My FUNKY Phase

No wonder I haven't had time to blog!

I have been a little busy

creating FUNKY watercolors

for family and friends.

It All Started With A Father's Day Gift Idea.....

It all started with "What can I get our father for Father's Day?" 

After all, he is 92 years old and has everything that he needs in life

including a wonderful and delightful new bride! 

We all love her so much and we are so happy that they can enjoy each other's company 

and plan adventures together each day. 

I thought of writing a poem letting him know how much we honor and love him 

but I gave him something similar to that a few years ago. 

I went through the sock thing and the tie thing and the book thing and nothing seemed right. 

Then I thought, 

"Hmm....I could do a watercolor of him and Grandma Georgia!" 

So I knew I couldn't draw faces, or hands, or feet but I could do a little silly, funky thing

which opened up this vision of ideas and fun things to try.

Dad and Grandma Georgia's note cards turned out so cute that I decided my sons and son-in-law needed to have a set for their very own Father's Day.

Of course, Jason's family was first....because he was "the first"!

 But I find that I always improve upon my ideas and get better as I go

and so I did an addendum of my oldest son's girls. 

Eva Lou loves horses and so a pony tail and cowboy boots were in order.

Beth is tidy and tall and perfect at everything 

so she just needed that braid and a more grown-up look.

Jae was cuter in the original but I can never make things look the same no matter how hard I try.

The original of the girls was sent to their father upon request 

and is framed and mounted for office-viewing everyday.

My daughter's family was next 

and it just turned out perfect right from the beginning and I didn't change a thing!

10 darling note cards arrived just in time for my son-in-law's Father's Day

 The funky family characters were starting to get better and better with each new painting. 

Because our little KK is the pride and joy of our whole family

she was my last little person and so fun to do.

I found that I was having this special connection with each family member as I tried to capture their personalities with my watercolor brush.

 It just didn't seem right to leave my husband out of the Father's Day fun

so I added in the things that he and I love and away I went.

Then I forgot that I can't do faces and hands and feet and made a total mess of Minnie.

Watercolor is very unforgiving. 

Oh well...It all started with a Father's Day gift idea.........

Now and Way Back When

One time while attending a party 

I was totally fascinated by the outfit worn by a little neighbor girl. 

Her name was Zoe and that in itself allowed her some privileges. 

She had chosen a tiara to go with her leopard-print tights, 

her Disney princess dress and sparkly-red "Dorothy" shoes. 

It crossed my mind that my mother 

would have never let me go out in public with those choices.

I was so envious of her freedom and for her creativity.

I longed to be like her - way back when.  

Then I received this photo through e-mail from Ellis' brother.

Well, for one thing,

the sun was in our eyes.

Me and my cousin, Ellis.

I know that I was 5 years old soon to be 6 because the photo was taken September of 1957.

For me that was the year that all of the kids in town got to go to kindergarten. 

I would wait another year before the bus would stop at our house 

out on the farm and take me to First Grade.

What a treat for me to see this photo for the first time almost 60 years later.

It isn't my wispy curly hair or my chubby little hands that caught my attention  

But it is the little outfit that I chose to wear on this day. 

It made me smile and, suddenly, I knew that my mother 

had allowed me to skip and dance through childhood and 

choose my very own clothes to wear. 

It was so liberating!

My red Dale Evans vest had a matching cowboy hat. 

I must have loved that vest because I have proof of wearing it in other photos.

The sleeveless blouse with the collar was another shade of red. 

Because I seldom wore pants, 

the South-of-the-Border elastic-waist skirt 

was a quick and easy choice. 

Could it have been purple or green? 

I know it wasn't blue. 

Surly I didn't have three colors of red on? 

And what about those socks?

I just can't trust my memory.

But I can trust my heart

and it just feels all warm and fuzzy.

Being allowed to make your own choices is a freedom to cherish

Now and Way Back When.

Where Do Fairies Come From?

