My "Li'l Darlin' Sophia Anastasia." She will be 4 in early September, and will start kindergarten next month. My grandson Kenji. He is 8 years old now, and so smart. My four granddaughters: Sophia, 3 yrs; Sarah Michelle, 18 months; Tori, 8 yrs.; Gwendolyn Rose, 2 yrs. Such beautiful and smart girls.

All things change

I've been thinking about this for quite some time now. I will probably take this blog offline very soon. It's just time. I don't have anything to say anymore, at least not anything that anyone wants to hear. Also, no one reads it anymore. My blog analysis tells me that I get the occasional "hit" from a "Google" search and the occasional "direct hit" from some people (I have no idea who would have this site bookmarked, or why), and it's just not worth it. Besides, the "blogosphere" (excepting, of course, those blogs dedicated to disseminating information) is an artificial and basically self-serving, unhealthy "entity" to which I do not belong, and to which I do not wish to belong. So, sometime in the near future, when I think of it, I will take this blog offline.

Blackberry pickin'

Storms' Debris

As I was tending to my chickens this morning, I took another notice of the giant trees and limbs, short and long, as well as the remnants of the once-living leaves torn from their links to the life of the trees that the tornadic storms of last month left in my woods. They are all over the place, these remnants of fury, and they get under my feet and roll and threaten still to bring me down. They remind me of the debris in me that has been brought out of my secret unconscious into the light of my awareness by the recent "storms" in my life. An older storm left irreparable damage, but also strength to weather the more recent and furious storm of 14 months ago. This more recent storm, by far the most devastating, left behind as much debris in my life as the tornadoes of last month; but at least this psychic debris does not get under my feet and continue to threaten to trip me and bring me crashing down again as the round limbs and sticks of the trees in my woods brought down by nature's fury. This psychic debris has been, perhaps finally, brought into the light of awareness and, now that I can see it, actually helps me walk straighter, more calmly, more quietly, and more lovingly than before. These storms have cost me many "friends," or people whom I thought were friends, and one daughter; but they have left behind the very few people who are real, and they have reunited me with an old friend with whom I had lost contact.

I have not posted much anywhere on the internet for a very long time. Actually, I haven't felt the need to as I used to. I often wonder why people post their lives at all on the 'net, and why I ever did formerly. I think it is an overwhelming sense of aloneness that is epidemic in this frantic and fake society of ours. People have an innate need to expel from their hearts the hurts as well as share the joys of their lives, and all too often there is really no one to whom they can trust these gems of their souls. So, they post their lives publicly--casting their gems out into the indifferent ether--just because their hearts can't hold it any more.

Before there was blogging and vlogging, people used to keep private diaries and journals; which, for the most part, stayed private. This I think is healthier because unfortunately very few, if any, people (including some relatives) can be trusted with these gems. I like to think that it was enough for these people in our pasts to write secretly because their slower society allowed some real people in their lives that were able to give them the companionship that every soul craves--not like today in its frantic hurry in all directions. So, nowadays we wear our hearts on our sleeves on the internet because we cannot contain our souls, and we are not made to be alone.

How the tree grows, so grows the Self.

A long time friend sent this photo as an e-postcard to my husband this morning, and I got to thinking about trees, how they grow, and how they can serve as a symbol of the Self. I think we all know intuitively what the Self is, the center of what and who we really are. This concept is defined and discussed more fully here. Briefly, though,

"THE SELF: this is, according to Jung, the most important archetype. It is called the "midpoint of the personality" a centre between consciousness and the unconsciousness. It signifies the harmony and balance between the various opposing qualities that make up the psyche. It remains basically incomprehensible, as ego consciousness cannot grasp this supraordinate personality of which the ego is only one element....To Jung the self is a representation of the 'god within us.'"

That being said, let me turn my attention to the subject at hand. While I contemplated the image of that beautiful tree in Friedrich's painting, I couldn't help but wonder about its twisted form. I remember that my Dad used to say, as he staked and supported the young trees he planted in our yard, that training a tree to grow straight is like training a child to grow straight. Sometimes pressure (in the case of a tree this takes form in ropes pulled taut by strong stakes to bend and hold it in the direction it should grow) needs to be applied for a time until the tree, or child, can stand straight and strong on its own. Surely the contortion of Friedrich's tree was caused by the weather it endured, the lack of husbandry, and possibly also by the nature and quality of the nutrients available to it. Yet in spite of wind and freezes and neglect, this tree continued to grow upward and tall, put out its leaves, blossoms, fruits, and attempted to fulfill it's purpose in the broader scheme of Nature by sending out seeds.

From here I thought about how a tree, and specifically the image of this tree, could represent in symbolic form the growth of Self. Trees have served as symbols of our Self for ages, the most famous of which is the World Tree, Yggdrasil.

