My Birthday

My dear brother came home from work with this cake for me... I don't know which I was more tickled over, the cake or watching him with the cake.  I never felt more love for someone as I did at that moment.  We laughed together as he wrote my name on it as he realized the cake decorator didn't come with a tip, hence the fat letters.  I wouldn't have all the fancy cakes of the world over this one, this year.  I have the best big brother in the world!

On another note.... I'm completely perplexed about a facebook comment I had when thanking folks for Birthday wishes and I went on to explain about my evening, going out to eat etc.  I was made to feel from her the commenter, that maybe I shouldn't have a birthday???? I can't even explain how inane the comment was and I don't know why I even care.  Maybe it's because of who it is, maybe.

I don't know a soul that isn't thankful for birthday wishes and I don't care what the age is. It is a day that signifies 'you'.  It is the ONLY day that is yours exclusively except for maybe your mother... in which case I think it should be her 'birth' day too. 

Otherwise there is no other day no matter what your age or even after death that that day doesn't represent who you are, when you were and in my utmost opinion it needs to be recognized by the people that you surround yourself with.

You may encounter the person who insists that their day doesn't matter and the lack of celebration or acknowledgment doesn't matter but I feel with everything in me that isn't true. 

I'm not even talking about gift getting or party throwing or anything like that....... just simple acknowledgment. I do think there are people that genuinely don't care for a display and I'm actually sort of like that although I've managed a few glorious, fun-filled birthday parties thrown in my behalf.  Still I've always felt slightly awkward for it. Proud for sure... but left with a loss for words while it's happening...... Whole other story into the psyche of that though.

I think it's interesting that she waited to the last minute of the hour ...in which it wouldn't be 'my' day any longer to post at all.  I knew she had been on all day because of postings. How can you explain a comment like this?

"Do you still have birthdays since you came back to America? ;) if so..happy birthday."

I don't know which part confuses me more ''Still have birthdays" or the "If so". 

I'll leave it up to whoever happens along here on my blog and whoever actually reads this post to help me with it.  Again, I would have expected a different comment from her and if this is it.....I had rather it hadn't been one at all. 

To Kill A Mockingbird

This guy... ''Dis guy!'', in my best NY dialect.
I've nick named him Mouthy.  We believe he's been calling for a mate because it seems the one he had or possibly even his whole family may have been carted off from a hawk.  My brother says he seen the hawk with one in his beak and this guy... "Dis guy".. in hot pursuit after him.
I joke but in reality it's quite sad.  Nature can be so sad.  We watched the nest prep, we watched as he stood vigil over the babes.......swooping on neighbors cats and people if they got a little too close for his comfort.  And now he's without his fam.  Heavy stuff.
His songs are the best though even if it is remorseful ....... I've heard mocking of cell phone rings, car alarms and other alert type sounds coming from him as he swoops and dives from one side of the house and yard.  Tonight he flew past my head with a shrill whistle so close I could hear his wing beats.
This photo I took today while he was busy mouthing off and at times puffing his chest..... I hope he has some luck tomorrow finding a mate.

Hope

I really have to remind myself there are good things to think of everyday even when people can have you so perplexed.
So, within this same evening or should say very early morning of writing the last post I will focus on that now. At least I can go to bed in a few with some hope for a better day with better thoughts. 

So here's to hoping. 

I'm a couple of states away from my family and miss them terribly, I haven't spent as much time as I hoped for with my new grandson but I 'hope' that will change soon.

My youngest daughter called a few days ago to announce she is pregnant and the news has us all in a happy shock.  Shock because her only child is eight years old and she was sure that there wouldn't be anymore. I know she is wanting a daughter now and I'm hoping for her too.  We talked about her decorating the spare room in a dandelion theme and I'm excited about that because I have so many photos of them that I would love to have her use them. I hope she gets all that she dreams.

I hope tonight a dream will come that will give me some insight on my next venture because I really need to know.  So many roads to choose but none of them is making sense.  I'm a little shaken by the last blunder so I 'hope' I can trust enough to make a better choice. 

