Skies

                                                    

Winter Blue, soft and muted,

Almost transparent.

Take time……Enjoy,

‘Tis precious, like rare crystal.

Spring Blue, warm and soothing,

Like good friend,

Take brush……Paint,

Pastel hues over winter’s landscape.

Summer Blue, sharp and piercing,

Image of reflecting pond.

Take eyes……close,

Preserve memory for winter’s gloom.

Autumn Blue, pale and melancholy,

Breeze warm and comfortable.

Take moment……ponder

Life, like sky is a swirling see of blues

Ash tree

I think, long, long time ago I wrote about the ash tree in my neighbor's back yard. When we move here a bazillion years ago, the tree was a sapling, and the house was vacant at the time, so I took it upon myself to shape and trim the ash giving it a chance to grow in a more healthy manner.  I took pity one the tree, because, like our house, that house was a rental, and the management company didn't seem to give a hoot about the property.  While the owners of the property (a construction company) didn't seem to give a hoot either.

Since I had time on my hands, LOL, and I had a love of all growing things I figured, what the heck, if in the future they whack the tree down, at least for a while I'm giving it a fighting chance.  Over the years, the property sold and changed hands several times, but each new owner spared the tree which has now reached maturity.

Over the years, wind and weather has damaged and changed the appearance of the tree, so that some of the branches make the tree look as though it is being 'held up' or about to be 'mugged'.  Some of the branches have been removed, and the scarring has formed an "O" mouth, and two sad looking eyes.  I can't tell you how much enjoyment this tree has given me over the years.

We all get old, and although the spacing between the mouth and the eyes as spread apart, it still looks like a face, the arms still extended in fright.  But, this winter something new has been added, an odd shaped eyebrow as well as a peculiar beard and mustache of bright green moss.  He's turned out to be quiet a peculiar looking gentleman.

Still, I'm thrilled nobody has ever tried to bring this fellow down to a stump, because aside from becoming a good friend, in the summer he provides wonderful, cooling shade that protects my home from the hot August sun.  I would miss him terribly.

I guess it's strange such things as an ash tree, or an eagle , or a wolf  affect us in a tender, loving way, but I think they all help to shape us to become the people we are. Nature is a wondrous thing, hmmm...I think I'm going to go out today and hug a tree.

There's always a surprise...

...when I get my monthly hometown magazine.  I've had my subscription to this magazine for about a year now and I've become very fond of it.  I thought I knew a great deal about my hometown, but each month there is always a surprise.  I learn something new, something fascinating, something intriguing.

This month is no exception.  On the very last page there is a department called Looking Back, generally the article written here is the one in which I learn something new about my hometown. This month the article title is African-American History Month.  And, the author, Kaytlin Sumner, a curator at Johnstown Area Heritage Association taught me some pretty shocking things about the town in which I grew up.

It seems it had its share of racial tension and discrimination.  She talks about an incident in the 1920's when the mayor at the time "ordered all African-Americans who lived in Johnstown less than seven years to 'pack up his belongings and get out'. The order also called for a ban on any future African-American or Mexican workers (from coming) into Johnstown and, that visitors were required to register with the mayor or the chief of police."

In addition, All social gatherings, except for church were prohibited until further notice...and..."the mayor also ordered police to search homes of African-Americans for weapons, guns, hammers and kitchen knives."

How deplorable!  I never knew!  Oh, I wasn't even born at the time, but I had no idea my sweet, rustic, so culturally diverse hometown could have behaved in such a despicable a manner.

To make matters even worse, Ms. Sumner's article goes on to state "On the evening
of September 6, the Ku Klux Klan displayed 12 lighted crosses in and around Johnstown",  coupled with a picture of Klansmen standing on Bedford street in the mid 1920's. I had no idea the Klan was active in my hometown.  This whole thing sends shivers down my spine.

However, according to the article the mayor's outburst received national attention and did not sit well with the majority that "largely condemning his actions."  Well, hallelujah!

In the end, I confess I appreciate Sumner's article, and the effort she put in to help set straight the view I have of my hometown. I guess every town has some sort of skeletons in the basement of their City Hall.  Thank goodness there are written records of these events, because "we must never be allowed to forget".

(Ms Kaytlin Sumner concluded her article giving credit to Randy Whittle's Johnstown, Pennsylvania, Part One, 1895--1936 for some of the information in her article.  I thank both of them for the information provided in mine.) 

Saturday

I don't have much to write about today. Same old, same old Saturday.

Chores of course will fill the hours, in particular, the loads of weekly laundry. How can one person and one imaginary friend possibly have three loads of it.  I suppose I could cut it back to two, but having been brought up to divide loads, white (hot water), colored (warm water), and dark (cold water), my conscience will not allow me to do that.  Fortunately I can regulate the amount of water each load takes, that helps.  Anyway, today will be a lot of jumping up and down, changing loads.

However, that's not my problem today, what is, is having something to write about. I wonder how in the world famous columnists manage to keep their writings fresh day after day.  I'm thinking about those of Erma Bombeck and Bill Bryson status. They've always been my favorites, and have brought me many a smile, and sometimes many a tear.  It always amazed me they could take the most simple subject and delight millions of people every day.  I wish I could do that...maybe some day (I hope).

