It Takes a Dog

Something large and black flew across US 23 as I was headed south to an appointment in Waterford, Michigan. Traffic was going 70 mph and then some. Almost every vehicle immediately slowed, we wanted to know what had happened.

That large black mass was a Labrador Retriever escaping from the back of a pick-up truck. The large dog lay in the grassy area at the side of the road.  Mickey had wanted to go to the bathroom, his owners said, so the three legged dog took off. and was hit by one of the passing cars.

He was conscious, his eyes were pleading. I had pulled over as soon as I saw it was a dog.  Five other drivers followed suit. We worked together fist assessing his wounds, lifting the 100 pound Mickey to get him on a board that was too small for his bulk, attempting to practice basic first aid, while keeping track of teeth that nip when pain is present. We got him into another motorists pick-up because we didn't want to try to haul Mickey across several lanes of traffic to place him in his owners' truck.  Mickey got quite the escort to the next exit where he would be reunited with his mom and dad and find veterinary care.

It was one of the moments where I just wanted to cry.  The tears came with layered meaning. I cried because I hurt for Mickey, those sad eyes broke my heart.  It's a good bet that I will never know if he survived the incident. I also wanted to cry because that three legged dog brought out the best in humanity and that makes me proud to be a human.  It seems like most days, especially if you listen to the news, we witness all the worst that people have to offer.  It's easy to give up hope and start just expecting that people are going to do the wrong thing.

Thanks Mickey, for letting us show that the kindness of humanity runs deep.

Farmgirl Karen

I grew up in Saginaw Township and didn't grow up knowing a lot about agriculture and related topics. I didn't know that beets actually grow with that deep red color -- I thought it was added later. I didn't know that a hen doesn't need a rooster to lay eggs -- they are only needed if you want to fertilize those eggs and have chicks.  I had a little garden and I thought it was miraculous. I did know that fresh food tasted better.

Growing up I shunned large urban areas. Big cities were okay to visit or drive through, okay and maybe to shop, but that was it.

I grew up making things -- I'd try any type of craft.  I'm still that way. My craft room is a disaster of creative possibilities. I found that I loved to can, make cheese, craft my own soap.  It seems that if I can make it, it is probably cheaper and perhaps even better. 

I had the chance to live in a farming community for a while.  I took to it like a pig to slop! I think there's a country song where the singer claims to be "as country as a turnip green." I am indeed a country girl.

It delights me to take something old and make it knew again or re purpose an item to something delightfully different.  There are things in life that are better done "the old way." I obviously have embraced the computer age but I still prefer a phone call or a letter, I like baking my own bread, and I will always prefer to read a real book.

I found a kindred spirit when I discovered a magazine called "Mary Jane's Farm." Mary Jane Butters combined all the things that I love and  managed to embrace it all in such a way that it doesn't lose its integrity and humanity. I hate to admit it, but I cried with excitement as I found that there were other women that felt the way I did about life. There were women all over the country that loved chickens, home made food, wanted to protect their environment, hoped to keep the old crafts alive and yearned for a sister hood.

There's a community of Farmgirl Sisters that cover the entire USA and a few in other places in the globe. Another like minded woman and I started our own local chapter in Michigan. Today those friendship are of great value to me.

As a part of joining the Farmgirl Sisterhood -- over 5,000 strong now -- and I was sister #411, you are able to access a variety of challenges under six or seven categories of life.  When one accomplishes the tasks under each category whether its beginner, intermediate, or expert -- you earn a badge!!  I love earning badges almost as much as I love trying different experiences. Right away I earned all the badges under writing and crocheting, but I will never go beyond the first badge in fiber spinning or horsemanship.  These badges push me to keep bettering myself and to love the next adventure.

For 2014, I have the honor of being the Farmgirl of the Year.  I'm not sure I have ever received such a wonderful honor. The funniest part of that is that I live in downtown Fenton, Michigan. I have two hens that give me fresh eggs, I grow most of my own herbs that go in my soaps, baked goods and other concoctions, and I continue to make all the things I possibly can. 

It doesn't matter where you live -- you can always be a Farmgirl.  If you go to Mary Jane's website you are sure to see an embroidered item or to that says, "Farmgirl is a Matter of the Heart." I am a Farmgirl no matter where I live and that is the lifestyle I'm best at.