Dismissed of Duty

Well, I knew it.  Something ate at me for several weeks while contemplating on making a move to my sisters house.  She was needful of me just as she gets when strife is in her life and calls on me to comfort her. But I knew it was a mistake; a ticking time bomb really.
I'm her 'go to' person when the chips are down and we have a history of just these same stories.

Seems her husband has wound up in some trouble and won't be home for quite awhile and that's all I'll say about that here other to say with him out of the picture would have been the only way I would have even considered it.
Me? Well being the free agent of my life in general and with eight months home from England and still without a set goal in mind as to where, what or how I'm going to proceed with anything at the moment, well lets just say that leaves me wide open to be slung around for the hell of it, I suppose. 

She was depressed.  She was lonely.  She begged me to come to her house to live with her and as I said...I'm pretty wide open as to where I'm laying my head these days.

Three weeks in and after the upheaval of the makeshift life I was leading; all the remnants of whats left of my life and 'things' and after the move and the hard work of packing boxes and placing my aesthetics into yet another storage unit, it seems I wasn't needed as bad as she thought.  I'm still reeling from this and I've been out of her house for a month now.  This is not new news but it is still lingering in the air as hot as this North Carolina weather.

I have zero ideas as to what happened only to say my conscience is quite clear.  I spent Mother's Day weekend with my family and returned on that Sunday evening to find her sitting in the dark playing some war game on the game system while a massive vibe hung in the air.
I need to back up a minute to say my plan all along was to come to North Carolina instead. I up-heaved my plan and my life to accommodate her needs and I was just as quickly dismissed.
Seems she got on some nerve medication and she told me as sure as I'm sitting here writing, that she has drugs now so she's not as needful.
Amazing isn't it.
This will never, never happen again.

What's Next

I was just sitting out on a lounge chair looking up at the impending storm, hands folded behind my head watching the clouds swirl above me and I'm thinking about home. And while those dreadful grey colored clouds remind me of my 'other' home and how I kind of miss it, mindfully but not deliberately I give a tiny shake of my head and a twisted turn of my mouth that might resemble a slight grin, barely audible if anyone else had been around to hear, I say in a deep exhale.... H----O---M---E.

Not knowing where that is exactly these days, but it seems the home I'm missing is in England and funny thing about that, I call this land home and miss it as bad or more while I'm there.
I've wrote about my constant tug of war with myself before, many times in fact.....where I belong, why do I belong, etc. Seems I'm still searching for those answers.

I'm reading a book about just that subject... about discontent, just where or what are ones places in life, the meaning of life, where is the love, why can't I feel love and all that jazz like it. It's about an individual that has lost all appeal for life.....and all the passion and spirit that once drove her so she travels for a year in search of that.  Funny though how obvious it is that the author has money but still she's lost. Money enough at least to afford the search. Which hey.. that can't be all bad. I'd love the chance to try!

I've always thought I'd be complete if given the chance with wealth...and not even 'wealth' but just a comfortable allowance.... hence the root word 'allow'.  Enough money to 'allow' me to go in search of all the people I am (Oh and there are a few)  To discover each and every personality that wrecks any normalcy I ever expect to have. Or at least afford to cater to a few of their whims and possibly gather some helpful hint tips along the way.
You take any Gemini and chances are good they'll say the same thing. Not saying every Gemini is penniless just mostly over thinkers and when you combine desperate, time filled worry with over analysing every single move you take...well, then you've got problems. I keep shouting, usually when there is no one around, that the stress is killing me. What are the answers to my own needs and what AM I looking for for christ's sake.

People with money always say the same thing though.... they say, ''money can't buy that kind of happiness''.... and the poor person always responds in the same way, ''but it sure helps''. I don't even care if it is never actually just handed to me.  I would just like to find my niche in this life before it is done and be compensated for it.  Joblessness and without a nest are my stresses.......sure there are family residences that keep me out of the storm but not my own.  Whatever remnants of my life that I still possess are waiting for me to box up as I sit thinking and writing, contemplating.

