Baby Boomers

demo ride on a Harley Davidson Tri-Glide

I guess my husband and I fall into the baby boomer, generation.  Scary to even admit that out loud or in written form.  It wasn't so bad, knowing this twenty years ago.  Now, it reminds me of being in the older generation.  I am fighting as hard as I can not to become old!!!  It will be a fight all the way to the end, I promise!

My wonderful husband feels the same way.  He is still very active and even since he retired from teaching Vocational Agriculture after 36 years, he still works.  He is a caretaker for a farm in our rural community, mowing the yard, keeping the house ready for the owners to come and visit at their whim.  He has so many hobbies, I have lost count of them. 

I enjoy my art studio, gourds and paintings can keep me happy for hours and hours.  I have my Native American flutes to play, they keep me balanced and provide my heart song.  I love when the tipi goes up and friends come to enjoy it with me.  I also love to drum, something very powerful and at the same time very meditative about drumming. 

So you see we are very happy and active, and even "young".   I think being young means trying new things, keeping the possibilities open and learning something new.  So it shouldn't be a surprise, if something else catches our eye or interest, who knows, we might give it some consideration.  When visiting my brother in Texas this past March, I was treated with a ride on his Harley.  Oh my gosh, it was the most fun!  Took me back to my horse riding days!  Freedom, fresh air and power!

My wonderful husband had a bike a long time ago.  A small bike, he rode it often during the summer, that all ended when a truck turned in front of him.  We were lucky he was wearing a helmet, his head hit the mirror of the truck.  He had many facial injuries and was in the hospital for awhile.  We haven't thought about bikes, although our son had some and we thought it was a phase he'd outgrow.  Then a couple years ago he got a Harley and then I find my brother has been riding for forty years. 

Today, at our son's nudging encouragement, we went to our local Harley Davidson dealership for demo days and took a ride on the baby boomer model! A beautiful red Tri-Glide!  Oh My Gosh!  Too much fun!  We walked away, talking about taking another ride on a nice warm sunny day in the future.  Honestly, youth is still in our eyes and our hearts, go BABY BOOMERS go!!!!!!

Sometimes It's Hard To Say.........

Okay, this is one of those things that is on my mind today and I feel the need to explore it.  For me writing about something is a way of my own self-discovery.  Sometimes that isn't easy, this journey of self-discovery.

I spoke with a friend this morning.  I have many friends that I share a common bond, many are women friends and there are some that are men friends.  The friendship with men is not to be taken in any way, shape or form more than a friendship or I think of them like I would a "brother".   

This friend means the world to me, I enjoy our conversations, many times our talks are fun and just catching up.  Sometimes they explore our deep feelings about the world around us and why things are the way they are.  Usually nothing is resolved, but it was talked about and shared.  We share our frustrations with things that can't be easily changed, sometimes it is about the path we choose to walk and how difficult our choice or how wonderful our choice.   He can say things in a way that cause me to explore my inner self a little and I would like to think that I in some way have helped him too.

As we were closing our conversation, that was rather deep and meaningful, I wanted to tell him how much it means to me that he listens and gives me his "take" on something.  Sometimes it's hard to say, "I love you",  I certainly don't want to be inappropriate.  So I pondered this while working in the studio today.

Why is it so difficult to tell someone you love them?  I can say it to my children and grandchildren and of course my wonderful husband.  But to say it, when your whole heart feels it and you hesitate because you are afraid of being inappropriate, it is often left unsaid. 

I have spent the last year discovering my fathers family, one that was kept from me my entire life.  My heart swells with so much emotion when I think of them, I can hardly see what I type for the tears.  These tears come for so many reasons.  The joy in finding them and being accepted by them.  The sadness for missing time with my Father, finding him and then loosing him forever.  Hurt that the time has been lost and fear that I'll never get enough, now that I have found this family.  This family that I love!  Can anyone even understand this unless they have been there and felt the same feelings? I truly love them and find it impossible not to tell them how I feel.  Afraid to leave it unsaid because so much was unsaid in my life.

My new brother and I spoke of this, last July, sitting in our fathers hospital room.  I shared that I can't recall the last time my Mother told me she loved me.  I'm sure she did, once, long ago.   And yet I haven't felt or heard it from her in a long time.  Then I find my father and will never hear it from him.  I do know when his mind cleared the last day I was at his bedside and I told him that I loved him, he knew I meant it and our eyes spoke the truth to one another with love that words would never express.  Why did I wait so long to find him, would we have been able to speak of "love" if he'd been healthy and well?  Probably not, sometimes it's hard to say, "I love you".