Happiness

Tinker Bell, 

The famous fairy, and perhaps, the first fairy ever

Could sprinkle pixie dust with her tiny wand and make everything 

Wonderful.

She taught each little fairy about the magic of happiness.

Whimsical and Enchanting 

Fairies can fly - and who hasn't ever dreamed of flying?

Fairies are elusive and shy

And hide in secret places - like inside flower pedals and under toad stools

Usually in the woods 

Where you can hear the trickling brook and the twittering of birds.

Pretending and Dreaming

There is something light and airy about a place where fairies live. 

It is far away from reality

A place where all is well and and no one is sad or hurt.

A fairy's world is colorful and full of flowers

All of the animals in this enchanted land are friends. 

Imagining

If you are quiet you can hear the little sounds that fairies make:

A little wisp, a giggle, a sweet, soft song.

Fairies will always show you the way home;

Just run and skip after the tiny lights
Dancing with powdery and sparkling pixie dust.

A Fantasy

It is fun to pretend and to dream

To make up a "Fairy" Tale.

This fairy tale is for all the little believers who have always wondered

"Where Do Fairies Come From?" 

Raccoons and Skunks and Fox(es)

Raccoons Amongst Us

Growing up on a farm out in the countryside you would think that I would have been acquainted with all sorts of animals. But thinking back, I only remember pigeons roosting in the lofts of the barn, a muskrat that lived down by the drain and a one-time viewing of a weasel. Of course we had mice and frogs and polliwogs but nothing cute like the little woodland animals that I have seen as an adult. 

Who would ever think that I would see my first raccoon in our desert home in Southern Utah?

We had heard the scratching and bumps during the night and thought we must have a cat on the roof. But one night we awoke to the sounds that were particularly loud so we turned on the outside light and surprised a large mother raccoon and several little ones munching away on the purple grapes hanging from the vines on our patio arbor. Who knew that raccoons had little homes hidden in our populated neighborhood?    

Every Family Must Have a Skunk Story

When my husband was about 16 years old he was working on a farm over in Weston which is about 10 miles west of town. He was riding his small Sears All State Scooter along the canal bank checking on sprinkler pipes. He turned down off the bank into the field to go back to the farm when he noticed a mother skunk and three babies right in his path. He couldn't stop fast enough so he jumped off the scooter which continued on and tipped over right by the mother skunk. She sprayed the flip out of the scooter and the skunks and my husband took off running in the opposite direction! Later that day he ventured back to get his scooter but decided the best thing to do was leave it there for a couple of days.  After several washes he started using the scooter again but he could always catch a whiff of skunk on his drive back and forth from home to work.  He always said "Better the scooter than me!"

One More....

My husband was working on the same farm later in the summer and his boss's relatives came from Boise to visit. They had a big black Labrador house dog that came with them in their station wagon. One day it followed my husband down to the river where he was shooting carp during lunch time. The big black lab cornered a skunk and it sprayed the flip out of the dog. It was yelping and rolling around in the dirt and ran back up to the house. The relatives were so mad at my husband and blamed him for the accident. To make matters worse, they had to head back to Boise that afternoon. They washed and washed the dog in tomato juice but it was still smelling pretty rank when they put it in the station wagon and started for home. For sure they had a momentous five-hour ride home! My husband and his boss had a really good laugh - they weren't his boss's favorite relatives anyway. 

Okay One More.....This story belongs to my brother.