Thunder is rumbling now and cicada's are making their final evening calls before the downpour silences them. I should go in, keep my sister company, seems that's why I'm here.....for the moment.

Sisters

Intelligent or does she so desperately want to be?.. She's reading all the classics now because she knows to be well read is to be well bred.  Except it doesn't always work out when the commonality of your being always takes over. You constantly are looking in from the outside wanting to be something besides the being that is before you shouting at you like a gunshot to the head. Though, is it fair to constantly live life with a guard outside your mind? Can you be yourself even though the world has reminded you time after time that you aren't acceptable?

Sitting here watching is like looking into a mirror almost and I'm depressed. Can I really be like this?  So much of me has moved in a direction far removed from the tie that binds us but the ties are there just the same and no matter how much I want to, I can't escape it. Strange thoughts indeed when you love the one you insult even if the insults stays only in your thoughts but I'm not good at hiding my disapproval. My face has been my enemy all through the years.

All day has been a debate it seems in which my words have been lost or stepped on or both. Conclusions shes found floating on the ceiling, staring in a spacey vexation to a problem which seems to take her away for the few moments of however long the subject may last while she awaits the answers given to her the reflections of herself..

Loneliness is a horrible crippler. 


I'm not sure if I'm not giving the desired answer when she is laughingly gesturing me with her hand movements as if to say I may not have a clue or the possibility that it doesn't quite match what she had in mind....

A View of Two Goddesses

“It's just me mom”, I said coming in the door.
“Well, did you have fun?” my mother asked.
“Yes, it was so funny”, I said as I gabbingly explained about the slumber party the night before.
“I put eggs down my shirt, pretending to have boobies and Jean slapped them and busted the eggs, then we had a pillow fight and one of the pillows busted and feathers stuck all over me from the raw eggs”. “It was so funny”.
My mother grinned as she continued doing the dishes.
“We did the coolest thing later that night”. I explained further.
“What was that?” she asked.
“We levitated each other and all ten of us took turns being the one lifted” “We did it once lying down and again in a chair” I said.
“What do you mean?” asking more enthusiastically.
“One of us would lie down and the rest would be around in a circle holding two fingers under. Then we would start chanting …."She looks sick, she looks sick, she looks sick, then, she looks dead, she looks dead, she looks dead. She is dead, she is dead, she is dead. Light as a feather, light as a feather, light as a feather and then we would lift her up using only our two fingers and she would just float up.” I was saying with such excitement.
“But it won’t work if you don’t concentrate”. “Sometimes we would start laughing or someone would break the mood and whoever was floating would fall”. “Really cool” I said.
“Hmm” she said after sitting down to listen closer.
“Oh and we stayed up all night doing that and we were in an empty house that belongs to Cindy’s parents, there was no electricity on, so we only had candles”.
“Where were her parents all this time?” Mom wanted to know then.
“Right next door Mom, we were fine!” I explained in a hurry.
“Cindy found us a bunch of gowns, real silky and with lots of flowing layers and we ran outside to watch the sunrise skipping and dancing so the gowns would spin around with us” “We ran down into the woods and it was so beautiful” I continued.
“Everything was just so green and wet from dew and the rays from the sun were coming through the trees” “It looked like an enchanted forest Mom”. I said yawning now.
“We all found our own tree stump or fallen branch and made chairs and beds out of them by lying down letting our gowns fall all around”. I told her, “We played like we were movie stars” I added.
“Well you sound sleepy, did you sleep?” Mom wanted to know.
“Our feet were getting cold because we were barefooted and because there was so much dew, so we went back in and fell asleep on the floor”. “Cindy’s mom woke us for breakfast not long after”. I said starting up the stairs to my room.
“Karla” mom called.
“Huh?” I called back.
“Always stay on the “right” side” she said. “Don’t ask me now to explain, you will know one day”.
“ Okay ” I said, continuing up the remainder of the stairs.


Took me a long time to remember what she said and to know what she meant and how my mother was so much more “enlightened” then I ever knew. 