One thing I have learned in this last year.....  I can say "I love you".  I don't say it easily, when I say it I mean it with all my being.   My whole self realizes how important it is to share your heart.  My whole self knows this could be my last day on this earth.  Did I tell everyone who matters to me, men or women, brothers or sisters, children or even my husband that I love them?  Sometimes it's hard to say............   everyday it gets easier, "I love you!"

Remembering Easter

When I was a kid I remember Easter morning.  It would start off as a normal day, get out of bed, go out and do the chores.  Which I remember would be gathering eggs, feeding rabbits and maybe bottle feeding the new orphan lamb.  As we dressed to go outside, pulling on our boots or grabbing a jacket, we would sometimes find a treat the Easter Bunny left hiding there.  A big ole peanut butter egg with rock hard colorful icing was always the biggest treat, seems like our name might have even been on the egg.  That was to avoid one person collecting all three peanut butter eggs as my brother might have done!!!  Ha!

Cindy in her Easter dress.....

I also remember my Grandmother coming down and my Uncle Billy for Easter dinner.  Ham and deviled eggs, mashed potatoes and gravy and an array of veggies and a jello salad.  It always ended with homemade pies, my grandmother and mom were the best pie bakers!!!!

I also remember having Easter Egg Hunts outside in our forest of trees.  We dressed up for the day in our pretty frilly dresses.  I can't imagine we wore those dresses very long or even putting them on after that Easter.  We didn't go to fancy places or even to church.  A strange custom as I look back on it now.

Whitey our Easter Bunny......

My grandmother always brought us big Easter baskets covered with colored plastic and pretty bows.  My favorite Easter memory was the rabbits she gave us.  Oh, did I love those rabbits.  After that Easter it wasn't long before we had baby bunnies running everywhere.  It was a good present for me who loved the critters. 

This spring I took my girls back to the home I was raised.  They never remembered being there.  I tried painting a picture for them about where our tree house was, pointed to a place in the trees that the chicken houses sat.  And told them where the rabbit cages were.  Their biggest shock was the fact that we had an outhouse!!!  

I think of my grandmother today, all the changes she must have seen in her life time.  She lived and raised a family during the depression, it was a hard time.  To have a convenience of indoor plumbing must have been major.  My children can't imagine running to the outhouse on a cold winter day!  They are shocked by this and look at me like I'm really old.  I haven't felt old, until that moment, when they looked at me with such disbelief.



Thelma Gladys Coak, Rankin
my grandmother

It was my grandmother (I assume) who instilled the survival lessons my mother needed to raise her family.  We had really big gardens.  We canned and sold our produce from those gardens.  We raised chickens and sold eggs.  We raised turkeys and rabbits and dressed them out for sale to people who placed orders.  It was a lot of work, I remember helping, even as a little kid, we picked green beans and pulled weeds.  I remember setting onions in the garden, a nice straight row and covering them up. 

I remember the pantry we kept along the cool outside wall of our kitchen.  All of our canned tomatoes, green beans, peaches and apple sauce were kept there.  I didn't even mention blackberry and raspberry picking and making jellies and jams.  When winter came we were prepared with the summer harvest.

So I am meandering again.........  going from Easter to summer gardens and surviving when times were hard and money was earned in many different ways.  It brings me back to my Easter bunnies, they weren't just a gift for me to play with, they also had their job in the big scheme of life during the time I grew up.

Good Friday

Yesterday I spent a wonderful afternoon with a friend that I haven't seen in years.  Lynn and I have known each other for nearly forty years, our story began when our husbands taught school together.

Life happened and they moved on to other places and we each had families to raise and homes to keep going.  Of course the guys would run into each other now and again and were able to keep up on farm things.  Lynn and I kept in touch through Christmas cards.  A year or so ago I found my friend on Facebook and we have been connected by the internet.

Out of the blue she calls me on our house phone a couple weeks ago.  I rarely answer the house phone, I figure if someone needs me, they know my cell phone number.  But on this day, in the middle of the afternoon, our house phone rings and something tells me to answer.  It was my friend Lynn.  I, of course, was a little surprised to hear from her and she was wondering if  I would be interested in putting some of my artwork in her little gift shop and greenhouse.  I thought is sounded like a fun idea and we got together, the four of us. 

After driving a couple hours we arrived at their beautiful country home sitting in the middle of Ohio's rich farmland.  Farmers on big tractors, pulling hugh discs were working in the fields, spring was certainly showing all signs of planting season in this flat farm country.  The guys immedately headed outside to do "farm" stuff.

