Holy Tornado

To see the soul of your comrade listen carefully to his music.

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

GO see Lucy

Lucy has a neat post up about Truisms. Go over and check out the great reminders. You'll probably want to make a copy .
Thank you Lucy

Sunday, February 26, 2006


One day a few weeks ago I was struck with a suffocating case of cabin fever. My thermometer registered 22 degrees and the wind was fairly strong, but in my desperation to see something besides four walls, I bundled up, grabbed my camera and ventured out into a frigid winter world.

I drove to Boulevard Park which is on Bellingham Bay and less than five minutes from my house.
The waves were splashing with a vengeance against the rocky shoreline as a couple brave seagulls soared and glided over the water looking for a snack. There were no boats in sight, the buoys clanged and bounced looking like fat little men in red shirts doing a most joyful song and dance routine.

As I scouted the horizon for a picture my fingers began to ache from the cold and my nose was so iced I couldn't tell if it was running. (it was!)
Determined I would not return home without a few shots, I set her on auto and started shooting. The snowy mountains in Canada were glorious with the sun shining on them but too far away to shoot without a tripod, so I focused on what was around me.
My final shot was this forlorn looking and very naked tree. It stood proud and determined as its iced, stiff branches crackled in the wind.

I thought I would break in half when I bent to get into my car, I turned the heat and fan to high and thawed out a few minutes before driving home.
Home at last to my cozy little cottage, the fire glowing an enticing welcome where I promptly warmed my backside.
A hot cup of tea, my soft recliner and two adorable pups warming my legs, Mmmmmmmm There's No Place Like Home!
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Friday, February 24, 2006


As I drove across town for an appointment today, the sun was shining beautifully from a sparkling blue sky, painted with fluffy whipped cream clouds. The flowering plums are in full bloom, and purple and orange crocus are poking their happy little heads up all over the place. It really looked like Spring had Sprung!

As I neared my destination, white flakes began falling from the sky. I first thought there must be something burning and white ash was blowing around.
When I saw it turn to tiny slush puddles on my windshield, I couldn't help smiling.
Old man winter just can't give up.
There wasn't enough snow to make a difference. It was actually rather pretty.
Old man winter made his last call, and he didn't scare me one bit. I'm doing Spring!!

Well actually, come to think of it, some of our nastiest snow storms have come in March.
I won't get the seeds out just yet.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Chicken Pickin Gals

If you know what my sister and I were doing in this 1954 photo, then I'd say you got a little Redneck in you too.
Our best growing-up years were spent on a mini farm, across the street from where I live right now.
We had an old rickety barn, with rabbit hutches inside, and a chicken pen attached to one end. We also had pigs, and geese.

Mom bought many baby turkeys and raised them in the house in a big box with a light bulb to keep them warm until they were old enough to put outside. She even had to teach them to eat and drink, since they didn't have a mother to show them.

No, mom didn't get on her hands and knees and peck at the ground. She just kept pushing their heads down into the food and water until they figured it out.
It was a great day when they were introduced to the turkey house and pen. they ran and flapped their little wings with delight.
I felt like doing the same when that stinky box was finally removed from the house!

When mom wanted a chicken for dinner, dad grabbed one by the legs and laid it's neck over the chopping block. It always amazed me that the chicken was so still and even stretched its neck out for the axe.
Dad was a pro and always completed the chore without a problem.

Now, about the picture. After the chicken had stopped flopping around and was considered dead, it was dunked into a bucket of boiling water to loosen the feathers, then someone had to pluck the smelly thing.
Thats how sister Bonnie and I came into the picture.
Then it was taken in the house for mom to gut, wash and cook on our wood cookstove.

I never did like plucking chickens but they sure taste a whole lot better than what we get these days!

So now you know. Mountain Mama is just sort of an old Redneck gal who would love to go back to that wonderful way of life. Simple, honest and sweet.

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Tuesday, February 21, 2006

BigWhiteHat has a sweet post up about his son and a camera, which brought back a memory of my first camera.
I was 10 and my folks gave me one with a roll of black & white film, for Christmas. There was no flash attachment so we had to take pictures outside when there was enough light. Color film had just come out but was not perfected and more expensive than the other.
Mom also crocheted a pink bonnet and a red sweater for my beloved doll, Betsy, and sat her under our Christmas tree. I was absolutely thrilled.

After they showed me how to use the camera, I took Betsy to the back yard, sat her on her blanket and took my very first picture. It is a bit worn after 57 years of reminiscing, but I still feel the awe I felt then.
The rest of that roll of film was used at my Grandma's farm where I took pictures of grandma's critters.

I don't remember the name of my first camera, but I will always remember the thrill of being able to capture a moment of my life to keep for always.
I have had several cameras over the years, and have taken thousands of pictures. I am in the process now, of running many of those pictures through Photoshop Elements to clean them up and make any repairs, then I hope to put them all on CD's for my family.

when your children are raised and are grandparents themselves, and your life becomes quiet, there is no better way to spend a day than to sit with a fresh cup of tea and shuffle through your photos.

