ODE TO AUTUMN

Autumn has come today.
Now is her time
awhile to stay.
she turns the leaves
all brilliant shades,
to ease the shortness
of the the sky blue days.

I HAD A LITTLE POODLE......................

HER NAME WAS: PEPPER

She's gone.............
This small bit of life,
A mite of my soul.
A wisp
She danced only an
eyewink of time
in Sun.
A small bright flame,
whiffed out, as though
blown away on an autumn zepher.
To others, she may have seemed
to be, but a tuft of fluff.
A trinket, a toy.
But she was my true joy.
They couldn't,
no, never
understand,
There was only one-
PEPPER.
My ever present, devoted friend,
my tiny love.
For that was her life.
It was more that I was hers, than she was mine.
And-now,
she's gone..............
Dancing after a a bird of paradise
across the milky way.
Maybe, come some
future eternity,
God will let me
belong to her again.
*******************************************************
She was ten. I found her in September- 1959 and lost her in September 1969.
I will write the story sometime.

UPDATE-MISC.

This past week or so, I have been in a lot of pain. I don't know how I did it, but I hurt my back. All the way down my right leg too. Tried, aspirin, Naproxen both. Not at the same time. All it did was make my stomach hurt for days. Rubbed on Aspercreme, Not much help. I don't know, I am not going to blog anymore. I think I have decided that I am not going to blog anymore. No one finds me interesting or intriguing anyway. I am going to finish at the end of December.
From now on I will just finish writing my stories for my book in order to get it done. But, I wish other people would write life stories. Memories, dreams, wishes etc.
Since I hurt so much , I've not written. Haven't done any sewing either and I had just started a new dress for my doll.
I haven't talked about my garden, because whenever I do, something dies. Guess I am not supposed to share in that respect. Remember the red daises? They've not bloomed since, and they had just been doing just fine.
Also, as usual my IBS has really been a nuisance. Gee, I am finally getting tired of not being able to go anywhere.
Then there have been a lot of tech problems. Both of our computers went on the whack. Hb.'s computer had to be wiped and redone. Mine may need to be too. The new virus thing screwed everything up and had to be redone. I just hate it when the software twiddles with my content And rearranges everything.
The only person I see now, is my Hb. I haven't even talked on the phone to my friend in New York.
My niece in law has decided to eleminate me from her email list. Little twit.
I had my first two blog books published at http://www.lulu.com/. What bugs me about that, is, I have proof read those things at least half a dozen times. And I am finding typos yet!!
Oh, yeah, lost a piece of filling in a tooth, now I have to find someone to fix it!
It has been a great year.
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We have have an Etsy shop now. If you would like to look, here is the address:
http://artisanway.etsy.com/

YELLOW MOON

Have you noticed how yellow the moon is? That is because there are at least six volocanoes going off around the world, spewing ash and trash in to the air. Adding to the changes in temperature, along with what man is contributing.
And the sunsets are only yellow and orange. None of the beautiful plums, mauve and rose. This could last for serveral years. It will be interesting to see what the winter weather will be.
Now that wildfires are mostly out, there is ash. Keeps me just a little ill all the time. This has not been a good year for me. What are other people with breath and lung conditions doing.

OUR DOG-ROVER

This is sort of both a school story and a dog story. Thought it might be appropriate for September: back to school month.
I had mentioned one of our dogs in an earlier blog. He was a spunky little dog. Mostly Fox Terrier. Very active, and no one really took the time to play with him. So he always went off to find his own adventures. Just like a boy, ever in mischief. My older brother considered Rover his dog. But, you know, I don't remember the two of them being together that much. Sometimes I would try to get Rover to play with me. He put up with it for awhile, then off he would go, where ever. Later, after I was grown, I read that Terriers are a one person dog. Although, he was very 'pack' savvy . He knew if he was hurt or needed help. He would go right to either Dad or Mom.
I do think Rover would follow Bud to school sometimes. He would show up in the schoolyard. Climb the steps and wait outside on the porch for recess. Bud, never could find where Rover came into the schoolyard. As the front had a chainlink fence. And the other three sides were 'square wire' fenced. Bud didn't have to worry if Rover might get thristy while waiting, because there was a creek at each end of the yard. At recess Rover would run around with all the kids. Mom, Dad and Bud didn't like him to do go up there. Because we were afraid for him. So, Bud would sometimes send Rover home. He didn't want to, but he would go anyway. You know, the dog would always go right home, no dawdling. Bud would ask Mom later. And they compared notes. Mom said, well, that's why Rover turns up at the back door hungry.
A cattle rancher, Old cranky, ornery 'Dee' Oilar might think our dog was *arter* his bitch cattle dogs. Female dogs were the only hounds he used. Male dogs fight back when they are mistreated. Now days we could report him. But, he would likely might just shoot the SPCA officer first.
But, Rover's biggest downfall, was, that he would always go out in the woods after the female coyotes. And fight with the male coyotes. Jeez.
___________________________________________________________________
Rover was an outdoor dog. Dad's rules: animals belong outside. However, Rover had snug little doghouse in one corner of the woodshed.
There are pictures of Rover, I just don't have any.

