The Rain, The Park, And Other Things

Flowers in her hair, 

Flowers everywhere… 

It’s amazing what a little rain can do out here in the dessert! It doesn’t mean we are out of the drought by any means. But it’s so nice to see green everywhere, and some colorful flowers, wild or not.

An oasis or a mirage? A secret spot at the ranch!

The duck found it!

Blooming cactus...or cactus blooming!

With temperatures already breaking into three digits, it won’t last unless it really rains. Not just a little either. We need a substantial rain.

http://droughtmonitor.unl.edu/DM_south.htm

Until then, enjoy some pictures of spring. After a little moisture, that is!

The Mesquite tree budding is the sign spring is really here.

Somewhere along the highway on the way to Austin.

Are they Poppies? I don't know.

This is what the flower looks like up close.

Yellow flowers on the highway.

Can you see the 'bug' on the flower? Don't know how I captured that!

Sunflower? Yellow Daisy? Black Eye Susan?

Another 'wild flower' or weed...depending on your perspective.

Trumpet vine on my deck. Blooming!

Bluebonnets on the highway by the house

We really think we 'planted' these Bluebonnets by the highway by the house. One year we spent a LOT of money on wildflower seeds. Those suckers are expensive! The front acres were plowed and the seeds were planted. It doesn't rain much out here but when it does? It's what they call a gully washer! That means it rains really fast filling up ditches and flooding the road and land. All of the sowed seeds washed down the road and into the bar ditch. Did anything come up at the house? Nope. But all down the road there were assorted new flowers. The Bluebonnets come out in a little patch about a half mile down the way. They are over a little bump so you have to know where to look. The patch has steadily expanded. Most of the others didn't last but the Bluebonnets return every year.

They bloom even in the dessert. With a little water!

State flower of Texas!

They are a lot prettier in the Hill Country at my friend Beverly's house!

Not my picture. Picture taken on Mach Rd, on the Bluebonnet Trail near Ennis, TX by David and Eileen Ng

Even the ordinary weeds are viewed as wild flowers out here

And all I had left was one little flower in my hand...

On the knitting front, I finished the Small Shawl. I think I keep calling it a Simple Shawl, but the pattern is really called Small Shawl. It is simple though! Just no-brainer garter stitch in a rayon boucle yarn, although any yarn will work. I think maybe I’ll start a crochet project next, just for something different.

I like this as a scarf.

Shawl draped. Looks light and lacy. Look here for other creative ideas!

I finished a book called ‘Thai Die’, by Monica Ferris. It’s part of a series with a a needlework shop owner, Betsy Devonshire, being the amateur sleuth who solves the crimes. In this story, one of the ‘Monday Bunch’ regulars has just returned from a trip to Thailand. She brings back souveniers and gifts for her friends. She’s also agreed to deliver a small statue of a Buddha to an antique store back home and shows the gang. This kind gesture leads to adventure, robbery, theft, a blizzard and a giant angora rabbit! It was entertaining with enough action to keep it interesting.

Thai Die. See what others are reading here.

I’m off to look through the yarn stash to find something bright and pretty. Maybe something that looks like flowers.

Wow! Where did all this come from? DFW Fiberfest!

This is cheerful!

From two if by hand at the DFW Fiber Festival.

I love the flower girl.

Was she reality or just a dream to me?

Ruby, Don't Take Your Love To Town

You've painted up your lips  

And rolled and curled your tinted hair.  

Ruby are you contemplating going out somewhere?  

"It’s a great day here at KWAP radio station, your home for great country music! Have you heard about our great “win a hit” contest? The rules are simple. Immediately after the KWAP Country jingle is played in its entirety, (not in a promotional announcement) the 15th caller on the special 555-KWAP country lasso line will win a hit! Listen up!"...

My mamaw, my mother’s mom, was a great lady. I have so many fun memories of times with her at her house or at our house or just in general. We’d laugh, stay up late, go riding around looking for rocks or cool things. We’d explore junk shops and watch soap operas. We’d listen to country music on the radio. Sometimes she’d play her records. It didn’t really matter what we did. I enjoyed it and cherish the memories.

Mamaw

When my Papaw died she moved from Roswell, NM, back to Texas. She lived in a little house behind my uncle and aunt. It was a comfortable home and I remember many good times there. The whole family would gather at Christmas and we’d eat, sampling all my aunt’s special dishes and great cooking. The cousins would gather and we’d play silly games or dream about marrying movie and rock stars; Bobby Sherman, Ricky Nelson and even Elvis.