*Right as opposed to the left......... or ........ light side as opposed to a dark side. 

Autumn... A Childhood Memory

Standing on the bridge that crosses
The river that goes out to the sea
The wind is full of a thousand voices
They pass by the bridge and me.

Maryland’s air was crisp and the ground crunchy from fallen leaves. Persimmon’s yellow and shriveled on the vine left earthly scents in our noses and the spent cornstalks left in the garden made great hiding places, stamping them down to form a circle and in our mind was a fortress impenetrable in our play army games. The nights cool and clear and the sounds from flocks of birds heading to their winter homes and the bay even seemed quieted though the industries across it were still spilling smoke from stacks. She loved those evenings; she loved her world there at the Point where the land ends.  Sitting under a chestnut tree watching a lone barge inching its way up the river and under the bridge and out away from view.
With the sun sinking in the distance across the bay, she knew she would be called in the house soon and she probably could go on her own without being told, but she needed to stretch all of the daylight out as long as she could and sitting there fiddling with the hulls of the chestnuts and absorbing all the sounds and smells that this wonderful time of year brought, felt necessary.

Hints of Fall

A stroll yesterday on a crisp day I was amazed with the number of days of cool weather but the lack of color in the changing leaves.  There were more hints around other than this tree pictured but still not like I would have expected.  I actually believe it is probably a good thing for this to happen slowly, probably a good display of color to come without turning too fast and falling too early.  Still on the hunt for all things Autumn!

Leaving England

It's a funny thing how I can't wait to be home and once I know that I'm going and start the ticket shopping process I start getting bittersweet feelings.  I look at my little home in England differently, the garden, the pets and yes Andy too.  It shouldn't be so difficult.  If I were a person with money that could find travelling back and forth easier than what I aleady do......more often is what I mean to say, maybe it could all work out.  My mind immediately starts thinking how good it is to be surrounded with my family but then there is the chaos of trying to find a job and the big one is the shuffling around to one home to the next.  Finding a job has proven to be impossible the last couple of trips back.  So many people looking for work and when something is available my application reads like a gypsy.  I used to be tough, thick skinned and determined... I've watched through the years how that has almost dwindled from bad luck, heart breaks, disappointments and let downs of all shapes and sizes.  Andy has provided me with a roof and a safe haven and for that I should be grateful......and I am except for the fact that my role as grandmother is not being filled.  I want my family just as close to me as I can get them but I hate where they live. : (
Not their fault about that though... they've rooted like an old tree to the place they grew up at and I don't see that changing.  So my choice is to leave adventure of one sort to another kind.  My worry is that anything good will turn sour just because of circumstance of living and working.  Andy won't even speak about my leaving..... he won't give me any idea of his choice of which airport he'd rather drive to.  I feel so sorry to leave him behind again and I know this separation will be a long one this time.... even longer if I don't fall into something substantial quick.  It has to be done, I/we can't keep this up at our age....there has to be some stability.  My father told me a long, long time ago my running around ways would come to haunt me.  I think even my rocking chair will have wheels.

Castor And Pollux

Pondering and reveling through weeks of introspection and how surfacing through it has left me respectful through all the changes survived within my life with all the lessons learned, which in itself is masterful. Reaching a conclusion of how the familiar is not necessarily the right path taken and now sometimes contrasts are better when left to art and artist.  Even within life's chaos I found contrasts and meanings without actually living it daily. But when comfort is found, when focus finally finds you and even if it means your the sad face in the crowd for awhile; does that really matter anyway?
People, places and faces are distorted to me and no longer hold the key to that mystery of my life's happiness.. Equally easier to move on and past that black hole of boredom and redundancy.
A strange force when reckoning my soul, accepting of my loyalty to self as one of beauty instead of misinterpreted strangeness as I watch the spectators do what they do...speculate.
They're strangely sluggish and high with ideas while doing nothing. Wasting time as if it won't end and borrowing from generations past as an affinity. Stalemated, safe and self appointed is the easy road and I'd rather remain confused but certain, lost while endlessly searching and tormented like an artist while wide eyed in the all wonderment of the unfamiliar, than live with a safety net among an oppressing shadow. And now it gives refreshed enlightenment to what's real.
Age brings tenacity...and one finds the courage to resist the familiar...looking upon it as superficial as I've always done but with more courage than ever before. There IS a comfort as crone-hood is at my step. Neither familiar nor unexciting. Castor and Pollux are my contrast and we're learning to live together, finally.

