I spent the past week traveling.  I made the 7 ½ hour drive from VA to SC to my mother-in-law’s on Christmas Eve.  I shared the Christmas morning festivities with my in-laws at my sister-in-law’s house.  Then it was back to my MIL’s for the big noon-time Christmas dinner.  Later that afternoon, I flew, with my daughter’s cat Dracula, all the way from Greenville, SC to San Francisco, CA, taking three planes and being delayed in Pheonix, AZ due to a door that would not seal on the plane.

Dracula was a traveling champion and handled herself admirably, never meowing or creating “unpleasant odors.”  I was greatly relieved when I met Jen in the airport and we got into her Jeep Cherokee to head to her place in Berkeley.  Dracula was immediately at home in her old car, stretching out like a queen on the back seat.  In Jen’s new home, Dracula investigated and immediately gave her stamp of approval.  It was as if she had lived there her whole life!

I returned to SC for my MIL’s birthday and then made the return drive to VA today.  My dog, Killian made the road trip with me and was happy to be home. She is also a stellar traveler.  My other two pets, Mel and Miah, are, as always when I return from travels, happy to see me, but fat and sassy from flagrant over-eating at the self feeders!

I had 182 new e-mails to read upon signing onto my computer.  Amongst the ebay items sold, not sold, etc. I found an email thank you note from my youngest brother. His thank you was for the book of my memories, written first as blog stories, which I gave as gifts to my family members this year.  His words, like those left in a phone message thank you from my oldest brother, made me feel wonderful….knowing my gift was truly appreciated.  I share with you a portion of his thank you email.

“Over the years I have wanted to write. Of course, I always want to write a novel, or possibly a screen play (I see the camera shots clearly in my head). Each story idea is from some aspect of my own life carefully fictionalized to ensure that no-one is offended by what I write. This Christmas you have shown me that a novel is not important, memories are.
Already your stories have led to a great deal of laughter and some tears as well. Haley, after hearing just one was hooked and insisted that I read them all to her. I was not about to just let her loose (we all have ratings on our life stories and she is still PG) to read them herself so I sat and read the ones with interesting titles to her getting some laughs and some confused looks (she doesn't understand bowlegged and would certainly never think of it as an insult) when I got to "Half a Photograph".  Immediately I knew the subject line and realized after one sentence that I was not going to be able to read it out loud. She was reading herself and as she sensed my tears start, hers began as well. Well, the damage was done so I continued to let her read to the end and we joined in soggy hugs. At some point Denise walked into the room and gave a puzzled looked until I told her "Ted" and she understood. Haley took a little while to get over that story  even as I tried to explain that life is made up of happy and sad stories and we need both to fully appreciate life. Sometimes Haley doesn't get jokes or stories, but this Christmas she got it.
Since I can remember, one of the favorite dinner conversations has started with "Daddy/Mommy, tell us a story about when you were X years old." Denise and I struggle to find appropriate story material (a great many stories cannot be shared quite yet, some may never be) and then give them some of our past. Until this Christmas, it has not occurred to me to write these stories down. Certainly not to share via blog as you have. Perhaps I'm afraid that I will have nothing left to impress my friends with at dinner parties (Oh, you didn't know my monkey bit the end of my finger off?) That may have to change though because, as I told Dad Christmas night, it would be a shame if the stories that make us who/what/where we are were lost forever.
Thank you so much.”

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas week.  I plan to spend a few hours reading back through the blogs.  But most of all, I wish you a wonderfully memorable New Year.

My son was an early reader. When he began kindergarten he was already reading and he read Treasure Island, the full version, when he was six. Smart kid, to be sure. So you can understand my dilemma when he seemed completely lost in the simple telling of time.  I don’t know whether the other little tykes were as confused as mine, but his teacher reported this as an area where he could benefit from some extra help (at home, you know, Mom, get off your duff and teach you child).

So I got the cork board onto which I pinned my cleverly fashioned construction paper clock, movable hands and all.  We worked for about thirty minutes on the “get familiar with the 12 X 2 X 60 world of time.”  He caught on quickly to my careful explanation of why, when the big hand was pointed at the 1, it was referred to as 5 and when the little hand was point at the 1 it was referred to as 1.  He seemed to accept that those cleverly notched marks on the perimeter of my construction paper clock were minutes and that each group of five minutes was punctuated with a number.

We were getting along famously, this little genius and I, until we got to the part about a quarter after the hour or a quarter before the hour.  Frustrated, my freckled faced boy looked up at me and demanded to know, “why are you talking about money???? What does this have to do with time??”  I laughed my head off when I finally realized my son’s understanding of the word quarter was limited to that which he could spend!

The Christmas I was nine remains a fond memory, not because of what I got, but because of what I almost did not. Always, always, my father reminded us, “Just before Christmas, we’re as good as we can be!”

Oh, I believed.  I believed I was being as good as I could be. I believed I was to be rewarded with the bicycle of my own, I believed.  Well, actually, I believed I was as good as I could be when anyone was watching. I didn’t really allude myself to believe I was actually being as good as I could be.  But, I spent a great deal of time and put forth a significant amount of energy ensuring I would be perceived as being as good as I could be.  This entailed threats to my brothers should they even think of telling on me, and bribing my sister to clean my room, since I hated that particular required chore.