The grownups would congregate around the kitchen table after we’d eaten and play card games. We’d giggle, listening to the laughing and teasing going on when one of the uncles was caught cheating! There were only two bedrooms and one bathroom in that house. There was another bed back in the laundry room. We’d crowd in but it never seemed crowded. It was just a good time with family who loved each other.

This little house was just 936 square feet and filled with love.

My girl cousins and I would spend time with Mamaw in the summer, sometimes together and sometimes just one or another of us. She never played favorites. She loved us all. She’d go through the entire roll call…Nancy, Billie Kay, Susan, Judi, Carla…Jamye, but she’d get there. Sometimes she’d even throw in a couple of the boys names!

Country music was a big part of our lives, at Mamaw’s house and at home as well. All the aunts and uncles loved it so all of us cousins grew up on the oldies sung by the likes of Ernest Tubb, Charley Pride, Bob Wills and Patsy Cline. I still know the words to many of those songs today. The radio was on in the background most of the time.

One of the country music greats Mamaw loved to hear.

Like anyone, Mamaw loved a prize. She’d listen to the radio, especially during the contest times and try to win. It would be one of those where you had to be the whatever number caller. Sometimes we’d call for her, hoping to be the one. Mamaw liked most all songs but there was one in particular that she didn’t like at all. We weren’t sure why but she hated “Ruby Don’t Take Your Love To Town,” sung by Kenny Rogers. She either didn’t like the tune or the fact that they played it all the time, but she always sang the chorus. And she always called it that “damned ole Ruby” song.

One time she got lucky! Mamaw had been trying for days and was finally the magic caller. All she had to do was come by the station and pick up her prize. My cousins, Nancy and Billie Kay were visiting and they loaded up and drove to the radio station. They arrived and she was so excited! Mamaw went in while they waited in the car. When she came back, she opened the door and slung the 45 single across the front seat. When they asked what was wrong she told them she had won that “damned ole Ruby” song!

That damnned old Ruby song!

Poor Mamaw! She was so disappointed. But it was really kind of funny that she’d get that song since she hated it so. Now, every time I hear I think of her. I still laugh at the memory. I don’t know what happened to that record but I kind of wish I had it. I’d put it in a frame and hang it up. And if I had a bad day I’d take a look and smile at that “damned ole Ruby” song and remember Mamaw.

The shadow on the wall tells me the sun is going down.

Oh Ruby, don't take your love to town.

I don’t win many things either. But when I do it makes me happy! The other day I won a prize from a blog. Fostermummy sent me a lovely package that included a cookbook, some kitchen magnets and a cute heart she’d made out of buttons. She stuck silk rose petals in the package which was a nice touch. It was fun!

Exploring the new cookbook. Lot's of interesting things! See what others are reading here!

I started another small shawl, out of another rayon boucle from my stash. The color was called bumblebee but it's blue and yellow instead of black. I’ve done a couple out of this type yarn before and love how they turn out. They are lacy enough to scrunch up as a scarf. Or as a regular shawl, it’s light but warm for an air-conditioned office. I think I can do at least one more before I get bored with this pattern. It makes a great take along project that doesn’t require paying a lot of attention.

And I finished the pink colored small shawl I started last week. Or was it ruby colored? I even worked in the ends! Maybe I’ll call it the “damned ole Ruby” shawl!

Small shawl, front. See other's great projects here.

Back view, pink small shawl.

Squishy damned ole Ruby shawl!

She's leaving now 'cause I just heard the slamming of the door.

The way I know I've heard it slam some 100 times before.

And if I could move I'd get my gun and put her in the ground.

Oh Ruby, don't take your love to town...

Ben

Ben, you're always running here and there. 

You feel you're not wanted anywhere. 

If you ever look behind and don't like what you find, 

There's something you should know, you've got a place to go… 

I didn’t know being terrified of rodents had a name. I just thought it was one of those weird things that make me who I am. But I found out I have a specific phobia. I wonder if it’s different then a general phobia because I’m only afraid of rodents? I don’t know. But it’s called musophobia and it’s very common. It just means fear of mice and rats. But now I know I’m one of millions with the same affliction. Does it make me feel better? Not really.

“Eek! A mouse!” Yes, I actually said that. Years ago we lived in a yucky house. It was early in the morning and I was fixing Alan’s lunch while he got ready for work. I was slicing a tomato and had a big knife in my hand. Suddenly there was a streak across the counter right in front of me. I screamed and almost cut my fingers off! As Mr. Jinks, the cartoon cat would say, "I hate those meeces to pieces!"

Mr. Jinks, cat fiend to Pixie and Dixie.