My Father Said Walk With Moccasin Feet

“Step lightly” he said rather gruffly. “If you can hear yourself walk the animals can too”
She slowed and while watching her feet decided that tip toeing would be better and maybe Dad would be happy with her new walk.
He glanced around and noticed her.
“No", he said clearly, feel your feet from heel to toe and feel the ground beneath them” he said less gruffly. “And look up, you have to watch your feet but watch where you’re going at the same time”.
She did as told, trying to feel the ground but while being quiet and watching her feet and where she was going all at the same time she found it curious and fun for at least a moment always reminding herself when she heard the leaves rustle beneath her to step lighter.
She stopped when her father stopped and did it without going head long into his large frame and she slowed when he slowed, started when he started.
“The Indian knew how to be silent when walking”, he continued to teach. This always made her ears perk up anytime mentioning the Indian’s.

Absent

Birdkeepers House St. James Park

Seems forever since I've checked on blogger..  All is still quiet it seems. I've become busy on a photography forum and am learning loads of stuff but it has taken all my attention.  Did a sprint in London the other day walking close to 20 miles if not right at it..... As best as I can map my steps on google.  It has taken all of two days to recover from the soreness of power walking and almost a nice set of shin splints.  I'd feel real bad about myself if I were the only one suffering though as it seems I am not.  Andy looked like someone crippled while trying to walk and his daughter who went along with us having fared better was still really tired. 
The week prior showed some beautiful weather when we planned the outing but of course it wasn't meant to be on the day of.  Still the day was utilized for what it was meant to be and that was just a little sightseeing and some photography.  It is probably my last little tour of England before leaving for home within the month.
Anyway... just a bit of dribble in the spirit of making a blog post..... still trying to keep it alive. 

Great White Pelican~ St. James Park

A Soldiers Grave

While being at St. Kenelm and right after the walk and discovery of the legend of Kenelm, our walk continued in the cemetery itself.  I was busy snapping a few shots at some horses in a pasture across the barb wire fence where it ran beside the church grounds...... Andy strolled silently through the grave markers reading stones which fascinates him..... and he mindfully calculates dates and he even figures age ratio's for whatever century.  Math bores me so I don't pay much attention to such things.
 Unfortunately he found a new grave which always brings you home from looking at historical place marks and into the 'now' of things.  He spent a good amount of time on the rise of the hill that held the mound of fresh flowers and I eventually made my way towards it and when I got in hearing range,   ''This is a soldier'' he said.  Too new to have a headstone placed and so he was reading the temporary paper placard.  
I'm usually the one that fires up the computer first thing in the door from an outing.... finding out the history while it's fresh in my mind of any particular place.  But he was interested in the soldier's story and found his name in the news.  This has really stayed with him as he said yesterday that he couldn't get it out of his mind, maybe because of being at the grave site itself......seeing this persons finality and following it up with his story... Kind of brings the matter closer to you. 

Is it morbid to be walking in cemetery's?  We probably need to expand our hobby away from the solemnity a little.

*A link to the news story*
http://www.halesowennews.co.uk/news/local/8323404.Halesowen_comes_to_a_standstill_as_local_hero_is_buried_with_full_military_honours/

St. Kenelm

I seem to be a habitual church/cemetary goer......... and not as in, sitting in a pew for the Sunday service kind.  We are strapped for money and if my fascination wasn't enough before, it seems one can go for a nice outing to these places..... have a peaceful walk without much disturbance from others and do it for nothing.  Most often I end up learning something along the way of some of England's oldest and well preserved landmarks of time.

