Flying

Ever wish you could fly?

When I was little I used to fly in my dreams. Above the tree tops, over the houses, swooping like the birds, taking off like Superman, landing with precision in places of my choice.
As I have grown older my dreams of flying were forgotten someplace along the path of my life. But now that I am entering the "youth of old age" I am learning about different meaning's of flying...why I am learning to let my pencils , paints, and imagination fly across pages, canvas' and with my camera's. I am learning that I can do lots of things I always limited myself on in the past, by believing that 'I can't", I told myself so many times through out the years but now I am waking up and seeing that indeed I can do many things I either didn't dare try or didn't think I would succeed at.

I may or may not succeed, but I am finding that the fun and freedom of trying, of spreading my wings and learning new way's to fly, are every bit as exciting as when I was little and would try to touch my toes to the sky while swinging as high as I could.

I think it helps to fuel my imagination when I take photograph's and find among them treasure's that fly... 

I read about some very wonderful Flying Lesson's while reading kelly rae roberts book.

Later I learned about this book this month. Thinking about getting it.

This Camera or That Camera?

After going out in my trusty little kayak.

(Which I am  *vacillating between names on at this time).

The conclusion was drawn that a little camera was needed to help capture some of the memories.

So a shopping I did go.

Not wanting to spend a lot I headed to my local Wally World to see what I could see.

This is how it went down...

Me: "Hello :) Would you like to sell me a little camera please?"

Guy #1: "No." *Ambling on over to the camera counter.

Being one who is ususally up for some friendly *banter, the game was on for both of us as we joked back and forth...

Me: "Well if you really don't want to I can go some place else to make it easier on you :)"

Guy #1: "No, really that would not make it easier for me. In fact it would cause me much *angst."

Me: "Wheeell now, we wouldn't want that to happen."

Guy #1: "So what is it your looking for? You look like you have something in mind."

Me: "I need an inexpensive little number to tuck under my life jacket or into a shirt pocket."

Guy #1: " We have a waterproof camera on the rack, it comes highly recommended by eight year old girl's taking pictures at the pool."

What the heck. I got it.

It doesn't zoom worth bean's, but what the heck.

It has the ability to take photos that look like thiz...

But I still wanted one of the thin ones I was looking at over on the counter, you know to stick in a shirt or purse pocket.

After looking over two different one's for an extended five minutes, I chose one that was on sale...in red.

Yes. I am sometimes that way. I am not ashamed to admit I chose it because it was red.

I saw no other real differences. 

It doesn't zoom worth bean's either. But I like it ok.
It takes photos that look like thiz...

Going back to the same store the next afternoon with one of my sister's, so she could make a spur of the moment, sort of calculated purchase of a smaller cannon she has wanted for a while now.

Me: "This is the other camera I was looking at yesterday."

Guy #2: "Well it sounds like you two know exactly what you want. May I ask why you chose the Sanyo over the Kodak? Personally I like the Kodak's over any of the other's in this case."

During this exchange, a Stranger man comes to the counter looking things over, having overheard our conversation he added, "I like the Kodak better. so much that I bought two of them!".

Brows furrowing I said, "Well, I guess I bought the wrong one."

Guy #2: "You have fifteen day's to return things."

I went home and gathered everything up, making it look like new as I could, trudging up to the service counter I explained I wanted to return it, there were no problems, I just decided to go with the Kodak after all.

So I took it home. Tryed it out.

It doesn't zoom worth bean's either.



It takes photos like thiz...

Plus it had this nifty little feature with the name of "Photo booth"...

I didn't like it as much as the Sanyo, so I returned the Kodak and got the little Sanyo back that made me a happy camper, and I shall tell you why;

Sanyo has a couple of features that are pretty cool, like, sunrise or sunset abilities, but the big kicker for me, was that while I thought the photo booth thing on the Kodak is really a cool thing, it did not out weigh the difference between the panoramic abilities.

The Kodak had a small, solid square area that you have to try using your best guessing skills to overlap to make it line up, making it very hard to use this sort of bind guessing technique, while the Sanyo has a full side line, that is transparent, so you can see what the heck your doing!

