tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-287942282024-02-28T12:17:11.791-06:00Pieces and PatternsPieces are everywhere I look. They form patterns of endless variety. Exploring pieces and patterns opens windows for creative observation and imagining.Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-68452890967358101262012-03-09T14:02:00.000-06:002012-03-09T14:02:27.300-06:00Some Things on My Mind... In days gone by I kept scrapbooks of photos, articles, clippings, and odd bits of information that I wanted to keep for review. The scraps yellowed, the pages wrinkled, and the ink faded. Some of the books got tossed when I moved from place to place and had to cull my belongings. I bemoan the loss of those clues to my way of thinking about the world.<br />
<br />
Today Pinterest fills this hoarding of interests. I've created boards - each a topic of interest to me. I collect photos, posters, pictures from around the web and pictures of my own items. I collect teapots and I make quilts. The designs and colors and patterns fascinate me. I've posted some of my own.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfNEWM43J0vJbJO_7f-MlNjBxVW4kQGjWQ6i73LwJziRPIz3WGrh4F5Vnf7A6gxNvTHkPStoXm5EEjjqkuYnqsw8sgvLaLWagmcdGVurBN2ksVlDqM-ryjMgAxgMzR3qQyZvbvjw/s1600/Chantilly_love.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="102" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfNEWM43J0vJbJO_7f-MlNjBxVW4kQGjWQ6i73LwJziRPIz3WGrh4F5Vnf7A6gxNvTHkPStoXm5EEjjqkuYnqsw8sgvLaLWagmcdGVurBN2ksVlDqM-ryjMgAxgMzR3qQyZvbvjw/s320/Chantilly_love.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div> I dream of returning to France and Paris. Places like the Chantilly Palace are included on my France board. Paris has endless sites and scenes that bring back memories.<br />
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Old carved or ornate doors amaze me with their detail, rich colors, and embellishments. I've repinned those I especially like and admire. Unfortunately, the modern design of homes in my area do not provide photo ops that can compare.<br />
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My modern day scrapbook is a work in progress.<br />
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Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-21345521235729551372011-07-13T12:30:00.000-05:002011-07-13T12:30:24.785-05:00A Walk Around the NeighborhoodSunshine.<br />
Temps in the 70s.<br />
Mild northerly breeze.<br />
This weather adds up to perfect summer days in North Dakota. I can count on one hand the number of times this happens in a season.<br />
A perfect day calls for enjoying the outdoors.<br />
Biking.<br />
Baseball.<br />
Gardening.<br />
Hopscotch. (Colored chalk on the sidewalk marks the game.)<br />
Lazing on the grass in the park.<br />
Attending the fair.<br />
Flying a kite.<br />
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I toured the neighborhood feasting my eyes on the plants with lush foliage and intense colors.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq3Y0106buIMLoIqi-ya-irsUfenBMHP7ijrtexpeIm4amjPB4CUGgCE3AHLJJ3InevTwcYihnFzFJGQbq5v3zvjOKh9aGjpP4WnVRqPTTGpzf7lT5kStx04g5JUj89aA1S3CxLg/s1600/P7090018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq3Y0106buIMLoIqi-ya-irsUfenBMHP7ijrtexpeIm4amjPB4CUGgCE3AHLJJ3InevTwcYihnFzFJGQbq5v3zvjOKh9aGjpP4WnVRqPTTGpzf7lT5kStx04g5JUj89aA1S3CxLg/s320/P7090018.JPG" width="176" /></a></div>Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-56075939478378248212011-05-21T08:15:00.000-05:002011-05-21T08:15:45.898-05:00Subbing<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">The call came in November. Would I consider a semester substitute teaching job in the Library Media Center at my former school? The regular librarian needed the time off for health reasons. After serious consideration, weighing my retirement activities and freedom versus going back to school and a schedule, I said, “Yes.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The first day both aides were missing in action. I struggled to remember how to access the library management computer program. The first classes of second graders happily checked out books and listened to the story I read. I found much remained the same in the media center, and I survived the day. The difference lay in new titles and relocation of<span> </span>Biography and Picture Books in the library. I watched the clock<span> </span>tick off the minutes of each class.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My brain reconnected synapses long unused, dinosaurs 567.9; folklore, 398.2,</div><div class="MsoNormal">and world records, 032. I learned the latest reading fads: English Roses and Wimpy Kid, and paranormal. I coped with the newest technology, the iTouch.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">An illustrator enthralled the kids with her work of drawing pictures for storybooks. One of the books featured origami, and she led the kids in paper folding a frog.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Two classes viewed The Dot, about being inspired to draw and then created their own drawing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sixth graders rose to the challenge of writing a web page about an interest of theirs. After evaluating web pages and learning the features of the assignment, they focused their energy and completed the project.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">From story reading, to library etiquette, to using the Dewey Decimal System, to writing lesson plans, I hopped right back into the career I had retired from. This week students are learning that the regular person is not returning. One even asked me if I would be back. Nice to be asked, but the answer is, “No.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And now I’ve come to the last few days in this realm of students and books and magazines and electronic devices.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Has the time been enjoyable? Yes </div><div class="MsoNormal">Am I ready for the semester to end? Yes</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now it's the end of May and the last days of school. I will slip back into the retirement world of not living by the clock more easily than I left it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-59665823819449229732011-01-17T22:22:00.000-06:002011-01-17T22:22:05.905-06:00In the Chill of Winter<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It's snowing! It's blowing!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Since Christmas snow flurries have filled the air, skittered across the roads and streets, and, helped by the wind, formed drifts.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In the midst of this winter weather, we carry on with:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">school,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">church,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">grocery shopping,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">meeting friends,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">and work.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">For two weeks, I've been back to the job I retired from: school librarian. I'm walking to the drum beat of familiar routines, renewing acquaintances with those I knew in the past and meeting new students and new faculty members. The library OPAC operates in the same fashion, but the data resides online rather than in a local server.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Today, while the flurries fell and the wind blew, I worked at home instead of being required to attend staff development. I prepared for an English class beginning research, preparing the list of resources in, what I hope will be, an attention getting, motivating handout.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">My mind resumes its teaching mode.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span>Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-32501022755429802912010-12-16T16:18:00.001-06:002010-12-16T16:25:37.069-06:00Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYwcorUK53evYUZOboGGUm6VMZM675wZWkpLc6STGRO4W_rWPfv9BwHuSIZg4vIWqeGUcFcvJBHujkCO_qPywpHpnB8afUHK1P6xxVk6eAnIAoxKUcaptnKTY0G2c7t1nVw7ZsUQ/s1600/PC160006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYwcorUK53evYUZOboGGUm6VMZM675wZWkpLc6STGRO4W_rWPfv9BwHuSIZg4vIWqeGUcFcvJBHujkCO_qPywpHpnB8afUHK1P6xxVk6eAnIAoxKUcaptnKTY0G2c7t1nVw7ZsUQ/s400/PC160006.JPG" width="296" /></a></div>How lovely are your branches.<br />
