Happy Fall Ya'll

I do not know about where you live, but where I live fall colors are peaking. We are experiencing gorgeous azure skies. Crimson and amber trees are dotting the landscape. Frost is in the air. Our neighbor's horses are frisky. Squirrels are scurrying everywhere. Deer are looking in our back door. I LOVE autumn! To celebrate the season, I updated my blog layout. Sure hope you like it. I would love to hear your comments.

Part of our homeschooling curriculum is memorization. If children learn to memorize early, it develops a part of their brain that helps them throughout their lifetime recall information. Both my boys have been memorizing Bible verses, poetry, and speeches since they could talk and boy has it paid off. Big C can remember most anything he reads and can memorize it quickly which helps for tests, etc. Big I can memorize long poetry passages so quickly it stuns me. He can also remember acoustic guitar pieces after playing them only a few times. Last fall he memorized the following poem and since this is one of my favorites and it is the appropriate season, I'll share it with you.

When the Frost is on the Punkin'
James Whitcomb Riley

WHEN the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens,
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it's then the time a feller is a-feelin' at his best,
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here—
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossoms on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees;
But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries—kindo' lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below—the clover overhead!—
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the cellar-floor in red and yaller heaps;
And your cider-makin's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With theyr mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and sausage too!...
I don't know how to tell it—but ef such a thing could be
As the angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me—
I'd want to 'commodate 'em—all the whole-indurin' flock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

See if you can say "The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn" three times fast! I also like, "and you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock, and the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens, and the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence". I like the clicking noise I make when I say it out loud. Weird! I know.

I have already ate my share of homemade apple butter for the season and am craving more, more, more! And please serve it to me on fresh homemade sourdough bread, lightly toasted with a glob of butter.

Just for grins visit a corn maze with a group of kids. It will make you feel young again. Go on a hayride. Hold hands and kiss the one you love under a golden shower of leaves. Jump and roll in a pile of crunchy dry leaves. Gaze at the full harvest moon. Munch a crisp apple picked straight from an apple tree. Build a bonfire and sing old hymns. Turn off the news and political fodder. Celebrate autumn!

Thanks for reading, Rosie.

Crestwood, Sweetwater, Wipeout and Ironman

For Big I’s 12th birthday in September, my Dad gave him an antique Crestwood electric guitar and a small new Marshall amplifier. The guitar is a 1960’s Crestwood which is the Japanese version of a Gibson guitar. It once belonged to my Dad’s younger brother. Big I fell in love with a Gibson when we were in Memphis in May. I could not justify buying such an expensive guitar at his young age, which was good because Dad already had acquired the antique guitar for him at that time without our knowledge. Dad had it completely rewired and restrung. My Much Older Brother, according to my Mom, performed his unequivocal magic, polishing and cleaning until it shone like new. I must say it is a beauty and has a sweet tone. The amp came from Sweetwater and yes there was candy packaged with it, that is Sweetwater's trademark. Big I was stunned speechless when he opened this mega surprise.

It has been a lifetime goal for my Dad that one of his children or grandchildren learn to play an acoustic guitar. I had no interest in learning to play. My Much Older Brother, who can leap tall buildings in a single bound, liked to play the bass. I grew up listening to “Ironman” by Black Sabbath rattling my bedroom floor more times than I can count, but that is not what my dad had in mind. Anyway, maybe it was because my Dad never learned to play or maybe it was admiration of his younger brother, I cannot say, but when Big I took up the acoustic guitar so quickly and progressed so fast, my Dad was beside himself with joy. He insisted that his grandson have an electric guitar and went about working out the details of his agenda. At first, he was going to wait and give it to Big I at Christmas but he decided to give it for his birthday instead. I am so glad that he did. With more chemo treatments looming in his future and the unknown effects, he may not have been able to enjoy the moment later. He sure did enjoy the moment on Big I’s birthday. We all did. It was a memorable day.

Big I is working on “Wipeout” by the Beach Boys. BTW - my Much Older Brother recently bought a brand-spanking new Fender bass guitar and has been in cahoots with Big I. I hear/fear "Ironman" is in my future.