We stumbled upon the church of St. Kenelm one night with our windows rolled down in the car and heard the call of something bird like probably..... I'm not sure if it was an owl but could have been.  We stopped and listened and adjusting my eyes to the dark trying to see anything making the strange call while having no idea what was on the other side other than an awesome night sky with the top of the church forefront of view and of the city lights below the Clent hills behind....... we decided that it was a must to come back in daylight and so the other day, we did.

Walking around this church and grounds gave off feelings....the ones I get when around such history and/or activity.......not sure which or if both but it's a vibe of sorts.  Having no idea of St. Kenelms history, I thought it was just going to be a 'walk around' with a few shots of an old church but after starting the walk down a path adjacent to the church it felt like something more.  Could have been these strange markers or the air itself, I don't know.

The path started down a slight hill and then a set of land timbered steps down further and I realized there was water running..... but the steps came after finding this plaque that gave a hint of what this was about...

After getting to the bottom of the hill and steps this tree full of offerings and incense that usually come from a paganistic ritual explains a lot of why I was feeling as I was......  usually the energy of the activity itself leaves an essence and a vibe and I possibly was tuning into that.

It doesn't have to be pagan of course that someone would want to  leave a marker as in the ribbons above, it's just that it is usually best represented as pagan people tend to celebrate or honor in just these ways.  The wooden carved markers, I have no idea and can't find how they came to be rather the church, the Trust or a group.
I still however was unsure the significance of this and the plaque other than he was a Saint and he died probably near the spring.  Until I came upon a second marker.

 Okay, so this told me, not just died but murdered.  ''Wow'', is what I believe I said.  Wasn't until I got home where I was able to look up this history and this saint to find he was just a boy, or so legend has it and that he was a prince heir to be king.

Now, take St Kenelm's life which I've been reading;
He was Kenulph's son, the nobel king
Of Mercia. Now St Kenelm dreamt a thing
Shortly before they murdered him one day.
He saw his murder in a dream, I say . . .

                                                         
                                                       Chaucer The Nun's Priest's Tale

The Legend

The small church of St Kenelm stands with a handful of houses in the village of Romsley, nestling in the Clent Hills in Worcestershire. The church was built in the 1400s on the site of an earlier religious settlement.

According to legend, following the death of the Mercian king Kenulph in c.819, his young son Kenelm became king at the age of seven. He was put under the watchful eye of his sister Quendryh and foster-father Askebert. But they were both plotting to kill the boy king. One attempt at poisoning him had failed, so it was agreed to take him hunting in the Clent Hills where he would meet some 'accident'.

The night before they left on their hunting trip Kenelm had a dream in which he climbed a large tree decorated with flowers and lanterns. From this high vantage point he could see the four quaters of his kingdom. Three bowed down before him but the fourth began to chop away at the tree until it fell. Kenelm transformed into a white bird and flew away to saftey. On waking the young king related his dream to his nanny, a wise old woman called Wlwen from Winchcombe, gifted in interpreting dreams. She wept, for she knew that the boy was destined to die.

Kenelm resigns himself to his fate and follows Askbert to the Clent Hills. It is here, while kneeling in prayer one evening, that the boy king is beheaded by Askbert and his body hidden under a thorn tree. Kenelm's spirit rises in the form of a dove carrying a scroll and flies away to Rome where it drops the scroll at the feet of the Pope. The message on the scroll reads: 'Low in a mead of kine under a thorn, of head bereaft, lieth poor Kenelm king-born'.

Missionaries are dispatched to England where they miraculously discover the body of Kenelm. On the slopes of the Clent Hills they encounter an old woman who tends a herd of cattle. One of her herd strays from the rest and stands guard by a thorn bush. Even though it does not eat or drink it never goes hungry. Taking this as a sign, the missionaries begin to dig and discover the boy's body. From this site a spring begins to flow. This is the legend of St Kenelm.  

Empty

I'm pretty dried up when it comes to creating a post or writing of any kind..... Seems I don't have any thoughts other than the upcoming MRI for my neck and then hopefully a ticket home.  I'm ready to go but just not ready to face the heat once I get there.  It has been a record breaking summer for extreme temps.  Coming from a summer spent just wishing for sunlight and running the heater...... I think I would just drop over like a dead fly once I hit the humidity that Georgia has to offer.  