Now recharge your batteries and go take some pictures. Someday you will be so glad you did.
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Monday, February 20, 2006

One cold winter day in 1946, when I was seven, I put on my warm coat and a wool scarf and went outside to play. I was bored from spending too much time in the house. I wandered up near the street where our boat was sitting, and behind it was a fifty gallon oil barrel, still intact, but the top was dark with rust, and had a thin layer of ice covering it.

As I looked at the dark, icy glaze, a light fall of snow began. The flakes were very small, and danced lazily around me.
I saw one land on the barrel top, and leaned closer to see it better.

There are no words to express my absolute amazment, when I realized that the snowflakes that fell from the sky were actually shaped like the ones I cut out of paper.
I don't know how long I studied that snowflake but it made an indelible print in my memory. Other flakes landed around it, each with it's own distinct pattern.

I assumed all of God's angels were up there with scissors, making pretty snowflakes for me.
Perhaps they were.

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A friend sent me this today. Isn't it just beautiful?
Our Heavenly Father must have had a wonderful time designing such incredible creatures.
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Sunday, February 19, 2006

On the shores of the Adriatic, the wives of the fishermen whose husbands have gone far out upon the deep, are in the habit, at eventide, of going down to the seashore and singing, as female voices only can, the first stanza of a beautiful hymn.

After they have sung it, they listen till they hear, borne in the winds across the desert sea, the second stanza, sung by their gallant husbands as they are tossed by the gale upon the waves.

Perhaps, if we could listen, we too might hear on this desert world of ours some sound, some whisper, borne from afar, to remind us that there is a heaven and a home.

By John Cumming, D. D.
Taken from The Beautiful Tree Of Life
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Friday, February 17, 2006

Never underestimate the intelligence of your child. Forget about the many times you were tempted to rush him to a psychologist because you were absolutely certain he was a few bricks short.
We have a way to go to keep up with our kidlets.

Did you know that they lay in bed at night and think up ways to manipulate us? They plan ways to trick us and use us to their advantage to get things they want, and sometimes just to prove to themselves that they are smarter than m0m and dad.
And after they have succeeded they hide in their closet and laugh until they pee their pants because we 'fell for it again!'

The little boy in the picture is my youngest child, Shawn Darren. He was a tricky little fellow.
One day after his Friday kindergarten class he said to me, "do you know what I'm going to take for show and tell on Monday?" I said, "No, what?"
He gave me a big dimpled smile and answered, "I'm going to take my new pop-gun."
I asked , "what pop gun, you don't have one." With a twinkle in his big green eyes he answered, "The one you are going to get me."

That was the first I heard about getting him a pop gun.
See what I mean? Our kids are much more intelligent than we give them credit for.
So extend your parental antenna and be ready to pick up every frequency.
You won't believe how many they use!

All kidding aside, kids are smart, and yes he got a pop gun.
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Wednesday, February 15, 2006


Christianity begins in the home. If not there, it is nowhere.
We may attend meetings, and sing hymns, and join devoutly in prayer; we may give money to the poor, and send missionaries and Bibles to the heathen; we may organize societies of every description for doing good; we may get up church fairs and tea parties, and tableaux, and picnics; we may, in short, devote all our time and all out means to doing good, and yet not be the true and earnest Christians we ought to be after all.

If they cannot say of us in the family at home "He--or she--is a Christian, we know it, we feel it," if home is not a happier place for our living in it, if there is not an influence going out from us, day by day, silently drawing those about us in the right direction, then it is time for us to stop where we are, and begin to examine into our title to the name of Christian.

CHRISTIANITY--Christ-likeness. Is that ours? Are we posessed of that?
Are we patient, kind, long-suffering, forebearing, seeking with all our hearts to do good, dreading with all our hearts to do evil?

For is we are Christ's, we shall be like Him, and the first fruits, and the best fruits of our daily living will be in the better and happier lives of those who are about us day by day.

from The Beautiful Tree Of Life
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I read a blog this morning that really made me do some thinking.
Mark, at "DEEPER ROOTS" has a thought provoking post that I recommend to everyone.
I love how we learn from one another.
Thanks Mark!

