Showing posts with label life clips. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life clips. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Tears-a poem



GRIEF TEARS 
Sharon Prater-Pope (4-24-12)

Grief tears flow from my deepest core,
Like a waterfall with no shutoff valve.
For months they erupt from my eyes,
Glide down my cheeks, and drip off my chin,
Crashing onto my chest,
Soaking my blouse.
Memories and loss
Mix with salty water.
No turning off…

Suddenly they stop.
No turning them back on.
The pain of loss still sits in my core,
Etched forever
Like stone carvings under a waterfall,
In the crevices of my heart and mind.
Food and fat layers replace the tears,
Providing a wall of comfort and distance
From the risk of more hurt.

The walls only cause more pain…

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Borrowed Things-a poem


BORROWED THINGS

Sharon Prater-Pope (4-29-12)

We own nothing in this life.
Not the next breath.
Not the next heartbeat.
Not our eyes.
Not our thoughts.
Not our time.
Not each other.
Not our children.
Not our families.
Not our friends.
Not our pets.
Not our land.
Not our homes.
Not our cars.
Not our bank accounts.
Not the beds we sleep in.
Not the food we eat.
Not our bodies.
Not our health.
Not our lives.
Not our creativity or talent.
Not our material things.
Not our sentimental things.
Not our memories.
Not the earth…

All on loan to us
For a lifespan,
To use and take care of while we’re here.
To be taken at any moment,
In a heartbeat.

The last breath drawn
Leaves it all behind
For others to use or abuse.
None of it ever really owned,
Only borrowed for a moment.

We go out of life
As we came in.
Naked and alone.
Bringing nothing.

Taking nothing…

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Walls, a Poetic Attempt

WALLS
by Sharon P. Pope

Day by week by year
One by one by one
Words actions pounds
Build walls that hold in
Emotions, anger, pain, resentment,
Disappointments, pride, and fear,
While holding out
Love, life, joy, happiness, inner peace,
And the people we love the most.
        

Monday, January 2, 2012

An Exercise on Being Mindful

This is an exercise from Misty Mawn's pre-workshop in being mindful of whatever you're doing, really paying attention to and being present with one thing at a time. Living in the present moment and absorbing the essence of whatever you're doing at the time or whoever you're with.

I spent a few minutes with a burning candle, lit for my dad, absorbing the experience into my soul, and wrote about it. I feel more alive because of it. Here's what I wrote.

BEING MINDFUL
By: Sharon P. Pope

             Sitting here at my work table, actually my dining room table, with my creative supplies and my cup of coffee gathered around me, I decide to light one of the three new votive candles sitting on the shelves for Daddy, who was taken from us seven years ago right before Thanksgiving.

             I take the little candle and set it directly on the table, feeling the cool waxy smoothness as my fingers curl around it, then release it to stand on its own. I love the rosy coral color and the faint smell, although I’ve forgotten the name of the scent.

             I pick up an old matchbook lying nearby, flip the cover open with my thumbnail, tear out a red-headed match, and tuck the cover back into place, noticing the scratchiness as I do so. After multiple attempts to light the match on the strip provided, I give up and toss the now smudged red-headed match into the trash can. It lands with a barely discernible click atop a crumpled up sheet of paper.

            The matchbook cover is flicked open again, with a clicking of my thumbnail. A second red-headed match is torn out, and the cover replaced. This time I succeed with only a couple of strikes, and the match bursts into an angry flame, then quickly settles back down to calmness, the smoke curling toward my nose in a tendril of bluish smoke, bringing the slight smell of sulphur with it.

            The flame wavers as the match rides between my fingers to touch noses with the whiteness of the candle wick. For a second they blaze up as one, before I remove the match and gently blow out the fire, watching another wisp of smoke dissipate as the flame is snuffed out.

             I toss the bent, now black-headed, burned out match into the trash can to join the one whose flame never got to burn. Another flick and the cover is back in place. As I lay the matchbook down, I notice the dark blue background with the diamond shaped logo on both sides, done in shades of yellows and blues. The word, diamond, in white lower case lettering is ensconced across the logo. I suppose the match tips are supposed to be as hard as diamonds?

            My attention returns to the candle, whose flame has now settled down into a mesmerizing point of light, slowly undulating this way and that. The tiny flame is so beautiful, yet so dangerous. Its capabilities are frightening.

             The sounds of cars passing on the highway, my husband’s gentle snoring, as he sleeps on the couch, the ticking of the grandfather clock that daddy made for us, the rattle of the fan, the fridge’s humming, and the ringing in my ears, which is akin to a heard of crickets, all fade into the background as I focus on the candle.

             Melted wax is now dribbling down the wick, melting out a well in the candle top, which was once slightly rounded. The wick is turning black as the fire feeds from it, causing the wax to melt and fill the well, which is getting deeper by the second. The hot wax releases a lovely tropical scent into the air. It delights my sense of smell.