Provided the lighting is right and the boat doesn't drift, or your foot doesn't slip :) 



Vacillating= not resolute; wavering; indecisive; hesitating.

Ambling= to go at a slow, easy pace; stroll; saunter.

Banter= and exchange of light, playful, teasing remarks; good-natured raillery.

Angst= an acute but nonspecific sense of anxiety or remorse.

Kayak Kind Of Day

Have you ever had a really, really good day that is the epitome of perfection?

We enjoyed not only such a day, but a week end.

This year we pulled the camp trailer to a Summer sort of place, along with the kayak Honey bought for me. With the big plans of getting out often, once our crowded work week's were winding down.

Unfortunately many of our best laid plans have been finding their way into cancellation's due to work, work and more work, thrown in with a dash of strong winds and torrential rains...How is it that weather like that has been waiting for the week ends too?

This week end was pencil planned.

Alternate idea's were half heartedly set in place.

Essentials and things for the trailer packed.

Trips to the stores helped fill cooler's so full the lids were hard to close. Fishing licence tucked into a wallet, worms purchased before the last turn off and away we went!

Joining friends and family, we set off blissfully into timelessness...

 

Water time at it's finest....

*deep sigh*
Its sure hard to go all the way back to the real world. Especially after a day like this...

This kind of day can't be totally planned.
Its the kayaking kind of day that just happens...

Walk About

I love to go for walks about town.

To see the way people express themselves in their yards.

This kind of tree is awesome.

But I am a little afraid of them.

When I was little we went trick or treating one Halloween and some 'Big Boy's', made 'ghosty noises', scaring the ba-geez-ers out of innocent passers by, then jumped out of some trees like this stealing our candy. 

I still like the shape of them though, don't you?

Also, because we live in a desert state, we can grow cactus...this is a Yucca.

 I think they have pretty flowers. However when they are gone...it looks like any other ol cactus. So I tend to enjoy them in other peoples yards.

One thing I really love about my town is...
We are a very unique and varied group of people, who don't mind standing out in our choices of yard decor.

How awesome is this, right?



Some yards are done in wildflower gardens, complete with path's, trial's, benches and lawn chairs that help collect friends to share the sights, sounds and smells.

But one of the best things about our town is that is someone brings treasures to your house, tucking them discretely under the porch bench when your not at home...

In fact, things may be added in a white elephant sort of way :)



What do you enjoy while your out for a walk about?

Veranda Beach

I love a good porch sit don't you?

There is something so magical about it that passers by wave without really knowing why, and everyone becomes a friend.

My brother once said, "The closeness of human contact in the warm night, the comfort of not being alone, the unquestioning acceptance of one an other's foibles, being so absolutely accepted, and the children drawn to the porch by that gentle, nurturing acceptance is worth beyond measure. It is a richness to be envied by the richest people of Monte Carlo, and wealth to be envied by the King himself."

A view from my beach.

Veranda Beach
By Margaret Ford Pudlinski
Condensed from NorthEast Magazine
as printed in Readers Digest August 1994