Maybe you are a Farmgirl at Heart, too.

A Bug's Life Bugs My Life

We were off camping in our little motor home and I was doing my best to enjoy the trip when I discovered three little ants and a behemoth one. I am not a very good camper to begin with, but I was really trying to be a happy one.  No scream left my mouth, but my face certainly reflected the displeasure I was feeling at their presence.

I'm not particularly hateful of bugs in general, but I prefer them pretty and not in my private living space.  I realize that a camping environment is a different situation and may be confusing to bugs and people as to who belongs where. Nonetheless, this development was unacceptable.

Squish, squish and squish and then one more for the disgustingly big one. I had committed mass murder with a sheet of bounty.  I was glad -- I would do it again if I must. Feeling triumphant, I rested in a false sense of security only briefly.

Where there are just a few ants, there must be more.  I was living in a tin can with a herd of ants, a band of behemoth insects. I groaned -- audibly.  Then, I started to itch. I spent the entire day and night itching and scratching. I showed myself no mercy. I didn't sleep the entire night. I kept a watchful eye out for those little segmented things.

We're home and I'm still scratching a bit, although I have yet to see another ant.  I must say I'm a little indignant that those 4 ants wielded so much power over me.  There is something just wrong about that distribution.

I decided to go outside and look around.  There must be something in my own little backyard that could balance out that power. There were things that could move my attention from one little thing of power to another.   I was quickly mesmerized by the jewel-like dragonfly basking in the sun on  my husband's car window,  I joined my hens in the sense of calm they have mastered as they go about their day, I marveled at the hypnotic bees as they enjoyed my bountiful crop of bee balm.  Such beautiful little things all around me and they all had such wonderful powers.

 "It's the little things that make me love you so."

                                           --Song by the Oak Ridge Boys

So many of the treasures and the joys in life are the little things. It's when my husband automatically takes my hand when we walk anywhere side by side, or when my grown daughter blows me a kiss just before she walks out the door, or the way my puppy's ear flop in an undignified yet adorable manner as she seeks my attention.  I could go on with a list of more than 100 things and actions that are just little -- but they make such a difference to my life and day.  It is the little things that have all the power.

Take Time to Do Something Silly

Truffle Marie Price at graduation

Truffle is one of the great delights of my life.  She is my two year old Miniature Schnauzer. We spend quite a bit of time together doing just about anything.

She had a blast in a training class that was actually described as "Charm School."  After four weeks of classes, she was proficient at all the commands and delighted in responding to each direction and then being rewarded for her behavior.

Truffle has a diploma now.  She is a Charm School graduate.  I think it's funny that she snorts when she yawns --it's not charming, but it is quite cute.

As you might guess, everyone has laughed at this latest achievement of Truffle's.  When my mom saw this photo, her comment was only, "Poor Truffle."

Okay -- so it's a bit silly.  I know this is a silly thing to do with your dog, but ya' know what?  I loved doing all this.  If my son hadn't just graduated from high school, I probably would have thrown her a graduation party!  It makes me laugh!  It tickles my funny bone and just makes me happy.  So why not!?

Each day we really should do something that's a bit silly.  Funny bones are just waiting to be tickled and we were made to laugh.  I do love to laugh and giggle. 

Today -- I Write

I love to write.  You can't really tell that I enjoy the writing process by my five month hiatus from this blog.  As much as I delight in creating a story, I cringe at the painful process of exposing those same words for someone else to read, see, judge, correct, disapprove of my writing ability , etc.  What it really comes down to is the fact that I need to write.  I feel all bottled up inside when I haven't written down the stories that continue to float around in my head.  Sometimes my stories are of personal experience that speaks of a lesson to be shared and other times my stories are completely made up, celebrating a well exercised imagination.

The first books I remember getting lost in, were Trixie Belden mysteries.  To this day, I'd rather read a mystery than anything else.  There's something about trying on the personality and skills of someone else -- even a blond teenager with freckles and a best friend named Honey -- and playing the written game of cat and mouse.  I love it when I can figure out the mystery before the author tells me, but I love it even more when I can't!

