No, that title has no double meaning. I am not leaving blogging and I am not going anywhere...merely feeling chatty again. (You poor things.)


Yesterday started out in sun and ended in storms — again! 

The morning glory is growing like crazy, yet has not one bloom on it. In former years and by now, it would be loaded with flowers. It must have something to do with this crazy summer. I also read that it could be too much nitrogen in the soil, though I can't imagine how the soil has a nutrient left in it after all this rain.



The drift roses are another story. They bloom and bloom and bloom. There are even three bouquets of them in the house. 





Oddly enough, there are still a few day-lilies to finish out. They are usually spent by mid-July.

The dragonfly's iridescent wings intrigued me. I don't think I've ever looked at things the same way since I started taking pictures.



After church, John and I needed coffee in the worst way so had to take a trip to Tim Horton's to pick up our monthly supply. While there, we had soup and a sandwich and then went on a slow drive to the lake. (Note this month's photo challenge in my sidebar.)



I also took a lot of those drive-by shots that I love to do, but that don't come out so great. I'll be showing them sometime this week. Here's a teaser.



So typical of a New England farmhouse — the attached shed between the house and the barn. It is a practical way to avoid being out in a blizzard when heading for the barn or the privy. 

What I like about drive-by photos is that one always finds a surprise later. I wasn't paying much attention to the porch and the colorful chairs, even a child-sized one. They were a bonus! I'd love to sit there on the swing and watch the world go by.



Tomorrow, I'll be sharing my part in the tea cup exchange, plus perhaps toss in a few more drive-bys.

A happy Monday to you... 

Not the best photography on such a wildly sunny day. I just liked the way the sunshine fills that one rose as if the rose were a bowl catching it.

Linking to Mary's Little Red House...

Nothing much to say this morning even if John did tell me recently that he's never known me not to have an opinion. I had one for that comment now let me tell you. =/  Unfortunately, I am (opinionated) and so must work at keeping a lid on in hopes of not becoming a cranky old woman. It may be too late for that. ☺


The oddest thought came to me after playing ball on my back lawn. I really was playing ball; I really was on the back lawn; however, it was my former back lawn. (Some may remember that my former home is right next door to my kids' current home.) Anyway, the thought came that if I had been told in advance by one day that I would be playing ball on the back lawn on Memorial Day 2013, I would have found it very odd. (Apparently, there is a lot of sharing of yards among the three homes: my kids, their neighbor, and my daughter-in-law's parents' home.) Yet, if I had been told twenty years ago, I would have thought Of course. This is my home and I will live here forever. 

Oh the things I think. I am guilty of thinking that life is always going to be whatever it is now. Perhaps it is in light of tornadoes, bombings, and beheadings or whatever else is going on in the world these days. And now I'm just reminding myself of Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey, the old segments from SNL.
That dates me. I haven't watched SNL for nearly thirty years. Do they still do them? If you have no clue what I'm talking about, here's an example of one:
If you must lose your job, your home, and your mind in the same week, try to lose your mind first so the other two won't seem as bad. 



The rain has made the world so green, so lush, that it's strikingly beautiful even if it is my own corner that I am seeing.


I managed to get the new rosebush planted with John's help yesterday. My foot has not been happy about using the shovel, though I did get the azalea back in the ground a day earlier.

Have also managed to purchase a lawnmower that I am unable to start. Either that or I've really slipped since last summer. Anyway, I do hate to be this dependent on the man. Had to mow the lawn at high noon while the man was home for lunch. Not ideal.


Some time ago, John had a request from Diane to write a poem for Spring Fever. This is his attempt. Perhaps I should have provided dialog for you because he was not always coherent and I was beside myself with laughter. You'll see the camera shake. I can't help myself.


Edited to Add: Transcription for those who've requested one...

Spring Fever

[Aside] Okay, that's got a lot of work to be done on that.

I: [General merriment] Who is this for? Who are you doing this for?
He: I thought somebody wanted a "Spring Fever" poem.
I: That's true...

(Diane, this has given me so many laughs. I giggle myself silly every time I listen to it.)



We enjoyed a lovely Memorial Day with family, which my son and daughter-in-law hosted. (See paragraph two.) Perfect!

This ends today's odd little thoughts from my corner. Perhaps you have had an odd little thought lately you'd like to share? I'd be interested to know whether I'm normal. ☺

Grandmother and Mother on Mother's Day 2010

A prayer written by Amy Carmichael has been my prayer as long as I have been a mother, and I pray it now for my grandchildren: (Elisabeth Eliot)

Father, hear us, we are praying,
Hear the words our hearts are saying,
We are praying for our children.
Keep them from the powers of evil
From the secret, hidden peril,
From the whirlpool that would suck them,
From the treacherous quicksand pluck them,
Holy Father, save our children.
From the worldling's hollow gladness,
From the sting of faithless sadness,
Through life's troubled waters steer them,
Through life's bitter battle cheer them,
Father, Father, be Thou near them.
Read the language of our longing,
Read the wordless pleadings thronging,
Holy Father, for our children.
And wherever they may bide,
Lead them Home at eventide.

   

Daughter, Son, and I~Mother's Day 1980

More Recently My Son's Sons~Growing Up So Fast!

The flowers have been going into a slumber. I hope that they wake up. We had flowers long into October last year and I'd like them to do it all over again. My friend Diane told me that, if I do not cut back the last rose blooms, they will have more energy to come out on in the spring. Since I always cut back my rose blossoms, I must remember not to do this from now until next spring. This advice is only good for the end of the season by the way. It is still good to prune roses during the season.


I must thank all those who emailed me after reading yesterday's post. (I had many more emails than the comments I would have on a typical day and most were a lot longer.) No one was unkind; hopefully, the dialogue can remain open. If you wrote and haven't received a comment, I'm working my way through the stack.


The trouble with my blog look is ongoing and I do apologize to all who've seen it go back and forth. Perhaps the powers that be would like me to be quiet and stop writing for it so happens that every time I go to the DESIGN button to look behind the scenes or write a new post, my blog reverts back to some former nightmare. This means that I have to go through each element to return it to what I want. I've finally had the good sense to write my color numbers down. Anyone know how to resolve this or have you ever had it happen to you?

I will probably say so long until sometime next week. Do have a blessed holiday weekend!

I was standing waiting to pay for my groceries when I noticed the bucket of flowers on the end of the belt. "Are those roses really only $2.99?!" I asked the teenage clerk.

"Yes, but don't get those. They're not as fresh. There is a beautiful bouquet of watermelon red roses on the other register."

She eagerly skipped off to grab the bouquet she was talking about. Now they were lovely, but not quite what I had in mind. I tried to explain, "Those roses are fresh and perfect and uniform and these are growing old and shabby and have layers of depth and color." She looked a bit crestfallen. Then I encouraged her to buy them for her mother. She said, "Oh, I've been thinking that I should."

Here are mine...


And somewhere in town, I hope that a bouquet of watermelon red roses sits on a mother's table — a gift from her teenage daughter.