      I first heard about Veranda Beach on my grandparents' porch the summer I was 13. It was a lazy New England night that left the hills a smoky blue and the air heavy with the smell of rain. The last shadows were melting into dusk as conversation turned to the summer ahead.
      "Any plans?" my grandfather asked. My father tipped his chair back and blew smoke rings into the air from his pipe.
      "Just Veranda Beach," he answered with delight. They all chuckled.
      My heart pounded. Veranda Beach? Where was it? When would we go?
      "Why you're there already," my father teased.  There was a gentle chorus of laughter as they told me the awful truth. Veranda Beach was the front porch. We were going nowhere. My adolescent spirits plunged. What did they see in that boring porch?
      Well, summer passed, and with age came wisdom. I realized the front porch was no enemy to adventure. It was a window on the world and a lesson in how that world works. What's more, the love affair continues to this day-with new lessons adding to the old.
      On my family's porch, I learned about life and love, hopes and dreams, and I learned about promises and trust. One day it was the front door to Tara, as my sister and I assumed awful Southern accents and scouted the horizon for Rhett Butler. The next day it was a castle fortress or a ship at sea. And when Fleabags the cat brought home a rabbit, the porch was where I cried over the fragility of life.
      On the veranda, my mother and grandmother would serve three o'clock tea- the icy glasses of flame colored liquid glowing richly in the summer sun. The tinkling of ice against glass was the music of dogday afternoons. It was there we children absorbed the etiquette of the porch-universal Rules for Porch Behavior that were never mentioned, simply understood.
      The screen door might slam, but the noise stopped there. We had no hair- pulling, running or (heaven forbid) spitting. When we had to take on a sibling's temper, we descended to the lawn, where we could then tear each other limb from limb, but never on the porch.
      For the adults, lighthearted bantering and games of checkers were encouraged; talk about taxes and checkbooks was not. The veranda was a place to enjoy the little things. Life was slower there, and you could freeze-frame events.
      Late at night, the porch took on a more serious side. In the house, my sister, brother and I would lie in bed and listen to the muted conversations of generations. Sometimes they would talk about injustice, and we would learn from the quiet outrage in their voices.
      Over the years, fledglings that paused to roost on our porch turned into hawks, while I learned to set my own sights on shooting stars instead of fallen ones. Now, more than a few verandas later, I have become a connoisseur of the porch, the steps and the stoop.
      This summer I am spending time perched on a porch rail, trading stories with my children. We are watching fireflies and eating lots of ice cream from the truck that passed by.
      And as I watch a new generation write their names in the sweat of a lemonade pitcher, I hope they, too, are learning the lessons of Veranda Beach:
      Be strong against the wind. Be colorful and imaginative-grow in unexpected ways. Stretch across the yard, and reach out to your community. Watch for shooting stars.             Remember that even the smallest branch stretches for the sun when the rain is past.  Dance in a summer breeze. See the beauty in a weed grown strong, and revel in the bud turning to bloom. Hold close the heart of the home.
      Above all, know that sometimes it's better to have a place to be yourself than to have a place to go.

Simply Dangerous

Why is it that some day's you feel like you are trapped in something you don't know how you  got yourself into? Let alone how to get yourself out!

Sometimes what looks to be ok can turn to danger in mere seconds.

I walked out the other morning to de-bug the little blow up pool in the back yard, imagine my sadness when I saw what looked to be a drown Dragonfly.

It must have thought the water's surface was a solid object? Possibly just trying to get a drink of water? Whatever caused this tragedy, I was pretty sure the outcome was not at all what was expected.

I found a leaf that was big enough to retrieve its golden remains, gently sliding its tip under the waters surface I began to raise it slowly out of the water. To my shock, the tiny legs began grabbing for the safety of the leafs edges, groping its way up the leaf toward my hand, had me a little worried.
I'm a scardy cat when it comes to bug type critters.
So I hurried over to our raised box garden, where I knew other dragonflies of the same, as well as differing colors, like to hang out.
Selecting a nice, all be it half grass hopper eaten potato leaf, where the morning sun would be kissing it's surface for a while, I coaxed it off the rescuing leaf onto the wing drying leaf.  

I found it interesting that once set down and comfortable, other dragon flies came near then settled onto nearby leaves, as if setting up a watch of sorts.

Some flew around my head as I was setting it on the selected spot, and after I stepped back a couple came right in front of my face, then hurried off.

So many lesson's that early morning.
Now I check the wading pool every morning...Just in case something seemingly simple turns dangerous in mere seconds.

Fishin'

We have all heard an expression along the lines of, "A bad day fishing is better than a good day at work".

It has got to be true.

I mean just look at a day fishing!

Grampa was a fisherman.

All kind of weather, any kind of day.

I got to go with him and my Dad once. 

Daddy taught me to cast, under Grampa's watchful eye.  Then the hours of evening in the shady yard practice began. Standing in the middle of our front yard, holding what seemed to be a mile long pole in my right hand,  ever so carefully angling the tip of the pole over my right shoulder, so as not to snag a nearby kid, toy or self, while using my miniature thumb to press the button on the reel. Plop! The heavily weighted end would drop to the ground.  *Sigh* Cranking the handle reeled the line back on.

This process was repeated to many times to count.

