My Dragonfly Ring

My hand shook with less than a minute left to push "bid" on an eBay ring.  Yippee!  I won the bid, quickly paid with Pay Pal, and now I'm living in the world of wait for the package to get here from Maine.

A unique silver ring may be the one thing that can entice me to spend money on myself.  When I retired in 2006, we went up into north country on vacation and in a small town art shop I bought a handmade adjustable silver band, made by a local artist.  I wear it all of the time on either of my pinkie fingers.  This ring signifies my freedom after 45 years of employer enslavement.  It signifies my freedom to fill my days as I so choose.   

Okay, so what persuaded me to bid on this particular ring?  You'd never guess in a million years.  It was the dragonfly that sits on top of an iridescent amethyst.  What's special about the dragonfly?

• The dragonfly, in almost every part of the world, symbolizes change and change in the perspective of self realization...the kind of change that has its source in mental and emotional maturity and the understanding of the deeper meaning of life.
• The dragonfly's scurrying flight across water represents going beyond what's on the surface and looking into the deeper implications and aspects of life.
• It's agile flight and its ability to move in all six directions exude a sense of power and poise...something that comes only with age and maturity.
• The dragonfly can move at an amazing 45 miles an hour, hover like a helicopter, fly backwards like a hummingbird, fly straight up, down, and on either side.  What is incredible is that it does this while flapping its wings only 30 times a minute, while mosquitoes and houseflies need to flap their wings 600 and 1000 times a minute, respectively.  The awe-inspiring aspect is how the dragonfly accomplishes this with utmost simplicity and effectiveness and with 20 times as much power in each of its wing strokes when compared to the other insects.  It does it with elegance and grace, much like a ballet dancer.
• Both of its wings and body exhibits iridescence, which allows it to show itself in different colors, depending on the angle of light falling on it.  This iridescence is seen as the end of one's self-created illusions and a clear vision into the realities of life.  Iridescence is also associated with the discovery of one's own abilities by unmasking the real self and removing the doubts one casts on his/her own sense of identity. In other words, it means self-discovery and removing inhibitions, which at age 65, should be an integral part of my being alive. 
• This insect flies only for a fraction of its life and usually no more than a few months.  The adult dragonfly does it all in these few months and leaves nothing to be desired.  This style of life exemplifies the virtue of living IN the moment and living life to the fullest.  By living in the moment, we are aware of who we are, where we are, what we are doing, what we want, what we don't, and can make informed choices on a moment-to moment basis.  This ability lets us live our life without regrets like the great dragonfly.
• Their eyes are most amazing.  Given almost 80% of its brain power is dedicated to its sight and the fact that it can see in all 360 degrees around it, this insect symbolizes the uninhibited vision of the mind and the ability to see beyond the limitations of the human self.  It symbolizes a human being's rising from materialism to being able to see beyond the mundane into the vastness that is really our Universe, and our own minds.
• I saved the best for last.  The dragonfly doesn't bite.





Ta-ta. 

(Info taken from the Dragonfly Site)

Morning Shadows

Looking out our front door this morning, I see shadows on the boulevard.  Half is sunny and half is not. 

Our area had gusty winds yesterday, the ones that refresh, not destroy.  Papa Bear went on a day trip with a friend, so the fuzzy one and I declared it  "girls day."  It's amazing how pets grow to mirror their owners. The fuzzy one's personality is a spittin' image of mine, and there are those who know her and will agree!  She and I ate lunch out back on the screened-in porch.  The screen keeps her safe from stray dogs that like to play the "I'm bigger than you" game.  The fuzzy one isn't very street smart, having been protected all her life like a babe in arms.

Perhaps it's my age, but people and pets are becoming more dear to my heart every day.  I don't take either for granted like I used to when I was wrapped up in a career.  Actually, I feel myself becoming acutely aware of life's basics and feeling a deeper gratitude for them.  I find myself noticing things like the morning shadows on the boulevard.  

I'm thankful for...

by Nancie Carody

...the mess to clean up after a party

     because it means I have been surrounded by friends.



...the taxes I pay

     because it means that I'm employed.