             My breathing is calm.

             Yellow-oranges and purply-blues meet and form soft shades of gray where the flame and wick join. It continues to hypnotize. The rosy coral candle is no longer one color. It is now several shades around the top where the heat has gently transformed it. The sides are now translucent, allowing a soft warm glow to emanate from within.

              It is gorgeous, and somehow comforting, as I feel the sadness of no longer having my dad around wash over me. My life has not, nor will it ever be, the same without him. I always knew that it would be hard to give him up when the time came, but I couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain of loss and vulnerability that comes with losing a parent. Slowly, I’ve learned to live without him physically being here, but I always feel his presence in my heart, and I am grateful for that.

            I turn the page in the journal where I am hand writing these words. It slips from my fingers, twice, landing on the candle, angering the flame, causing it to squat and reach out to grab the edge of the paper. My journal narrowly misses becoming a blaze itself.

            Next time I will set the candle down in a proper container.

            My page is secured and safe and my thoughts return to Daddy. Now I’m remembering all the happy times with him, the wonderful toys he made me when I was little, how he understood me, maybe more than anyone else, and that I always knew that he loved me and was proud of me, even if he couldn’t say it. I am grateful that he cared enough to teach me morals, values, and respect for myself and others. I am grateful that God gave me the parents I have, and grateful to still have Mama.

             I watch as the well of melted wax overflows and spills over the side, creating a deep groove as it glides down and forms a puddle on the table. As the wax hits the chilliness of the table top, it hardens, connecting the candle to the table.

            There is now a second well forming inside the first well inside the candle walls. The wick has burned down into the candle until it isn’t getting much oxygen. It is now very small and docile, but still struggling to survive, and still dangerous.

             I lean over and with one puff blow out the tiny flame still grasping for life. The candle no longer has the warm glow with the dancing light. It is now dark and still. Its spirit, in the form of a blue-gray trail of smoke, dissipates and scatters, as it rises toward the ceiling, or heaven.

             I feel the chill on my bare arms on this cool morning, as I think about how our lives are similar to the candle flames. Our flame burns brightly, as we struggle through life with all its twists and turns, learning and growing, leaping, dancing, stumbling. It dims some as we get older, then it is snuffed out, many times without warning, leaving those who loved us bewildered, trying to make sense of it all.

             Some people would say that the candle is no longer beautiful, or even pretty. It’s true that it has been transformed by the fire, and is no longer shaped perfectly with a snow white wick protruding from the smooth slightly domed top.

            The tiny wick is now charred black and almost covered with re-set wax down in the double wells. It not only no longer stands on top looking down, but it cannot see over the edge, now ragged, translucent, and faded. There is a deep groove down one side and a solid puddle of wax around the bottom. It has dents and dings.
 
             Now it is flawed, full of character, and has an even deeper beauty.

              It has lived. It has held onto fire and has been re-shaped and molded. It has brought me a sense of peace, tranquility, and beauty for the few brief moments it burned.

              It has survived. Changed. But still beautiful in its imperfection.

Saturday, December 31, 2011

Long Time No See!

Surprise! I know I've been really lax about posting here for a long time. The fact is I've been taking online workshops in mixed media journaling and art and my other blog, Moxie Blue, has been getting all the attention and pictures.

I have signed up for three online workshops, all beginning in January, and I know that at least one of them includes quite a bit of writing, which I will also post here when I am wearing my brave britches.

The post before this one includes the first writing from Misty Mawn's Open Studio Workshop in sort of a poem form. I also have the rought draft for a journal entry on being mindful done, which I plan on sharing as soon as it's typed.

In the meantime, I just wanted to say hello, that I'm still out here, and to wish you all the best of New Years! Have a safe and happy weekend. HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Thanks for your support and I'll see you next year!

I AM HERE

Misty Mawn's Open Studio Workshop doesn't officially open until January 9, but she gave us a few preliminary things to do to get acquainted. One was to write a poem, of sorts, titled "I Am Here". This is my effort. The lines are not in any particular order, but in the order they came to me.

I'm a little nervous about sharing it, because some of it I've never shared with anyone, plus the fact that I'm not a poet. But for some reason, I want to share it. I hope you can make sense out of it. :)


I AM HERE
By SP Pope
I AM HERE
Still
By some miracle
By the grace of God

Despite childhood illnesses and accidents
Despite polio’s paralyzing attack
Despite being an only child
Despite the mistakes of my youth
Despite close calls with divorce
Despite being childless
Despite the pain of an adoption falling through
Despite suffering many losses
Despite being paralyzed by grief, trauma, and fear sometimes
Despite menopause
Despite many disappointments, heartbreaks, and heartaches
Despite life lessons learned the hard way
Despite bouts of anger and depression with suicidal thoughts
Despite not getting to spread my wings beyond my home town
Despite the guilt that my parents had no grandchildren
Despite a job I was unhappy doing
Despite all of my weaknesses
Despite rejections
Despite loneliness at times
Despite being made fun of in school for walking with a limp and having a weak bladder
Despite feelings of being totally overwhelmed at times
Despite the adjustments of retirement and hubby and I learning to live together 24/7
Despite the aches and pains of aging
Despite waning eyesight and memory lapses
I am here