Eventually I did master the fine art of pressing the button at the right time, to send the weighted line soaring through the sky all the way across the lawn, until eventually it sailed smoothly over the neighbor's rose bushes, coming to rest scant inches from her front sidewalk...I had arrived.

Call it a graduation of sorts, but it earned me a fishing trip with Grampa and Daddy!

I was given a pole, a drink, then situated along the rock strewn water's edge, while they continued a little farther down the bank, with the admonition, "Please don't talk to much...or to loud." Daddy added just loud enough for me to hear, "And what ever you do...do not throw rocks in the water okay?".

It was hot.

It was boring.

I was young.

I did not see the fun in fishing. I did not see it at all.

Then it happened!

My precious little red and white bobber dipped furiously below the water then came bouncing  back up, once, twice, three times!   In a panic, I dropped the pole and screamed like the Banshee herself where swooping down on me!

I heard Grampa curse softly under his breath, "Well dammit Brant, there goes the fishin'. I'm going farther up."

Daddy wove his way back down to me shaking his head. Then he glanced out to where my bounce waving finger was generalizing the magic area of the bobbers dance. Chuckling he confirmed, "You must have caught a whale! Grab your pole and give it a good strong tug backwards to set the hook."

Scooping up the pole I started backing up, tripped over a rock and landed flat on my fanny! Daddy was laughing as he set me back on my feet telling me, "It was the hard way, but that should have set it. Start winding the line in, not to fast or to slow." He helped me set the pace.

I was reeling, biting my lip and sweating up a storm.

"It must be a big one. Whatta ya think? A trout maybe?" Grampa's excited voice sounded just behind my Dad.

I was given more advice on playing a fish than any little girl should have to endure before I heard the word's..."Grab the net, we should see it any second. Don't stop reeling it in until we tell you."

Scooting up to the waters murky edge while bending down on one knee with the net firmly in hand Dad poised, Grampa leaning to catch a glimpse. Both smiling like the Cheshire cat. Then the boisterous laughing.

They could see it!

My first catch!

Turning and lifting it so I could see what had put up such a fight...

I saw...

A moss covered boot?! 

Laugh if you must.

But it was a boot.

A single from a pair of men's, black rubber, winter galoshes. Sporting a rather large hole in the bottom that caused the water to flow through just enough to emulate a fish on the line...

I can honestly say with a head shaking smile, it took me years to want to go fishing again. I did catch some fishy creature from the depth's of the Snake River up in Idaho a handful of years ago, even have pictures of it some place. Now day's I stick to my collection of camera's instead of a pole, Honey takes care of the fishin' while I wander around or kayak about.

No matter how you go fishin', it really is a good way to spend a day.

Summer Dresses

As she dances through the respectably slow summer day's, she pauses to show every one who will stop, just how magnificently her dress twirls.
Just like Peaches & Cream, Strawberries & Rhubarb, Apple Pie & Base Ball, Grandpa's & Butter Scotch candy's, it seems Summer & Dresses are inseparable combinations. 
They go surprisingly well with bare feet, don't you think?
She loves how the skirts dance when kissed by the breezes of running, spinning, or swaying. Often looking down to watch it swing as she walks. 
Feminine is not a concept she associates with her dainty little summer dresses, even though they help her feel beautiful...
Even while packing a handful's of grass hopper's. 

The wonderfulness of summer dresses are not only enjoyed by the little girl's, but by many of the girl's of varying ages as well.
I watch as a white haired woman sashays down a hall enchanted by the sway dancing at the hem of her peach colored dress, spontaneously stepping so as to make it swing just a little bit better.
Even teenager's and Mommy's like the dresses of summer. The long one's, the short one's, and the one's in between.
Or the women out walking, some watch the way the hems of their broom skirts flit and flutter with each step, billowing like butterfly wings with each step of their sandled feet.

I love Summer Dresses, don't you?

Perfect

How would you describe a perfect Summer day?

Being a person of many words, I would like to take this opportunity to show you some things that can make for just such a perfect Summer day...

"Dirty hands, iced tea, garden fragrances thick in the air and a blanket of color before me,
who could ask for more?"- Bev Adams,

"You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4th, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism." - Erma Bombeck