A tree of any size, real or not, when decorated presents a beautiful sight.<br />
<br />
Angels,<br />
hearts,<br />
golden globes,<br />
and candy canes<br />
show the colors of Christmas.<br />
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Presents tied up in bows wait for family and friends. I hope they will be delighted with my choices for them.<br />
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We await, too, the arrival of the Christ Child to bring light and love to the darkened world. How lovely is the Holy Family with its promise of peace and good will. Our earthly family gathers to celebrate the baby's coming and to share togetherness.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="color: #cc0000;"> The Joys </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="color: #cc0000;"> of the Season </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="color: #cc0000;"> be with You.</i></span>Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-37437634976856887062010-12-08T13:17:00.000-06:002010-12-08T13:17:49.297-06:00Beauty of HoarfrostHoarfrost created early this week has lasted for days painting our landscape with white beauty. Railings, limbs and bushes wear a lacy coat. The patterns are intricate and beautiful.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNlcL5YFLItT4c1qcvEI7JYMPfR7gbnWoMr_MStVYcvoztNcvujpRMimyteP5DVVaMwpEla7y5VckRbxkvoUiBkwHw2sec9hkWrJBwpL-douxhteJbwy4dDcdoMwKnp_8etzlrA/s1600/PC060006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNlcL5YFLItT4c1qcvEI7JYMPfR7gbnWoMr_MStVYcvoztNcvujpRMimyteP5DVVaMwpEla7y5VckRbxkvoUiBkwHw2sec9hkWrJBwpL-douxhteJbwy4dDcdoMwKnp_8etzlrA/s320/PC060006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXtNGC76EPtk7XWKQdOh4Z_uT87obt_MYKmbmEibg5VlwYEZLWXv3iLqfAxFox2t1R7GlHptP3Aha2onndaHq48SjmkcHBq-m18dywfnrUgo4rWFPzc3nWWWhxb0OzbxZr1rEtGQ/s1600/PC060005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXtNGC76EPtk7XWKQdOh4Z_uT87obt_MYKmbmEibg5VlwYEZLWXv3iLqfAxFox2t1R7GlHptP3Aha2onndaHq48SjmkcHBq-m18dywfnrUgo4rWFPzc3nWWWhxb0OzbxZr1rEtGQ/s320/PC060005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKrijBhBZLwECWC8EJqZcgF4RaYd4iR65H8e7NEAcRND_nc5Z2yy5fT9u45LQhqRP1twP_QIlX9wLl91GMpKDikTLH1Y3v9FvCIIdM7bFIyWS9fp_iMsP5P49Ude4Gj27mvqZSbg/s1600/PC060008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKrijBhBZLwECWC8EJqZcgF4RaYd4iR65H8e7NEAcRND_nc5Z2yy5fT9u45LQhqRP1twP_QIlX9wLl91GMpKDikTLH1Y3v9FvCIIdM7bFIyWS9fp_iMsP5P49Ude4Gj27mvqZSbg/s320/PC060008.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlo9f3EFfG7bd5DcyeeWjaSaNMfcShU-KLxN28-ulM3Sh90YDfE2oCiZVWsnpFjxXp5P_w3aejdVM2p5KeDu_doZWLAWWLpnQ8HDj8z_rOU-I7JWmhu_Ikl8VX-im6gF1S2Do1w/s1600/PC060007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlo9f3EFfG7bd5DcyeeWjaSaNMfcShU-KLxN28-ulM3Sh90YDfE2oCiZVWsnpFjxXp5P_w3aejdVM2p5KeDu_doZWLAWWLpnQ8HDj8z_rOU-I7JWmhu_Ikl8VX-im6gF1S2Do1w/s320/PC060007.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-13932113747521483892010-12-06T16:47:00.000-06:002010-12-06T16:47:38.112-06:00Christmas Shopping Today the sun shone brightly enticing me to leave my condo with lists in hand. The sticky note pieces bore a name and items to find for that individual. I pasted them to one of those thick coupon cards that come in the newspaper inserts. Because it was Monday and early, the traffic flowed nicely, drivers minded their manners. Parking lots had open spaces close to store entrances, always a helpful circumstance.<br />
In the mall, shoppers sauntered the corridors wending their way from store to store lugging parcels. I took my shopping bag to the car and returned. Traversing the aisles of merchandise made easier without a bunch of parcels. Decorations of red and green, music, and bright displays added a holiday mood to my search for the perfect gifts for family members. The lady ahead of me in the checkout line handed me a discount coupon from her stash! What a honey.<br />
I returned home with tired feet to sort my items and reorganize my lists. I made a start, a good start on the gift list. I stocked the cupboard with ingredients for fruit cake which will get made this week. While I stir the mixture, I will remember my mother. Fruit cake was one of her favorite things at Christmas. Memories of her will waft on the aroma coming from the oven as it bakes.Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-67840276473004350902010-10-26T11:45:00.000-05:002010-10-26T11:45:27.148-05:00Leaf Peeping (2)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Through Vermont and New Hampshire along the Kangamungus Highway, the hills, valleys, and towns provided picture postcard views. The photos exhibit Jennifer's photography skills.<img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTX7CgJO4f2j09IXGMUeJ32fWkP5bll3_VGqdg4LYL4Oa_BOfahBWSXRjGkCHvhnWqbpLncMrYI_BgVlZ_AT8-LTBXF61FrRI9I31AImijIb2k3BinPMfKHUxhFeIzpggijEK32Q/s320/ry=400-14.jpeg" width="320" /></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFfH35icb_SYhLaKXP9zhoDoTQ4YMl8hBV6JiHjsUS1EQIkUD-XN9rLUWm6-F3PJE6O3WjDzOkGGtD7RwYe7N0fUHC3IhB-_JjCvmRMl1SfO16_5E4PW_Zk9C9I2tbGQgvjYPoQw/s320/ry=400-23.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kennebunkport, ME</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKRGJeRvx3z9y0h0XhV_OtTpsAO_AwQtakrOfs1_F2va8l1lwX3j21ZHajthyc05NNH9hqov7YGIjaIrmTQYkmn_C41sogrO9lrBOfU-QQ4bj_K_7KaSSPch0I1TtloM82P5293Q/s320/ry=400-24.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Minuteman at Lexington, MA</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKRGJeRvx3z9y0h0XhV_OtTpsAO_AwQtakrOfs1_F2va8l1lwX3j21ZHajthyc05NNH9hqov7YGIjaIrmTQYkmn_C41sogrO9lrBOfU-QQ4bj_K_7KaSSPch0I1TtloM82P5293Q/s1600/ry=400-24.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lexington Commons, site of the first battle of the American Revolution</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmaVGRCDe7mInvZGmmUE3H_Uwud7wKG48AJ0MInDyc1AkK1iqV3Xc70yYz8LZdkyeQW20kbr2VZ0EQk47IXTlqkPvq8AytJBOx5ZvPBWWZ1LpR1OoPFRol_gX8UBSzJSjmxbfC8Q/s320/ry=400-26.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful tree on Concord battlefield</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBjBBd6aGfH0vrvB1uH54cp8fH2skwoYFmE6otiwN4467ik8srlEa1kTpW1_X3p0REy4HRFSAJFwbGb2bhSV1MuA5yNDf5YQDPhafXxDH-vpmG4A0jBksZfSazRbmSh2uVNOuQJQ/s400/ry=400-27.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Old Manse, home of Ralph Waldo Emerson, neighboring the battlefield</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Martha's Vineyard, Jennifer and I on the beach</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Newport, RI</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New York City from the Washington Bridge</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdEsi_dwdIRd4yeuSp4VZvpM9xZo96Ajk09XJS7CrtAb8xgVTK-yz5D-bN0x5Kub7GKnJ_u66jWYsJg0nKXqDYdpItwIAylFENwRFit9BPEXqlArvbRmVVguFH-VdQtKT1CPcWkw/s320/ry=400-34.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Appalachians through Pennsylvania</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdEsi_dwdIRd4yeuSp4VZvpM9xZo96Ajk09XJS7CrtAb8xgVTK-yz5D-bN0x5Kub7GKnJ_u66jWYsJg0nKXqDYdpItwIAylFENwRFit9BPEXqlArvbRmVVguFH-VdQtKT1CPcWkw/s1600/ry=400-34.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-59230196795308106702010-10-26T11:26:00.001-05:002010-10-26T11:31:47.206-05:00Leaf Peeping "Leaf peepers, 99% of the people here," said the man wearing a jacket with a messenger service logo. He sat across the table from my daughter and myself in the crowded eating area of Quincy Market in Boston. Recognizing him as a local person, I had asked him if the Market was always this crowded and how many, in his opinion, were tourists.<br />
I laughed and said, "That's us! We're here to see the leaves."<br />
