Princess Pics

Here are some fun portraits I had taken of my last little Princess -- Kaley.

first frost at the cabin

I looked out at the pumpkin by my front door last week and saw it sprinkled with a wispy snow. It reminded me of this poem whose colorful language sounds so like the Appalachian region of East Tennessee. When we lived in Alabama, one of our favorite autumn events was "Homestead Hollow," a small, harvest festival held on an old country homestead. There were crafters' booths, a petting zoo, food vendors, and hot spiced cider. You could walk through the homestead grounds and there were people making soap, working with bees, and playing banjos and guitars. In the kitchen, there was all manner of dried fruits hanging from the rafters that had been prepared for the winter days. This poem "puts me in the mind" of a mountain family with their cabin full of summer's bounty gazing at the first drift of snow outside the window. Kind-of makes you want to sit in a pine rocker beside a rustic fireplace.

"When the Frost is on the Punkin"
(James Whitcomb Riley. 1853–1916)

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 their 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.

rainy day

" Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby."

Langston Hughes

"Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet."

Roger Miller

"Rain is grace; rain is the sky condescending to the earth; without rain, there would be no life." John Updike

I guess you have to be sentimental to enjoy a rainy day. There is something that speaks to the soul when gazing at the monochromatic tones of gray clouds and silver puddles. Watching the dripping beads outside the window inspires quiet tasks and reflective moods. Maybe we will pen a great poem, savor a beloved book, or bake a crock full of scones.

The folks in London and Seattle have learned to adapt and flourish in liquid weather. Maybe that's why these places turn out famous authors and aromatic coffee. They know the value of a rainy day is not in what you can't do, but in what you can.

the cub scout regatta

Last night, Stewart competed in the Raingutter Regatta for his Cub Scout Pack. It was an exciting night. All the boys did so well. You could just feel their budding manhood in every puff of air they blew on the sails of their handbuilt boats. There were fathers standing around, giving advice, watching with pride, agonizing over tipsy sails and slow starts. I wasn't sure how Stewart would do, and I know that sometimes you learn more from losing than winning. What weird emotions motherhood creates in you -- you want them to succeed, but fear they'll not really understand life if they do!

But, whether he happened to get a good position or whatever, he puffed his way to 1st place. I was very proud of him. He competes Saturday in the regional race. He'll need a lot of wind in his sails for that one.

Practice puffing

(no hands allowed in the race)

Getting his trophy

the winner and his stuff

1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winners.

birthdays & bears

Autumn and Kaley have birthdays 2 days apart. We celebrated them separately this year, but they each wanted something from Build-a-Bear. So, they used Grammie's birthday money and had a fun time selecting a bear and clothes to go with it. How wonderful to watch a child cuddle a teddy bear and see the simple joy in her eyes.

Happy Birthday, Autumn

Paying for the bears.

Does this look good?

Choosing the right outfit.

Happy Birthday, Kaley