"A common archetypal representation of the Self is the tree ..., demonstrated most forceably in the Teutonic myth of the world tree Yggdrasil, from which emerges the ancestors of the human race. After much study of such mythological tales and the numerous paintings and mandalas of his patients Jung summarizes his conclusions thus:

If a mandala may be described as a symbol of the self seen in cross section, then the tree would respresent a profile view of it: the self depicted as a process of growth." [Source]

We need only to look inside ourselves, if we are at all inclined toward introspection, to see how our past has formed us into our present form. The quality of our childhood nurturance, both physical and emotional; our school days' experiences, our first attempts to become adults, Life's troubles and heartaches that come to everyone all combine to form us into who and what we are today. We may be one of the few lucky ones who grow straight and strong, but we are most likely part of the majority whose form turns and maybe twists a bit from Life's buffeting. But we, like the tree, continue to grow upward as well as we know how. We still reach outward with our "blossoms" and "fruits" and hope that the next generation receives these "seeds" and may grow straighter and stronger than we. We still embody Hope.


Sources:
http://www.wga.hu/index1.html
http://www.itp.edu/about/carl_jung.php
http://www.religiousworlds.com/fondarosa/jung03.html
http://www.quodlibet.net/articles/brabazon-tree.shtml

Perpetual Motion

Eleven months old.

Drama in the Driveway

I think it's a Black Racer. At any rate, it's non-poisonous, and it's much smaller than it looks in the picture.

Catching up

It's been quite a while since I've posted anything here. That hen that was on the nest earlier this Spring did not hatch any biddies. I really didn't expect her too. She never has before. Oh, she's come close, but the only thing ever left in her nest after "brooding" for weeks has been broken egg shells. I suppose Marans just don't make good mama hens. I did have one good Marans mama hen about five years ago, but she was killed in the afternoon by some varmint wandering through. One of my older hens died recently. I found her on the floor of the henhouse one morning. It happens. Now I have only six chickens left. I wonder if I will be able to keep a small flock going? They certainly don't reproduce, and when I've added new pullets, they end up getting killed by varmints. Well, maybe that will change now that we have a dog again.


My newest grandchild, little Gwendolyn Rose (Gwen), was baptised in her mama's childhood parish by her mama's childhood priest. That is so neat. She was named after St. Gwen of Brittanny. We rented a cabin on the river and all of the family gathered there and had a wonderful time! There were cousins all over the place, and my sweet Goddaughter Sarah Elizabeth, whose Mama is now little Gwen's Godmother, was there, too. Sarah Elizabeth's Daddy is my son's Godfather.



We have now acquired my son's dog, Yoda. Yoda is part German Shepherd, but I have no idea what his other part is. He is the happiest dog I have ever seen in my life. His name should really be Tigger! He is always in motion, and I had a bit of a time getting him to hold still long enough to take his picture, or at least get a picture that wasn't all blur! He's a sweet thing, and we put him up in the poultry yard at night after we've locked up the chickens so he can run. He has kept the pesky raccoons and opossums away, which has simplified my life.

Broody Hen?

Last night when I went up to lock up my chickens for the night, I noticed that there was a hen in one of the nests instead of on the roost where she belonged. Well, I thought, it seems I might have a broody hen. She was still there this morning and seems to have that look. If she is broody, and I'm not entirely sure about this, any eggs she has under her (I didn't check) will hatch in 21 days--June 12. Only time will tell. I have seen these birds sit on a nest for days and days and days only to come off the nest, shake out their feathers, and move on as if nothing unusual had happened. If there are eggs, and if they do hatch, I surely do need a few more pullets, but I already have a rooster; I don't need another rooster. (sigh) This breed of chicken (Marans) usually throws at least 50% male/female per clutch. As in all things, only time will tell.

She's Here!

Little Gwendolyn Rose arrived at 10:14 a.m. on 20 April 2010. She weighed in at 8 lb 12 oz. Mother came home from the hospital a couple of days later, and Tori is delighted with her new little sister.

New Arrival

My second daughter is due to have her second child tomorrow, April 20. I haven't heard from her in a couple of weeks, so I don't know how things are going. I would be down there with her (if she wanted me to be), but an ongoing family crisis up here (that promises to continue for about six months) keeps me from going. My mother's heart is pulled and torn in many different directions right now. However, my daughter is a good mom, and her husband is a great dad, and she's done this before, so I have no worry--at least I don't think I do. This fourth grandchild is a girl, according to the sonograms, but I still hold out a faint hope for little Nicholas. Little Gwendolyn Rose will be making her appearance very soon, I hope. (I just love that name!)

I'm not sure, but I think the baby will be named after St. Gwen of Brittany, or maybe one of these Saints. I'll be sure to post when I know for sure.

