junky.

Today, I'm just giving a quick recount of our summer so far.

A little beach time....

Seeing new life - 4 new baby chicks with a protective mother hen....

Saying goodbye to Sarah and Nadir with a little party...

Now that's steps full of children, isn't it?

Sneak on over

Hello to all my bloggy friends.  I haven't posted much lately because our seasonal business is back in full swing.  The summer season also brings yard sales and flea market summer items, and most of you know that I am a Flea Market Junky.  I've found lots of good buys so far this summer and have been posting about them and other finds that I've picked up through the years on my other blog.  I have Ebay and Etsy shops so I can support my habit by selling off the fabulous buys that I'm not keeping for myself.

If you find the time, sneak on over to read the latest posts I've done on my blogspot  "Flea Market Junky".
I'll be back soon to posting As Life Happens.

Don't give up on me - just follow the other blog and we'll still stay in touch until I can get back to normal! I love my followers and fellow bloggers - and yes, I may be a little slow getting all my blog rolls read, but I'm reading as often as I can.

Have a wonderful week.

 

Gone Garage Saling and Flea Marketing - Be back soon

Observing Decoration's Day / Memorial Day

Memorial Day weekend brought out the first of the summer tourists to the beach this weekend.  Even though they were predicting bad weather, the tourists still took advantage of having a long weekend and hit the roads for the start of summer.  The restaurants are a little more crowded and the traffic is a good bit heavier.  And the weather has been nice with the tropical storm Beryl staying off the Carolina's coasts and moving on down to Florida.

With so many people about, you would think that Memorial Day was an annual observance as the official start of summer when in actuality it is a much different observance.  It is a federal holiday in the United States on the last Monday of May for remembering men and women who have died while serving the the US Armed Forces.  It was originally known as Decoration Day and was started in the South to honor the fallen Confederate soldiers by decorating their graves in small family cemetaries.  Most of the observances were held in May - probably because of the availability of flowers to decorate the graves. It is believed that this practice began even before the end of the American Civil War and thus may reflect the real origin of the "memorial day" idea.

 It was first officially observed on 30 May 1868, when flowers were placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery. The first state to officially recognize the holiday was New York in 1873. 

I have a friend who is originally from the mountains of North Carolina, and each year she returns to her family cemetary on Memorial Day weekend and decorates all of the graves of her family and extended family members.  It's more often still a tradition in the mountain areas than in other areas of the South.  Most of Mary's family gets together and celebrates with a family re-union on this weekend with a picnic on the grounds of the cemetary spread out on blankets and tablecloths. Her family members travel many miles to make this pilgrimage each year.  It's nice to have traditions like this.

No matter what the reason for the Memorial Day observance, no matter where it started or what it was called, no matter what country you are from - take a moment on Monday to remember the men and women who have given their lives so that you and I can be free.  Blessings....

A Mother's Day Re-visited

I tried to do a happy post for Mother's Day, really I did.  And I really am happy each Mother's Day.  I love going to church on this Sunday and watch mothers - the new with their toddlers to teenagers - and the older ones with adult children home from far away places.  I see the smile on a young mother's face as she holds her children just a little bit tighter and is a little more tolerant of their fidgety behavior on this day.  I see the joy on the faces of the older mothers as they beam with pride to have their children and grandchildren at her side.  I am one of those.

I love spending the afternoon with my two daughters and their families and watching the love and laughter in their homes.  I marvel at what wonderful mother's they are - each of them adored by their own children.  I always enjoy the thoughtful gifts my girls give me and the sweet conversations that we share.  It reminds me of the sweet conversations I shared with my mother.  I am proud of the men that they've married who treat them with love and respect.

But my happiness on this day is always tinged with sadness.  A nagging little sadness that has defined each of my Mother's Days since 1988.  Was this the first year that I lost my mother?  No, she passed away three years earlier.  I wrote this story last year and posted it on my blog, but since this story not only defines my Mother's Days, it also defines who I am, I will re-post it below.  No Mother's Day ever ends without this story being forefront in my mind.  And those of you who have read this before, please bear with me as I re-visit it once again.

A re-post from Mother's Day, 2011 - May 8th

The kiss of a Dad on Mother's Day

Today is May 8, 2011 - Mother's Day.  Mother's Day also fell on May 8th in 1988 and on less than a handful of May the 8th's since.   I remember that year well.  My girls were thirteen and nineteen and I had been hearing sounds of pots and pans and laughter as I lay in bed trying to catch a few more winks of sleep.  Ahh, the sweet sounds of breakfast in the making.  The phone rang and I picked it up on the second ring knowing who was on the other end.  Mother's Day was a lonely, sentimental day for my Dad, having lost my mother, his wife of sixty years three years earlier - the mother of his seven children - his best friend.

"Good morning, Daddy", I said, without even waiting for him to say anything.  He laughed, thinking it was funny that he didn't have to identify himself.  "Can you come over and help me pick your mother's peonies to put on her grave this morning?".  "Sure", I said, "can I wait until I have breakfast?", but knowing full well what he would say.  "Come on now, if you don't mind.  You can eat breakfast later".   At eighty-five, Dad had earned the right to ask pretty much what he pleased.

I quickly dressed, told the kids to put breakfast on hold and drove the mile to my Dad's farm.  As we cut the peony stems, we talked about mom and how much we missed her.  We talked about her love of flowers and how she especially loved peonies and enjoyed sharing the tubers each Fall with her friends so they could enjoy their own come Spring.   I arranged them with other greenery in a large metal flower basket that Dad had saved from Mom's funeral flowers.  They did look lovely as we placed them on Mom's grave at our church a few minutes later.   Dad and I shared a few tears as we held hands and prayed over Mother's grave, all the while imagining her smiling down at us from heaven.

A couple of hours later we all sat in the family church pew and shared worship together.  Daddy gave my girls their customary juicy fruit chewing gum and a kiss, and then turned to give me a kiss and wish me a happy Mother's Day as we left church.  "Girls, be good to your mother", he said.

That was the last kiss I ever received from my Dad.  He was killed in a car accident the next day, May 9, 1988.  Mother's Day always holds bittersweet memories for me.  A day when I celebrate my memories of my beautiful mother and a day that I mourn the loss of my sweet Daddy.   A few month's back, I found my youngest daughter's first Bible on a bookshelf in the library.  I opened it up and tucked away in it's pages was a piece of cellophane with something flattened inside.  It was labeled "the last piece of chewing gum Grandpa Carter gave me".  My girls had loved their grandpa with all their heart.  I left it where it was, closed the Bible back up, and cried - wishing we could all hold his hand and pray one last time.  But then I smiled as I imagined the two of them, holding hands in heaven still sharing the love they had here on earth for over sixty years.  Happy Mother's Day Mom.... and Daddy, please take good care of your best friend.

A Lowcountry Feast for Four

**Warning - the sight you see may be offensive to seasoned tablescapers. Posting about this meal was an afterthought. 

Monday I wrote about our weekend at the coast and some of the local seafood available at one of our favorite places to buy it.  After visiting the Old Ferry Seafood House, we decided to do our own version of the Lowcountry boil.  There's a time and a place for paper plates and a roll of paper towels and this was it.  Tablescaping in the most casual of ways.  That afternoon the weather was perfect and a brisk ocean breeze was blowing as we enjoyed our feast on a vinyl tablecloth on the picnic table.  No fancy dishes needed as you can see!

Hubby, brother-in-law and nephew were all digging in.  I decided I had better hurry or it would all be gone. 




Linking my paper plate feast to Tablescape Thursday @ Between Naps on the Porch.  Visit Susan over there for some really fine tablescaping.