Because of loving and caring parents
Because I survived polio to walk, run, and dance
Because of amazing friends and family
Because of wonderful grandparents
Because of having loved and been loved
Because of rejection
Because of the encouragement of teachers
Because of bosses who believed in me
Because of three best friends, who, since childhood, have stood by me through thick, thin, and weirdness
Because of all the wonderful pets I’ve been privileged to have in my life, who loved me unconditionally
Because of all the happy times
Because of a mother who loved me enough to encourage, and sometimes push, me to live life
Because of my strengths
Because of being an only child
Because of my imaginary friends
Because there are many sides to me
Because of accepting God as my personal savior long ago
Because of my husband of almost forty-two years
Because of the love of learning
Because I enjoy solitude
Because of my passion for art, writing, music, and reading
Because of finally finding peace within
Because I’m learning to live in the present
Because of life’s lessons learned through the people and experiences I’ve crossed paths with
I am here

Today I am loving retirement
Today I am enjoying my husband, despite the occasional disagreement
Today I am battling type 2 diabetes
Today I am ecstatic with my creative endeavors
Today I am still learning new things daily
Today I feel vibrant and alive
Today I don't have to be busy every second
Today I love my own company
Today I have gray in my hair and I am overweight
Today my body is all soft and mushy, the way grandchildren would have loved it
Today I am more concerned with inner beauty than makeup and fashion
Today I let things go that “should be” done, in order to enjoy the things and people I love
Today I am still making mistakes and learning from them
Today I am living one minute at a time
Today I still grieve and feel overwhelmed sometimes
Today I still live in the small town where I was born
Today I love and am loved
Today I still have my mom and my husband
Today I am still an only child, but with many “adopted” siblings in the form of friends and cousins
Today I still have a home and I am able to live in it
Today I can still take care of myself
Today I still have my old friends, and I continue to make new ones
Today I’m having adventures and looking for the everyday miracles and magic
Today I am on my computer discovering all the wonderful things that the web has to offer
Today I am older, wiser... and a little more forgetful
Today I am content on my little patch of earth
Today I am learning how better to cope with life and all its ups and downs, now that its winding down, but
I am here

I am who I am
I AM HERE
Still
By some miracle
By the mercy and grace of God
And I am grateful

Sunday, January 31, 2010

Angels Appear...

in the places you'd least expect them sometimes. Can you see her?

I took this photo of two of my favorite perfume bottles to draw, because I didn't have time to capture all the reflections and refractions in pencil, and I thought they were so pretty. I was awed to find a tiny angel hiding among them.
I did not minipulate this in any way. It is the way the light shone through the perfume (a full bottle). Isn't she beautiful?

There isn't really a story to go with these, except that my only sister-in-law, Kay, gave me the perfume on the left and Mama gave me the one on the right. Two weeks after I made these photos, right before Christmas, Kay passed away suddenly and became an angel in Heaven herself. Life is sure not the same without her, and we miss her so much.

I just wanted to share my tiny angel with you and to also let you know that I'm still out here. Hopefully, I'll do better at posting on this blog too this year, as most of my posting was done on my Moxie Blue blog this past year.

Thank you for visiting. :)

Thursday, December 10, 2009

A Birthday Sheep Story...



Remember the story three posts back about the friend who gave me two Snowbabies ornaments years ago and I put them up for safe keeping and couldn't find them again until a couple of months ago? Well, this little tale is about another one of our "mishaps," and, trust me, we've had many over the past 48 years. Yep, we've been close friends that long!

Anyway, her birthday was last Tuesday. I hadn't been anywhere to get her a card, so she didn't get one on her birthday. I thought about her several times, but she was at work, so I didn't call her either. The day AFTER her birthday, I decided to make her a card, so I used the doodle sheep that I had sketched and painted as the front. I typed my name and where it was from with the date on the back and printed it off on a nice digital card.

It looked good, so I handwrote the birthday song on the inside. Only instead of You, I wrote Ewe, as in "Happy Birthday to Ewe!" etc. It never occurred to me that this might cause some confusion.

My friend called me this past Tuesday night. She said it was a good thing she got the card Saturday (4 days after her bd) because she was going to call to see about me. Then she started laughing and said, "Let me tell you what you're little dumb friend did!"

She opened the card, looked at the front, and thought the sheep was sweet. Then she read the inside. She said she must have read it a dozen times trying to figure out what point I was trying to make by singing happy bd to E-we and sending it to her.

She sang it to me, "Happy Birthday to E-We!" I was already belly-laughing, but I didn't say anything. You had to have heard her telling it.