Writing has always been a mystery to me. I start with a blank page, and hope a word, something will inspire me, and maybe that word, that something inspire somebody else as well.

As a novice, I tried to get published, but learned long ago how hard that is, and since I hate rejection eventually gave up trying to be so. As a result I threw away all my rejection letters and decided to write for and satisfy myself. That way I could be joyful, sorrowful, angry, melancholy, fearful, playful and write about whatever feeling possessed me any particular day.

I began to take writing classes to 'hone my craft', I learned some writers acquire what they call a muse.  I chose to be a little different and have an imaginary friend named Frankie, and a shoulders sitting angel and devil who help me stay on 'the right track'.  Recently all the above have been joined by a pixie, and I'm not exactly sure how she's going to work out...I must confess, she skirts on the edge of danger.  They've all come in handy when that blank page is staring back at me mocking, intimidating, snickering, wanting me to fail.

What makes a writer endure in moments of despair?  Perhaps the fact the words we write might brighten a reader's day, give them words of encouragement when they are most needed, or perhaps let them know they are not alone in some dark hour.  I confess writing brightens my day, encourages me when I need encouragement most, and lets me know I'm not alone in my darkest hour, as word after word fills the blank page, and spills out the moments of my life.

Losing control

Oh, yeah, I've completely lost control.  I like to think I'm a pretty organized person. My house is reasonably tidy, as are my cupboards and closets, though there might be dust covering the furniture and there are a few spiderwebs in the corners of the door frames, I will get to them eventually.

Here's the thing.  This morning I was looking for two hand drawn pictures, they were both of butterflies.  I wanted to find them in order to start a new project for an item in my store.  I thought I knew exactly where they were, and went to that spot.  Guess what...neither picture was where they were supposed to be.  So, I began to search the next best places I thought they might be.

You guessed it, I couldn't find those two butterfly pictures, anywhere...I'm talking anywhere.  The more I looked, the more ridiculous this particular mystery became.   I began to giggle.  I went back to the place I knew they should be, I must have overlooked them in the file.  Nope, they simply are not there.  Then I thought perhaps I had already made a file of them on my computer, labeled "Butterflies" yeah, that's the ticket; I was sure I would find them.  AHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Okay, I have to stay calm, the office is small, there aren't that many places to look. Every binder has a label, every box (though not labeled) is committed to memory, I know exactly what is in each one. As a result I know for instance pictures will not be in art supplies, or the boxes filled with 'stuff' I've purchased from my favorite craft stores so I need not waste time looking in them.  And, I begin a methodical search of the binders and boxes I might have accidentally misfiled the missing pictures. After two hours of searching, I've given up.  Sigh!

When I started my little company, everything had a place, and everything was properly in it. However, over the years binders have been added, additional boxes have been bought, 100 file folders have filled the boxes. Truth be told, I've not a clue where half the stuff I've bought, made, or even thought about could be in the jumble of what as become my office.

As a result, if ever find those missing butterfly pictures (there's a 50/50 chance I never will) I'm sure I won't even remember why I was looking for them in the first place.  Sigh!

Oh, yeah, I've completely lost control.

Oh, I meant to...

write yesterday, but it was Bible Study day and I had to do my obligatory house cleaning.  I didn't exercise yesterday either.  As it was, by the time I had showered, shaved, primped and primed I didn't even have time to grab a bite to eat.

I managed to set up our TV tray desks, and give a quick glance at what we were going to study as my study companion walked up to my front door.

I think I've mentioned the book we are studying, It's called "Imitate Their Faith", and each chapter, or so is about a particular personality in the Bible.  We've Studied such people as Abel, Noah, Ruth, Samuel, Elijah, and Mary.  I feel like I know these people, oh, there are so many questions I want to ask them some day.

However, my most favorite person of all we've studied, and the one I'm most like, is Jonah.  I simply don't want to do things that are unpleasant, especially if I'm not given a choice and 'told' to do them. Hey, ask me, and 99% of the time I will do my best to fulfill whatever chore you would like done. But, make me do it, and I will (probably, 99% of the time) eventually get the job done...but I won't like it.

And, so it is I'm exactly like Jonah.  When God gave him an unpleasant job to do, what did he do?     Why, of course, he ran away...as far as he could go.  As we all know...he ended up in the belly of a fish.  Now, there's a punishment for ya'.  All I'm sayin' is if God gives you a job to do you dang well better do it.

So, Jonah eventually did as God requested, he went to the awful, evil city of Nineveh to give them a message that they were going to be destroyed.  He needed great courage and faith to spread this news, and being a stranger in a strange land, he had no idea how this message would be received.  These folks could become an angry mob and...well, let's not go there.

To his surprise, the folks of Nineveh took his message to heart and repented, and God in His mercy spared the evil city.

Spare the city! This was not what Jonah thought God would do.