Thanks for reading, Rosie.

News I Would Rather Not Share

This post is hard for me to write and it will be short because I am tired. My Mom called me Tuesday evening to update us on my Dad’s latest PET scan results. His cancer is back. Spots in both lungs and a small spot on his liver were visible from the PET scan. He will start chemo again on October 20th going Monday thru Friday for a thirty-minute treatment each day and then on Saturday to receive the shot to raise his white cell count. After twenty-one days, he will go back to chemo for another round. We were so hoping that he would stay in remission for a bit longer. There is no cure for small cell lung cancer so we knew the cancer would return at some point, we just hoped it would be later than sooner. At this time, we are not sure how many rounds of chemo to expect.

Needless to say, my family is sad. My dear sister-in-love reminded me recently that God uses difficult circumstances to refine us. “You cannot go around it, you cannot go over it, you cannot go under it, you have to go through it in order to receive the refining God intends for your life.” When I keep that in mind for each of my family members and especially for my Dad, it puts this situation in a more spiritual perspective. Looking at circumstances through a spiritual lens helps me focus on God’s plan. God’s plan is perfect, sometimes painful, but always for good and He promises He will be with us through it all.

My request from you, dear readers, is to pray for strength for our family and especially for my Dad. Pray for my Mom as she takes care of Dad's day to day needs. Pray that I stay healthy both physically and mentally to be of help to my parents. Pray for Big C and Big I as they deal with watching their Grand Daddy fight this disease.

I will update you as I know more.

Thank you for reading, Rosie.

I Went to Paris Over the Weekend

Our family attended a wedding in Paris over the weekend. Yes, I said Paris! Beautiful, Beautiful Paris! We saw the Eiffel Tower and ate supper at the Fresh Market. It was a wonderful, glorious trip! Here is a slide-show to prove we went to Paris.

I should probably mention it was Paris, Tennessee, which is a sweet little town between Nashville and Memphis. MDH's much younger first cousin Rusty was married to his sweetheart Tara. Rusty has a PDH in Physical Therapy and Tara is a Dental Hygienist. They make a cute couple. Best Wishes Rusty and Tara!

We also had the opportunity to visit with MDH's uncle and aunt and their family who traveled from Illinois to attend the wedding. There is always a bit of North/South rivalry when we all get together. We poke fun at one another about our regional differences and usually no one gets too mad. Occasionally a few hackles will get raised on the neck of someone, but it is soon smoothed over. We are more the same than different because we all are God fearing, country loving, conservative, middle-class American citizens. Hallelujah and pass the cornbread!

It Is None of My Business How You Vote!

When I was a little girl, my parents would drag me with them on Election Day to stand in a long line while they waited to cast their vote. I remember long waits and big crowds on Election Day. I also remember an aura of respect and the whole process being taken very seriously and somewhat shrouded in secrecy. Back in the dinosaur days, before all the technology, my parents would sign their names five or six times in different books and then go into the curtained “room”. The Room was a private place and no one dared speak about what truly happened in The Room. Once when I questioned my parents about The Room, they told me it was a privilege and honor as an American citizen to vote. When I asked if I could go in The Room with them when they conducted this honor and privilege, I was told clearly, no. “When someone goes into The Room, part of the honor and privilege is no one except God can see how you vote. It is a private and personal matter. It is nobody’s business but your own. Also, never ask anyone how they voted; it is rude.” Oh my goodness what happened to the good old days? Every where you go it is, "Who are you voting for?" or "Are you going to vote this year?"

I remember very well turning eighteen and my parents insisting I register to vote. When I received my official voter’s registration card in the mail, I signed my name and placed the card in my wallet. I still carry that card with me.

When Big C turned eighteen in April, what do you thing I encouraged him to do? Register to vote and because he is a young man and it is the law, register for the selective service. It was tough watching him sign that paper! Big C was allowed to vote for the first time in the August primaries and it will be mine and MDH’s honor and privilege to go with him to vote in November. How will he vote? That is none of my business. How do I think he will vote? That would be none of your business.

Thanks for reading, Rosie.