NOCTURNE MEDITATIONS

It's three o' clock AM. Do you know where your cat is? I'm a dog person myself.
When I can't sleep. I get up, rather than toss and turn. I've always had trouble sleeping at night. I place it on two things. First: I was born at 1:AM . Pretty much shot the night for all concerned. Second: a person has to feel comfortable and secure. For me, never happened.
I seem to be able to think better at night. It's rather as though, once everyone else has gone to sleep. I am able to sort myself out. I mostly go over my life. Looking back. Whereas, before I looked forward. And I philosophized. Trying to work out where I fit on , in scheme of things.
I have always taken time every once in awhile to stop and access my life. To check and see where I have been. What I have been doing. Examine and analyze. I visualized my life pattern as being like a one of those mille' piece puzzles. Finding new pieces and fitting them in. Or finding unexpected pieces, that change the pattern. I have to remove things and redo a part of the vision. Life is ever unpredictable. No matter how much one allows for it.
I look back and I actually have done most of the things I wanted. What I haven't, well, Just let go.
As it is said, 'an unexamined life is not worth living'. I have found that to be quite true.
I have since found out that this a human trait. Men do it one way, We women another way. We take things apart piece by piece. We are, fixers, healers and want to make all things well. Women are raised that way. But, we were not told it's ok to nurture ourselves. We must care for ourselves. It is not being selfish. It's renewing our spirits, recharging our batteries. This a good thing.

A MEMORY

An empty hall after midnight.
Shadows in the corners.
The hall sits quiet in the gloom.
Lit-------
only by starlight
and yellowed gleams
of a setting moon.
A waft of air breathes by,
a crack, a creak
echos faintly through
the drowzy, empty place.
Yet---if one listens,
very still,
you can yet hear,
a faint, faint echo, of the music
and the laughter, the was there.
And if you look carefully
amongst the shadows,
you can see,
the shapes and shades,
of the dancers, that had been there.
Twirling, turning, spinning
around the dance floor.
The air stirs,
a chill draft drifts down.
And the hall is alone.
Settling quietly
in the starlight glome.
*******************************
Orig. Poem-copyright:1962 &2008
Orig. Poem by: CGZ
____________________________
I wrote this poem along time ago.
Way before the Haunted House thing in Disneyland.
This is not a haunted house story at all.
My family and I had spent the evening in the hall square dancing.

SILVER SUNSET

There are a lot of things out there on the internet, making fun of people aging, the silver seniors. Well, that is to me not funny. In fact, disrespectful. Hey kids, you are going to be there soon. So mind what you do.
I do not obsess about my age. I never have. What I hate about aging, is, that it happens, without being asked. I believe it is that, as I was growing up, I was around people of all ages. So, I could observe the many ways of dealing with life as it comes. Aging is what happens. The boomers did not have that, and with the 'Youth' mania of the Hippie era. All those idiots ignored their best role models. I could see what was in store for me as time passed. And, I did not go crazy, anticipating the process.I had many role models, what I do, is ignore age . Although age discrimination runs rampant right now, as the hippie-boomers age. And the younger people are in total denial. Wait till it happens to them.
I won't be here. But, what goes around, comes around.
Chronological age is just a number, it's up to us how we face it. Life goes on. You deal the best you can.The best thing is to maintain an interest in life, and have a youthful attitude. Growing up is enlightening. Just sitting around growing old is a waste of life.
My Dad lived to be 80.
Mom died at age 59. I would have loved to see how she aged. because, I once asked her if she would color her hair when it began to gray. She said, Absolutely not! I've earned every one of them.
I'm sorry, I had to laugh. She was right.