Finally, she looked back at the front, saw the sheep, and made the connection! By the time she told me this, we were both nearly rolling on the floor laughing. I told her that it never occurred to me that she wouldn't think about a ewe being a female sheep. To which she again sang, "Happy Birthday to E-we!" and we got tickled again.

She said at least I got hers in the mail. She had found some that she got for me that never made it to the mail box. She usually calls me sometime around my birthday though. I told her not to feel bad, that I had fixed up my other best friend a BD card back in July and set it on the shelf to mail. A few days later that friend called me, and I told her that her BD card was sitting on the shelf, that I didn't get it mailed yet, but that I would. About three days later, she came to see me and said that she came after her card. I promptly handed it to her, and we had some giggles over coffee.

Ahhh! The joys of being a Senior Citizen! It's a trip! LOL

Friday, October 23, 2009

The Ghost of Great-Grandma?

Look at the pictures below. Do you see her? The lady with the black braids and the white dress? In the background?
Now do you see her? I think it's the ghost of my Great-Grandma, Melinda Lucinda Valentine Sanders Prater. She died way before I was born, but she was a full blooded Cherokee Indian, and I've always been fascinated by her. When I was little, I would ask my grandmother what her mother-in-law's name was, just to hear her sing it off. She would tell me in a little sing-song voice with her eyes twinkling and then chuckle at the end.


The other morning I was sitting at the dining room table and I happened to look out the kitchen door window. I saw a woman wearing a white dress, just standing across from the house. My heart kind of jumped, and I got up to take a closer look.

The dress was long and she was leaning on the diesel barrel, her black braids shining in the morning light. I could see her sun-dappled facial features plain as could be. She was young and beautiful and looked like she might be waiting on someone special. Great-Grandpa, perhaps?

I'm just playing with you! :)

I couldn't resist getting my camera and capturing the image. I thought the barrels, hose, the camper top, and the foliage all conspired to make a little Halloween ghost story image of someone I hold dear, even if I never met her, except through my granny's sing-song recounting of her name.

By the way, she's still standing there...waiting. :)

Friday, September 11, 2009

Trying to Get All My Ducks In A Row


It's been a while since I posted on Scribbles. It's not that I haven't been thinking about it or that I didn't want to. It's just that I have sooo many projects going that I'm bound to fall behind on some of them. I have lots of stories to tell you if I can ever get organized and get all my ducks in a row so that I can keep up with everything.

Along with trying to keep up three blogs and Facebook, I'm in the process of setting up an Etsy store online, which means I'm also trying to get handmade items ready to put in the store. I'll also have to set up a bookkeeping plan, etc.

I want to continue my blogs for fun, and since I don't want them to be stressful to me, they may be a little sporadic until I get situated.

A story was running through my mind when I got up this morning, but I'm expecting company and don't have time to write it down right now. Maybe it will come back to me at a later time.

Things are changing all the time in my life and getting rearranged, so what's going on in my head is a little chaotic. When things get too chaotic, I do like Ducky Blue (above) and take a nap. At least I have him in a row. .. :)

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Pickin Cotton or Cotton Pickin...

The other day Mama was talking about picking cotton when I was little. She, daddy, and I literally had nothing but each other, well we had very little, and I was sick a lot. Daddy worked all the time when he could find work, and Mama worked at different things to help out, or if she wanted something extra.

I remember her picking cotton to get enough money to buy me a panda teddy bear when I was ten years old. Teddy is a little worse for love-wear, but I still have him. He is coming up on his 50th birthday.

Whoops! I told how old I am didn't I?

I told that because it triggered a memory for me. When I've been asked through life what my first paying job was, I've always said I worked one day in Skinner's 5 & 10 Store during my Senior year.

It was on a Saturday, during the Christmas rush. I was extremely shy and absolutely terrified. I was told to watch a couple of little girls that came in because they were bad to shoplift things. I was glad I didn't see them pick up anything, because I don't think I could have said anything. Then one of the ladies that worked there all the time got onto me because I wasn't making bows for gift wrapping when I wasn't busy otherwise. I didn't stop shaking all day long.

I did, however, stay until the end of the day, and was paid three dollars. I bought Mama some artifical roses in a pretty vase for Christmas from the same store. Mrs. Doris was very sweet to me, always, even when I didn't go back on Monday.

But I realize now that that actually wasn't my very first paying job.

Mama's sister and her husband lived next to a large cotton field owned by their brother-in-law. Mama and her sister had both gone to work at the new factory in town, so my maternal grandmother stayed at my aunt's house and took care of her three little girls. I stayed either with them or my paternal grandmother, who lived just a short piece down the country road. I often stayed one place until I got bored, then walked to the other. It was safer then, and I was around ten or eleven years old.

I grew up with and loved my younger cousins. They are still more like sisters to me than cousins.