Jennifer and I traveled by bus through Minnesota (below) to New England. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgha1OOlVZtv4qElxwgwheC3-SlWP4YqnnuSshXJ-9yu6IRen7IwdN9EEdERCw75VH5Icihdw_-WO3V4-U_jbEzbFyHnBRClE5fW-6QRGzGqIMIUnXk-OFkw_M0K13GBO4DgLp0yw/s1600/ry=400-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgha1OOlVZtv4qElxwgwheC3-SlWP4YqnnuSshXJ-9yu6IRen7IwdN9EEdERCw75VH5Icihdw_-WO3V4-U_jbEzbFyHnBRClE5fW-6QRGzGqIMIUnXk-OFkw_M0K13GBO4DgLp0yw/s320/ry=400-1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxQhEiWlUDHGwhlIBzzl_iJpdh84r9DmDjymygayWGt_esZnxSiLRxGGG121Vw0CjiSO1I391Uqvskn9cfsX4R-uXKf_l0GgZjeJ4K7ZrTveSA3W9xYux0hYu4NIfj94X3scs6DQ/s1600/ry=400-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxQhEiWlUDHGwhlIBzzl_iJpdh84r9DmDjymygayWGt_esZnxSiLRxGGG121Vw0CjiSO1I391Uqvskn9cfsX4R-uXKf_l0GgZjeJ4K7ZrTveSA3W9xYux0hYu4NIfj94X3scs6DQ/s400/ry=400-2.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>At right is a light house on Lake Superior in Michigan and below is the bridge across the strait, Sault Ste. Marie.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6IDKj0-BwdT7_ZUG2qFasUJxxjoa4xFFPTgI5m24wEPP_hCh94zX2rrygaoxkulsUXJqqIwUjEvPpuOPqVH8QWRpcPpKBtCWzGn8v00o3NaWpT8TUppbLzwlC7TIHIlMZGk-x4Q/s1600/ry=400-3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6IDKj0-BwdT7_ZUG2qFasUJxxjoa4xFFPTgI5m24wEPP_hCh94zX2rrygaoxkulsUXJqqIwUjEvPpuOPqVH8QWRpcPpKBtCWzGn8v00o3NaWpT8TUppbLzwlC7TIHIlMZGk-x4Q/s400/ry=400-3.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORZWr3AfuVdsmV0N1X-4GJbk_9-bzpQVEGioDwDd5BFPiCNPLM1Ym1uzU7oZZd24giVkoZRZjolqtvpIpctI33stlgMXNBGwM2K6-5aYfYHi54L1gOUxVOSR5ZKKiptmOY3FqeQ/s1600/ry=400-4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORZWr3AfuVdsmV0N1X-4GJbk_9-bzpQVEGioDwDd5BFPiCNPLM1Ym1uzU7oZZd24giVkoZRZjolqtvpIpctI33stlgMXNBGwM2K6-5aYfYHi54L1gOUxVOSR5ZKKiptmOY3FqeQ/s400/ry=400-4.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
This is the Bavarian style town of Frankenmuth, MI. The white central portion of the inn behind me is topped with a Glockenspiel that tells the story of the Pied Piper of Hamlin. The town is the home of Bronner's Christmas Store. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6CfJ3GHmnNfuIBkZcATK3e99EoU5aIwD2RwRk69w2N7C4XxQXolc1mfWQEkqAe9mBcdzWzPmLxTQYEp2rSoqYBEFEuzTt-YWgLFzs4al7G9e7SMo1mBfZA7SG_9kU7qS9ZdfZg/s1600/ry=400-6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6CfJ3GHmnNfuIBkZcATK3e99EoU5aIwD2RwRk69w2N7C4XxQXolc1mfWQEkqAe9mBcdzWzPmLxTQYEp2rSoqYBEFEuzTt-YWgLFzs4al7G9e7SMo1mBfZA7SG_9kU7qS9ZdfZg/s320/ry=400-6.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div> At Niagara Falls, the afternoon was drizzly, but that didn't dim our enjoyment of the colors and falls. At right, the Niagara River, which flows between Lake Erie and Lake Huron is at the edge of the ledge.<br />
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I'm at the American Falls with the Horsehshoe Falls in the background. Note the spray rising from the falling water.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTGpvXHHNKiSWMQO_Z79NY_lykdUVUSGvnzZ6DbXZBn1-E18XALZvcnbOIo9j1MjKrIWA4lv-c97mF8ESuy1chedWWdWQnv_HCQGswRG5uGGPW6DyinpxYFu5Rk9zy7pJkMUKcg/s1600/ry=400-8.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTGpvXHHNKiSWMQO_Z79NY_lykdUVUSGvnzZ6DbXZBn1-E18XALZvcnbOIo9j1MjKrIWA4lv-c97mF8ESuy1chedWWdWQnv_HCQGswRG5uGGPW6DyinpxYFu5Rk9zy7pJkMUKcg/s400/ry=400-8.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUwBhx2Af3EggD3Z8gCnxSeeLnpL3GyyhH5e6fpAd6pBEtAmEi42iGn56q2AYSzLG5TgnuHu0C-s2ZOcp1aUx9luUuO5JUrTewSqbljAV_qmH9U3_n5Ott_2xe163ml8bofM-ODg/s1600/ry=400-5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUwBhx2Af3EggD3Z8gCnxSeeLnpL3GyyhH5e6fpAd6pBEtAmEi42iGn56q2AYSzLG5TgnuHu0C-s2ZOcp1aUx9luUuO5JUrTewSqbljAV_qmH9U3_n5Ott_2xe163ml8bofM-ODg/s400/ry=400-5.jpeg" width="400" /></a>The thin area of water falling toward the center of the photo is the Bridal Veil Falls.</div><br />
At left, the water eddies through the gorge below the falls. The colors were lovely.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> In the Adirondack Mountains, NY</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Woodstock, Vermont</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2trLtbPt8EB98RM9IxWO7JY-XdfTPzHImWUBRA3ZLuQWYkS7dYUcmG0uYlyW_aoI5pj-c4YSZr7PfnGGUfYn_fT5tugWfN7AbckEMz9g5CtwEThjdSJDcRXdvjbHFDYJPyCGJjw/s320/ry=400-11.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Qeechee Gorge, the Grand Canyon of the East.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQik2TaATMmpzOFujz3oZzuW1NCPP_VNHFTG_BvWlzSilJXEOTsRcN1WLOl2pYXoqIGDjDAbhaMgns_b8FEf0gX2_f2iUljUkGSR2IhDka_VDKvHIwh42J6huf-PLavHuAUqLmA/s1600/ry=400-12.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQik2TaATMmpzOFujz3oZzuW1NCPP_VNHFTG_BvWlzSilJXEOTsRcN1WLOl2pYXoqIGDjDAbhaMgns_b8FEf0gX2_f2iUljUkGSR2IhDka_VDKvHIwh42J6huf-PLavHuAUqLmA/s320/ry=400-12.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnTbRK0z8OxDgSYCPPpnkIDDlBf2SEB29l19tJJOFMElfeWSEPz45lBl6R_yhTAXJtYYnR709FWUIZIBxkzPat52gB-SZHqAe72o9vVa8WkOd__WdsOzOBtkIGmeaqPu7sC7Gd_w/s320/ry=400-13.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This bush is typical of the brilliant reds.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnTbRK0z8OxDgSYCPPpnkIDDlBf2SEB29l19tJJOFMElfeWSEPz45lBl6R_yhTAXJtYYnR709FWUIZIBxkzPat52gB-SZHqAe72o9vVa8WkOd__WdsOzOBtkIGmeaqPu7sC7Gd_w/s1600/ry=400-13.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><br />
<span id="goog_911872093"></span><span id="goog_911872094"></span>Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-3540738034440140462010-08-22T15:13:00.001-05:002010-08-23T08:48:25.313-05:00Summer 2010Summer 2010: a time of sadness and joy; a time for home and travel. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1FTUG7F3s7ButsezF2F9xf-33fkxpgrn1_Fp6Nsk5o9c3h0IsJKmLZCnneV1L5ymOq3iOCKqIJrmvxndDKEAFYE7tItTup4kNCatfdMj9lsOpkCtQOJS0PoKdnqUUgbssLyTeKA/s1600/P8060010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1FTUG7F3s7ButsezF2F9xf-33fkxpgrn1_Fp6Nsk5o9c3h0IsJKmLZCnneV1L5ymOq3iOCKqIJrmvxndDKEAFYE7tItTup4kNCatfdMj9lsOpkCtQOJS0PoKdnqUUgbssLyTeKA/s320/P8060010.JPG" /></a></div>In June my husband and I moved for the second summer in a row. In 2009 we sold our house and moved to a rental town home; this year we chose to purchase a condo. It's one level, 1800 sq.ft., on the third floor in a building with an elevator. Solitude South Condominiums - doesn't that sound restful?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC3FIIpTbU3qSlregiI_kqS0aKdzdYgNdfv_mT-H9_6f1gKoXWNfde0xD59IqjCx9kSWM2nfdXDr7z2e0fx4fcv7Dt-DDa6Ss_wEtnMW0cnxowLwQoOTEtzEOyNKgGbRRFT0Kt7A/s1600/-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC3FIIpTbU3qSlregiI_kqS0aKdzdYgNdfv_mT-H9_6f1gKoXWNfde0xD59IqjCx9kSWM2nfdXDr7z2e0fx4fcv7Dt-DDa6Ss_wEtnMW0cnxowLwQoOTEtzEOyNKgGbRRFT0Kt7A/s320/-3.jpg" /></a></div>We planned mini-vacations for Mom from her assisted living apartment. She struggled to recover from an infection during June, even spent time in the hospital. By early July, her spirits were high and her health improving.<br />
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Then came the news that Mom had fallen, broken a hip. She came to Fargo for surgery and came through just fine. A couple days later the chest pains started; the stress overcame her heart, weakened by a heart attack years ago and regulated by a pacemaker. On July 12, she died. She remained awake and lucid until the last half hour. She named her kids by their voices in the room. Relatives and friends celebrated her life at a service in Lisbon.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqvSB8FLBVR2xKybZiPZ1lIlFfihgs4aRLAuuN2rxs943vnMuAFs5w8eeJdDHpFJvLKx1OthSCMMN2YF7MN1M_oLa2CF6NGWHuOipxKDYk4FLwHbj_Wda_SpLlQMKmw_kkb3xJmw/s1600/P7200242.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqvSB8FLBVR2xKybZiPZ1lIlFfihgs4aRLAuuN2rxs943vnMuAFs5w8eeJdDHpFJvLKx1OthSCMMN2YF7MN1M_oLa2CF6NGWHuOipxKDYk4FLwHbj_Wda_SpLlQMKmw_kkb3xJmw/s320/P7200242.JPG" /></a></div>With Delta Kappa Gamma friends, I attended the International Convention in Spokane in late July. The Spokane River area featured parks, walking trails, a carousel, fountains, and bridges. A live band serenaded us at Meet Me at the River Night. <br />
I took a city tour, a walking gourmet tour, a Victorian House tea tour, shopped, checked out a quilt shop and the casino, and toured the famous Davenport Hotel. The buses left from the convention center. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNl0Pw6EXOlgCgE5FHDaxA5YSZ1hzYyAMaEqTwEpT_gJfE_psC-NynOEFsoo_O4x1hMLulyQJQUQqwI4oozMR-8FTw-C4E1vp5QmggwSXHFQ5aVa_bbTFh9rV4y_4P063D83PWbw/s1600/P7220266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNl0Pw6EXOlgCgE5FHDaxA5YSZ1hzYyAMaEqTwEpT_gJfE_psC-NynOEFsoo_O4x1hMLulyQJQUQqwI4oozMR-8FTw-C4E1vp5QmggwSXHFQ5aVa_bbTFh9rV4y_4P063D83PWbw/s200/P7220266.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxogZLycPQ8KAzfCWpd7Oce7kWT9FtXz5afIDOmFcCHt9RR8YrZJLAi1rCD7PChatovRkSqr5rtQf7_EuEogpiU3QCJZPkx7r0VTJLwrT8jzLbjGd3mTSaUOuic715d3AynT9a2g/s1600/P7240306.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxogZLycPQ8KAzfCWpd7Oce7kWT9FtXz5afIDOmFcCHt9RR8YrZJLAi1rCD7PChatovRkSqr5rtQf7_EuEogpiU3QCJZPkx7r0VTJLwrT8jzLbjGd3mTSaUOuic715d3AynT9a2g/s320/P7240306.JPG" width="320" /></a>At right, the lobby of the restored Davenport Hotel shows the elaborate detail of its decor. At the far end, is a fireplace (gas fired today) that is always lit to welcome travelers. <br />