ELUSIVE SCENT

The scent of Autumn has come wafting in on soft gentle fingers of the a small Chinook..
The touch is subtle, more a sense, or feeling. The scent captures you and holds you raptured in it's gentle thrall. Catching one off guard.
To close my eyes and stand and let the delicate tendrils of scent, curl around in drafts and swirls. Just the slightest of movements. Let it wrap around, become one with it. Entwine with the aura.
It is a heady experience.
One could become lost within the scent of Autumn.
But, I open my eyes, take a breath. And go back in the house.
Too much beauty to bear.

A 'PINK' DESIGN FOR EMBROIDERY

This is a design for the china pink. or maybe it's a single carnation for embroidery. It is from the book: Design For Floral Embroidery by Elizabeth Geddes, that I found in during one of our trips to Britain in the 1970's. I found the most wonderful array of crafts and needleart books over there. I must have bought at least fifty over time. Finally got smart and had them shipped. Saved weight and left room for lighter things.

The Pink and carnation was a favorite motif in English Embroidery. It was done in all forms of needlework. It was a symbol of desire. And love. That was before the red rose took over in the mid-1800's.

I had all of these lovely books. And only really used the doll and toymaking ones. I never did get back to doing any embroidery. Which is really too bad. I did a lot when I was a teen ager.

'CHINA' PINKS

We had had some lovely Dianthus-'China Pinks'. this summer. Two containers of them. They were very pretty. I hadn't seen or even thought about 'Pinks', probably since I was at Home. I do not even remember who may have had them. Mrs. Lorenzen. Maybe my Grandmother Zettie. Who knows.
The flowers were doing very well. blooming and so sweet.
Then boom, they got splocthed by jet fuel. we are on a military flight path. The planes aren't every day. But often enough to ruin many of my roses and potted plants. We can move the pots, but not the roses.
China Pinks are such an Quaint Antique flower. The Victorians loved them, because to them the pinks were quite exotic.

NATIONAL CON TIME=part 1

Gahhh! I am so fed up with all this nonsense. I'm to the point, I couldn't care less. They all sound alike. If I could, I would write in 'Snoopy'. But, that's not allowed anymore. Too bad.
I find both to be scary.

BLUE SKY

Just beautiful! At last. It's so nice, The fires seem to be contained and mostly out, because the sky has been a deep blue again as it is supposed to be. Beautiful autumn blue skies again. I can breath again. I don't cough only a little. So my body is recovering from all the smoke. It's great. And I seem to be regaining some of my strength. So I'm not quite so tired all the time.
To look up and see blue with the green trees against the sky. True color, no gray. I forgot to look at sunset tonight to check the color. Because there has been enough smoke on the opposite side of the bay to produce some spectacular effects.
I hope no more fires break out, but, there is still Labor Day to come. Someone's barbeque or campfire is bound to break loose. Hope not though.

HARVEST-FIRST FRUITS

Home grown. Totally organic. We are surprised to even have this many.
He can eat them. I tasted a slice or two. And they are good. But, humm, frustration, that taste gave me a stomach ache.
I was looking forward to tomato sandwich.
Oh, well.
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I hope sharing these won't jinx them. Very often, sharing our garden causes everything to die.

GRAHAM CRACKER COOKIES

We didn't do S'mores. didn't know about them. But, we weren't campers. Not really. Although we did do a little. Dad liked to go camping. Ha,ha. We lived in the country and he liked to go camping. I always found that ironic.
But, anyway, one of favorite treats were Graham Cracker cookies. They were something we could make when we needed something to do and 'needed' a treat. Or maybe snowed in and couldn't get to town. Mom kept the crackers around and all we needed for the frosting was powdered sugar. So when we were bored we made cookies. Very good with milk. They were always special.
But, we never made S'mores. Had never heard of them. I didn't run across them until I was an adult. I don't like them. Too messy.
I've not made crackers cookies in a long time, because, I can no longer handle the fiber. But they were very tasty.