Anyway, nobody had air conditioning back then, at least in our families, so most of the hot days were spent outside under a good shade tree. Granny broke beans, or whatever her task was at the time, while she watched over us playing. Ten year olds still played back then. Papa was often sitting nearby with a songbook in his hand singing the songs in do-re-mi notes, his favorite past time.

Since there was only a fence between the cotton field and my aunt's yard, we saw all the people bent over picking cotton during the hot days, then taking those large cotton sacks to the truck to be weighed. It looked like fun to my oldest cousin, who was five or six at the time, and me. We begged Granny into letting us go pick cotton. You know how grannys are. We wore her down.

The other two cousins were too little to go, but she gave Rhonda and me each a flour sack. I think mine was green with little gold threads running through it. Flour came in large cotton sacks back then. The material was used for all sorts of things, but that's another story, and yes, I'm that old. :)

We crawled over the fence and timidly found us a spot where there weren't many people. We were both very bashful and at first stood back and watched what the others were doing; seeing how they pulled the little white fluffs off the bolls and put them into their very large cotton sacks.

Then we began to pull off the soft white fluffs, being careful to dodge the stickery things, and put them into our flour sacks. We thought we were doing great and were so proud of ourselves. We each had some cotton in our sacks.

Then one of Rhonda's older male cousins talked her into giving him her cotton, which she did, because she trusted him and didn't know he was taking advantage of her. I think I fussed on her for giving it to him and she cried because she didn't have any left to sell. I felt bad for her.

We were getting hot, tired, and bored anyway. It seemed like we'd been there for hours, but it was probably more like an hour. I helped her pick some more cotton for her sack. Neither sack was even half full, but we marched right up to where the cotton was being weighed and handed Rhonda's uncle our sacks.

Uncle Robert was a kind man and went through the motions of weighing each of our sacks just like he did everyone else's.

Neither of us actually had three cents worth of cotton, I'm sure, but he gave each of us a dime. We were so proud of the dimes that we had earned picking cotton and couldn't wait to show Granny and tell our mamas.

A dime would buy a lot of candy when the peddlar came by.

And that is how picking cotton was my first paying job...and Rhonda's too, I'm sure, although she was probably too young to remember. It's a great memory for me though.

Sunday, June 7, 2009

T-Biscuit in the Jungle



T-Biscuit relaxing on the fountain in the shade of the Mini-Jungle (see story below). T is a runt and as an adult is only about half the size she should be, and she is as quick as lightening. Has been since she was a tiny kitten. I tell her she's half chipmunk. She darts between Sammie-dog and the other cats and a food morsel and is gone with it before they know what happened. She will stand on her back legs and rub her head on my hand and loves for me to pet her, but she doesn't allow me to pick her up. Affection is strictly on her terms. She is so funny.
T-Biscuit

These are heart-shaped leaves on a small tree like bush in the jungle. They start out red, turn green, then yellow before they die. I don't know what kind of bush it is, but the cats like to play on it and I like to see it when I look out the window.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Kitty Mini-Jungle

Once upon a time we had huge pine trees in the back yard, which made it very shady. Jim helped me make a small flower bed, approximately 8' x 10', just outside the dining room windows. I could also see it through the window over the sink in the kitchen when I was cooking or washing dishes, and through the utility room window when I was doing laundry.

Kibbles, my Pekingese dog companion at the time, and I worked diligently planting seeds, watching them grow, and weeding every summer. It was filled with snapdragons, hollyhocks, zinnias, marigolds, sunflowers, red and yellow, flowering moss, impatients, petunias, poppies, pink mums, a white peony, and assorted other flowers at one time or another. Many of the plants were given to me by my mother-in-law, mama, and friends, which made them extra special. I thought about each of the people who contributed every time I tended the plants.

A running water fountain with three children sculpted onto it sat in the center, and bird feeders and hummingbird nector surrounded the bed. Squirrels, birds of all kinds, chipmunks, and butterflies abounded, as well as other wildlife, some welcome, some not. :)

It was a delight to sit out by the flower bed in the shade, listening to the fountain, hearing and watching the birds sing and chirp, as they fluttered about eating or bathing in the cool water. The hummingbirds flying around sounded like tiny airplanes as they zipped about drinking the cool red liquid hanging in feeders nearby.

I heard the soft fluttering of a butterfly's wings once, as it flew swiftly by my ear. Amazing!

The squirrels would come and sit in the trees chattering, preaching I called it, trying to run us off so they could run the birds off and get the seed. It was like a small piece of heaven to sit out there and talk...or daydream.

We also loved sitting at the dining room table sipping coffee and watching the activity. Dishwashing was more pleasureable watching the activity outside. It was a time before digital cameras, and I made tons of photos through the windows using a telephoto lens on a 35mm camera. Wonderful times.