...the clothes that fit a little too snug

     because it means I have enough to eat.

...my shadow who watches me work

     because it means I am out in the sunshine.

...the spot I find at the far end of the parking lot

     because it means I am capable of walking.

...all the complaining I hear about our government

     because it means we have freedom of speech.

...that lady behind me in church who sings off key

     because it means that I can hear.

...lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning and gutters that need fixing

     because it means I have a home.

...my huge heating bill

     because it means that I am warm.

...weariness and aching muscles at the end of the day

     because it means that I have been productive.

...the alarm that goes off in the early morning hours

     because it means that I am alive.

The Camelia
Symbol of Gratitude



Dutch Belted Cattle

When I was a little girl growing up on the farm, my daddy raised Hampshire pigs.  They were black with a white band around their tummies.  I used to stand on the wooden fence and pass my time watching them root in the ground with their snouts, snuggle in the mud, grunt, and eat the slop from their wooden troughs.   

See the Calf In Front of Mama

Not too far from where we live now, a farmer raises cows that are black with a white band around their middles.  They are the Dutch Belteds.  We stopped to take this picture because the calf was sucking its mother, but by the time we positioned ourselves to click the camera.....well, the calf decided to stop sucking and pose for the picture.    

I did a bit of checking about this breed, and here's what I discovered:





Belted Beauties


• The Dutch Belted's history is a bit unclear before the 1600s.  A few records and paintings show belted cows grazing on the estates of Dutch nobility before this time.
• The breed flourished in Holland in the 1750s.
• Dutch Belted cows are known for their easy calving, easy handling, and docile, friendly nature.  They have unusual longevity and continue producing calves later into life than do most other breeds.
• The breed standard is a belt at least 6 inches wide making a complete belt around the body.
• The Dutch Belted is considered a critically endangered breed.
• There are other breeds that have belted cows, like the Galloway and Welsh Black.
• The breed was introduced to the United States in 1838. 
• In 1840, P. T. Barnum imported several head for exhibiting in his circus.  He displayed them as a "rare and aristocratic" breed of cattle.  Barnum discovered that the Belteds were excellent milk-producers, so he placed the cattle on his farm in Orange County, New York.  The Dutch Belted Cattle Association of America was established in New York, New York, in 1886.

Cows in their
stanchions

One has to stop and consider just how much cattle contribute to our lives.  Just imagine a world without milk, cheese, yogurt or butter.

Back when I was a little girl, small farmers pastured around 20 cows, we milked them by hand in the morning and evening.  It was critical to my daddy that our cows were milked exactly at the same times every day.  When it was time to get them home from the fields, we'd walk up on the hill to bring the cows home.  We'd call out, 'com boss,' and they would instinctively start to walk in single file back down to the barn.  They followed the path that was well worn from their daily marches to be relieved of their milk.  They would go right to the barn, they knew which stanchion they belonged in, we would lock the stanchion so they couldn't get out, and then the milking by hand began.  No automatic milkers...only our hands, a milk pail, and a stool. 

What it was like to
milk a cow by hand

Ahhh, the memories.  But, don't for a second let me glamorize this chore.  The flies drove us nuts, the flies drove the cows nuts, the cows kicked and switched their tails, and we cussed.  Once in awhile a cow would kick and get her leg into the pail of milk.  Omigod, that meant that pail of milk had to be poured out.  This was not a good thing cuz milk was a major source of our family's income.  I remember clear as if it was yesterday, me sitting on a milk stool sandwiched between two cows, milking a cow by hand, vowing openly (with sweat dripping and flies biting me) that I would never ever marry a farmer.  My mom often warned me not to say that.  She said when it comes to love, the heart has a way of taking over when the brain is sleeping.  Boy, that really bugged me, because the last thing I wanted was for her to be right and I'd have to eat my words someday. 

As it turned out, I got my way.  I guess my brain stayed awake as a young guy came along and captured my heart.  I've never admitted this to anyone before, but on my wedding day I was secretly grateful that my mother wasn't able to tell me, "Aha, I told you so."