And so it was that on Christmas Day I be-bopped down the stairs, the railing of which was adorned with the well-worn socks of each of my family members and from which said socks overflowed candy canes, oranges, nuts and apples, and even some skinny gifts like pencils and pens.  Our family tradition allowed the children to open our stockings before Mom and Dad made their bleary-eyed entrance on the scene.  But no packages under the tree were to be touched.

With glee, we set about our stocking fest and all was well until I reached the bottom.  There I found the dreaded LUMP OF COAL!  My heart sank. There was a knot in my stomach.  I quickly returned the lump of coal to the toe of my sock and pretended it was never there. My brothers and sister did not need to know that Santa had indeed been watching.  My parents certainly did not need to know. I knew.

Another part of our tradition required us to watch each gift as Dad presented it to the recipient. We watched as each gift was opened and we ooohed and ahhed and enjoyed each others’ surprises.  But that year, the pit of my stomach was hurting, and I could not tell anyone. If I did, they would know my secret.  And so I smiled and laughed and opened my own presents from my family.  But I kept looking for my gift from Santa.

As we reached the end of the gift giving, my father looked around and declared that it appeared all gifts had been opened and I looked around at my happy brothers and sister and wanted to cry. I had many gifts, but all I had from Santa was that lump of coal and they never even noticed that I did not receive a gift from Santa. 

I got up to start picking up and putting away my presents when Dad said, “Oh, what’s this?”  From the tree, he plucked a simple little “license plate” with the letters JUDY boldly imprinted.  It was a hand-made deal, not the type found so readily today in the local Walmart.  My heart picked up a little and I took the license plate, a little bewildered, but hopeful…on the back was a note from SANTA.  It said, “Mommy and Daddy will take you to pick out your new bicycle.”

I was so relieved, but I was also a true believer from that point forward. I believed that I was never going to fool Santa or anyone else into believing I was being as good as I could be. I knew I had to actually do it! I was never a perfect child and I got into plenty of trouble, but I learned to be honest and believe it has helped me in my adult life. 

Whenever I hear the talk of coal, I am reminded of that year -- the year I learned to believe!

I have a lot of favorite Christmas carols. I love the words and the music alike. Growing up, my favorite was always Drummer Boy. When I was a teenager I heard the song , "Do You Hear What I Hear" and was immediately in love. I won't say it pushed Drummer Boy out of first place, but it was now a tie.

Recently, I have grown to love hearing and singing a song I grew up on. I don't know that it is technically a Christmas song, but it seems to have the spirit of Christmas in the words. I learned it in 4/4 time, but my children reintroduced me to it in 3/4 time.  Once I got the hang of it, I thought it just as pretty in 3/4 as in 4/4.  It was one we recorded for Dad for his Christmas present two years ago.

I invite you to share my current favorite Christmas song with me.

http://www.esnips.com/doc/bf8a4fd6-9994-4273-b409-5f12c296dbbd

The man who sold me my property five years ago started a charitable organization. Over the years their work has brought better prospects to many in countries where communities are literally cut off from commerce, health care and education by rivers impossible to cross without bridges.

This wonderful non-profit charity is called Bridges to Prosperity.  "Bridges" builds foot bridges in countries around the world.  These bridges allow communities who have been separated for years to again gain access to such things as schools, medical facilities and commerce.  Please visit their website for more information on how you can contribute, should this be of interest to you.

"Bridges" employs the local communities for labor and is funded by local community monies, augmented with contributions from those who can afford to do so. The local community members are taught how to build these safe and lasting bridges, allowing them to then continue building more bridges where needed. 

Over the past two years, eight bridges were built in Ethopia.  800 or more are needed to enable the peoples of these communities to gain access to education, medical treatment and commerce.  Having taught the local "Roads Authority" the method to organize, plan, and properly build these bridges through these community building projects, they left Ethopia to embark on their next mission in Lima Peru.

http://www.bridgestoprosperity.org/

I'm proud to know and call a friend the founder of this organization, Ken Frantz.

When the Gardener is no more...

At least I think so...I have the right...LOL

Before she started with floral design, Jen used her talent in other art forms.

The first is a sketch she drew of her brother before she took her first art class.  The second was one of her first art assignments when she went to college.

My daughter called tonight. She sounded a little excited.  I asked what was up, and she told me.  She had gone into the restaurant where she has an account to provide all their floral arrangments. The owner snagged her and asked her for her business card....apparantly a major buyer for Hermes had been to the restaurant and had loved Jen's designs....wants to hire her.

Pretty exciting news for a fledgling 23 year old floral designer.... BUT....then she told me the next bit of news....

Town and Country Magazine is doing a spread on the restaurant, and it will feature, in part, her floral designs....this young lady is on CLOUD 9!!!!

Here is some of her work prior to moving to Napa Valley this summer.

Happy First!!! 

As is my tradition, I like to wish everyone a happy first on this the first day of December.

My wish for today:

That I keep both feet on the ground so as to avoid getting one or both stuck in my mouth accidentally.

Now, a picture of Judy's Corner in winter. (but not this winter).

Enjoy, and then stop in.  Bloggers enjoy free shipping of T-shirts and Sweatshirts all day today (again).

Over the river and through the woods...

To Judy'sCorner  we go...

Down to the house....

And to the frozen pond...

Ice fishing, anyone?

Killian loves the snow!

HAVE A GREAT DAY!!!!