Possum in my Poultry Yard

Look who's always up in my poultry yard every evening when I go to lock up my chickens. He's always there, and doesn't seem to be too afraid of me at all. He just lumbers off a ways, climbs up a tree, and watches me until I leave. He comes after the left over grain in the chickens' feed station. Well, as long as he leaves my chickens alone, I suppose he's doing no harm.

Snowfall 12-13 Feb. 2010

Yesterday and today we had what passes for a snow storm down here in north central Alabama. It was a "wet" snow, and left much ice on the roads and bridges, creating dangerous driving conditions for Southerners who don't get much practice driving on ice and snow. It also afforded a most delightful and quiet interlude in the hurry and scurry of "normal" daily life. Down here when it snows, schools close, businesses close, groceries close, and there is a frantic rush to the store for "milk and bread." For us it provided a chance to sit back, build a fire in the heating stove, take walks through our woods, look for animal tracks, and just listen to the quiet and look at the beauty of it. It doesn't last long down here, thank goodness. While I was out this morning, I noticed where the raccoons come down the hill, through the fence into my poultry yard, and where they stopped and went back when the motion detector was activated. I noticed where the neighborhood tomcat came out of the woods and across my front yard and back down the driveway. Further up the hill behind the house, I saw canine prints. They went on for just a short space. I suspect the coyote, because I suspect a coyote back there, followed along under the trees where there was no snow, and left prints only where he had to cross a snowy patch.

We don't get much snowfall down here, and many times it isn't enough to stay on the ground, so when we do get a couple of inches, I'm very glad to learn what comes around my house, and how close it comes, during the night and early morning hours.

My Little Hisser tomcat didn't know what to make of the snow. I don't think he remembers seeing it last year. He did everything he could in order to keep his little "toesies" out of that cold, wet stuff, including climbing straight up the deck railing and nearly falling off! When I went outside, he got up his nerve and followed me around. Aren't pets just the most wonderful things? I'm so glad God grants us the occasional blessing of a brief snowfall down here. It gives us a chance to take a break from the routine and actually hear the quiet stillness that we should be attending to more often.

Spring is Coming

Just before dusk this evening, as I was outside I heard a scrabbling in the dry leaves on the edge of the woods right close by where I was working. I couldn't see anything in the woods. This time of year with all the leaves off the trees, it's easy to look deep into the woods. I thought maybe a stray cat was in there after a late bird, or maybe a deer. However, the sound seemed to be coming from up above me, so I looked up. There, high in the branches above my head I saw a little squirrel with a mouth full of dry leaves heading for his nest. He slipped into his nest before I could get my camera from the house. I guess spring can't be too far behind if the squirrels are repairing their nests and getting them ready for the next generation. It was a welcome sight.

"Gone Huntin'"

Today I am watching my baby granddaughter, and while she is taking a nap, I watched a TV show called "Gone Huntin'" on Untamed Sports TV. I like to watch outdoors shows, and hunting shows fascinate me, but I don't think I could ever shoot a deer. Maybe if I or my family really needed the food, or if the deer were threatening, I could shoot it. The hunters on this show shot a buck that had five prongs on each antler. I don't know if you'd say the deer had 5 or 10 prongs in this case. I am truly not a hunter. It was a beautiful animal. Anyway, I love watching these shows because I get to see different parts of the country, and they are so quiet and peaceful. I knew someone once who hunted for meat. She would write about being "out there" just before and at dawn when the air is crisp and wispy with morning fog. It's a wonderful time to sit and admire the beauty of nature and listen to the quiet and let it seep into your heart and soul. At such a time and such a place I would imagine that one could find peace and solutions to the everyday stresses and problems of life. I have been thinking of taking a page out of her book and spending some time in my own piney woods, but the only "shots" I would take would be with my camera. Only, I wonder how she managed to keep warm sitting out there in the morning fog watching the sun rise? I guess I will have to wait another month or two until the temperatures are warmer. Until then, I will have to content myself with brief forays into the woods. Maybe tomorrow when I am home I can get up there for a while.

Meditations on the Nativity of Christ

Meditations on the Nativity.
Produced by Theosis Productions
for http://www.ancientfaith.com
copyright 2007 All Rights reserved.