Honoring Our Heroes

Celebrating a 90th birthday is a life milestone, and yesterday we were honored to be  part of our aunt's special day.  The role of aunt is quite unique, actually.  It seems that aunts are known for being supportive and for giving their genuine love. 

Part of the 90th celebration was reconnecting with our cousins that live just far enough away to keep us apart.  The older we get, the dearer these relationships become.  We didn't want to let go of the good-bye hugs, because there's always the possibility we won't ever see each other again.  Life has a way of removing us one by one from the family circle. 

For me, the day held extra meaning, in that I was able to welcome dear cousins to my blog.  I can never give enough praises to technology for expanding the venue of the human heart.  With just a few key strokes, we can visit with someone across the world.  No stamp, no envelope necessary.  When I was a little girl I couldn't have, in my zaniest dreams, have imagined being able to do something like that.  As I've said a million times, life just keeps getting more amazing every day. 



Notice the Black Flag on the Right Side
(Cemetery Where My Hubby's Parents Are Buried)

 Today is Memorial Day.  We owe so much to the dedicated people who serve our country and have given their lives so we can have ours.  United States Flags surround
our cemeteries today, and the one that gives me the shivers is the black flag honoring the Prisoners of War and those Missing in Action.  That one flag screams loudly of human sacrifice, something we should never lose sight of.  When we say the words, "God Bless America" we are begging Our Creator to watch every person, in every capacity, who is living in dangerous situations fighting to keep us Americans safe and free.

I can get teary-eyed if I let myself think about the young people who are leaving their families to go across the world to fight the horrid wars that only World Peace can prevent.  Will there come a day when our world leaders can pull us all together?  Perhaps not during my lifetime.

One would like to be able to personally contribute something toward a world of peace.  Maybe the best thing we can do is follow the example of our dear aunts.......be supportive and keep on loving, no matter what.

The Girls

We visited the cemeteries yesterday and placed yellow bouquets of fabric flowers beside our parents' gravestones.  Up until a couple of years ago, our mothers would have been in the back seat of our car orchestrating this annual rite.  Each of them would bring their flowers, put them in the trunk of our car, and off we'd go to reverence the family dead.  First to one town, then the next town, then the next town.  There was a strategy involved here.  The last town was the one where we wanted to eat supper.  "The girls," as we affectionately called them, were both fond of eating out, and each one of us took turns paying, or treating, as we called it. 

Last night we visited the girls.  When they left us, boy, did it hurt.  That's because we cared for them as though they were our children.  In fact we named our car, The Mother Bus. 

Our fuzzy one went with us yesterday.  If the mothers were looking down, they were smiling.  Both of them adored the fuzzy one, and we tried very hard to be even-steven with their babysitting her. 

Sweet sorrow, I guess is what it is.  We were so very blessed to have had our mothers live to be 92 and 88.  They each had very different personalities, but they were wise enough to know that the differences make for the most fun.  There were times the The Mother Bus must have rocked from side to side as we laughed our way down the country roads.  Every outing ended with finding a place to eat.

We never realize what we have until we lose it, but, we are sensible and know that we wouldn't want them to be here yet if they were suffering.  Their bodies declined to the point we had to move them out of their homes into a rest home.  For awhile they were both living there together.  At Christmas or other holiday times, we went to eat with them in the common dining room.  It was a harsh contrast to their homemade meals, yet all that really mattered was that the four of us were still together....hanging on with all our might to something we knew would end any minute. 

Today if "the girls" are listening........we sure do miss the two of you and the fun times we had barreling down the road, the fuzzy one between us looking at the two of you in the back seat, and our discussing and deciding where we should go to eat.  I can still hear one or the other of you saying, "Remember now, it's my turn to treat."

Ya gotta love memories like that!

Grace, Elegance, Sweetness, and Poetic Romance

     (from Graphics Grotto)
   

Onion - The Magical Bulb



Allium - Ornamental Onion

 Yesterday we came out of the dental clinic, and next to the sidewalk were these purple Allium, or Flowering Onion.  They look like little pom-poms on the end of a stem with no leaves.  If I had to choose one word to describe them, I'd pick 'dainty.'  Allium, an onion genus, with about 1250 species, is one of the largest plant genera in the world.  Who'd ever think this flower would be related to an onion?



