Thursday, October 8, 2015

Home from the Prairie

Here we are again at Prophetstown State Park at the confluence of the Wabash and Tippecanoe Rivers.

We were greeted each morning by a world blanketed in dense fog which burned away by noon.  The view across this prairie afforded a look at the ridge opposite under clear skies.  The picture is good: it's the fog, not bad photography.

The grasses are seven feet tall.  Walking through them could get one quite disoriented.  Best follow a deer trail, or stay out altogether.

The idea of the park was to restore a natural prairie as it would have existed two hundred years ago.  All non-native plant species were removed and replaced with the original type flora.

Wiener and BBBH enjoyed the sunny afternoons.  So did I.

Lulu and Grizz on their leashes stopped by with Rececca for a visit, and a pet of course.

Louie led devotions at sunset

When the sun went down, the heavier outerwear was donned.  Visiting with friends and thanking our Creator is what it is all about.

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Campsite: Prophetstown State Park.  Joy.

Monday, October 5, 2015

Lovely Lady

tl: 09; bl 08; center 15; tr 12; br 00 

With my Beloved Beautiful Better Half.  Today is her birthday.  Happy JoAnn Day, BBBH!

Saturday, October 3, 2015

Flower or Weed?

A few years ago a little tree came up volunteer in the edge of the Secret Garden.  We thought it interesting, the leaves were pretty and soon enough we were able to identify it as a rough leaf dogwood.  Over time we found that it blooms profusely in the springtime, lovely white blossoms.  We cultivated the tree, pruned it and took secret pride in its appearance.

Then after several seasons we realized that the tree was not only shading a huge portion of the garden it was clearly sapping the sustenance for the flowers beneath.  The solution:  the axe.  I thanked the tree for its display over the years and apologized to it for the destruction I was wreaking upon it.  It was soon gone to the composter.

Then.  Then we discovered how insidious and how devastating to the garden this plant really was, for there soon sprang up all along the root system little treelets seeking to perpetuate the life of the dogwood.  The root was far from dead and now we see the extent of the sneaky invasion, for these roots extend throughout the garden to its very edges in all directions.

There is but one solution to the problem.  The gardener must dig and tear the roots by main force from the earth in which they are embedded.

Has some pretty little thing taken root in your life?  At first it seemed so innocuous, fun even, then it developed into a full-grown vice or habit.  You did not realize what inappropriate shade it was casting over your life until the fruit of your garden was shriveling, small and tasteless.  Worse, you did not see the extent to which the thing had embedded itself into your very life.

And when you do realize the extent of the problem you are helpless to resolve the issue.  The only recourse is to call on the Master Gardener.

Word of the day: innocuous

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Every School Day in Every Community

Image result for child with backpack
Image result for child with backpack 

How in the name of all that is righteous can we look at this and not be incensed? 

 Image result for overloaded donkey

Tuesday, September 29, 2015


Poor little Wiener.  Next Monday we will celebrate his thirteenth birthday.  Yesterday he got a birthday present, or rather he donated a present.  He had five more teeth pulled.  Let's do the math: (42 - 11) - 5 = 26. Or should the sentence read: 42 - (11 + 5) = 26 ?  Well I guess the little guy will still have enough chompers to be able to eat.

Sunday, September 27, 2015

Margot Goes to Sunday School

Somewhere, Indiana was a quiet not to say bucolic village of some five or six thousand souls.   And as to the tending of souls, the community was well-supplied with churches.  There were by most accounts twenty-three churches in the immediate environs of the community.  One was Roman Catholic, eleven were Baptist, and the remaining ones were protestant churches of various stripes.  These twenty-three do not include a Kingdom Hall and an LDS facility, both well outside the town proper, and outside the consideration of the citizenry with the exception of the adherents and devotees of those respective faiths.

This seems an awfully ponderous introduction to a light-hearted tale about a little girl and her Sunday School experience.  Yet it is somewhat germane in that it clearly points out that Somewhere was if not a religious place at least a place where the citizens respected or at least supported religious institutions.  And Margot's parents were considered to be heathens by the social standards thereabouts. Oh, Tad and Marsha were nice enough people, good moral people.  They were well-educated and successful in their chosen fields of endeavor.  But they cheerily and cheerfully ignored all attempts by friends or neighbors, laity or clerical, to entice them into participation in religious services.

But seven-year old Margot, while not a social butterfly, had developed a friendship with Luanne.  Lu's parents were staunch Methodists, pillars of Brookside UMC one might say.  Inevitably Luanne prevailed upon her friend Margot to attend Sunday school with her.  And Margot presented the case to her mother.  Mother was open-minded and not averse to the idea that her pride and joy be exposed to the other side of things, and gladly agreed that Margot might go to Sunday school.

Sunday morning Margot skipped down her front steps, blue dress, white bonnet with a broad blue ribbon and blue bow tied just above the brim.  Her Mary Janes were new and white stockings completed the ensemble.  The child skipped along the sidewalk and up the steps to the house next-door but one.  Presently Luanne joined Margot and the two skipped merrily along the walk, a bluebell and a jonquil bobbing along side by side to the Methodist Church a mere block away.

Mrs. Leffler was enthusiastically explaining to the children how God formed Adam from the dust of the earth,  then deciding the man should have a companion put him to sleep, removed a rib and formed a woman.  "Oh," exclaimed Margot, "that's disgusting!"

Startled, Mrs. Leffler said, "Excuse me?"

"First God made a man out of mud then he cut him open and took a bone to make a woman?  Mud and blood and bone?  That is disgusting."

"But, Honey, this is God's word.  It is completely true and this creation story reminds us that we are not all that high and mighty."

"Whatever.  My Mama says I am made of sugar and spice and everything nice!"

"That is a pretty thing for your mother to say, but we must take God at his word."
"Well, I am going with my Mama on this one."

Sunday school was over and the girls met Luanne's parents in the foyer.  Mrs. Jarrett said, "Won't you join us for the worship service, Margot?"

"Oh, no, thank you Mrs. Jarrett.  I gotta get on home now."

Up the front steps, in the front door.  Mama called, "Is that you, Muffin?"

"Yes, Mama."

"How was Sunday school?"

"It was fine, Mama."

"What did you learn?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Margot said as she closed the bathroom door behind her.

And on that issue Margot was completely right.

Word of the day: ponderous