E is for ??

E is for ??

Here we go again. My brain is Empty of any good ideas for an E post. The reason for this is an Empty word file. I was working on a many page questionnaire, with hard questions, that is Expected on Monday for work. And it is no longer in Existence.  It was just about done when the document Evaporated.  The file was Empty.  I looked in Every place I could think of, but it was Evading me. It was time to Exit that project and come back to it tomorrow.

Next up--my blog post for E. That's when I Encountered my Empty of any good ideas brain. Oh, I had ideas, but they would rattle around in my brain and leave as quickly as they came before Establishing themselves. All of my mental Energy had been used up on the Easier-said-than-done work Escapade.

So below is my official E post. E is for Exposures.

E is for Eye Doctor

E is for Christmas Eve.

E is for Elephant.

E is for Easter Basket

E is for Evening Star (Venus). See the little dot to the left of the moon?

See you tomorrow for a Fantastic post. I hope.

D is for Determination

D is for Determination

Well, I'm only on the fourth day and I've hit the wall. Meaning I'm really tired and don't seem to have the mental energy to compose a coherent post. But I am determined to meet the challenge of a post a day, so here it goes. Random thoughts.

D is for Dirt

Sifting rocks out of soil

My seventh grade science teacher, Mr. Westfall, made a clear distinction between the words, dirt and soil. He said dirt is what is in your house and soil is what is in the ground. Later I learned more specifically that the difference between dirt and soil is that soil contains living organisms and dirt doesn't. So has understanding this difference resulted in me using the words more specifically? Sometimes, when I think about it. However, I still dig in the dirt and my clothes are sometimes soiled. Do you make a distinction between dirt and soil?

D is for The Dry by Jane Harper
The Dry is a novel that takes place in a small town in Australia amidst the worst drought in a century. There has been an apparent murder-suicide that brings back Aaron Falk, 20 years after he left, for the funeral of a boyhood friend. Upon the urging of the father of one the victims, Falk stays to investigate the deaths to see if everything is as it seems on the surface. Of course, it's not and events from years ago slowly come to light that tie into the recent deaths.

We read this book in my book club upon my recommendation even though I hadn't actually read the book before I suggested it. It was a book that I had been meaning to get to because a couple of friends had told me how good it was. The Dry did not disappoint. It was well written with a good story. While it was not a thriller, I would call it a page turner. More than one person in the club was compelled to finish the book in one sitting after they started it. (Not me. I can't sit still long enough to read a novel in one sitting.) So if you're looking for something to read for just the pleasure of reading a good book, I recommend The Dry.

D is for Done
Well, that's it for today. My blog well is dry. We'll see if I have any more time or energy for tomorrow's post, E is for...

C is for Crocus

C is for Crocus and

and Verse Composition 

(otherwise know as a poem)

I love crocuses. They are the first bright color in my yard each year and they always make me smile. Over the past two falls, I've planted a few bulbs here and there at my new house, so I could continue to enjoy these cheery reminders of spring. I will plant more this fall because I love the surprise of seeing the pop of their color.

Here's what I've seen this spring.

In addition to April being A-Z Challenge month, it is also National Poetry Month. So to celebrate that, below is a poem (verse compostion) about crocuses.

The Crocuses

by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, 1825-1911

They heard the South wind sighing 

 A murmur of the rain; 

And they knew that Earth was longing 

 To see them all again. 

While the snow-drops still were sleeping 

Beneath the silent sod; 

They felt their new life pulsing 

 Within the dark, cold clod. 

Not a daffodil nor daisy 

 Had dared to raise its head; 

Not a fairhaired dandelion 

 Peeped timid from its bed;

Though a tremor of the winter 

 Did shivering through them run; 

Yet they lifted up their foreheads 

 To greet the vernal sun.

 And the sunbeams gave them welcome, 

 As did the morning air— 

And scattered o’er their simple robes 

 Rich tints of beauty rare.

Soon a host of lovely flowers

 From vales and woodland burst; 

But in all that fair procession 

The crocuses were first.

First to weave for Earth a chaplet 

 To crown her dear old head; 

And to beauty the pathway 

Where winter still did tread.

And their loved and white haired mother 

 Smiled sweetly ’neath the touch, 

When she knew her faithful children 

 Were loving her so much. 

Credit: This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on September 9, 2018, by the Academy of American Poets.

B is for Blue Apron

B is for Blue Apron and 

Belated Thankful Sunday

Recently, I had a post titled Wally's Blue Apron Experience. It was a post about the Blue Apron meal service that my son, Wally, had received as a gift. However when Lili at Creative Savv saw the title, she thought it was about an actual blue apron that Wally had. You know the kind. One usually made of cloth worn over your clothes to protect them from getting dirty. 

Well, today's post is actually about a blue apron. It's one my mother made for me when I was a little girl. I'm not sure how little but little enough that I was not yet in school. It was gathered with big pockets and tied around my waist. I wore it when I helped my mother.

My favorite thing to do while wearing my apron was to make pies with her. I had my own little pie pan and I made a little pie while she made a big one. Hers was usually an apple pie and mine was usually a tart with a cinnamon and sugar filling. During this time, she taught me how to make pie crust using Crisco and ice water and how to make it turn out nice and flaky every time.

I also wore the apron when I helped to hang out clothes. My father put up a little clothesline just my height and the washcloths were my responsibility. The big pockets of my blue apron held the clothes pins and my mother taught me how to shake the cloths out and hang the corners together.

Recently, we found that little blue apron while we were cleaning out the house that my parents lived in for over 55 years. As with many other things we have found, the blue apron brought back good memories and some ponderings. How did my mother do it? How did she have time to do those things with just me. She had three other kids to worry about and a husband who worked long hours. I know that it would have been a lot faster to do these tasks by herself. But instead, she did them with me and made me feel important.

So for the time I spent in my little blue apron with my mother, I am thankful.

A is for Almost

A is for Almost. 

I'm Almost ready for the A-Z Challege. Almost.

I've been involved in a whirlwind of cleaning out my parents' house getting it ready to sell. Lots of memories, box packing, and dust. Which means A is Also for Allergies!


Back soon. (Mmm... Maybe if I'm still crunched for time B may be for Back Soon.)