Allium Cepa - Edible Onion

 Onions, whose botanical name is Allium Cepa, are one of the oldest known vegetables.  Over 600 species are found all over the world, and are a native to Asia.  Ancient Egyptians regarded the spherical bulb as the symbol of the universe.

Peeling onions makes us cry.  The reason why is because onions contain a chemical compound that, when released into the air, irritates the tear glands in our eyes, resulting in the production of tears.  Some say that chewing gum while peeling an onion will stop this from happening. 

Onions have gobs of nutritional benefits. At our house we love onions and think they add flavor and pizazz to most recipes.  We put them in our salads, casseroles, soups, stews, sandwiches, on top of roast beef and steaks.  They contain only 60 calories per cup, have a very low amount of sodium, and are a rich source of fiber, vitamin C, and other essential nutrients for our good health.  I did a bit of research about these magical bulbs, and this is what I find.....

• Onions contain allyl disulphide and allium, the two phyto-chemical compounds that help the body fight against different types of cancers.
• They have anti-diabetic properties and help in lowering sugar levels in diabetics.
• They are good cholesterol sources.  According to studies, individuals who consume one onion every day raise the levels of good cholesterol (high density lipoprotein or HDL) in their body.
• Onions contain a flavonoid called 'quercetin,' which helps in reducing and eliminating effects of free radicals.  When onions are simmered to make soup, their quercetin does not get degraded.  It simply gets transferred into the water part of the soup.  By using a low-heat method of preparing soup, the health benefits of the onion are preserved.
• Onions purify the blood, improve cardiovascular health, and reduce the risk of heart disease.
• Onions reduce the growth of cancerous cells and tumors and prevent the development of different types of cancers, like ovarian, prostate, colon, breast, and cancer of the esophagus.
• Onions have anti-inflammatory properties and reduce the pain and swelling due to rheumatoid arthritis and osteoporosis and complications due to asthma.
• Onions, especially spring onions, are known to help sinus infections.  Smelling the juice of a spring onion or a slice of onion is a popular remedy in China for curing sinus infections.

In our area, the Kwik Trip Stores use onions as one of their "leaders."  Customers are led into KT for their every-day onion price of 38 cents a pound.  We think that's a bargain you just can't beat with a stick!

As a little girl, I'd walk up to our garden in the field, pull green onions out of the ground, clean 'em off a little, and chomp down like a rabbit.  If I was in the house, I'd first dip them into salt, and ooooohhhh, that was even better yet. One thing for sure, if onions are as nutritional as they say......well, this chick should live to be over 100.  Cuz, onions have been in my diet since I was old enough to chew!

Connect the Dots

People, like me, who are being gifted with 64 plus years of life, have a panoramic view that younger people can't expect to have.  The big picture is starting to show itself, and it's time to sit back and sigh, "Ahhhhhhh, that's what it's all been about!"

I remember sitting with a #2 pencil and a coloring book carefully drawing a line from 1 to 2,  2 to 3 and 3 to 4 and so on until all the numbered dots were connected.  That was big stuff for us back when we were kids, because art was not something the Catholic nuns focused on.  When we reached the astounding heights of the stick man, we were given a gold star and that was that.

The dots in our life start out when we're newborns.  An invisible pencil starts drawing and continues drawing until one day only two dots are left.  What appears at that point is the picture of our life.  It is only then that everything that has happened to us makes any sense.  It's Our Creator's way of keeping us always in the dark, not knowing the reason for us being here.  I cannot count the number of times during my life that I wondered why oh why things had to be happening like they were.  There were years that followed one after the other that added one painful thing after the other.  I thought for sure my world would end.  But, just like all storms, there came the day when the sun came out once again and my line straightened out on its way to the next number.  My point being:  we cannot despair.....everything works out in time..... but we have to grow older to see the big picture.

I'm hoping that there are more dots left on my page to connect.  It's interesting how yesterday I was in a book store, and a thought ran through my head.  I'd better read every book that interests me, because I don't know how much time I have to consume and digest all the written words that are sitting on the book shelves.  It's like I want to know all I can possibly get to know while I'm here.