But then Kibbles got so old and sick that she had to be euthanized. It broke my heart. I started community college. Blight hit the pine trees and they all had to be cut, taking the shade with them. Life and various other traumatic events that changed my life took over and I no longer had the heart to have a flower bed.

Some of the flowers came back for a few years, but were eventually smothered out by weeds, vines, sage grass, and assorted other natural plants. A couple of stray cats adopted us. They and my dad's cat ended the bird, butterfly, chipmunk, and squirrel population in the yard, as well as, most other small wildlife that dared to enter. Well, the drought a few years ago helped.

The fountain hasn't been hooked up in years now. It sits there waiting to come to life again, to give pleasure and nourishment. All it needs is a little attention.

Because the bed was surrounded by a foot wide concrete border and a little fence, I couldn't mow it, so I used a weed-eater to keep it neat. I've done that every year up until this past fall. It was overgrown a little and I just left it.

I noticed during the fall and winter how much the cats enjoyed hiding and playing in the bed around the fountain and among the turned over flower pots and bird feeders. They often seek shelter during light rain or snow in one of the bigger open feeders that my dad built. Climbing on the fountain is like Disneyland to the kittens.

This spring I have not touched the garden. It has become a mini-jungle for the cats and kittens to play in. Sammidog also likes to lay in the coolness of the shady leaves. Nature has planted a variety of wonderful plants for us to enjoy.

While the kitty jungle looks like a mess that needs cleaning up to family and friends, it's a wonderful tiny piece of heaven again to me and my pets. There's a whole fascinating world of activity going on in the jungle among the leaves and vines. The cats aren't the only inhabitants if one looks closely.

It's not just weeds and such either. There's a bush with heart-shaped smooth leaves. When the leaves are new they are gorgeous reddish colors. They get green as they get larger and yellow as they die. There's also a vine of some sort with heart shaped rough leaves that resemble grape vine leaves climbing all over the feeder. Honeysuckle and blue morning glory vines climb the surrounding fence. Queen Anne's lace is beginning to bloom and the volunteer pink hollyhock is blooming since I took the pictures.

If, when I'm walking around it, I keep my eyes and ears open, I can see and hear a whole little world busy going about it's daily business of surviving. If I quietly stoop down, I can see the nooks and crannies under the vines with kittens sleeping or scuffling in the cool shade.

These cats are skittish though and often hide where they think I can't see them and watch me. It's when they don't know I'm watching from inside the house that the real action takes place. Right outside my windows there's a virtual circus, and it is such fun to watch.

The kittens chase each other around in the jungle, wrestling around in the vegetation. They climb and swing from the dis-assembled fountain and the feeder. They hide in the overturned flower pots and jump out on one another. It's so funny to see a kitten face under a leaf hat. They chase each other from the jungle, across a small distance in the yard to a tree, and back. Their antics are neverending and funny, and laughter is always good medicine.

Sometimes there's a kitten pile on the concrete rabbit bench, all napping (I love kitten piles), or a lone kitten curled up in a pot or on the cow skull that Sammidog hasn't destroyed yet. He completely pulverized the deer head skull I had in the bed, antlers and all.

I thought about preparing and planting the bed in all kinds of flowers this spring. I kind of wanted to, after all these years, but with Sammidog and the cats, there's no way it would survive. I can't even keep potted plants outside.

But that's okay.

I've found that often to have one thing we have to give up another, and I enjoy my pets. Besides God has given me a garden of a different kind. It may not have a lot of multi-colored flowers in it, but natural plants in a tiny jungle can be just as wonderful. The cats love having it and we enjoy the cats so it's relaxing, peaceful, and healing in a natural way, plus there's no weeding. That's a good thing. :)

The end--pictures follow...

The dis-assembled fountain. I mentioned the other day that we should hook it back up. The cats would love the running water. Jim, who used to not tolerate cats at all, was afraid they'd chew on the cord and get electrocuted, so I guess it will stay like it is for now.



A glass gazing ball. If you look close, behind and just a little to the right, you can see Sammidog's face. He's a camera hog and when he saw me making pictures of the bed he jumped over in it and posed.

It doesn't show up much, but the honeysuckle is blooming and smells so good. It's all along this side and one end. You can also see the wooden bird feeder under the other vine, Rabbit Hop Cafe painted on the roof. The kittens climb these vines like they were ropes.


One end, behind the fountain. See the orange and white cat enjoying her jungle. She resented my intrusion on her nap. :)


The front of the bed with the concrete rabbit bench. The pink hollyhock on the left is blooming now, and the Queen Anne's Lace is beginning to.

You can't see the overturned pots, etc in the pictures, and I know it just looks awful and like a snake den to some of you, but it isn't. It's our own tiny jungle, complete with jungle cats, and fascinating adventures just waiting to be had. :)

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Midnight Chase

Polecats, or skunks, along with a variety of other wildlife are common occurrences in our yard. We live in the country with fields, woods, and the river surrounding us. Polecats have caused a number of chases for our dogs over the years, many times resulting in the dogs being very sick and having to wear strong perfume for several days. More than once I had our little house dog in the bathtub in the middle of the night bathing her in tomato juice, both of us gagging, because she had run into a "striped kitty" unseen by me, and sometimes by her, on one of her nightly potty trips outside.