Did Jonah take this well, nope, he went off in a huff, somewhere in the mountains that over looked the city, where he sat down and  pouted.  He built himself a shelter, and hunkered down in a snit.  It was hot, dry, and there was very little shade to protect Jonah from the sun.  God provided Jonah with a quick growing bottle gourd plant that provided shade for this angry, disappointed man.  However God then sent a worm to attack the bottle gourd, and the plant died.

Boy, this did not sit well with Jonah...He was even more angry with God and said "I have rightly become hot with anger, to the point of death."

Don't you think by now God would have been saying..."Okay, Jonah, I give up...you are a hopeless individual...sit out here in the sun...I'm done with you."  And, don't I think sometimes He says to me, "Okay Sandra, I give up...you are a hopeless individual...I'm trying to teach you a lesson...you simply refuse to listen...I'm done with you."? Thank goodness, God's not like that.

Yes, sometimes it takes a whop upside the head for me to finally get the message,
but just like Jonah, God in his infinite mercy, quietly repeats the message.

What Jonah failed to understand was that by giving the people of Nineveh God's message, he was able to save many, many souls.  So, patiently, (again) God explained that just as he (Jonah) was angry, disappointed and feeling sorry for himself over the loss of the gourd plant, He (God) could have remained angry and disappointed with the city of Nineveh and destroyed it even though they repented.

Instead He told Jonah..."You felt sorry for the bottle gourd plant, which you did not work for, nor did you make it grow; it grew in one night and perished in one night.  For my part, ought I not to feel sorry for Nineveh the great city, in which there exist more than one hundred and twenty thousand men who do not at all know the difference between their right hand and their left, besides many domestic animals."

In other words, It was God who was in control of not only the gourd plant, but also the city of Nineveh, Jonah was just the vessel by which the city was saved.  It was God's mercy that saved the city, and Jonah as well.

I have to ask myself why I always want to be in control, when my life is already written in God's book.  Oh, I'm so much like Jonah, I stomp my foot, and snort, and pout unwilling to accept God is in control, and he knows what's best for me.

I hope I learn my lesson before I end up in the dank, dark and probably very smelly belly of a fish.

What's on my mind

Every day Facebook asks me what's on my mind.  Sometimes I respond with something silly, sometimes something I think is profound.  Sometimes I just write 'whatever'.

This morning I simply wrote I have concern on my mind.  I guess that sounds pretty stupid on the surface, but I am concerned, in particular about my beloved eagles nesting in Decorah, Iowa.  A couple of years ago they built a new nest, and the first year the eaglets thrived, and went on to live independent lives.

Last year the babes did not fare as well.  First one of them was attacked by an owl, and almost didn't make it, then the nest was infested with some sort of gnats that nearly ate the eaglets alive.  As the days went by I could tell they were thinking they had to get out of there in order to survive, and (personally) I think they fledged too soon.  Before long two of the eaglets were gone.  The third, I think probably the one who had been attacked, was left alone, still fighting off the horror of the gnats.

Oh, the parents still came to bring food, so the eaglet was not totally abandoned, but it wanted out of there very, VERY badly, and soon it fled.  However, it didn't do well, stayed close to the nest, and the parents were always close by.

Then one day it was reported one of the eaglets had been electrocuted coming in contact with a local power line.  It was a devastating loss.   Soon after, one of the eaglets had to be rescued, and sent to a rehab center.  It appeared to be the one that had been attacked by the owl.  After weeks and weeks of care it was established it would never survive in the wild and is being trained to be part of a program to teach us about the magnificent eagle.

The third eaglet was tagged, and being monitored daily as it becomes more and more independent and familiar with Iowa's terrain.

As I write, the eagle nest, known as N2, is being prepared for this years aerie. However, (and here is my concern) while the parents are preparing the bowl, a pair of owls is also trying to 'take over' the nest.  They are by no means trying to work on the nest to make it a home, they are simply invading, causing the eagles much distress.  Still, they seem to think the owls will eventually give up and go away.  As for me, I don't think so.  Soon it will be time for mama eagle to lay her eggs.  I have great concern for her, if night time attacks take place.  And, I have exceptional concern for the eggs once they are laid, as they will make one delicious meal for the owls. Then, my concern will be for the babies, so vulnerable, naked, blind, innocent and totally unable to defend themselves.  Oh, the parents will do their level best to protect and defend their offspring, still I fear there will be many battles over the nest, eggs and babies.

Considering all the time the owls are 'wasting' over the eagle's nest, I have to wonder if they are working on a nest of their own.  It seems to me they are not.

Therefore, what's on my mind today is concern.  N2 so far, has not been a great success for the Decorah eagles, I secretly wish they had continued to use N1 for their home.  However, we can't go back in time, and we will have to hope this year's aerie in N2 will thrive; trust me, if things do not go well it will not be because of the lack of good parenting.  Mom and dad will work their wings off to provide for the eaglets. There is, of course, natures 'survival of the fittest' over which we have no control...unforeseen, unexpected things happen. I for one, will worry, fret, fret and worry until this year's babies leave the nest and eventually begin families of their own.

I wish you well, Decorah eagles, stay safe, stay strong.