Sunday, May 31, 2009
The question is what is she going to do with that rolling pin? Hit him? Or kiss him instead!!! (grin)
Thursday, May 28, 2009
This card is not as old as the rest of my collection, fits this day. It was given to me by my darling Gramma Gladys.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Poor Rip Van Winkle has awakened to find the entire town changed. All his friends have moved, or are gone. Finding his way to his house, expecting any minute to hear the shrill scolding voice of Dame Van winkle, he was greeted with silence. His neat and tidy house seemed to be abandoned.
A half-starved dog who looked like Wolf, snarled when Rip called his name. This was an unkind cut indeed. "My very dog," sighed poor Rip, "has forgotten me."
Sadly Rip Van Winkle made his way back into the town. His questions filled the townsfolk with curiosity and pity. "Rip's heart died away at hearing of the sad changes in his home and friends and finding himself thus alone in the world." Every answer puzzled him too. It seemed overnight an enormous amount of time had passed him by.
Finally he cried out in despair, "Does nobody here know Rip Van Winkle?" The townspeople whispered and muttered behind their hands, tapping their fingers against their foreheads, and casting wide their glances, broadcasted their doubt of his sanity.
At this critical moment a fresh comely young woman passed through the throng...she had a chubby child in her arms, which, frightened at his looks, began to cry. "Hush, Rip, cried she, "hush you little fool! the old man won't hurt you."
Trembling in his ragged boots, Rip Van Winkle asked, "what is your name, my good woman?"
"And your father's name."
"Ah, poor man! Rip Van winkle was his name, but it's twenty years since he went away from home with his gun, and never has been heard of since--his dog came home without him; but whether he shot himself, or was carried away by the Indians, nobody can tell. I was then but a little girl."
Stretching out a trembling gnarled hand, Rip asked, "Where is your mother?"
And there I leave you, gentle Readers, until next time, when the conclusion of the story, with it's rich and wonderful illustrations, shall be told.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Seems strange to think WW2 was such a long time ago. I was born close to 15 years after the war ended. Strange, it wasn't that long ago in history--yet the world has changed so much since then, it seems that war was fought centuries ago.
Friday, May 22, 2009
If anyone out there has information on the history of this little girl, I would love to hear from you. There's something so poignant and sweet about her face. I wonder who she was.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Upon waking Rip Van Winkle found himself in the place where he'd first seen the old man of the glen. It was a bright sunny morning, birds filled the air with their song, and an eagle wheeled gracefully overhead.
"Surely," thought Rip, "I have not slept here all night." Then he remembered the strange little man with the keg of liquor and the woebegone group playing at nine-pins. "Oh, that flagon! That wicked flagon!" thought Rip.
Remembering Dame Van Winkle's blistering tongue, he cringed at the thought of going home. With a sigh and a creak he arose, feeling around for his gun. But instead of the clean well-oiled fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying next to him. Its barrel was encrusted with rust, the lock falling off and the stock worm-eaten. His faithful dog Wolf had also disappeared. He whistled and shouted his name, but the dog did not return.
He thought he'd go back to the place where the old men played nine-pins, but found his joints were stiff, and he discovered that walking up the stream bed wearied him as never before. And nothing looked the same.
By that time Rip Van Winkle was feeling famished. He grieved to give up his dog and gun; he dreaded to meet his wife; but it would not do to starve among the mountains. He shook his head, shouldered the rusty firelock, and with a heart full of trouble and anxiety turned his steps homeward.
As he drew closer to the Village, he met a number of people he did not know. Which was surprising because he was well acquainted with everyone in the countryside. He noticed they were all dressed differently. And as he walked along, they would stop to stare, the men thoughtfully stroking their chin hairs. Rip put his hand to his own chin, and behold! His beard had grown a foot long!
Rip Van Winkle had now entered the outskirts of the village, trailed by a group of unfamiliar children hooting and pointing to his long Grey beard. This bothered him for a time, until he realized every building he passed had been altered.