Kibbles was a party-colored Pekingese, meaning she was red and white spotted. She was very small, even for a toy breed. Her hair was long and silky and dragged the ground when it hadn't been trimmed, and she carried her tail like a big white plume curled up over her back. Enormous eyes like two big dark brown marbles dominated her face, and her nose was so short that she barely had a protrusion in profile.

People who didn't even like dogs couldn't resist Kibbles. Her sparkly and energetic personality was bigger than life and she loved everybody. We spoiled her big time because she was the closest thing we had to a baby. She was also fearless, and as tiny as she was, thought she could whip a bear if the occasion arose.

On this particular fall night, about midnight, I asked her if she needed to go potty before we went to bed, and she went to the kitchen door to be let out. I flipped on the porch light, but being tired and sleepy, I forgot to check the yard before I opened the door.

As soon as the door was opened a crack, Kibbles was through it in a flash of fur, skipping the doorstep and landing flat on her belly. Her legs were too short to make the jump. It didn't slow her down. She bounced up like a rubber ball at the same time I saw the object of her frenzied attention.

A polecat!

In her excitement she forgot the sickening spray that the harmless looking kitty produces from that raised tail, and in my panic, so did I. There we were, the three of us, running across the yard in the middle of the night, two of us in panic, and one in chase heaven. The kitty was running from her! Not many things did.

The polecat, who was about the same size as Kibbles, had the lead, running with it's black and white striped tail straight up in the defense position. Kibbles was not far behind, her little legs a blur of speed and her tail straight out behind her like a white flag in the semidarkness. She was barking those sharp little yelps that small dogs make when they are so excited that they can't contain themselves.

At the top of her lungs, "Yap! Yap! Yap!"

I was bringing up the rear, running as fast as I could, which was not easy, since I'm not exactly light on my feet anymore. My nightgown was plastered against the front of me and flowing out behind me as I desperately tried to stop Kibbles. It had dawned on me that the polecat was going to spray us any second.

She was within arm's length of me, just out of reach, and the polecat was doing a running waddle just ahead of her. I was screaming at the top of my lungs, "No, Kibbles, no! Come back!"

She totally ignored me and kept up the chase. Had anyone seen us, we would have been a sight, tearing out through the night like screaming banshees. It's a wonder we didn't put the whole neighborhood in a state of alarm.

After leading us on a merry chase, the polecat ran into a tile at the end of the driveway. The light from the porch was fading into pitch darkness, and I sure didn't fancy giving chase outside that circle of light.

Making a desperate lunge, I caught Kibbles by the tail with one hand, managing to get my other hand under her belly just before she disappeared into the end of the tile in pursuit.

I scooped her up into my arms, both of us still quivering, but for different reasons, and made my way back to the house. I was out of breath and totally amazed that we both weren't wearing a new fragrance.

Safe inside the house, Kibbles was still bouncing in my arms wanting to play some more, her eyes dancing, looking for the kitty.

I was suddenly overcome with laughter as I hugged Kibbles and tried to get her to stop yapping. The whole thing was funny in retrospect.

The chase had ended well. The "striped kitty" had escaped, and by some miracle, so had we!

The End

PS-Kibbles was with us for sixteen years before going to pet heaven in 1997. This is one of our many adventures together.

Monday, March 30, 2009

One-Minute Writer-Entrepreneur

Today's OMW prompt is to write about a business that I would like to start. I wrote:

"If I had the moxie, I would start a little school where I would teach art and writing. It would also acquaint the rural area that I live in with the arts by having student shows and readings in the community, thereby encouraging others to find their talents for the arts."

You can go to the comments section of OMW to read what others dreams for starting a business are.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

One-Minute Writer-Creative

Today's OMW prompt is creative. Other than OMW, in what ways will I be creative today? I wrote:

"It's another cold, dark, and cloudy day here. I feel the urge to go back to bed. However, the urge to do my daily sketch, write a blog entry and a short story, with a little housework thrown in, is over-riding the first urge."

Saturday, March 28, 2009

One-Minute Writer-Magic

Today's One-Minute Writer topic is Magic. Tell about a magical time you've experienced. Here's what I wrote:

"It was late afternoon a couple of days ago. The sun was setting, turning everything golden. Hubby and I sat on the edge of the bed watching a herd of deer frolicking in the hayfield. They were playing tag in the sage grass, running in and out of the long shadows, flagged tails flashing. They were unafraid and so carefree for the moment.

When they tired of playing and went back to grazing we came back to the kitchen to discover a large red fox eating with the cats outside. It was a magical, awesome few minutes that only God could create."