There are dots waiting to be connected, and my line won't draw itself.  I'd best strap on my #2 pencil and get moving here. 

Tata.

Joplin Tornadoes

The boyfriend has gone fishing today.....in the rain.  He and his cohort are garbed in rain jackets, rain pants, and boots.  When the Northerns are biting......hey, it's their responsibility to show up for duty.  It's the warrior in them.

But, I worry nonetheless.  Visions of their boat being struck by lightning are plaguing my head.  I sit back here praying there won't be another burial at sea!

Yesterday we saw two fawns.  Yup, the does are having their babies, so keep a lookout for the little buggers hopping around after their mamas, getting to know the world. 



Having No Mercy

 Boy, there have been some wicked storms in the Midwest last couple of days.  My heart goes out to the people in Joplin, Missouri, and the other towns in Oklahoma where the tornadoes have swept away lives, homes, and towns.  The skies have the look of evil when those funnel clouds form and lower themselves to the ground.  The people who experience tornadoes say that they sound like roaring trains.

What's up with all this destructive weather?  A person can't help but wonder if man's interrupting the atmosphere with satellites and all other signaling is creating unnatural conditions that eventually produce turbulent weather down here.  One can only ponder.

Water is running down the side of the street in front of our house.  Cars are driving by as people are leaving for work.  Raindrops are splattering in the rain puddles on the front porch.  It's a nice slow rain, so the corn fields are probably singing as they soak up the nourishment that heaven is dropping down on them.  The corn rows are now visible in most of the fields around this area.

Let's pray that the sky gods calm down and look upon us earthlings with favor. 

Tata.  

Ground Value

Digging in the dirt brings out the puppy in me, and that's what I did yesterday afternoon.  Actually, all I did was pull weeds out of a flower bed back of the house.  Our little neighbor kids and their daddy walked over and sat down on the grass with me, and I thought that was about a sweet as it gets. 

I'm a farm girl at heart, so dirt is nothing new to me.  I never was dainty, and I never was a fuss budget either.  And, if somebody thought they'd have fun with me and throw me a double-dog-dare......well, I'd take the dare hands down.  I'm a tom-boy at heart, and maybe that's because I didn't have sisters.  I hung around with my brother and boy cousins, and they shared that wonderful world of boyhood with me.  We made imaginary guns out of sticks, we chased each other till someone fell, and we'd do battle in all venues, from out west to the jungles.  We fought, we cussed, but we always made nice when the battles were done.

I was told that the first cuss words that came out of my preciously adorable little mouth was at the age of 2 when I told a thing or two to our team of old plug horses.  I guess I put my hands on my hips and scolded Daisy, "Hosso bite, you usna bitch." 

Cussing was vital to farming in the 1950s.  It was critical to the family unit itself.  Farmer men swore, farmer women swore, and their children learn to swear from being around the swearing.  Tensions had to be released somehow.  I don't think that I'm exagerrating when I say this, but Catholic priests would have to admit that Swearing was the #1 sin confessed in the farming community. If not, then it would have been Lying.

Farming may be different today, but back in the 1950s, farming was darned hard and squeezed the sweat and life blood out of a man like nothing else.  Things were forever going haywire, hail ruined the crop that had to support the family, fences needed repair, bones were broken, thumbs were hit with hammers, and animals got sick and died.  The days unfolded into a litany of unexpected occurrences that took its toll on everyone in the household.  If daddy wasn't happy, momma and kids definitely weren't going to be happy either.  That was 1950s Farming 101.

The feel of dirt is good for us.  It brings us down to our own size.  We need to look down more.  There are those who go through life with their heads up in the clouds, but that ain't me.  I have too much respect for those who raised me to reverence the ground we walk on.  A flower bed is a simple way to touch the past, yet create the future.  Dig up the remains of last year's bounty and plant new.  Roll up the pant legs and sleeves, pretend being a kid again, and the ground will absorb our cares and give fresh and healthy abundance in return. 

Once again, Mother Nature has the secret elixir for whatever ails us.  She is generous and gives freely of her medicine.  All we have to do is.....dig for it!