traditions

I don't know where I got it, it must be buried somewhere in my English/Irish heritage - but I'm a wee bit tradition oriented; at least so it seems. Not the kinds of traditions that you find on a calendar, not the obvious ones. Just the little ones; lots and lots of little ones. Little ones all my own.

So on a certain Spring day, when the air smells of warm earth, and green is back in fashion, and the frogs remember their Spring chorus - (day and night, non-stop singing, from their little puddle in the woods. So sweetly pleasant in it's monotony) - Huck and I go violet hunting.

The very same day that the little pink and white beauties shown above appear in the side yard. They are our little indications. Something special is happening. We always make a point of stopping, and admiring them first.

Huck is getting more and more contemplative in his old age.

(Any of you able to identify these little flowers for me? They're yet nameless to us.)

Next, we take the path that goes by our happy little frog pond. It's just a little bit eery to hear them as their shrill little voices do scales in minor keys. They won't sing if they can see us. When Joe and I were small, we used to try to sneak up on them, thinking perhaps we'd catch a glimpse of our mysterious music makers. We gave up on that thought long ago. These frogs are not to be fooled. Mysterious they must always remain. And they're still singing the same songs.

Next stop is a visit to the old hollow tree on the frog pond shore.

Spot anything peculiar?

What about now?

This very dear, very confused mother goose and her faithful husband come to visit us year after year. And each year persist in choosing this tree. They're odd. They're special. And they're very committed. It took several years of attempts to have the success of raising one little gosling in their tree house. Last year they must have finally worked out the last kinks. (ie: how to keep those pesky eggs from --- falling out.) Last summer, we were proud to see them and their seven little balls of fluffy cuteness. And they're back again. They have their traditions too I guess.

(Thank Nikon for a nice powerful zoom. You wouldn't want to get too close to this momma.)

And at last...

Spring's first violet.

At least according to Huck and I.

"Forgiveness is the fragrance of the violet left on the heel that has crushed it."

-Mark Twain

Bittersweet

At the moment,

I feel like today is a sad day.

Mom called the neighbors,

and they came and took their kitties away.

Away to be "barn cats" somewhere.

They were pains.

Greedy little cat-food-eating pains.

The kind that think to turn

raised beds into litter boxes...

Which is charming.

But somehow I find myself missing

the kitties more

then the spinach and radishes.

They were a pleasant pain.

No more high-placed attack cat.

(aka. Diddle-Diddle)

No more devious antics from

Fiddler

And well,

I have nothing bad to say about

the little momma.

I miss her little five-toed paws.

I was sort of looking forward to a few kittens.

Kittens bring back memories.

Memories of searching the nooks and crannies

of our hayloft.

Following the little bitty squeaks.

Kitten hunting.

It's been ten years too many since those days.

Oh well.

At least the spinach can rest in peace.

There's no shortage of things to be grateful for.

It was in the eighties yesterday;

and just to prove it was no April Fool's joke -

today's a repeat.

Spring is everywhere;

Fast growing lambies are loving the grass;

Even the raspberries are in earnest.

Spring has the blessings of the Lord written all over it.

Doesn't it?

Today is bittersweet.

skirts on a mission

Saturday was our deadline...

Sunday, we had the privilege of unpacking, sorting, and matching up skirts and tops. It was so amazing to see a skirt from one side of the country - match up perfectly (size and color) with a shirt from the other side. That gives me assurance that the women and girls that receive them - will be perfect matches as well. The response has been huge! We had two banquet tables piled over a foot high!

Thank you so much to all that have contributed! Please continue to pray for those that will receive these skirts - that their spiritual needs as well as their physical needs will be met.

just a little update

It's been pretty quiet.

Everybody's behaving themselves.

No mayhem to speak of.

Little Erasmus isn't so little anymore...

He's still awfully cute though.

The only mayhem around here has been cat related.

Well, you've heard about the neighbor's infamous cat.

Truth is, he's only 1/3 of the story.

He has two friends.

All three of them now call this place home.

I don't mind this one.

She's a little sweetie.

I've never seen a cat with such beautiful green eyes.

The bad news about her?

She's about to multiply...

Then there's this one.

I call him the Fiddler.

He's always fiddling around.

Plus he likes sitting on the woodshed roof.

There's nothing like having your own

personal little fiddler on a roof.

His middle name is Audacity.

au.dac.i.ty -

noun: 1. the willingness to make bold risks

2. rude or disrespectful behavior; impudence

They both apply, but especially the last one.

Impudent.

Anybody want a cat?

Give me Liberty

On March 23, 1775

Patrick Henry stood before the Virginia House of Burgesses,

and gave his famous speech.

This is the 235th anniversary.

The day Obama-care was signed into law.

Kind of ironic.

In honor of the day-

I encourage you to read Patrick Henry's speech

if you haven't before.

"give me liberty, or give me death."

Deadline...

Just a reminder...

The deadline is rapidly approaching!

March 27

Contact me at:

goodnessandmayhem@gmail.com

if you have any questions.

a sure sign

A dear friend brought us a lovely gift yesterday.

Tulips.

A sure sign,

...that Spring must almost be here.