The summer of 1965, after Dad had had his dump truck accident (September/October 1964), I had dropped out of the U. and returned to the farm. We had built the new milking barn to enable Dad to continue to milk cows, and I had returned for summer school to try to make up for lost school time. A friend from home had captured a litter of skunk babies. He had had their "skunk" glands removed by a vet (or nearly removed as it turned out). My friend offered me one for which I paid $5 or $10. I named her "Daisy". I was living in my brother's home in Murray while they were away for the summer in school somewhere. Skunks are very playful much like cats except not so aloof. Daisy loved to weave herself in and out of the drapes. When annoyed, instinct sets in, they turn their back to you, and raise their tail. It was then, and only then, that one could catch a faint whiff of Daisy's skunkness. Their personal habits are very much like cats, and they bury their poop. Hence, I kept a litter box which worked nicely. I kept her in a box outside with a wire door on top when I was not there. She was a novelty to the kids in the neighborhood. I came home one day, and she was gone. I presume one of the neighbor kids let her out. End of story. 

They Just Keep Coming!

From My Brother....of course

We lived next door to a radio personality who did the morning show on a local news station. Our bedroom window was just a few feet away and just above the window well by their living room. In the middle of the night my wife and I were awakened by the unmistakable sound of a high power rifle shot just outside our window. I said that some neighbor had probably shot his wife, but that I was not about to go investigate. I said we'll flip on the radio in the morning and then we'll know if there was a problem. And we did. We tuned to the news first thing and could tell immediately there was a "neighborhood situation". The morning radio regulars were joking about exiling the famous personality to the corner of the broadcast room as far away as possible because he smelled of skunk. It turns out that he had heard some noise in his window well in the night and discovered a skunk trapped in the bottom. Since he had to get up early and wanting to solve the problem, he simply loaded his deer rifle and shot the skunk. It did not immediately die, however, and as its final act in mortality, sprayed him mercilessly. He had no choice but to go to work wearing his new fragrance. 

The Best By Far.....

This second story is somewhat related; Same house. Our window well. My wife and I were preparing to go on our very first overseas adventure to Europe. We had arranged for our neighbor's mother to stay in our home and watch the kids. The day before we were to leave, I discovered a skunk trapped in our window well. It would have been intolerable to leave the skunk there for two weeks while we were gone, and especially with the neighbor's mother-in-law in charge. Taking a lesson from the previous story, I sought advice on other way to solve the problem. One of my law partners who was a mechanical engineer, a lawyer, a rancher and an otherwise practical fellow, suggested we cover the top of the window well to seal the space and run a hose from the exhaust pipe of our Suburban into the window well so as to asphyxiate the little fellow with carbon monoxide poisoning. Sounded like a great idea. I pumped that small space with exhaust for about an hour. Two results: the seal on the window was not so great, and I also pumped exhaust into the basement which about killed all of us. We could see the skunk through the window. He got very sick and was convulsing. but he wouldn't die. It was him or us. I had to disconnect the hose...and I still had a problem; a very sick skunk. Seeking advice from other, I learned that skunks did not like to be trapped all that much, and if one were to wrap a cloth around a broomstick so he could get some traction, most skunks will climb out on their own. Well.....unless they are poisoned and half dead. Without a better idea, I rigged up this broomstick and put it down the window well. Since we were leaving early in the morning, I kept a vigil throughout the night checking every couple of hours. When I made my 4:00 am check I was delighted to find that the skunk had recovered sufficiently to climb out on his own, and we were all relieved to be able to go on our trip without an unresolved skunk problem.  

Nothing Cuter Than a Fox

When we first moved to Southern Utah we purchased a home which was located up in the hills where the houses were sparsely scattered. It wasn't unusual to find large scorpions in our homes and an occasional tarantula on the road. Some nights we could hear coyotes yelping in the distance. The real treat was catching sight of a little fox running across the road. The sightings were usually at night when our headlights would startle them. We used to see a little white fox and that was exciting. Because of home construction and inevitable growth, the fox population and other animals moved further back into the hills. What a gift --a few months ago -- 33 years later -- to come up over the hill to our home and catch sight of a little red fox scampering across the road. Perhaps they have learned to exist in the neighborhood just like our grape-loving raccoons! 

I answered, "Maryann!"

#LightTheWorld Day 5

Matthew 15:4 ".....Honour thy father and mother.....". 