Billy the Blue Lobster Gets a New Home

Billy the Blue Australian Lobster lived in a large aquarium with many other fishes and eels and snails and other lobsters. This aquarium was in a neighborhood pet shop. Many people came to peer through the sides of his home and peck on the glass to try to get them to move around. Sometimes the Angelfish would sedately swim up to the side of the glass to see what all the commotion was about. Usually the lobsters would jump in all directions to get away from the strange noises and sights. The lobsters were grouchy sorts of animals, and they fought over everything. Sometimes they would fight each other and one or both of them would lose part of a leg or one of their pincers. One time an especially grumpy lobster picked a fight with Billy and Billy lost part of one of his pincers. It didn't really hurt, but it was inconvenient. Many of the lobsters and fishes were caught by a huge net that came down into the water and lifted them out never to be seen again. Finally, Billy was the only Blue Lobster left in the aquarium and nobody wanted a lobster with part of a pincer missing. One day, this really nice young man came into the pet shop and saw Billy. He thought Billy was very pretty and would be just the new pet for his aquarium at home. So the big net dipped down into the water and caught up Billy, took him out of his aquarium, and put him in a small bag filled with water. His new owner proudly took him home. When Billy found himself in a new aquarium with new fishes, new shells, and a lovely new "sunken ship" to hide in, he didn't know what to think. At first he was frightened. He wondered if there might be some other Blue Lobsters hiding somewhere who might jump out suddenly and want to fight him. He saw a couple of Veil Tail Angelfish swimming slowly around. They came up to him to see this newcomer to their home, but they were too dignified to make friends. There was also an Orange Apple Snail slowly crawling up the wall eating algae. Billy crawled around to explore this new place. He crawled into the "sunken ship" and was delighted to find that this would be an excellent place to play and hide. Except for the shark. There was a redtailed shark who already lived in the "sunken ship." Sam the Shark did not like this intrusion into his home. He swam straight at Billy and tried to frighten him away, but Billy stood bravely with his one good pincer and his one broken pincer raised high above his head. When Sam got close enough, Billy pinched him right on the nose! This surprisd Sam and he zipped out of the sunken ship and swam around to the other side and peeked in to see what kind of thing this was that could pinch him. After this, Sam would chase Billy and Billy would chase Sam right back and pinch his beautiful red tail. They fought and played like this for some time, while the Angelfish and the Orange Apple Snail watched, until one day Billy didn't feel just right. He didn't feel sick, and he didn't feel hungry, and he didn't feel tired, yet something was wrong. He had a sort of tight feeling. Billy didn't know what was happening and he was just the tiniest bit afraid, so he crept into the hollow prow of the "sunken ship" and hid there for a very long time. His new owner could not find him, although he looked and looked. Everyone thought Billy had crawled out of the aquarium and gotten lost like the Orange Apple Snail had done. Billy's new owner looked high and low for him--under the couch, under the drapes, under the bookcase--but he could not find him anywhere. He even picked up the "sunken ship" and turned it over to see if Billy were hiding under there, but he could not find Billy. But Billy was holding on very tightly in the hollow prow of the "sunken ship" and did not fall out when his owner turned it over. His owner didn't know what to do. He really liked Billy, and he was sad that he was lost. Later, Billy came out of his hiding place, and guess what? He had a new, whole pincer in place of the broken one! He was also a bit larger than before. He had crawled out of his old exoskeleton, which had become too small for him. This is why he had had a sort of tight feeling. Billy was so proud of his new pincers and his new size! Now he could really zip around and tease Sam the Redtailed Shark!

The Tale of the Miraculous Snail

This is the tale of the Miraculous Snail. He wasn't miraculous in the way most people think of a thing being miraculous. One day he.....well, we shall see. This orange Apple snail found a new home in a beautiful aquarium with a few other fish. He happily crawled over every surface, cleaning off all the algae he could find. One day he climbed too high and fell out of the aquarium! He lay on the carpet hidden behind the drapes for hours and hours. He didn't know where he was, and it was dry in this new, dark place! He couldn't crawl on the scratchy, dry carpet, so he just lay there getting drier and drier and wondering what was going to happen to him. Finally, he dried up entirely, or so it seemed that way. He had a dry crust over the door of his shell and he didn't move. Finally, his new owner came home from work and noticed that he was missing from the aquarium. He searched and searched for his new pet until he found him under the drapes. The snail looked so dried up that the new owner thought he was dead. He was very sad, but he put him back in the aquarium anyway to see what would happen. Later, he saw the snail crawling in the aquarium as if nothing had happened! He was very happy that his "miraculous" orange apple snail had not died after all.

Morning surprise for the Deep South

The stillness is deafening.





I regret that I forgot to take off the date/time stamp, and even more that the time is wrong! It was actually before 7:00 a.m. that I took this picture this morning.

Make Mine Freedom (1948)

This cartoon was made in 1948--the year I was born. I find it amazing that the general populace was being warned even then about the demise of our country that is going on now, but they did nothing to stop it. A few people over the generations have had enough vision to see what is and has been going on, but they are in the minority, or they don't have enough $$ to fight back effectively. Never the less, I'm sending this out anyway as a "history lesson" to the younger generations of today. When they get to retirement age, I wonder what they will be seeing, what kind of country will they be living in, and what warnings will they be giving their children and grandchildren that will be pooh-poohed and ridiculed? The past several generations in this country have been and are suffering from the "boiled frog" effect.