Breaking free!

Amish friendship bread popped up (so to speak) in a novel I read last week, reminding me of my own horrifying experience with it many years ago.  I’d just moved to Cleveland to teach high school and found a church I liked.  One of the women there gifted me with the makings of Amish friendship bread.

The best of times

Trying to get a house ready to put on the market after living in it for 28 years is NOT the best of everything. It’s much more like the opening lines of A Tale of Two Cities: “These were the best of times, these were the worst of times.”

Anticipating Winter

This is another poem from many years ago.  I don't recall the exact circumstances but the
sense of impending loss still seems real.

           Anticipating Winter

Even though you are not yet gone,
     my self does not know it;
     is preparing for the cold as gradually as possible.
With so many claims upon you now,
     I cannot bring any I may have to bear on you.
I must leave you as free and unencumbered
     as I can.
Since I can take none of your pain upon myself,
     the least I can do is to bear my own.

Remember

In memory of my father-in-law, Wayne Webb, who landed at Omaha Beach and also in the Pacific,
and
with thanks to my father and all men and women in all branches of the service: those who served, those who died,
those who still serve, and to all of their families.

Thank you.  We remember.

Train-ing

A scimitar moon hangs in the blue-black sky as I drive home. A train passes silently along the tracks, silently because I’m cocooned in the van. Lights shine from inside the cars, warming the night, and although it’s merely a commuter train, it plucks memories from my heart, memories of trips to visit my grandparents in California.

In a reflective mood

My part of the Civil War

My great-great grandfather was born in Bavaria, Germany in March 1841. His family moved to the United States in 1851 and in 1863, he joined Company F-8 Regiment Indiana Volunteer Cavalry. He was with Sherman on the
“March through the South”, before moving to a farm in Nebraska in 1883. This is a copy of the original photo owned by a relative. I loved it as a child and he made a copy for me.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Change

This is where I change each year from someone with a daily routine and responsibilities
to a relaxed and renewed person who has time to think.

Daily prompt–Imperfection

The WordPress prompt of the day is….

Imperfections — in things, in people, in places — add character to life. Tell us about an imperfection that you cherish.

I have plenty imperfections of my own, but this post is about the imperfection of my horse, Sunday.  You see her every time you see my gravatar.  She’s a Missouri Foxtrotter, which means she has a gait that, instead of the usual bumpy trot, is so smooth that you could ride forever.  It’s the epitome of that rocking chair feeling.

How it all began

I may have inherited my love of horses from my dad because I don’t remember a time when I haven’t loved horses. I knew where all the horse books in our library were and I read them all. I think I learned to ride through reading those books, because I didn’t take any lessons, but I seemed to know how to ride instinctively.

I wanted nothing more than a horse. I wanted one enough to put up with, and enjoy, the occasional rides to no- much-of -on bored horses at a nearby stable, rides where the horse couldn’t be forced into a trot without massive amounts of kicking. I didn’t get a horse until much later but one day someone came by our house with a pony and my parents paid for my brother and me to have our pictures taken on it.  That is definitely a look of pure happiness!