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Showing posts from April, 2013

Bloodroot: Not Just a Pretty Weed

bloodroot (ˈblʌdˌruːt)  ---noun    Also called: red puccoon; a North American papaveraceous plant, Sanguinaria canadensis, having a single whitish flower and a fleshy red root that yields a red dye.  ~ World English Dictionary The Ponca Indians of South Dakota and Nebraska used bloodroot as a love charm, rubbing the juice on the palm of a young bachelor. The Micmac Indians (Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, and New Brunswick) used the same plant both as an aphrodisiac and as an abortifacient. ~Daniel E. Moerman, Native American Ethnobotany Many wildflowers which we have transplanted to our gardens are full of magic and charm, while others are full of mystery.  In childhood I absolutely abhorred Bloodroot; it seemed to me a fearsome thing.  I remember well my dismay, it was so pure, so sleek, so innocent of face, yet bleeding at a touch, like a murdered man in the Blood Ordeal. ~ Alice Morse Earle, Old Time Gardens , 1901 Bloodroot contains alkaloids similar to those

Sunday Scripture: Friends

 Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work:  If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!   Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.  But how can one keep warm alone? ~Ecclesiastes 4:9-11

We All Have Bad Days

  There's nothing wrong or evil about having a bad day.   There's everything wrong with making others have to have it... with you.   ~Neil Cavuto

A Time to Mourn

In days past, times of mourning when a loved one passed on was taken seriously.    Widows were expected to wear black (sometimes for four years) and not have any social contacts.  Men wore black coats and black arm bands.  Remember how shocked everyone was in Gone With the Wind when Miss Scarlett danced with Rhett Butler when she was supposed to be in mourning? This photo is from Wikipedia.  It shows Queen Victoria with the five surviving children of her daughter, Princess Alice of the United Kingdom, dressed in mourning clothing for their mother and their sister Princess Marie in early 1879.  We can be assured that those children behaved themselves dressed like that. Mourning rituals have changed in my lifetime.  It seems that today, no one has time to mourn.  We have to get back to our schedules and jobs and routines without a proper mourning period.  I'm not thinking we should go back to the old ways, but we do need to take time to heal after we have suffered a loss.  W

Beauty

  T he beauty of the Earth,  the beauty of the sky, the order of the stars, the sun, the moon....   their very loveliness is their confession of God.  ~Augustine

.....and a Time to Laugh

A woman gets on a bus with her baby. The bus driver says: "That's the ugliest baby that I've ever seen. Ugh!" The woman goes to the rear of the bus and sits down, fuming. She says to a man next to her: "The driver just insulted me!" The man says: "You go right up there and tell him off—go ahead, I'll hold your monkey for you."   Laughing makes us feel better.  In a world where medical miracles happen every day, where DNA has been mapped, where severed appendages can be reattached, researchers can't figure out much about laughing.  We know that laughing stretches muscles and boosts heart rate.  We know that it decreases stress, which improves immunity and our attitudes.  Some say laughing burns more calories than a workout. One of my goals is to laugh out loud every day just because it makes me feel better.  Most days, it is easy with my amusing crowd of peeps.  Then, there are days when particular people can make me laugh until I

A Time to Weep

    No Tears in Heaven (Robert S. Arnold) No tears in heaven no sorrows given All will be glory in that land There'll be no sadness all will be gladness When we shall join that happy band. No tears (in heaven fair) no tears (no tears up there) Sorrow and pain will all have blown No tears (in heaven fair) no tears (no tears up there) No tears in heaven will be known. Glory is waiting waiting up yonder Where we shall spend an endless day There with our Saviour we'll be forever Where no more sorrow can dismay. No tears (in heaven fair) no tears (no tears up there) Sorrow and pain will all have blown No tears (in heaven fair) no tears (no tears up there) No tears in heaven will be known. No tears in heaven will be known... Everyone knew each other in small communities, and it was always a great sadness when someone passed on.  Almost everyone turned out for the funeral.  The little church house had no elaborate sound system to pipe peaceful music to those who ha

Sunday Scripture: Peace

 Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace, be still!” And the wind ceased and there was a great calm. ~Mark 4:39 Only Christ Himself, who slept in the boat in the storm and then spoke calm to the wind and waves, can stand beside us when we are in a panic and say to us Peace.   It will not be explainable.  It transcends human understanding.  And there is nothing else like it in the whole wide world.  ~Elisabeth Elliot

Sundown

I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for g oing out, I found, was really g oing in.                                                                ~ John Muir

A View from the Bluff

Remember the Garden Tour from last Saturday? Two of the gardens were at homes on the bluff in Sheffield. I have always wanted to go there, so this gave me the perfect opportunity to see it up close and personal. Two homes, side by side, opened up their gardens to us.  Their gardens were well tended, planned, and beautifully landscaped. But the view was fantastic!  It would have been worth it without any plants or blooms.     North Alabama is so beautiful.  Sometimes, we get busy and forget to look at all the beauty around us.  This is an excellent time to slow down and open your eyes.  We are blessed, indeed!