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The sessions featured Society talent, gifted speakers, and Society information. A new Constitution was approved. The Northwest Regional Breakfast, Birthday Luncheon, and President's Banquet provided opportunities for tasty food and socializing. The week of events and workshops flew by.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzGag3cvQcHoLuZdWpYBym9RJdrJBWEYtZyMv3tXYk31uDx1SaNvS8Pn4XLRRQA4WFGnU7fMz7BqNfqZom0vtMXUlscDtFDEvKFUZn5tCcQQRVCMZTvIrqHz8qmq8FjizsbgOUcA/s1600/P8170005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzGag3cvQcHoLuZdWpYBym9RJdrJBWEYtZyMv3tXYk31uDx1SaNvS8Pn4XLRRQA4WFGnU7fMz7BqNfqZom0vtMXUlscDtFDEvKFUZn5tCcQQRVCMZTvIrqHz8qmq8FjizsbgOUcA/s320/P8170005.JPG" /></a></div>Home. It's August, with a mix of hot days and thunderstorms. Harvest machines hum in the countryside: combines, beet trucks, semis of hay bales. And in Lisbon, at Mom's house we pick through a life time of treasured possessions.Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-15790075220942109262010-04-04T18:54:00.000-05:002010-04-04T18:54:26.279-05:00Procrastination<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlAaXEVSdXYbXewZ8Oa6Bm1BEZwoskIqCnyV0Brqy0vSx3JTaQ1RXerYiAhlpMQugz6M9zZU2tZCaaAjHQ6RYeWV1mvWUGJBKVI4BNt757Lrr6TnJN6qKFl4zfnPxuvzBv8eM_QQ/s1600/Evening+Reflections.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlAaXEVSdXYbXewZ8Oa6Bm1BEZwoskIqCnyV0Brqy0vSx3JTaQ1RXerYiAhlpMQugz6M9zZU2tZCaaAjHQ6RYeWV1mvWUGJBKVI4BNt757Lrr6TnJN6qKFl4zfnPxuvzBv8eM_QQ/s320/Evening+Reflections.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div style="font: 18.0px Baskerville; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="font: normal normal normal 26px/normal Baskerville;">procrastinate: </span>delay or postpone action; put off doing something</div><div style="font: 18.0px Baskerville; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 20.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Baskerville; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="font: normal normal normal 21px/normal Baskerville;">delay</span>, put off doing something, postpone action, defer action, be dilatory, use delaying tactics, stall, temporize, drag one's feet/heels, take one's time, play for time, play a waiting game</div><div style="font: 18.0px Baskerville; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 20.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Baskerville; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I scroll through the dictionary definition and the thesaurus entries for procrastinate trying to decide why I haven't opened a file of a work in progress or even begun a new effort. For weeks my characters were stuck in limbo. Ellen and Jack toured Paris in never ending rounds getting nowhere. My imagination failed to move them, make them grow, or achieve their desires. </div><div style="font: 18.0px Baskerville; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 20.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Baskerville; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I went to bed at night letting the possibilities play on my mind screen, boring myself with repetition and tedium. Nothing upped the tension or sparked interest. Jack had a problem and a goal, but Ellen, my heroine, needed more depth. This mind play went on, and on, and on, and on until I put the draft aside. It loitered in the documents folder, today's bottom drawer. </div><div style="font: 18.0px Baskerville; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 20.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Baskerville; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">A flash of inspiration appeared in the form of a quotation that suggested not only a theme for my work, but also a means of increasing the complexity and angst of my heroine. I opened the draft and read with a new perspective. The notes accumulated for adding intrigue and intricacy to my characters and plot.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Baskerville; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 20.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Baskerville; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I prefer to think that this period of non-writing was not procrastination in a bad sense, but rather a period of simmering the many strands that mix, combine, and juxtapose to form a creative work. Sooooooo, I'm back at the keyboard writing the next chapter.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div>Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-27781047569244947002010-03-22T11:03:00.000-05:002010-03-22T11:03:35.080-05:00Epiphany<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yAJW0CW630HEP258US1I_SpxzVfuOS8QbcDMyYRN7JMZ4ZRSvuLJHLZRKuo6ZKm5wr2H4CUaZvo4CSABqfz1H9m4k3W8kbOiTVMrKxrOj3sxiUc9f1RK9OlOrTX2NGjJaeglnA/s1600-h/995429-119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yAJW0CW630HEP258US1I_SpxzVfuOS8QbcDMyYRN7JMZ4ZRSvuLJHLZRKuo6ZKm5wr2H4CUaZvo4CSABqfz1H9m4k3W8kbOiTVMrKxrOj3sxiUc9f1RK9OlOrTX2NGjJaeglnA/s320/995429-119.jpg" /></a></div><br />
A moment of sudden revelation or insight<br />
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Epiphany, the festival commemorating the visit of the Magi to the Christ Child occurs in early January. The story relates the journey of the three Wise Men following the star and bearing gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh for the baby in the manger. <br />
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Caspar offers gold as the sign of royalty, the kingship bestowed on the child. Balthasar gives frankincense, fragrant incense symbolizing prayer. Melchoir brings myrrh, a symbol of strength and love, love of parent for child, love of man and woman for their fellow beings. <br />
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For days after I reflected on the three gifts and even spoke to a friend about them. By embracing these gifts, people could achieve a deeper spiritual life. We discussed the symbolic meaning of these gifts in larger contexts.<br />
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Insight flashed through my mind.<br />
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For a writer, gold is inspiration, the sign of creativity, imagination and originality. An idea bursts through the trivial sending out branches, expanding in new directions. An excitement permeates the activity.<br />
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Frankincense is passion. The fragrant smoke of intense desire and enthusiasm rises from inspiration and motivates the shaping of inspiration. The wisps and tendrils undulate in streams that prompt creativity.<br />
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Myrrh is artistry. The strength of communicating ideas depends on word choice, sentence structure, and apt metaphors combined for a pleasing read.<br />
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These are the tools that lead to books on the bestseller list.Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-37176222462389398332009-12-25T10:47:00.000-06:002009-12-25T10:47:10.061-06:00Christmas Morning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhomVMziHWFDOcuK2xQX4wzca51sU6cp_fEUjwDtVCTESDdNCre8Y7-hwuzj9aFoxBQrF3U1DFKfF0lKSlJX1BWgiktXMyTGHcJxT2ShZ9Z50A-AGlfbFxO_uWMC-u2zscCJTQNmQ/s1600-h/PC240006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhomVMziHWFDOcuK2xQX4wzca51sU6cp_fEUjwDtVCTESDdNCre8Y7-hwuzj9aFoxBQrF3U1DFKfF0lKSlJX1BWgiktXMyTGHcJxT2ShZ9Z50A-AGlfbFxO_uWMC-u2zscCJTQNmQ/s320/PC240006.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>This early Christmas morning is snowy and blustery. The radio alternates carols with weather advisories and travel warnings. The mid-section of the country is blanketed with bad weather from tornadoes and rain in the south to rain and sleet further north and snow and wind in the chillier temps.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC2jo-s6WFj1_GC-XZK1NYA-qNSi-0Q0m9_kXzgSRGnZE5z3pIPhNvr05Mlj6n7M7T8T0ocNpTb7cJMgqsP4IyA519X7AHfx6FtC9xPlORONiUYuSkWWQ1ne2rNCnLsXGECm6PFg/s1600-h/PC240003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC2jo-s6WFj1_GC-XZK1NYA-qNSi-0Q0m9_kXzgSRGnZE5z3pIPhNvr05Mlj6n7M7T8T0ocNpTb7cJMgqsP4IyA519X7AHfx6FtC9xPlORONiUYuSkWWQ1ne2rNCnLsXGECm6PFg/s320/PC240003.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqoftd-7X2CQxf9yhV6acqiKQ4nVzF0qGwqTW3m3QgGwbczfq8gV5wRz_bCz5E8KyFHV0M-4ne8gq7al9QY0nEoVBye9tpNzC1Z2p7LzLYBnS2u5DQ1UZJl7sdWf3-Sfkcw-BM9Q/s1600-h/PC240012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqoftd-7X2CQxf9yhV6acqiKQ4nVzF0qGwqTW3m3QgGwbczfq8gV5wRz_bCz5E8KyFHV0M-4ne8gq7al9QY0nEoVBye9tpNzC1Z2p7LzLYBnS2u5DQ1UZJl7sdWf3-Sfkcw-BM9Q/s320/PC240012.JPG" /></a>I read the morning newspaper on line as the delivery person didn't make the rounds today. And no wonder when I looked at my outside world. My sister has canceled her family get together; my mom is safe at her assisted living. My son and his family are celebrating across town and will be with us tomorrow, we hope. My daughter called from across the state for some words of advice on cooking her turkey. <br />
