Flowers For August

                                                                Wild Clematis in the Side Yard

                                                           Red Cypress Vine in the Back Yard

                                                        Chrysanthemums in my Kitchen Window

The Basket That Named Itself

A few days ago, we had a super moon, and being August, it was the Corn Moon. I got up in the middle of the night, to view the super moon and moonlight was shining on the basket I just made. What a magical sight. So I had no choice but to dedicate it to the Corn Moon 2014.

A Flying Dream

When I was very young, I used to fly a lot in my dreams. Each time I would start to feel that lifting feeling, I would remember to make sure I reviewed my knowledge and take a few practice runs through the house before venturing outside. It was kind of similar to learning how to ride a bicycle. Balance was essential. I flew to a lot of places, some that were familiar, and some new. No matter what the scenery was, flying always gave me a sense of freedom and exhilaration. Apparently, when you leave your body, your body becomes very still. I remember two incidents where I was jarred back into reality because someone was shaking me. One was my mother, and the other time was my childhood girlfriend who thought I had stopped breathing during a sleep over. As the years went by, and I grew up, those dreams faded and I stopped flying. I missed them and wondered if I would ever experience the feeling again. 

Well, last night, I got my wish. After 50 years, I got to fly again. I found myself in an old monastery like building with cobble stones for flooring. I had on a long robe and could feel the coolness of the stones under my bare feet. As I lifted off the ground, it took me a few moments to realize that I was at least two feet off the floor, and I seemed to be gliding like a ghost. It was very pleasurable, and I then wondered if I could go higher. As I arched my body and spread out my arms, I rose further up in the air, and flew down a number of corridors. It was delightful. I then heard a voice in my head tell me that I could fly around the old house, and also on the outside surrounding grounds, but no further. That was fine with me, so I explored every room and all of the gardens. As I was glancing up at the moon some time later, this naked young man greeted me in the air and invited me to come back to the house where he served me some wonderful food he had cooked, just for this occasion. As I began to eat, I felt my feet touch the ground and he then told me my flight was over. I laughed and told him how grateful I was. When I tried to thank him, he stopped me and said he was only the messenger, not the source. So whoever granted me this flight, thank you! I will always remember it. 

Utility Boxes

One of the interesting things that local towns have begun doing, is the painting of utility boxes by the side of the road. Different artists have come up with unique designs. Some depict Mallard ducks, others are paintings of chairs. My favorite one so far is the hand sticking up out of the river. Each time I pass it, it makes me wonder what kind of story goes along with the painting.

Diana's Basket Enhanced

I was able to make a lid for her basket.

Flowers from my Husband

Every Saturday, after going to tennis drills in Clinton, Bill does the week's food shopping. He prefers to go alone, leaving me home, because I like to dawdle and he usually goes through the market at a dead run. It's OK with me. Elaine and I usually go mid-week and take our time reading all the labels. One of the nice things that Bill does, is that he brings me flowers each week. Here are some of the highlights of the year.

Good Eats!

This past Saturday, it was my girlfriend, Rochelle’s birthday. She turned 52. About 2 years ago, she had a stroke that left her paralyzed on her right side. Rochelle was my adventure buddy before her stroke. She lived out in the country on a beautiful lake with 40 acres of wilderness. We used to take her 4-wheeler out on the trails and had many a-venture, with me bouncing around on the back of the vehicle, hanging on for dear life. In the spring, there were thousands of Daffodils that bloomed in one of the fields. We picked wild garlic that was everywhere, and the wildlife was plentiful. On one part of the property was an old barn that you could climb up in the hayloft, and watch the deer graze, just below you. We would sit silently on an old couch that faced the upper open barn door. It was a refuge for her that she often visited, and I was grateful that she shared it with me.

Anyway, on Saturday, we ventured down to Lorman, where there was a country store restaurant that claimed to make the best fried chicken in the state. Rochelle’s mother and her husband accompanied us. The old country store was built in the 1890’s, and still had the ladders on each side of the large room that allowed access to shelves way up high. When we entered the store, there was everything you could imagine, packed on the shelves. The restaurant’s main fare was the buffet, and although the majority of the food was fairly good southern style cooking, the fried chicken truly lived up to its reputation. It was heavenly. The outside was crisp, and the inside was moist and tender, all the way down to the bone. To top things off, we were then serenaded by the very man who made this fabulous fried chicken. He had a microphone, and sang to the customers in a wonderful baritone blues voice. He sang, “My mama, was the corn bread queen.”  He then sang Happy Birthday to Rochelle as well. She was thrilled and laughed aloud. I applauded enthusiastically. This was better than dessert, which none of us could eat because we all over-ate on the fried chicken.

Here a some photos from our adventure. And, oh, by the way, even though she can’t talk as well as she used to, she can clearly still say shit, hell, god damn it, and no! I miss that part of her that went away, but she is still able to make herself perfectly understood.