Did you know Ben, in this song, is a rat? And he wasn’t a nice rat at that. I’m not sure there is such a thing as a nice rat. Rats, hamsters, mice…none of them are cute to me. I do not like them. Not at all! They are vermin, nasty creatures in my mind. Now if you do like rodents, that’s perfectly fine. But I don’t. They creep me out completely. We live in the country and have for about 20+ years, so occasionally we get a mouse in the house. Once I see signs of one, that’s it. I can no longer go in that particular room by myself. I’m not necessarily frozen in fear because I can still run pretty quickly! But I’m plenty scared.

Yuck.

At the same yucky house there was another mouse. My husband set the trap and went off to work. I was there with a three year old and a newborn. I was thinking about what we could have for lunch when suddenly there was a click and a mouse in the trap ran out from under the table. It circled around two or three times and stopped, right there in the middle of the floor. OMG!! What was I going to do!? I could not even look at it much less get close enough to try to sweep it up into a dust pan or something like that. I couldn’t do a thing. As I was wondering if having a three year old pick it up and throw it outside would constitute child abuse a friend dropped by. I asked her if she could take it away. She went over, picked up the trap with her bare hand, looked at me and threw it out the door. I was horrified and relieved, all at the same time.

I could tell you many more mouse stories. Some involve screaming, some running and some, even climbing! Just a couple of weeks ago I saw signs of an unwanted visitor. I Cloroxed the counter and my husband set out traps. I hoped I didn’t have to go in the kitchen at night. But I had a plan. If I needed something, I would turn the light on and off and make some noise. Then I’d tiptoe in and scan the traps. If all was clear I’d hurry to get what I needed and then rush out. Whew…safe!

A few days pass and there’s no sign of a mouse. I’m suspicious and just know it’s crouching in a drawer or cabinet waiting to jump on me when I open it up. I ask my husband and he said maybe it ran off. Sure, I think. It just ran out the door. I open the bottom drawer to get something and reach in. It’s sitting halfway in a plastic grocery bag. I pause because I see a dark spot in the bag. I look closer and it has ears. OMG again! It’s in the sack! But it’s not moving. I run out just as Alan is coming in and tell him I think I found the mouse. He looks, and sure enough I had. The poor thing must have suffocated. He took care of it as I cursed it for scaring me yet again.

I read somewhere once that a mouse is an animal which strews its path with fainting women. In my case that’s true. If I had touched that mouse in the drawer I most likely would have had a heart attack or at the least, passed out! Creepy, yucky, nasty creatures they are. For now I’m safe. But as long as there are mice I don’t think I can ever live alone. For sure not in the country! And I’ll never have a friend like Ben.

Ben, most people would turn you away, 

I don't listen to a word they say. 

They don't see you as I do I wish they would try to… 

I finished the fuzzy orange shawl. It’s not bad, and just the right size. I’ll have to watch because what I wear it with because it sheds. The label said the color was strawberry. Still looks orange to me!

I also decided to complete a UFO! I have a bad case of finishing the knitting but not weaving in the ends, sewing the seams, etc. So I picked one (of many unfortunately) and wove the ends in. It’s the Montego Bay scarf and I love it! I don’t think I was able to get the Sea Silk at the time but I got something yummy and soft. I just forgot what it was!

See other creative projects at http://ourcreativespaces.blogspot.com.

I finished another book. This one was one of Maggie Sefton’s knitting mysteries. It’s number 7 in the series and called Dropped Dead Stitch. I like her books but they are pretty predictable. I’d like to do a readability test on one sometime because I’m curious. Supposedly the average newspaper is written at a 9th grade level so maybe it’s right on target. Anyway Kelly and company are helping with the fiber part of a women’s retreat when they find the owner of the ranch is a man who attacked one of the gang. Of course he meets an untimely end and guess who they think did it. I do enjoy the stories, I guess because they are no brainers and quick to read.

Next up...something pink!

A work friend and I trade books so there’s no telling what I end up with except for the fact we like the same kind; simple, easy to read mysteries. It’s fun though, and I have read some I never would have looked at if I was buying.

New reads. See what else to read here!

Maybe that’s what I can do when I retire. I could author a series about a stinking mouse that gets in and torments knitters by messing up their yarn. He’ll always get away because he has to go on to scare the next unsuspecting woman. Yeah, that’s what I could do. Well, maybe not.

Ben, you're always running here and there. 