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From my windows I see falling snow swirled by the wind. Stan pushed snow from the front step to allow the door to open, but I expect it will soon fill in.<br />
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The lamp post light signifies the Light of the world has arrived. The bells proclaim<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="background-color: white; color: black;">Peace on Earth, </span></b></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="background-color: white; color: black;">Goodwill to Men.</span></b></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE5EbEd98LnwB0IhxnEJDywr3mTNvxDq2_7phigaVo5xy2T96jVruY9sC_kZkfVoQoH35DVVABG8ER-9CaQ0ExR_Ezyy3cSrY9E84zPQ8KqhIKRwApGFkQIdrD-NBNhdsfCV_y7g/s1600-h/PC240004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE5EbEd98LnwB0IhxnEJDywr3mTNvxDq2_7phigaVo5xy2T96jVruY9sC_kZkfVoQoH35DVVABG8ER-9CaQ0ExR_Ezyy3cSrY9E84zPQ8KqhIKRwApGFkQIdrD-NBNhdsfCV_y7g/s320/PC240004.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-67384998986387700262009-12-24T13:00:00.000-06:002009-12-24T13:00:19.826-06:00Waiting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>This Christmas Eve Day, I woke to four inches (according to the radio weather man) of snow. The world outside my door is pristine white, undisturbed except for the early morning delivery of the newspaper.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjktF7gE-twCsrdhB3cbR1ViQRlqZxs_xRR1oOV76P2gJHN6E6y2evfO7TyPvRtNUp9CwXZXJ3aVu3oInDJbGop-2HYAayQNXdO8ovXgNyr6fPkK6vYodRCdBj4trRrKGbDyDWnaA/s1600-h/PC230001.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418864818338448626" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjktF7gE-twCsrdhB3cbR1ViQRlqZxs_xRR1oOV76P2gJHN6E6y2evfO7TyPvRtNUp9CwXZXJ3aVu3oInDJbGop-2HYAayQNXdO8ovXgNyr6fPkK6vYodRCdBj4trRrKGbDyDWnaA/s200/PC230001.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a>Trees, shrubs, and roofs are covered with a blanket of white. More inches are promised as well as wind; the radio airwaves are filled with travel advisories and changes in church services and programs. Callers describe the road conditions they encounter. Flying isn't any easier than driving as cancellation lists lengthen.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNzjhBjSEpIBR6BhU4p76GoeETwUp_hg8i69-5xdb5l7cHg2_Prq2HeOAYbsNQQ7XaUJj1U-21_klI4oHQbDwn-QN9mvkIWbzWpjQVQG_4d3Qdop-7l5sQnhHKOGo69wsV4JFTeA/s1600-h/PC230002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNzjhBjSEpIBR6BhU4p76GoeETwUp_hg8i69-5xdb5l7cHg2_Prq2HeOAYbsNQQ7XaUJj1U-21_klI4oHQbDwn-QN9mvkIWbzWpjQVQG_4d3Qdop-7l5sQnhHKOGo69wsV4JFTeA/s320/PC230002.JPG" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVNppm-dxT6IjQY2jVN12rmt5xzgZoYkkk-F-tDPcpVoMPxWCeDsCSED2Urj0ohFYad_COvDJaQ0Htz7z9NDwiXJ_l27HdorzUUloXCmFp47D7xYYq4liHnaTs8AZdmdtM1ctv6Q/s1600-h/PC230006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVNppm-dxT6IjQY2jVN12rmt5xzgZoYkkk-F-tDPcpVoMPxWCeDsCSED2Urj0ohFYad_COvDJaQ0Htz7z9NDwiXJ_l27HdorzUUloXCmFp47D7xYYq4liHnaTs8AZdmdtM1ctv6Q/s320/PC230006.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>I'm waiting... <br />
...for the full force of the storm to hit.<br />
...to light the darkness with Christmas lights and candles.<br />
...calls from family and friend.<br />
...to collect presents from hiding places and put them under the tree.<br />
...to read the Christmas story of the birth of Jesus.<br />
...for the angels to sing their joyous alleluia. <br />
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<span id="goog_1261680168068"></span><span id="goog_1261680168069"></span>Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-61817025473580831802009-12-14T11:11:00.009-06:002009-12-14T11:39:08.546-06:00Simon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF420dAZcy4N-vawrmnLZHSALdrtPob22iigZCCx5Dl4wENx2aJIjiLs8WUPqo0pwwL21CjLgeR5gX44_XFmd0NOY_ypwI8usAvSYhLiXlB3AAVflOgW4qzZsz1itJkU8xGzM3pA/s1600-h/PB200002.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF420dAZcy4N-vawrmnLZHSALdrtPob22iigZCCx5Dl4wENx2aJIjiLs8WUPqo0pwwL21CjLgeR5gX44_XFmd0NOY_ypwI8usAvSYhLiXlB3AAVflOgW4qzZsz1itJkU8xGzM3pA/s200/PB200002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415141771358899570" border="0" /></a> <br /> A pet is defined as a domestic or tamed animal kept for companionship or pleasure and treated with care and affection. Some of us like dogs (my daughter has two), and others, including myself and my husband like cats. At my house Simon is the resident cat's meow. Sometimes he likes to curl up in a corner; sometimes he likes to be front and center.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3gEQ-Qd-JVofEDNNt8Xh701fGQntDclJ78FxNSjc6dX9Ut1nP9Me8hW_k_9NDqAGvlsMU7C6UKBImj9Cpla4411yraMISok8rGVTVuhuwdqxDvi5zMkSbc1hplM3PkF2HsHuMfA/s1600-h/PC130019.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3gEQ-Qd-JVofEDNNt8Xh701fGQntDclJ78FxNSjc6dX9Ut1nP9Me8hW_k_9NDqAGvlsMU7C6UKBImj9Cpla4411yraMISok8rGVTVuhuwdqxDvi5zMkSbc1hplM3PkF2HsHuMfA/s200/PC130019.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415142439982834930" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPd17KAaVr4RI2_CGgK2f7EA0r-kBaSy74p-L_A1gf-dBUFDcgR87UcPyR3AxgMON0nQgmKaBPxsbrpWVSSgGwB6TKf3Y7OUiN1t6O2OaQgBaBYXvHMsrKgaUH6fCgxO1dCVN8w/s1600-h/PC130018.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPd17KAaVr4RI2_CGgK2f7EA0r-kBaSy74p-L_A1gf-dBUFDcgR87UcPyR3AxgMON0nQgmKaBPxsbrpWVSSgGwB6TKf3Y7OUiN1t6O2OaQgBaBYXvHMsrKgaUH6fCgxO1dCVN8w/s200/PC130018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415142929948017890" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYrnBAQpcX4iU9pQbdRS56L58M0ccvCJQxQy8YsLualN3xjiEOcahLdnrtGCCtsLG1Rp7VjVWZn47AMtEsnkmN0BZ4JXFE9n9YvCZ5UYQJYi8ejyJrizIt5AKsL7GoUkdP8p9eYw/s1600-h/PC130017.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYrnBAQpcX4iU9pQbdRS56L58M0ccvCJQxQy8YsLualN3xjiEOcahLdnrtGCCtsLG1Rp7VjVWZn47AMtEsnkmN0BZ4JXFE9n9YvCZ5UYQJYi8ejyJrizIt5AKsL7GoUkdP8p9eYw/s200/PC130017.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415142776072801922" border="0" /></a><br /><br /> Of course, he likes laps. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ4AI4jk3unlb4OyC-WBJs_FHl4CWuBEQF-SVSa3s8S7sb9Fugy-s4TjTDv39pL5EPywi2zLA3uvyfHTLSy7pKMKMsc9W98RR_QmJEiEmCnNdzIo90tWZgC0j2NnngwRG2tgBOyQ/s1600-h/PC020011.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ4AI4jk3unlb4OyC-WBJs_FHl4CWuBEQF-SVSa3s8S7sb9Fugy-s4TjTDv39pL5EPywi2zLA3uvyfHTLSy7pKMKMsc9W98RR_QmJEiEmCnNdzIo90tWZgC0j2NnngwRG2tgBOyQ/s200/PC020011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415144029664185970" border="0" /></a>A leap up to a lap means lots of pets and a good brush massage.<br /> Then there's the Christmas decorations. Nosy Simon investigates all the boxes as the trinkets and garland and lights come out. He sits among the tinsel and watches where everything goes. When the decoration police are not looking, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEXKUDD-d5s4wr3D5ezxFgRG86QVKr-CtIKEiFSqIdFGsrZOBJKySFG2M495z2Ah8YejsUFPsp0VDpxjn2wn9od-BZGE1RCnMFZeEawYsmOalIeJAyJ2ksLUvRkNUJHnLQDgwdcQ/s1600-h/PC130015.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 198px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEXKUDD-d5s4wr3D5ezxFgRG86QVKr-CtIKEiFSqIdFGsrZOBJKySFG2M495z2Ah8YejsUFPsp0VDpxjn2wn9od-BZGE1RCnMFZeEawYsmOalIeJAyJ2ksLUvRkNUJHnLQDgwdcQ/s200/PC130015.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415145576865657810" border="0" /></a>he plays with all these new toys. Batting the ornaments until they fall off is great fun.<br /><br />When caught, he pouts,<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_-Mle7But8WRLT5JYvn3GiujwDANz9S6DaNxtndlLTa1iu_bTnqxpvzqdzagS5fbz65lAmaiC1Zum25EhUaHf3KdyydDn13qP9vba2in3zO5KLPFFyJ6JBgm5fS_NZoPGUmVHHA/s1600-h/PC130016.