It also seems that everyone has either forgot their blogger page or like me, has nothing to really post about.  Hopefully we'll all continue to write something and have one another to give feedback occasionally.   I think I'm going to selectively recruit some other people and maybe give it a push start into a little more interaction.    Maybe I'll have something more to say to help keep this thing alive...... I don't know.

Moon Search

I went last night in search of Luna.... I had a bone to pick with her.  Always when coming into full phase, seems I have to go through a rough patch.  I want to know why. Seriously though, did go looking for the full moon and seems she wasn't brilliant enough to show through the thick cloud cover.

Most people go out to pubs, clubs and theaters...... I on the other hand find old churches to go romping in.  This is a cemetary of an 15th century church in Frankley.  Luna trying to peak over the landscape and giving somewhat of a haunted glow over this celtic cross.
The view was awesome, my photos however are not. Instead of trashing them, decided to play and put a few effects on some otherwise useless pictures.

July ~ Buck moon

Bucks (moose & deer) grow their first antlers during this month, thus the name buck moon. This is a very masculine moon, so it's a good time to work on the physical things in your life. Either physical in body, or things that need some physical attention.

Grandfather

My English grandfather a skilled carpenter, from Birmingham, sailed from Liverpool to Ellis Island and became an American citizen. He was an adventurous man traveling west from Alabama to take part in the gold rush in the Klondike. Handwritten journals he kept of his journey are housed at the Jefferson County Library archives in Birmingham, Alabama. His name is mentioned in Jack London's book 'The Call Of The Wild'. A fascinating man and I wish I could have known him.

Before leaving England he had served for both the Royal Army and the Royal Navy and it is said he was part of the Queen's guard all before the age of 22.  A letter was discovered from a relative that he had written Washington DC with his take on how to proceed in a particular advancement within the Civil war. A reply letter did in fact come thanking him but pretty much assuring Mr. Biddle that all was under control. I find it humorous but really in keeping with a a particular kind of personality handed down to his sons, one of them, my father. My father was an older man when I was born. Born in 1909 and my grandfather who lived an amazing full life but he died when my father was only 11 years old, from a fall off of a lodge he was building. Many structures remain in the town of Mentone, Alabama that he was responsible for.

                    (Another photo Joseph Biddle with my grandmother, Besse Cook)

Time to Lighten Up

In more ways than one, I need to lighten up.  Negativity has closed in on me and I can't stand myself.  This is not me.  Coming here, surrounded with good people has been a start.  My blogs may not be headline news but it's helpful for me.  Gemini the communicator.  Sitting idle all this while is driving me nuts!  Lack of correspondence from people I thought gave a shit, has put me in a funk to say the least.  But after talking with a very good friend she informed me she missed the old Karla, the one that sticks her finger up to the world, dusts the scum off her sandals and moves on to bigger and better and I'll add, brighter things.  So the crow may need to go, well maybe not, but I'm changing this dark, dank background into something cheery.  I come on here and it feels like death or something.  I like dark because it's helpful on the eyes....... but damn!

Quote by Marianne Williamson

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most.
We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?’
Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won’t feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in all of us.
And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

- Marianne Williamson

Heavy contrast of thought both for showing this photo with this post and while sitting within the walls of Canterbury Cathedral on a beautiful day five years ago.

I love this quote, even though I don't use the God word often myself, I do believe of that higher power within us.  I usually avoid any read with the over usage of God in its text, to be honest.  I don't understand when written as a person outside ourselves.  

This quote is about fear of self. 