...and a Time to Build

*Photo from Wikipedia The first thing she does after that long flight across the Gulf of Mexico and many miles of land is eat all she can find.  Then, she finds her a fella, because she has her heart set on having some babies. During the time her eggs are growing inside her, she builds a house. Hummingbird nests are extremely hard to spot, because the mother disguises them so well.  She has to find a forked branch that will support and shelter the nest and keep it away from snakes.  She builds her nest in a shaded spot away from the hot sun that could ruin her eggs.  The nest is small, about the size of half a walnut, and usually camouflaged so well that we could look directly at it and not recognize what it is. I held a hummingbird in my hand once, and was shocked at how little they weigh.  A hummingbird expert told me that most weigh about the same as three pennies.  Their brain in roughly 4 percent of their body weight, and I'm having trouble imagining how small that is.

Bread and Beauty

E verybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in,  where Nature may heal and cheer and give strength to body and soul alike.    - John Muir, The Yosemite, 1912

Garden Tour

On Saturday, a friend and I went to eight different gardens that were part of the Shoals garden tour.  The gardens were all special, each in its own way. It is totally amazing to me that some of the gardens were in small backyards, but designed to twist and turn and appear much larger that they really are.   Some had wooden fences around the garden, and it was like stepping into another world when you went through the gate. Because spring was late getting here, some of the plants were not bloomed out as much as they usually are at this time.  One garden owner graciously invited us to return when the roses were in full bloom. I made lots of pictures, and you will probably see all of them eventually, but I'm not going to overwhelm you with all of them   today.  The whole day was perfect, and I don't know when I have had that much fun for $5.   I always leave with great ideas, and hope my brain retains them until I can get some things done.  One gardener told

Civil War Story: D.W. Whittle

Does everyone remember this old song from the Baptist hymnal? Yesterday, I heard the story behind it, and wanted to share it with y'all.  I Know Whom I Have Believed Text: Daniel W. Whittle Music: James McGranahan Tune: EL NATHAN, Meter: CM with Refrain 1. I know not why God's wondrous grace to me he hath made known, nor why, unworthy, Christ in love redeemed me for his own. Refrain: But I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I've committed unto him against that day. 2. I know not how this saving faith to me he did impart, nor how believing in his word wrought peace within my heart. (Refrain) 3. I know not how the Spirit moves, convincing us of sin, revealing Jesus through the word, creating faith in him. (Refrain) 4. I know not when my Lord may come, at night or noonday fair, nor if I walk the vale with him, or meet him in the air. (Refrain) Conversion of Major

Sunday Scripture: Good Shepherd

God , the Master, says:         From now on, I myself am the shepherd. I’m going looking for them. As shepherds go after their flocks when they get scattered, I’m going after my sheep.          I’ll rescue them from all the places they’ve been scattered to in the storms. I’ll bring them back from foreign peoples, gather them from foreign countries, and bring them back to their home country.          I’ll feed them on the mountains of Israel, along the streams, among their own people. I’ll lead them into lush pasture so they can roam the mountain pastures of Israel, graze at leisure, feed in the rich pastures on the mountains of Israel.           And I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep. I myself will make sure they get plenty of rest. I’ll go after the lost, I’ll collect the strays, I’ll doctor the injured, I’ll build up the weak ones and oversee the strong ones so they’re not exploited.                                                               ~Ezekiel 34:11-16 Messa

Small Things

Is it so small a thing         to have enjoyed sun,     to have lived light in the spring,   to have loved,   to have thought,     to have done?     ~Matthew Arnold

Plowing with Mules

I was still a little girl when my daddy quit farming and got a job in town.  It has been more than fifty years, but I can still remember him plowing with mules.  I wish I had a picture of him with working with mules, but I don't.  This one that appeared on Facebook last week from an unknown photographer looks a lot like him, although Daddy never used more than two mules. I remember opening the barnyard gate for Daddy and the team of mules to come in after the work was done. I remember the smell of sweat and dust and exhaustion on them as they waited to be fed.  A fine team of mules was something to be treasured then, although some people in the community had already been able to purchase a tractor.  Daddy loved his mules, and together, they grew a lot of food.  The calendar pages kept turning and so did our world.  Buying and using a tiller is much more efficient and easier than housing and feeding work animals all year.  Still, it makes me a little sad that our grandchildre

Spring in a Red Dress

  Here comes spring, all dressed up in red and yellow. See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come  the cooing of doves is heard in our land. ~Song of Solomon 2:11-12

Colors on Campus

I had time for a nice walk during my lunch break yesterday.  Things have really changed on campus this week.  We are lookin' good!   This is just part of the campus.  My bad knee started screaming, so I had to cut the walk short. I have worked in some places that wasn't this beautiful.      Sorry, no photos of all the pollen-coated cars in the parking lots.  At times, the pollen was stirring like tiny green snowflakes.  You can't have all this beauty without pollen; it is the way of life. Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night. ~Rainer Maria Rilke