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 158px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_-Mle7But8WRLT5JYvn3GiujwDANz9S6DaNxtndlLTa1iu_bTnqxpvzqdzagS5fbz65lAmaiC1Zum25EhUaHf3KdyydDn13qP9vba2in3zO5KLPFFyJ6JBgm5fS_NZoPGUmVHHA/s200/PC130016.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415146365135956034" border="0" /></a> but doesn't move far.<br /> The holiday season means fun for everyone in the house, including the pet.Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-35915504596139648642009-10-30T10:10:00.006-05:002009-10-30T10:36:35.129-05:00Tea Tasting<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn_aD77f-qEYsS9UYUMmSgrAboQpmgUi2aKRx9dx9KlUgfrVJ8qtH8XWVa6QLMRN2rFmioBid9Zt5WFGlaxFUO6o9F3GJ6M4qHZGYekQ1jbX9pPahJYezBRLDagZsL9MW_WZjgIg/s1600-h/Hallredgold8.GIF"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn_aD77f-qEYsS9UYUMmSgrAboQpmgUi2aKRx9dx9KlUgfrVJ8qtH8XWVa6QLMRN2rFmioBid9Zt5WFGlaxFUO6o9F3GJ6M4qHZGYekQ1jbX9pPahJYezBRLDagZsL9MW_WZjgIg/s200/Hallredgold8.GIF" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398414181685185202" /></a><br /><br />The community education brochure announced a Tea Tasting class that nudged my curiosity. My interest was further enhanced by the site of the class, a local pastry shop, and the teacher, a woman I admire.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBsVfpF915GuRyy7ppZ5CWaqANiUcl51fTVZBNKEstMHZ1T2-yS50Bz4s12xFlGOj1Cpk8Lgdgl-H6V3mHjEAkedKVd6B18sJvEoSNV-nWqvaNtpbe_QEXj_9o96vUG-TcTJxr5w/s1600-h/Dresden12.GIF"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBsVfpF915GuRyy7ppZ5CWaqANiUcl51fTVZBNKEstMHZ1T2-yS50Bz4s12xFlGOj1Cpk8Lgdgl-H6V3mHjEAkedKVd6B18sJvEoSNV-nWqvaNtpbe_QEXj_9o96vUG-TcTJxr5w/s200/Dresden12.GIF" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398411368197426290" /></a>I enrolled and arrived on a sunny wind-swept fall day to find six women gathered around a table set with plates, cups, and cutlery. Taking my place I listened to the teacher explain we would be tasting about 15 different kinds of tea and rating them. She described the qualities of black, green, and tisane teas, and we proceeded with the tasting accompanied by a scone, cookie, and chocolate truffle, each offered with an appropriate tea.<br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>What a way to </div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY9wFriWA1WxxwdSJPhokVF8hq5d5AuCWHKt9kAHBRbtH7hH1QXGpSCvY1uFLQS-jVzK3YSM8AkPOFW7TSeIk2mQSFIS6hVZODJlKV12FQ-waxaD5PeEFbqGsowFTJdnKWgRACKA/s200/HallyelAlladdin7.GIF" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398411125064810466" /><div>spend an afternoon - </div><div>getting acquainted with other tea lovers,</div><div>introduced to new teas.</div><div><br /></div><div>I learned about the areas of the world from which tea comes and the tea plant itself. The picking of leaf and bud influences the taste and quality as does the area, China, India, Ceylon, grown. I tasted red bush from Africa, the tea mentioned in No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency series by Alexander McCall Smith. I confess it wasn't one of my favorites. Moonlight in Montana (the name was enough to make me like it) proved a favorite of the group. No doubt it was the truffle that added to its attraction.</div><div><br /></div><div>The teacher talked about water, methods of heating water, and teapots. The microwave process takes all the pizzaz out of water, leaving tea flat. Leaving my tea bag in the cup forever is a no-no. Even the correct temperature for steeping (brewing is for beer! not tea) and the time needed varies with the variety of tea being used. </div><div><br /></div><div>I left the shop with a box of tea bag papers and a canister of Earl Grey, promising myself to return often as varieties on sale change. I can recycle by tin canister at the shop. </div><div><br /></div>Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-78752378215152396442009-10-29T15:56:00.005-05:002009-10-29T16:20:44.486-05:00ChangesThis month, October, hints at change to come. The rain and gloom precede warnings of our first winter storm. The Halloween goblins will need their wings and woolens to tramp about in the dark hours. September's warmth left in a flash giving the leaves no time to change color. Baskets of green leaves fell over one night, filling eave troughs, covering sidewalks, and littering lawns. No colors to marvel this autumn.<br /><br />My dearth of postings during this year tells of attention demanded by family and activities. Mom moved in March to an assisted living facility. She took many months to adjust, even with frequent visits, daily phone calls, and attention to her needs.<br /> <br />Stan and I moved from our house to a rental town house (see photos). We tell everyone that it was time to give <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeUp7t-oiuZqcL0VKqZGW1WvF8SkxDdxb3_kuf8TzePJUMrp-Y5iPPcx1nXbkhpr1yvSGmFjYioKpCEqI1extJZxX3hbhwHNi3VPGOSGsakMQov8I1Jk-pj-NvFK-h5baRT9xRvg/s1600-h/P1010001.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeUp7t-oiuZqcL0VKqZGW1WvF8SkxDdxb3_kuf8TzePJUMrp-Y5iPPcx1nXbkhpr1yvSGmFjYioKpCEqI1extJZxX3hbhwHNi3VPGOSGsakMQov8I1Jk-pj-NvFK-h5baRT9xRvg/s200/P1010001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398131300949898818" border="0" /></a>up yard work and snow removal. Others will take care of those chores at our new address. We have a three bedroom unit which accommodates my quilting "stuff" and the office. A family room <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhhjpQmOazXSnxv6hGLEbu8xdgshtyuzF7382L5u4LV0r_2TYMoISV3NLwjWr59FmrEajlZA0rlNi0ECvBDdtMGYbLZAUopBao2u6MWtc2p3IeKPds35Uj3VtxHo7eYBNbryenKw/s1600-h/P1010006.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhhjpQmOazXSnxv6hGLEbu8xdgshtyuzF7382L5u4LV0r_2TYMoISV3NLwjWr59FmrEajlZA0rlNi0ECvBDdtMGYbLZAUopBao2u6MWtc2p3IeKPds35Uj3VtxHo7eYBNbryenKw/s200/P1010006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398131686199259186" border="0" /></a>offers space for grandchildren's books and games, exercise equipment, and a second TV to settle arguments over which program to watch. A rosebush pleases the eye outside the living room window.<br /><br />As the outdoor chill signals change, I'm ready with a wool sweater for over the shoulders, an afghan or quilt for the legs, hot cocoa or tea, and a good book. I'll be learning the Wii and enjoying a fireplace, even if it is electric.Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-88462553309788851002009-01-01T10:08:00.003-06:002009-01-01T10:15:39.154-06:00A New Year Begins<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnJDBNgfu5jubRGEp9n2l_XG2SpPMysi_-QSd9D_jy9ddCfmggXrUcV7i2zXcza-9zHlvMfLysyzIha5MVD5QZfmbiPpgGsEpy5bZUxcxt5LpWw5sj2Qf5SDX2xQ40E3MaKMeTAg/s1600-h/103770_th.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 115px; height: 115px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnJDBNgfu5jubRGEp9n2l_XG2SpPMysi_-QSd9D_jy9ddCfmggXrUcV7i2zXcza-9zHlvMfLysyzIha5MVD5QZfmbiPpgGsEpy5bZUxcxt5LpWw5sj2Qf5SDX2xQ40E3MaKMeTAg/s200/103770_th.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286359686178133874" border="0" /></a><br />May this New Year bring happiness, joy, and good luck!<br /><br />These wishes, oft repeated, remain the heartfelt expressions of all that is hoped for in 2009.Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-49095179021845619042008-10-06T11:07:00.005-05:002008-10-06T11:31:43.432-05:00AutumnAmong the green of summer, spots of color portend the changing of the seasons. Some trees turn yellow, others crimson, and a few orange. Leaves drift down to sprinkle lawns that remain summer green, thick and lush, untouched by frost's fingers. Dipping temperatures have flirted with the freezing mark, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKHy4DKcuGCvScGugkErxjtQY6_m5Ds0t2Vkm6ATqPo7bPqmgW6Jy7cPXV4I_1PJ2UPkNKta8kUiT-Yyn8519CUNBiH6_NvWAOIH4ybQhA-zdbyPWvXHEYzz3xZ7bQA7p6tWz5pg/s1600-h/P1010003.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKHy4DKcuGCvScGugkErxjtQY6_m5Ds0t2Vkm6ATqPo7bPqmgW6Jy7cPXV4I_1PJ2UPkNKta8kUiT-Yyn8519CUNBiH6_NvWAOIH4ybQhA-zdbyPWvXHEYzz3xZ7bQA7p6tWz5pg/s200/P1010003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254074933709764850" border="0" /></a>only to retreat to warmer degrees.