Thursday, March 26, 2009

IMT Challenge-Ghost

This weeks challenge on Inspire Me Thursday is ghost. I posted a photo and a little written story to go with it on Moxie Blue under the same title as this post if you'd like to read it. Thanks so much for visiting and a new tale or two is on the way for Scribbles!

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

The Fox & The Deer

I shared some photos and a story on my Moxie Blue blog last week of a large red fox that has been visiting our back yard in the late evenings, right around dusk, looking for leftover feed. He has beautiful red fur with a white underside and a white tipped bushy tail. His ears, tail, nose, and legs have black accents. He looks like he's wearing black knee socks.

I know there's a danger from wild critters, rabies being one possibility, but Foxy is gorgeous.

Anyway, I told you that to tell you about an amazing experience that Jim (hubby) and I had late yesterday afternoon. He went to the kitchen sink for something and happened to look out the window over the sink. "Sharon, come here! Hurry!" he said in a somewhat excited voice, trying not to talk too loud.

I said, "What is it?," not wanting to get up off the couch. I wondered what the cats or Sammidog were into now.

"It's two deer right here against the fence." he says. "Come here, quick!"

We live in the country with fields and woods connected to our narrow back yard. This is not a rare occurrance, but I got myself up and trudged to the sink to stand beside Jim as he pointed out the deer near the fence.

The low-setting sun was dancing off the field, haybarn, and the deer. Beautiful. About that time, three more deer came across the field to the front of the hay barn, and we spotted another one farther back, making six. None of them had antlers. Jim said they had already shed them for the season. Three of them were about half grown.

They were just fooling around and grazing as we continued to be fascinated by them. Jim said there must be another one, since they kept looking behind them. Eventually, they started ambling toward the hayfield beside the house, and as they did four more came out of the woods and across the field to join them. We counted at least ten in all.

The cats ignored the deer and continued to groom themselves. A couple of them did look around for a minute in a bored fashion, then went back to what they were doing.

Sammidog finally noticed them and trotted to the fence, barked a couple of times, and stood at attention with his question mark tail up for a minute watching them. Jim fussed because he thought Sammidog would scare them off, but the deer didn't move. No threat there.

Sammidog's gotten too fat to go through the fence and decided it wasn't worth the trouble to go around to get to the other side. He looked back at us through the window to see if we were watching, and came back to the porch. The deer went slowly on to the hayfield.

Jim suggested that we might could see them from the bedroom window facing the hayfield. We could. We sat on the corner of the bed and watched as they put on a show. I've seen them crossing behind the house many times, but I never saw them play like that before.

White tails flashed as the three half grown deer frolicked around in the golden colored sage grass in the field. They played deer tag as they ran and jumped around together, unafraid and carefree for the moment. They darted in and out of the shadows in flashes of soft brown fur and white flags, sunset highlights accenting them, as the mom's stood guard.

Eventually, they all came back up behind the house and started grazing again. We watched the deer for a while longer through the kitchen window, standing side by side, in awe at what we'd just witnessed.

I said, "Do you know how many people never get to witness anything that awesome? Or how many people would have seen it and never seen the beauty, but only prey to be shot down just for fun?"

Jim was as in awe as I was, and he used to hunt deer. I wish I could have gotten pictures to share. There is nothing like the wonder and beauty that God creates if we just pay attention. I'm so glad I dragged myself off the couch. I wouldn't have missed that for anything, and to share it with someone I love was just icing on the cake. I was totally blessed by the whole experience.

The sun set and it was getting dark as I went back to watching television, not near as exciting as the deer I might say, and Jim went to the bathroom. He came back to the kitchen, looked out the window, and said, "You're not going to believe this."

I said, "What now?"

He said, "The fox is back and it's out here eating with the cats."

So I guess when I first saw the fox last week and thought it was chasing a cat. It actually wasn't. The cat just happened to be running in front of it. I worried that it might be after them.

"You're kidding! It's eating WITH them?" I asked, as I started to get up again. I wanted to see this!

"It's gone now." Jim went back to looking for something to eat. "It took off when it saw me in the window."

I'm sure it came back when it felt safe. It's not afraid of Sammidog. That's for sure.

Sammidog was probably laying on the back porch with his front legs dangling off the edge watching like he usually does...unless he knows we're looking. He saves his bravery for when it matters. To impress us.

Sometimes the most awesome things happen in our on backyards. We only have to open our senses up to experience them.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

One Minute Writer--Missing

Today's One Minute Writer theme: What's missing from your life? Are you trying to find it?

"Time and organization are missing in my life. As I get older, the time goes faster and faster it seems like, and I just can't seem to find the time to get organized anymore. My house is a disaster and I can't get as much of anything accomplished as I used to. Yes, I am trying to find organization, which will also give me more time."

That's what I posted on their blog, but my dad and my mother-in-law are also missing from my life, and I miss them very much.