You feel you're not wanted anywhere…

May The Bird Of Paradise Fly Up Your Nose

I heard him say as I made my retreat, 

"May the bird of paradise fly up your nose…” 

Would you be suspicious if someone who doesn’t speak to you suddenly comes by and chats you up for about ten or more minutes? Yeah, me too. And I don’t know where it came from, but after it was over I had an overwhelming urge to say, “May the bird of paradise fly up your nose!” I didn’t. But I thought it. And I also thought that it would probably be most painful if a bird flew up your nose. And if it did happen I’d much rather it is someone else’s nose than mine.

There’s a funny thing about birds. They can do all sorts of things. They can tell secrets. When I did something that wasn’t quite on the up and up, some dumb little birdie always told my mom. But that’s to be suspected when they have that bird’s eye view of things going on. And all the while I thought I was free as a bird turned out I was just a sitting duck with some stool pigeon reporting all my moves. I never did figure out who it was. However, after she got over being mad as a wet hen she’d let me fly the coop. As I got older I realized she really was a wise old owl.

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My grandmother always told me she ate like a bird. That is, until I told her that birds eat constantly and sometimes eat up to twice their weight in food, daily. I guess she didn’t want to know that as she gave me the old eagle eye the rest of that day. To prove a point, (I suppose anyway), there weren’t any snacks that day until supper. As my stomach growled, I really felt liked I’d cooked my own goose!

Speaking of grandmother, I guess my sister and I weren’t always good little girls at her house. Grandmother insisted on being called Grandmother. She wasn’t a mam or a nanny or even a grandma type person. But one thing she definitely hated was to be called granny. Granny was what they called my great grandmother, my granddaddy’s mother, or her mother-in-law. Now, I can understand. Anyway, my sister and I, sitting naked as jay birds in the bathtub, would call for her when we were ready to get out. I don’t know why we had to wait for her. Seems like she was afraid we’d fall or maybe she wanted to make sure we’d washed with soap. Whatever the reason, we would call out, “Granny, we’re done!” Well, maybe it was just me who’d call out while my sister giggled. There would be no answer. Birds of a feather that we were, we (or I) would try again. In a voice sweet as a nightingale I’d cry out, “Granny, we’re done!” Nothing. Finally, shriveled and shivering in the cold bathwater, one of us would call, “Grandmother, we’re done!” Quick as that old roadrunner, she’d dash in, grab us up with a towel and all was well. Meep Meep. She was a sly old bird!

I may just start saying “may the bird of paradise fly up your nose.” I kind of like the sound of it! I can have a “Pretty Woman” plan in the eaves. You know, I almost peed my pants, Pirates of Penzance. Most people just ask how you’re doing to say something when you pass each other in the hall or on the street. They don’t listen and they most likely really don’t care. So if I answer with “may the bird of paradise fly up your nose”, would they even notice? Probably not, but in case they did and asked what I’d just said, I could say, “hey, I really like your clothes.” Or maybe “you’ve got something on your nose.” Or how about “that’s just the way the day goes,” or “good, except for the run in my hose.” And I can just smile, like the cat that swallowed the canary. Yes, think I’ve got it covered!

May the bird of paradise fly up your nose… 

May an elephant caress you with his toes. 

May your wife be plagued with runners in her hose. 

May the bird of paradise fly up your nose. 

I’m on the downside of a pretty powerful cold or something. It zapped every bit of energy I had. I didn’t miss work, except for one day, but by the time I got home I didn’t want to do anything. Two full weekends were spent sleeping or just laying around. I didn’t even want to knit. I still have the cough but I feel okay so it’s time to dig out. I did get the shawl sent off. I didn’t have daylight to take a picture of it after the blocking but maybe my sister will send one. I made some more of those cute little hearts but now that I’ve missed Valentines, I guess I’ll just keep them for later.

Being the bird brain I am, now I have birds on my mind. I have a stained sweater I saved to make an owl. The plans are in my head so there’s a big chance that the finished product won’t look anything like my mental picture!

And I ran across this cute little bird pattern, on Attic 24’s blog. I want to make some of them too.

Birdie decoration. DIY on Attic 24's blog.

Valentine’s day is sweet Belle’s birthday. We went over to help her celebrate. She was in a poofy pink dress and told me I had to call her princess because today was her birthday and she was four. She’s so funny.

My princess on her birthday.

The princess and her pinata.

Finally! Candy!!!

 We lucked out and got some Sweet Sugar Belle cookies for Valentines! We even shared with co-workers. Funny, the people I gifted don’t want to eat them. They say they are too pretty! All I can say is the love bird, or bluebird of happiness, your choice, tasted mighty fine to me!

Valentine cookies from my daughter, Sweet Sugar Belle.

I heard him sayin' as I turned to go, 

"May the bird of paradise fly up your nose"