<br /><br />This morning late buds on the rose bush open in a misty rain. Their rose red tops the oranges of the marigolds below. I stood in the damp air marveling at the depth of color and the beauty of the petals unfurling, thankful that Nature allows this last blooming before send<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ATjL5N8tLMGqt3UYgsUYmNs0z34ZCGJTbr-3ykvrnGdFFDr0FiCsiyhdl9ETrYsOg-wkpq0GDjbER83fCZARgQvC-Y80Ss8WSA3XV0Gki4x_qyhWW1QOn6TlmfVdMsIeMk0Yog/s1600-h/P1010002.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ATjL5N8tLMGqt3UYgsUYmNs0z34ZCGJTbr-3ykvrnGdFFDr0FiCsiyhdl9ETrYsOg-wkpq0GDjbER83fCZARgQvC-Y80Ss8WSA3XV0Gki4x_qyhWW1QOn6TlmfVdMsIeMk0Yog/s200/P1010002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254076498447327458" border="0" /></a>ing winter's chill.<br /><br />The forest green ivy garlanding over the stump on our lawn has ripened to pinks and purples that catch the eye of passers-by. From my porch I gaze at the foliage admiring the hues, wondering if I can capture them in a quilting design. I retreat from the damp to my kitchen and the smell of coffee, certain my effort in fabric and thread will be a feeble representation of the glory outside.Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-68169060314243656472008-08-20T10:14:00.006-05:002008-08-20T12:59:59.868-05:00There is a Season<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRzwUBt09cVm0ODx1U1vBGJ8IXqSc7LYrhyo-vUs8sQ2FmovC9o1EqVlSOUaAf5ZK9eHmXhqCF5AZUOoWTXU5HHCtOpwzjMK6luF1FMcAjiDKSUzRXVj5FCGZahpKf69_0dKzO7Q/s1600-h/P1010003.GIF"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRzwUBt09cVm0ODx1U1vBGJ8IXqSc7LYrhyo-vUs8sQ2FmovC9o1EqVlSOUaAf5ZK9eHmXhqCF5AZUOoWTXU5HHCtOpwzjMK6luF1FMcAjiDKSUzRXVj5FCGZahpKf69_0dKzO7Q/s200/P1010003.GIF" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236658616406577282" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven:</span><h1 style="font-weight: normal;"> </h1><ul><li><script type="text/javascript">cb(3,2</script><span class="b" style="font-size:100%;">a time to be born,</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> and a time to die;</span> </li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; </span></li><li><script type="text/javascript">cb(3,3);</script><span style="font-size:100%;"> <a name="C3V3" class="cv"></a></span><span class="b" style="font-size:100%;">a time to kill,</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> and a time to heal; </span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">a time to break down, and a time to build up; </span></li><li><script type="text/javascript">cb(3,4);</script><span style="font-size:100%;"> <a name="C3V4" class="cv"></a></span><span class="b" style="font-size:100%;">a time to weep,</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> and a time to laugh; </span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">a time to mourn, and a time to dance...<span style="font-style: italic;">from Ecclesiastes</span><br /></span></li></ul><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="b"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">These words comfort my family at this time of the death of my father. He spent his life farming, and upon retiring he kept track of the seasons, the crops, and the weather. His life turned on nature's seasons and so this is the season of death. Mourning will pass; laughter and dancing will return; the timeless cycle repeats.<br /><br />After ninety-one, nearly ninety-two, years, his greatest wish was to die at home. To this end, Hospice assisted us; he took his final breath reclining in a living room chair. We are blessed by the many expressions of comfort from family and friends.</span><br /></span><br /></span></span>Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-2975711033274627642008-06-11T08:48:00.010-05:002008-06-11T09:42:13.234-05:00June Showers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6zOZTd6ul6YPzGdkNWvgzs3mZQr7H3v65s-cczapfphw0vlW60uujrnVzFqrOWNargPir5BLacEKrIxWpwRSFpSiakRMThWe519OxK1P3hB87yaJRprcQDE7jz1y_F22u5Il1NQ/s1600-h/P1010001.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6zOZTd6ul6YPzGdkNWvgzs3mZQr7H3v65s-cczapfphw0vlW60uujrnVzFqrOWNargPir5BLacEKrIxWpwRSFpSiakRMThWe519OxK1P3hB87yaJRprcQDE7jz1y_F22u5Il1NQ/s320/P1010001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210626331710632642" border="0" /></a><br />Shower: a brief fall of precipitation, as rain, hail, or sleet<br /> (<span style="font-style: italic;">The American Heritage Dictionary, 1991)<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">A June shower provides a refreshing drink for crops, grass, and flowers</span><span style="font-size:100%;">. </span><span style="font-size:100%;">The raindrops patter a soothing refrain on roofs or pummel down in a rhythmic drumbeat. In the darkness of pre-dawn, I listen to their song and go back</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> to sleep. Later, I rise to continued gloom of cloudy skies still emptying their water.</span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />My reliable paper delivery person has delivered the morning newspaper</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> with articles about the havoc of flooding in other areas of the country. Houses, streets, fields, and roads are inundated; the l</span><span style="font-size:100%;">ive giving rain leaves runnels of destruction.</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyLHFuL7py3wWXLllDfmbstyFfTXlsPnZ5ixCzHABHsTWeOYQlY04RaZjz0lHkvY6dXKreM1KJAG5zKNHqn3cm3Kk1WvbqpRuMlWrMH2eHSmpfJOR_SDcEO-7ZKPP-8YanaQrJSA/s1600-h/P1010005.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 208px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyLHFuL7py3wWXLllDfmbstyFfTXlsPnZ5ixCzHABHsTWeOYQlY04RaZjz0lHkvY6dXKreM1KJAG5zKNHqn3cm3Kk1WvbqpRuMlWrMH2eHSmpfJOR_SDcEO-7ZKPP-8YanaQrJSA/s320/P1010005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210627837610248306" border="0" /></a><br />Water sluicing from my downspout forms a puddle on the sidewalk and runs off into the grass. I bless Nature for nourishing my grass and easing my water bill; the hose stays wound and lifeless in its corner.<br /><br />Flowers and plants reach their leaves and blossoms to the catch the drops that glisten on their foliage and feed their roots.<br /><br />June showers, welcome and renewing or unrelenting and destructive, fall everywhere, their beneficence or their decimation a fluke of geography.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKUkm4K9HrE9oBJfYihPmERVmXu4nNwRcbUevQMJOEzHQnCorJLqnLxYdBsdxwpnwz9RQYYlQZP0GSF7TBtt5oT3K6qFkP-VkPdD5OzoMtptWK88KjOxfVIYcmRlWUwsv0vtGxDw/s1600-h/P1010003.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 253px; height: 197px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKUkm4K9HrE9oBJfYihPmERVmXu4nNwRcbUevQMJOEzHQnCorJLqnLxYdBsdxwpnwz9RQYYlQZP0GSF7TBtt5oT3K6qFkP-VkPdD5OzoMtptWK88KjOxfVIYcmRlWUwsv0vtGxDw/s320/P1010003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210629658043742770" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEcGYEqV5BIn2naIeWwD_7RflJIP0mqokdE_bl_K9nY56rKUAjMDhO1_d0gwMTZ5FrlktCz95X6-nmGIN09wJdKeWy4gpudK_SRbEyAD0BMQfBYctsf2s3srzolRv1jivJEIq0_g/s1600-h/P1010007.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 205px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEcGYEqV5BIn2naIeWwD_7RflJIP0mqokdE_bl_K9nY56rKUAjMDhO1_d0gwMTZ5FrlktCz95X6-nmGIN09wJdKeWy4gpudK_SRbEyAD0BMQfBYctsf2s3srzolRv1jivJEIq0_g/s200/P1010007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210633742233676082" border="0" /></a>Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-34584050703708779232008-04-26T08:25:00.013-05:002008-04-26T09:05:41.050-05:00This is Spring?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRolYrzozUvmh01DxeBKsA8fAfOyP6JwcyRuwwEG6VAW82UNqxV1Y8HMLTAy99zI3IYg3sUPLunUXRefl3aEPkDfjZCn3KAECF0oUcND1uHG2DGpUFVW5onjbcGehzdZSyc72b5w/s1600-h/P1010010.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRolYrzozUvmh01DxeBKsA8fAfOyP6JwcyRuwwEG6VAW82UNqxV1Y8HMLTAy99zI3IYg3sUPLunUXRefl3aEPkDfjZCn3KAECF0oUcND1uHG2DGpUFVW5onjbcGehzdZSyc72b5w/s320/P1010010.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193545291416309874" border="0" /></a><br />Winter returns to my corner of North Dakota.<br />In January, I posted a view of my street. Alas, today looks similar. In inches, 8.3 is the official weather bureau measure. The wind is blowing and flurries linger in the air. Road reports and announcements fill the radio airwaves. News reporters call in from their drive arounds. They see vehicles in ditch and snowplows struggling. Postponements and cancellations replace the music selections. City buses aren't running until 9 a.m. The Valley's Largest Rummage Sale will begin at 11 a.m. instead of 7 a.m. A mother-daughter luncheon is cancelled. And on and on.