He looked beyond the village--there stood the mountains, every hill and dale exactly as it had been. But here in the village everything was strangely different. Rip was sorely perplexed. "That flagon last night," thought he, "has addled my poor head sadly."
With difficulty he found his way to his own house, expecting any moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. But instead he found. . .
And there I leave you, dear Readers, until the next installment!!! I wonder what he found?
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Rip Van Winkle was filled with fear and apprehension, but he could not help but to gape back at them. "Their visages, too, were peculiar: one had a large head, broad face, and small piggish eyes: the face of another was surmounted by a white sugar-loaf hat, set off with a little red cock's tail. They all had beards of various shapes and colors."
A stout old gentleman with a weather beaten countenance, wearing high-heeled shoes festooned with roses, seemed to be their leader.
The leader motioned Rip Van Winkle to lower the keg of liquor he bore. His companion then emptied the contents of the keg into several large stone flagons which occupied a nearby oaken table. Then he made signs to Rip Van Winkle to wait upon the motley company. He, though frightened beyond belief, obeyed with fear and trembling. The old men quaffed the liquor in profound silence, then returned to their game of nine-pins.
As Rip Van Winkle watched, he noticed their faces were grave. The sombre stillness in which they played seemed mysterious. And he noted that, as they continued in their game, the little men were "were, withal, the most melancholy part of pleasure," that Rip Van Winkle had ever witnessed.
"Only the noise of the balls, when they were rolled, echoed against the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder."
As he watched them a certain peace seemed to steal over his soul. By degrees his fear, awe and profound apprehension subsided. He even, when the old men were thus occupied, ventured to taste the beverage, which he then determined was much to his liking.
Being a thirsty soul, Rip Van Winkle was soon tempted to take another drought. "One taste provoked another; and he reiterated his visits to the flagon so often, that at length his senses were overpowered, his eyes swam in his head, his head gradually declined and he fell into a deep sleep."
And there I shall leave you, dear readers, until next time!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
In the last installment we left our Hero, Rip Van Winkle and his dog Wolf at the spine of a mountain top--when someone called out his name.
Wolf growled and his hair stood up straight upon his back. Rip Van Winkle felt a vague apprehension--after all, who up here would know his name? He turned to see a strange figure toiling up the rocks, bent beneath a heavy burden. Rip Van Winkle was surprised to see another human being in that isolated area--and believing it to be one of his neighbors, he hastened to see if he could give some assistance.
But the man was like no one he'd seen before. "He was a short, square-built old fellow, with thick bushy hair and a grizzled beard. His dress was of the antique dutch fashion--a cloth jerkin strapped around the waist--several pairs of breeches, the outer one of ample volume, decorated with rows of buttons down the sides and bunches at the knees."
What the little man carried over his shoulder with such difficulty, was a keg filled with some kind of liquor. (grin) Then the small man gestured for Rip Van Winkle to approach and assist him. Being a helpful individual, he did not refuse.
As the two traversed a dry rocky stream bed, long rolling peals, like distant thunder seemed to burst forth from between the high rocks which seemed to be their destination. Passing through a cleft in the cliffs, they came upon an amphitheatre where a company of odd-looking old men played at nine pins. As Rip Van Winkle and his silent companion drew closer, they suddenly desisted from their play, and stared at him with such "fixed statue-like gaze, and such strange, uncouth, lack-lustre countenances, that his heart turned within him, and his knees smote together."
And there I shall leave you. (grin) Egad! Wonder what will happen next???
Monday, May 18, 2009
On this day of Mumsie's birthday--I was remembering back over the years. Growing up, I did not realize the treasure she truly is. It took becoming an adult with children of my own before I understood her beauty and value.
Some of the happiest years of my life were when my family and I lived in Grammie's basement, next door to Dad and Mom. My husband made an office in the back of my parents home, and our two eldest children went to the school I attended as a child. It was a lovely two years. The children played in the canyons and fields where I played as a child. They found snakes beneath old boards. They made forts in the fruit trees. They loved the ponds with their flirty fish and numerous frogs.