I have learned, through the years, that to honor our parents really means that we are kind and loving to others, good citizens in our community, willing to help others be successful, and striving to give our very best each day to our work and other obligations.

I think it is essential for us to understand that our parents did their very best and provided the best life for us that they knew how to give. At some point, honoring them means that we must forgive them for those instances in life where we felt that their parenting was unfair. 

Now that I am older, I choose to remember those little things that are sweet and tender about my parents. 

My mother helped me memorize little readings and monologues that I would present at Farm Bureau Talent Shows. I distinctly remember being very young, standing on stage with the heavy, deep-red, velvet curtains behind me and resighting the family-favorite poem entitled "Maryann". I was holding my favorite doll, Betsy, in my arms looking at my mother sitting on the front row of chairs smiling and encouraging and oh......so proud!    

Maryann

I studied my times tables over and over

And forward and backward too

And I couldn’t remember six times nine

And I didn’t know what to do.

My sister told me to play with my dolls

And not to bother my head.

If I called one fifty-four for a while

I’d learn it by heart she said.

So I took my favorite Maryann

And thought it a terrible shame

To call such a perfectly lovely child

Such a dreadful, horrid name.

I called her my dear little fifty-four

For a hundred times or more

‘Till I knew the answer to six times nine

As well as two times four.

One day at school Elizabeth Wiggleworth

Who always acts so proud

Said six times nine was sixty-four

And I nearly laughed out loud.

But I wished I hadn’t when teacher said,

“Now Dorothy (Michelle), tell if you can,”

I thought of my doll and sakes alive,

I answered, “Maryann!”

Another Glimpse

It is kind of funny, really;

We think we can remember things in our past

but those memories are just a little glimpse of time....

one brief moment.

In the home I grew up in we had this enclosed back porch 

that housed the washer and sugar barrel. 

The back porch was the way to get outside, 

the way to the half bath,

 to the cellar, 

the basement, 

the attic and the back bedroom.

Each area and object is a separate memory all on it's own. 

From the washer, 

the clothes were taken outside and hung on the clothesline.

The wooden clothespins kept the tablecloths, sheets, and all of our clothes 

billowing away until dry.

The denim pants were hung on pant stretchers kept in the half bath. 

The sugar barrel was a 50 gallon size. 

That much sugar is almost a ridiculous amount to store in today's world 

but it was mostly used to preserve fruit and 

make delicious deserts and breads for our family. 

I loved to go out and scoop and break up the dried lumps of sugar.    

Because of the high water table,

the fruit cellar filled with water each spring. 

We had to stand on cinder blocks 

and use rubber boots to get to the fruit on the shelves. 

The narrow cement stairs always had to be swept for spiders. 

Even though the basement was only a few steps down 

we still called it the basement. 

It led to the outside 

and provided a place for Dad and the boys 

to take off their dirty boots, coats and gloves from the farm. 

It also housed the coal bin and coal furnace. 

There was a desk for keeping records 

and a roll-up mattress to use when we had company. 

That mattress was a soft perch for the cats 

when I was relegated the task of sweeping and cleaning the basement. 

However, the cats really weren't allowed in the house, ever!

The attic had treasures 

but not a good floor. 

We had to be very careful when we played there 

so that we wouldn't accidentally step through the cardboard ceiling. 

We could crawl across the boards from the attic entry

and come out in a wardrobe closet in another part of the basement.

The back bedroom belonged to the boys 

and the door had a creak in it. 

Seriously, the door would creak about every 90 seconds.

But today's glimpse is really about the hole, 

in the corner, 

out on the porch.

It was just the size for a marble to sit in.

I can see it in my mind.

It seems so funny that a tiny marble,

pushed in tightly, 

could keep out such a critter as a little mouse. 

But it seemed to work.

By the way....

mice were, 

also, 

not allowed in our house. 

But that doesn't mean it didn't happen....

on occasion.