<br /><br />Through my kitchen window,<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6nhyphenhyphenWpZDOudsGt5veD6GbnhjHAqqOx4UteAOwZN2ryJiIIM5WHJ06_e2h-d6Y5cdXtoxX2EyJnjsWUtAml-LXS2c5LSHoeOBWM1P3D0t8IkLYRvnGKSXLF5tqAIpkWj3SWTXSw/s1600-h/P1010006.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6nhyphenhyphenWpZDOudsGt5veD6GbnhjHAqqOx4UteAOwZN2ryJiIIM5WHJ06_e2h-d6Y5cdXtoxX2EyJnjsWUtAml-LXS2c5LSHoeOBWM1P3D0t8IkLYRvnGKSXLF5tqAIpkWj3SWTXSw/s320/P1010006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193553623652864258" border="0" /></a> I watch my flag flap and snow sift over the rooftops. I'm waiting for the melt as I've retired my shovel for this year!<br /><br />The ice clouds my front door's window; tulips huddle under their white blanket. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_yoqPXkCFMvzgG84QVjx_3qI0YjwwQ9L2CKZ-tC6mXrpWbwcEdkbC-8oP45TS5GgQr1Dxer_nCAUyUS2RanJkHVoTU1j3sQ9szY-pjd4jEUOatPwqODpdPUq8Kb4MmeVfcHxcVQ/s1600-h/P1010008.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_yoqPXkCFMvzgG84QVjx_3qI0YjwwQ9L2CKZ-tC6mXrpWbwcEdkbC-8oP45TS5GgQr1Dxer_nCAUyUS2RanJkHVoTU1j3sQ9szY-pjd4jEUOatPwqODpdPUq8Kb4MmeVfcHxcVQ/s320/P1010008.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193550642945560786" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicKONhZNyEhN3b_Sm9-Vag41Y1nb4T79k0kLu1ww7fxnaXhWKP-E4H9XJjdynqZlfju8huaVUr2aPg9mhP8DvTcBP2rUfX4U0TG8SK9URN45uRncE7DIIBOfFY07vZZhXrFI8rsQ/s1600-h/P1010009.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicKONhZNyEhN3b_Sm9-Vag41Y1nb4T79k0kLu1ww7fxnaXhWKP-E4H9XJjdynqZlfju8huaVUr2aPg9mhP8DvTcBP2rUfX4U0TG8SK9URN45uRncE7DIIBOfFY07vZZhXrFI8rsQ/s320/P1010009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193550771794579682" border="0" /></a><br /><br />My horoscope advises enjoying some down time, taking the day off. Simon has the right idea. I think I'll join him.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhVGBSpQ-ySF71lWI5LyEbokWKE1GbCYxqzHx1qoFVCavWGV-1iptaLtbvVEDaPDo2RGjRYPDkZMpDo2-2M3MfkLK0iyrCPkmh3kMRDaMGvk1P9JFe4-lG0tHyMWyxjBdDkn4Cw/s1600-h/P1010005.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhVGBSpQ-ySF71lWI5LyEbokWKE1GbCYxqzHx1qoFVCavWGV-1iptaLtbvVEDaPDo2RGjRYPDkZMpDo2-2M3MfkLK0iyrCPkmh3kMRDaMGvk1P9JFe4-lG0tHyMWyxjBdDkn4Cw/s320/P1010005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193552567090909426" border="0" /></a>Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-86954668223365072402008-03-03T10:41:00.004-06:002008-03-03T10:52:26.439-06:00Pieces<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg39vlktKEPHNh6qeCZXPiInJg1yBE-tXNMw8He1GQPnaYOWZc_WsVrc5wcEcHD6k4OOdRPm4fcIeQSau8extPCUqPOA44FT0YlNJ0QbtkPxty7La6wFTTWLspNEGiss5nl001SAA/s1600-h/wanderingstars.GIF"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg39vlktKEPHNh6qeCZXPiInJg1yBE-tXNMw8He1GQPnaYOWZc_WsVrc5wcEcHD6k4OOdRPm4fcIeQSau8extPCUqPOA44FT0YlNJ0QbtkPxty7La6wFTTWLspNEGiss5nl001SAA/s320/wanderingstars.GIF" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173556961212492978" border="0" /></a><br /><br /> Pieces on my cutting table appear as triangles, squares, and rectangles in various sizes and colors. Sometimes I choose fabrics that form a coordinated color scheme; other times I pick up random colors that spill together. Color and shape combine to make a design pleasing to my eye that takes its emphasis from color placed to draw attention within backgrounds that soothe and harmonize.<br /><br /> Pieces form an infinite variety of patterns with ebb and flow, patterns that shout with color and movement, patterns with restful subtlety. I never tire of the interplay of color, size and shape in design motifs. I play with their placement to achieve an arrangement that satisfies my senses.<br /><br /> As I sew pieces, sashes, borders and I watch the creation of a larger piece composed of many smaller parts, I accomplish an artistic rendition of an idea. Thread and fabric take on a spirit of their own. The sandwich of layers (top, batting, backing) is quilted together, another pattern imposed on the pieces. Applying the binding finishes the edge, the last piece of a wall hanging, a runner, a lap quilt or a bed quilt.<br /><br /> Like pieces, I choose words to make phrases, sentences, and paragraphs that express ideas and tell stories. The combinations are endless; the goal an engaging, entertaining composition.<br /><br />Pieces spill into family and friends who combine in ever changing patterns stitching together the fabric of my life. Pieces surround me; their arrangement and rearrangement engrosses.Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-37922787179939455012008-02-08T10:26:00.000-06:002008-02-08T10:31:24.915-06:00Love's Labor<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7CqbQOikn0Xv0qpOGROf_aGbSqyxHn0-d8BtgLIenT5noBWznnO1BgNatmSosdEnQCZynmu6Isv9Qn8sk8KwgGDYvdVQxzxyaKizSjXHJL-I1GPbxh75dc8Dz5zZmjUuzOg91Jw/s1600-h/plove3t.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7CqbQOikn0Xv0qpOGROf_aGbSqyxHn0-d8BtgLIenT5noBWznnO1BgNatmSosdEnQCZynmu6Isv9Qn8sk8KwgGDYvdVQxzxyaKizSjXHJL-I1GPbxh75dc8Dz5zZmjUuzOg91Jw/s320/plove3t.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164647732790632194" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Bertha and Frank exchanged their vows on a bracing September day.<br />Then John, Mary, Elisabeth, Frank Jr., Adam<br />Chester, Ruth, Michael, Debrah, Matthew,<br />Joseph, Peter, Charles, Paul, Rose,<br />Esther, Leah, Naomi, Matthew, Rachel, and Timothy<br />joined the family circle. On their silver anniversary, the couple<br />raised crystal glasses to toast the event. Around them ranged<br /> sweet proof of loving and unsparing labor.Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28794228.post-59964949010157580772008-01-17T09:43:00.000-06:002008-02-08T10:34:45.848-06:00Wintering<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihwwqFG67oPeKrooRw-bCAlk5vx79mPjq3XLH6q23n8fLCldQuFAqmyvXAUvlVVs9mMemKw0m7lO13i5UPbCsfmx4gp23Ye5qy8XoGYerAx6nYxDFHtaH2OkVU3OZk36vdTyzXRw/s1600-h/P1010009.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihwwqFG67oPeKrooRw-bCAlk5vx79mPjq3XLH6q23n8fLCldQuFAqmyvXAUvlVVs9mMemKw0m7lO13i5UPbCsfmx4gp23Ye5qy8XoGYerAx6nYxDFHtaH2OkVU3OZk36vdTyzXRw/s320/P1010009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164648613258927890" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Temperatures <span style="font-family:times new roman;">dipped last night below the zero mark, and an Alberta clipper zipped across the state prompting snow to fall and swirling the flakes across fields, roads, and streets. I adjust the thermostat, burn a log in the fireplace, and simmer a pot of soup.<br /><br />But wintering is more than survival.<br />It's savoring the season of cold and snow.<br /><br />It's a sleigh ride listening to the squeak of runners on the snow and to the jingle of bells on horse harness. Bundled in stocking caps and mittens, zipped in thick jackets, and nestled under lap robes, I, my husband, and my grandchildren keep cozy warm during a ride along the river. We scan the pattern of trees' bare limbs and winding river bank. Squirrels cavort and wild turkeys strut. Afterward we sip hot chocolate and talk about what we've seen.<br /><br />My grandchildren enjoy taking their tobaggon or plastic dish sled to Dike West, a man made heap of dirt that protects from spring flooding. It's height and slope are perfect for a heady ride.<br /><br />Wintering begs for visits to the library to choose books and movies. Add these to games like Trouble, Chutes and Ladders, checkers, and Scrabble for grand entertainment indoors. My husband loves to challenge children and adults to Carom, his favorite childhood game. He's so good at this version of table pool that the rest of groan in defeat before we take aim with our shooter.<br /><br />On sunny, mild days, people are tempted to the parks, to take walks, or to skate at the outdoor rinks. My youngest grandson has discovered the thrill of gliding across a sheet of ice as if he has wings. When melting makes the snow sticky, the creative juices call for building snow people. Adding a variety of hats, scarves, sticks and stones gives these character and personality.<br /><br />Ah, wintering! I'm ready to discover the contents of the book on my lamp table.<br /></span></span></span>Verna LaBountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03084925676261251986noreply@blogger.com0