Lynn and I were quickly catching up on years of family information, finding a common bond immediately.  We weren't together for thiry minutes before we discovered our other connection.  We were totally on the same page about the things many people don't talk about........  that would be the spiritual part of living on this earth.  We know that "accidents" don't just happen.  We know that things have happend that we could never have planned.  We know there are reasons and perfect timing for all things to happen, we call that Devine timing. We understand that our thoughts are the first action to bringing whatever it is we want into our lives.  We know there is a heaven above, that spirits live, angels surround us and they communicate with us on a daily basis, if we listen.  We know we have the power within ourselves to create what we want to happen.  We know that all things are connected!  We know it and shared our stories, our proof these things are true.  Our goosebump stories went back and forth for hours.  Who does this with someone they haven't seen and only shared Christmas cards with for forty years?

I don't often just put this out there for the world to see, because there are those that would tell me I am wrong or think I have an active imagination.  I have nothing to hide.  I have many stories of moments and happenings that have made me a believer in a higher power.  I have seen and experienced things that I couldn't make up, I have shared some of those "stories" in other blogs. 

Thanks Lynn for a wonderful day, I know we will be connecting soon,  there is much more we have to share with one another!  And so today, this Good Friday, 2012, I wish nothing but blessings and peace to all who come and read about my life.  It is real and amazing and I am filled with gratitude.

Spring And The Doors Are Open



Japanese Iris just starting to bloom, 2012

It is truly spring in Ohio.  Only a few days into April and flowers are blooming throughout the gardens.  I have been checking Bluebird boxes and two nests are started by bluebirds and sparrows have claimed several other boxes, even laid eggs.  Of course, sparrow nests are removed from the Bluebird boxes.  Of the seven boxes, two have bluebird nests and I'm so excited about that!

The frogs in my frog pond are too many to count, they slowly push their eyes above the water edge and watch me watching them.  Some sit bravely on the old decayed leaves and soak up the sunshine.  The water Iris are growing strong in the corner of this rather unsightly frog pond.  This used to be my fish pond, before a branch fell and punched a hole through the liner.  The pump was turned off and the quiet water was perfect for frogs to lay eggs.  Now I don't exactly know what to do with it, I don't want to upset the balance of this pond for the frogs.  So the fall leaves rot in the water and become the perfect place to raise frogs.  I have to let go of the idea of clean sparkeling water that the fish used live in before the hole.


front flower bed, 2012

I have already had to mow the yard several times and that started on my birthday on March 19th.  Never have I mowed the yard in March.  Records were set this year for temperatures above eighty degrees and the number of days in a row it has been that warm for the month of March.

The redbud trees have already bloomed and the tulip trees were stunning this year.  Forsythia have also bloomed their sunshine yellow flowers and the yellows are now fading away, the red and purple phase of the garden in taking over, with wild violets as well as tulips, lilacs and iris are blooming.



bluebird box.....

I love when it is warm enough to throw open the windows and doors.  Most of you will find this highly irregular, but I stopped putting screens in the windows and we have no screen/storm doors.  I find the there is only a brief time between the furnace running and when we turn on the air conditioning and screens are just not necessary.  I haven't used them for years and love that the views are not altered by screens, it's like being outside when I'm in the house.

I also love when the cleaning fairy comes and starts my spring house cleaning.  She climbs the step stool and cleans shelves above the windows, gets the nooks and crannies free of winter dust bunnies and whatever else lurks in those places.  She was just here and the house sparkled.  Everything dusted and swept and cleaned. 

So when I took a moment to sit in the back room that looks out to the barn, past the blooming flowers and the fresh mowed yard, I was content to just relax with a little coffee.  It was then that I notice a white spot of something on the table where the TV sits.  I was a little far away to determine what it was, but it looked like a paper had be laid down on a wet spot and when picked up, some of the white page was left behind.  I stopped worrying about it and made a mental note to check it out.  Of course I forgot and went on with my day. 

The next day, sitting in the same chair, still basking in how nice everything looked inside and outside and sipping my coffee, I again noticed the white stuff on the table.  This time I dragged myself from my comfy chair and forced my still new knees to get me up, yet again, and went to seriously look at the white stuff on the table. 

I was rather shocked to discover it was bird poop.  No doubt about it, a white splat of bird poop was on the table that was just cleaned a few days ago by the cleaning fairy.  I conclude that a bird came calling through my open door into the house.  He obviously found his way out of the maze and went back outside, but not before bringing me back to reality and noting why other people must use screens on their doors and windows.