Best of all, I got to spend every morning walking with my Mother. We shared daily quiet times, our hurts, joys and dreams. We laughed, prayed and cried together. What a wonderful time that was.
Mums is interesting and a LOT of fun. Her laughter is raucous, and unmistakable. I LOVE to hear her laugh. She is earthy, wise, compassionate and a little wacky. I treasure her insights. I enjoy hearing about her childhood. I deeply admire her ability to paint a story in words.
Though she has faced (and still faces) tremendous and terrible struggles, Mom rises above them with a beauty not often seen in this day and age.
When I was a little girl, Mumsie showed me the whimsical faces worn by pansies. Since then, I've always loved them.
So, here's a basket of happy pansies for my wonderful, wise, whimsical and wacky Mumsie! Happy Birthday Mums!
Sunday, May 17, 2009
If had the chance, I would not go back and do anything different. Except maybe kiss him a little more often.
Thanks to fellow postcard lovers out there who are willing to share, I have been able to start a "cyber postcard collection." Thank you every one of you! I am not sure where this one came from, but the tenderness and mischief of this particular postcard remind me of my husband and me.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
But this blissful stronghold was often breached when Rip Van Winkle's termagant wife would suddenly break in upon the tranquillity of that group of philosophers, to punish them all with her tongue.
Poor Rip Van Winkle was reduced to despair. To escape from his wife and duties on the farm, he would take gun in hand and stroll into the woods. Here he and his dog Wolf found peace.
On one such long ramble, Rip Van Winkle inadvertently wandered into the highest parts of the Catskill mountains. He was hunting squirrel that day. At the top of a mountainous ridge, he rested, looking across the vast sea of tree-clad mountains. As he sat savoring the quiet air, leaning comfortably against a great pine tree, the night gradually advanced.
He thought about going home, but "heaved a sigh when he thought of encountering the terrors of Dame Van Winkle." He reluctantly stood and was about to descend the mountain, when he thought he heard a voice calling his name. It seemed to come from some distance away. Rather than face his wife's turgid tongue, Rip Van Winkle turned toward the voice...
The rest of the story will continue with the next entry! (grin) Isn't this a GREAT story?
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Way back when, these are what we ladies used to keep our silk stockings from bagging down around our ankles, and even then sometimes that didn't work.
Only one comment left to make! How grateful I am for pantyhose!!!
Sunday, May 10, 2009
And made the love light in your eyes;
From honeyed flowers
He took the dew,
And made your tears, unselfish, true.
Upon a rock, your faith He built.
With angel prayers your breath He filled,
And with His love made yours Divine.
But best of all He made you Mine.
I love you, Mumsie.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Then the inside reads, "No WONDER some people think we're twins!"
But on the serious side, dear Sissyboo--you are wonderful. There is something so precious about the relationship between sisters. I am VERY honored that you are mine. As children we played together. When we were teens we shared secrets, laughed, cried and fought together. As a young woman you prayed for me when I wandered into terrible danger. Your love and prayers saved my life. We were best friends, and we were in each other's weddings.
Then life and distance stole away the closeness we shared. But even so, I could always feel your heart, and I always knew you were there.
How precious that suddenly that special sister "thing" we have has grown so strong. I love you--I admire you so much.
There are so many things I like about you. Your ability to find quirky humor in just about anything, your wisdom, your kindness, and the beauty of your heart are amazing to me. I love the way you make me laugh. I like the way you see the world. I enjoy your ability to find odd things--like a bundle of brand new rinestone thongs along the road, or a box of frothy white slips. Who else but you would find such things??? You have an unusual gift of seeing, and this shows in your talent with the camera.
I am HONORED to have YOU as my Sissy. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
If any of you out there would like to meet my sis, this lovely lady, her name is Clytie and she has two blogs (you can click on them in my blog sidebar). Random Stuff and Random Hearts. You'll enjoy them, I promise!!!
And be SURE to wish her a HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Thursday, May 7, 2009
The artist used rich complimentary colors which just fill my eyes. When I opened the book I could not stop looking at them. The artist's style and use of color is inspiring. I will be sharing more of these drawings in the days ahead.