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

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I heard that today is Blog Your Dog Day, so here are mine.
The smaller one on the left, is Tildy Rose, who is one year old. On the right is Sir Toodles, who is two years old today.
They are very special little friends who wake me each morning with lots of kisses.
They are my little Valentine's.
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Friday, February 10, 2006


This is my oldest son Michael, at about eight years old.
Another Big White Hat Hero, his heart was bigger than texas and his sense of humor was pretty great too. See below.
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The Baby Shower Card

Michael, at age 8 made and enclosed the above card with the gift he bought for our new baby. when I opened the gifts at shower given at my sister in laws, the ladies oohed and aawed over the sweet little baby clothes but when this card was passed around they were hysterically laughing until the tears totally destroyed their mascara.
I've always wondered if this is actually how my dear little boy thought I looked.
Actually he probably wasn't too far off.
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Thursday, February 09, 2006


{This is a picture of my second daughter, Kathleen Susanne (Kathy Sue) age 5}

A grandmother and a little girl whose face was sprinkled with freckles, spent the day at the zoo. The children were waiting in line to get their faces painted by a local artist who was decorating them with tiger paws.

"You've got so many freckles, there's no place to paint." A boy in the line remarked. Embarassed, the little girl dropped her head. Her grandmother knelt down next to her. "I love your freckles," she said. "Not me," the little girl replied.

"Well, when I was a young girl I always wanted freckles, "the grandmother said, tracing her finger across the child's cheek. "Freckles are beautiful."
The girl looked up, "Really?"
"Of course," said the grandmother. "Why you just name one thing prettier than freckles."

The little girl peered into the old woman's smiling face.
"Wrinkles." she answered softly.
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Tuesday, February 07, 2006


One night I had a wondrous dream, one set of footprints there was seen,
The footprints of my precious Lord, but mine were not along the shore.
But then some stranger prints appeared, and I asked the Lord, "What have we here?"
Those prints are large and round and neat, but Lord they are too large for feet."

"My child," he said in somber tones, "for miles I carried you alone.
I challenged you to walk in faith, but you refused and made me wait.
You disobeyed, you would not grow, the walk of faith you would not know,
So I got tired, I got fed up, and there I dropped you on your butt.

Because in life, there comes a time when one must fight, and one must climb,
When one must rise and take a stand, or leave their butt prints in the sand."

Author unknown

Saturday, February 04, 2006


Now, whoever brings up a little group of children right, manly and womanly, and sets them forth in the world, is a blessing, not to those children alone, but to all who, through them , shall be blessed; and no man can measure that.

When you throw a stone into the water on the edge of the ocean, you maay see than the circles are going out, but you cannot see how far they are going. They run beyond your sight.

When Christ is developed in us, and when every year we can bear witness that more and more fruitful are the boughs of divine love in our soul, there is reason for gratitude
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A couple had two little boys, ages 8 and 10, wo were excessively mischievous. They were always getting into trouble and their parents knew that if any mischief occurred in their town, their sons were probably involved.

The boys mother heard that a clergyman in town had been successful in disciplining children, so she asked if he would speak with her boys. The clergyman agreed, but asked to see them individually. So the mother sent her 8 year old first, in the morning, with the older boy to see the clergyman in the afternoon.

The Clergyman, a huge man with a booming voice, sat the younger boy down and asked him sternly, "where is God?" The boy's mouth dropped open, but he made no response. So the Clergyman repeated the question in an even sterner tone, "WHERE IS GOD!" Again the boy made no attempt to answer, so the clergyman raised his voice even more and shook his finger in the boys face and bellowed, "WHERE IS GOD!"

The boy screamed and bolted fromt he room, ran directly home and dove into his closet, slamming the door behind him. When his older brother found him in the closet, he asked, "what happened?"
The younger brother, gasping for breath, replied, "We are in big trouble this time. God is missing and they think we did it!"

Thursday, February 02, 2006


Very few men in this world are happy, except those who have lost all things for Christ's sake. The life which has had the most smitings and victories, that has carried a man up and on with persistent courage, with dominating faith, and with contentment, and that has developed in him strenuous, pure, right manhood, is the life that every man ought to covet and to seek. If God sends any other things, take them; but above all things take this. Do not gain the whole world and lose your own soul.

There are names that now fill the air, names that resound like the stroke of a drum, and all men are watching and studying them; but when the end comes, and the account of their life is taken, what with their ambition, what with their fame, what with their wealth, their whole experience will declare that they never had great happiness in life.

From many a poor cottage, from many a poor-house, from jails, from gibbets and from dungeons, in the last day there will rise the sweetest sounds of music; and, as in the Apocalyptic vision, it shall be asked, "who are these in bright array?" And the answer shall be, "These are they that have come out of tribulation, and have washed their robes white in the blood of the Lamb." These are they who, with much suffering, have been lifted out of their inferior condition to a superior one. They are God's elect, they are crowned kings and priests unto God.

And when God shall come, and all things shall be made clear in the last great day, may it be that you and I shall not be altogether void of an experience in that direction. May that which is highest, and purest, and noblest, and best in us, be at the ascendency, that we may come instantly into the presence of Jesus, that we may be able at once to speak the language of the blessed, and that then we may go forth crowned, with everlasting joy upon our head.

from The Beautiful Tree Of Life, published in 1892
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