Today

Woke up in a seriously pissy mood this morning.  All I knew is I want to go home.  Rocking on 5 months and that's usually my limitation.  I know what will start up once I've reached it too... more pissy moods and nothing will be good enough or able to compare to home.  Gosh, I'm such a bitch about it too.  It's terrible.  I get very tired of being alone.  Everyday the guilt sets in that I'm selfish and I should be home with my family doing grandmother things, instead of here doing nothing, basically.  Andy has to work ALL the time because that's what he does.  And because I don't work here, I'm left with too much time to over think plenty.  My new found feelings about a few friends has become so intense I don't trust it.  I don't trust my thinking right now because I'm not busy.  By that I mean..... I'm too idle in my life. If I was busier I wouldn't have time to think beyond the surface.  Doesn't matter... don't think I'll be changing my mind much on that subject anyway.  Just a random post of what the day has been like..   My ass hurts from sitting on it.  Going to walk across the room now...   Four walls and boredom, damn.  I may get really resourceful and walk upstairs in a minute.  And where the hell is the sun?? 

Pussy Cats

Binks and Poppet, the two hobbit like cats... 

Ah yes, they look all innocent right now... give it a minute, a plant will become a carnival ride and potting soil no longer for the pots but for the potty.  

Funny little beasts though.  Binks the monster size moggy all smug and snobbish with his attitude and Mary Poppet, petite tab with switch blades..

Time

 

 

"Time is priceless, yet it costs us nothing. You can do anything you want with it, but you can't own it. You can spend it, but you can't keep it. And once you've lost it, there is no getting it back. It's just gone."

You are The Moon

Hope, expectation, Bright promises.

The Moon is a card of magic and mystery - when prominent you know that nothing is as it seems, particularly when it concerns relationships. All logic is thrown out the window.

The Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. This is a card that has to do with sleep, and so with both dreams and nightmares. It is a scary card in that it warns that there might be hidden enemies, tricks and falsehoods. But it should also be remembered that this is a card of great creativity, of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition. You may be going through a time of emotional and mental trial; if you have any past mental problems, you must be vigilant in taking your medication but avoid drugs or alcohol, as abuse of either will cause them irreparable damage. This time however, can also result in great creativity, psychic powers, visions and insight. You can and should trust your intuition.

Dance

How can I tell you out loud

As I look out into those woods at
Every possibility and equal mystery.

About sounds that speak only to me.
How can I tell you with all the pretense like you,
That it speaks to me

Dance

Smoke circles coming from fire lit pasts,
Only in my mind. Resting just above treetops
And the glow lighting my path
Telling me

Dance

You see me there staring
In the distance and then we speak
Something trivial- I answer but how can I say I don't hear you
Really
Music is playing just for me

Dance

You are so smart with your retained words and notions
Still so clueless
Your life wrapped up in a solitary world with
Orbital motions of no description. What defines you is
The mystery….you know the names but lost to its meaning
Unenlightened to the

Dance

I knew

Yes, I knew it but
seems I chose to ignore it,
hope upon hope I was wrong.

Yes, I've been down this road
So familiar in port
steady with plan
twas almost a comfort.
I've seen you before and I swear it true
All manner and form foretold and due.

Yes, so predictable I honestly claim,
Tarot and candle on the table despite
the faces have changed
either by shadow or light
all still is exactly the same.

Yes I foreseen but
Shelter I sought and I've
no other to blame,
despite goodness or laugh or banter now lost
the outcome is always the same.

Can't share your secrets
Untruths reside
Mistook my trust
an hoped I'd abide.
I warned you to listen, take heed
and be sure, paths would be different ,
the journey untried.

The act of believing
and with unwaivering faith
seems only to end in pain.
Someone will be wrong in the end
The stars predict it my bane.

Is it written somewhere
A predestined fate,
As I look to the gods
Their counsel laid great...

Yes, integrity only gets you so far
while you watch all the world at play,
I sit alone a room thick with beliefs
as candlelights flicker and sway
and now no one is left in my way.

KBH

Tawny Owl

St. Weonard's Church

Tawny Owl perched in a old Yew Tree inside the church yard, cemetery.... This guy allowed us to see him. I was so excited but hesitant too... with ill omen's attached to seeing owls... and having experience with that... I wasn't sure that was a good thing or not. But he/she was very beautiful.
Location: Heredfordshire, England