Writing and reading is an honest relationship of delight -- complete with ups and downs, frustration and exaltation.  I want to remember the reader that I was as a young girl that immersed herself in the story.  Those motives are pure and uncomplicated.  I want to write for the same pure and uncomplicated reasons -- out of love for the craft and the enjoyment of the creation.  Fear be damned!

It's a new day and today -- I write.  We really need to do what we love or we are less than ourselves.

Wonders of the World - 6

There's no denying it at this point -- there are just too many wonders in the world to try to limit the number to 7.  The wonders of the world  -- regardless of who is making the determinations-- are beyond the single digits and perhaps it is limitless.  I feel a sense of relief in coming to terms with my conclusion.  The world must have been ancient and narrow when seven places were determined.  My world is neither small or limited and it delights me that I am going to spend the rest of my life seeing and experience wonders and even then, I will not see them all. 

A maple tree in my front yard tapped and receiving sap.

When I was a child and would do something that surprised my parents -- for example, I might complete a chore without being asked (it might have happened) -- there was a standard reply from my mom.  Her comment was, "Will wonders never cease?," meaning "Wow, I can't believe it."  I've been working on Karen's Wonders of the World for a couple of weeks now and I can say with confidence :  Wonders will never cease!

Number six on my list is a variety pack of natural, scientifically explainable, magical moments in nature.  Do you remember contemplating the origin of clouds when you were a child? Many of us assumed those fluffy puffs came from a smoke stack.  Teachers along the way have given me the academic explanation of clouds, rainbows, and so much more. I'm sure the information was spot on, but for the most part -- it really doesn't matter.  The explanation doesn't diminish the wonder.

Other items in this same category would include how sap from the maple tree drips noisily into pails  and the concentrated syrup resulting from it, the look of petosky stones once they've been polished for all the world to see the beautiful patterns, the metamorphosis of an unattractive caterpillar to a drop dead gorgeous butterfly, the mystical angles of an amethyst geode, or even the ability of a chicken to daily create a rounded object within itself and eject it daily, the soothing hum of a contented llama and the ability of a robin to create a nest, salmon swimming upstream, an insect looking like a stick.   Nature is filled with wonder in every direction we look. 

Amethyst

This quest began with my gazing into the Grand Canyon and that geological wonder would find itself on this long list of naturally occurring wonders.  I can't stop naming them . . .

Wonders of the World - 5

The ability to create and to appreciate art is the fifth of My Wonders of the World. In a previous post I shared with you that my word of inspiration for 2013 is Create, and the wonder of creativity is an important aspect of being human. 

My day isn't complete without some sort of creative expression, whether that's needlepointing the canvas that will become a pillow on my sofa, cooking a great dinner to be placed on a pleasingly decorated table or maybe I just decide to dress myself with a little more pizazz than usual.  It feels so good to create.  It is amazing what we have the ability to create.

When I walk into a museum, I turn into a human sponge.  I don't try to become a sponge, it just happens.  The evidence of human creativity causes a need to soak it all in.  On my most recent visit to the Detroit Institute of Arts, I felt like I had been a nomad wondering in the desert, dying for a drink of water.  My thirst to look upon examples of art was so great, that I drank it in with a sense of desperation.  As my thirst became quenched, I wanted to shed a tender tear at my state of satisfaction.

There are plenty of artists that I don't particularly enjoy and styles that I just don't resonate with. I visited the  Andy Warhol  museum, near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, even though I wasn't a fan.  I didn't want to miss out on an adventure.  There was a long narrow piece that I was drawn to -- it was metallic with Rorschach like designs all over it.  I studied it and pondered it.  When I finally read the adjoining description, I found out the variations in color were a result of the combinations of the metallic palate and his own urine as he dispensed it as was desired.  What a hoot.  What a wonder. I love art.

When one is in the midst of graduate school, one does not have much discretionary income. Even in that financial state, when I saw one of Paul Sawyier's works while walking through the mall in Lexington, Kentucky -- I fell in love.  I had to have it. I had to scrimp and save and do without a few necessities to get that limited edition, numbered print.  It was worth it! Sawyier was considered a great grandson to the great Impressionists.  I was moved by his subjects, his colors, the subtle nuances of his characters.  For over 25 years it has hung in a place of honor in every home I have lived in. It still moves me and now, it is just part of me. Art is like that.