Water for Elephants

This past week, the extremely hot temperatures that have been plaguing so many other places finally came here, with highs of 105 and 106 degrees.

Keeping the garden watered has been a daily necessity.  Not only for the flowers, but for all of the birds and insects (and a dog or two) seeking refreshment and relief from the heat.

From conventional bird baths and an assortment of other containers…

To a salvaged toilet tank lid, circa 1940…

There is water for all creatures, great and small.

Pachyderms welcome.

Happy Wednesday, my dear readers!  Has it been extremely hot where you are? 

The Savvy Traveler

On her first trip to Paris in June, 1927, Clara treated herself to the Tarte Tatin at Polidor.  When the waiter-a mustachioed fellow wearing the longest white apron Clara had ever seen-inquired as to how Clara found the dish to be, Clara, eager to try out her French replied, "Ma valise a un oeil de verre!" (My suitcase has a glass eye!)

Perhaps those extra French lessons would have been a good idea.

 

 

New in my shop!  Another little boxy zipper pouch, made from the most alluring retro mint green barkcloth and lined in a shockingly colorful circle print.  And for dessert? A snappy blue and white striped anchor zipper pull.

Great for travel.  French lessons optional.

Saturday Silliness

Here, dear readers, is something funny to watch.  Enjoy!

Catching Up

I’ve neglected my blog a bit this week because I was overjoyed to have my dear parents come for a visit to help celebrate the 4th of July with us.  Since fireworks are banned here in this town like so many other towns, I thought some floating candles would provide some night time sparkle.  I had one of those “light bulb” moments last Monday when it occurred to me to take an old galvanized tub, fill it with water, and then float some candles in it.  Since I did not have any proper floating candles, I asked my husband to make me some little candle rafts, which he did out of some scraps of cedar.  Not only was the finished result pretty, but fragrant too!

 

This lily is the current highlight of the garden.  A few years ago Amy rescued it after she found it set out by the side of the road.  Dried up and mostly brown, I was skeptical that it would survive, but Amy carefully planted and tended it, and now-all I can say is wow!  It’s stunning-and every bit as ah inspiring as any fireworks display!

 

This is the book I’m currently reading and I can hardly put it down!

How was your week?

Where the Heart Belongs

 

Water water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.

Tipping her head back, she drained the last bit of  Coca-Cola from the slim green bottle she held in her right hand.  She could picture her mother’s face, grimacing at the sight.  It wasn’t lady like, her mother would chastise her.  That’s what the straw is for, Nora!  But the paper always stuck to her lip.  Wiggling  her toes deeper  into the sand, she took pleasure in the cooler grains buried a few inches beneath the hotter, top layer.  This is the life, she mused.  Stretched out  in the sun on a comfortable barkcloth clad chaise lounge, and dressed daringly in her new strapless orange one piece, she’d spent the last two hours mostly dozing and dreaming, while palm trees and blue waves swayed and danced behind her closed eyes.

Her heart sank.  A breeze was picking up, though trying to be playful.  Kissing her cheeks, and lifting her bangs impishly off of her forehead. Shuffling the pages of the book she’d only half heartedly been reading.   And the sun, as though suddenly gripped by a fit of regret over its own daring attire, was covering itself up with clouds.  She shivered and reached for her polka dotted beach towel, draping its warmth around her shoulders as the first drop of rain splashed off the end of her nose.

Reluctantly vacating the soft cushions of her chair, she stood and gathered her book and empty bottle, and slipped into her sandals.  Facing reality from the roof of her apartment building, she was reminded once again that palm trees and blue waves were a long, long ways away.

Water water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.

Just not here.

She pushed the dishpan, full of sand, under the chaise lounge.

****************

Sand.  Word limit is 450.

Artistic Expression

It was a conversation I had with our realtor/former elementary school principal Rod about 5 years ago-one I will never forget.  And it went something like this:

Hi Valerie, it’s Rod.

Hey Rod!  What’s up?

Well I have someone interested in looking at your house…

(Train whistle sound in background.)

Oh my gosh!  Oh My Gosh!!  The train!  It’s coming right at me!  Help!!!  Help!!!

(Silence.  And then snorts of laughter.)

As it turns out, Rod, who once presided over a school assembly dressed as his own wife, was much better at  humor than selling homes…

 

I live in a town where both day and night, trains rumble by just a few blocks beyond Main Street.  I’ve gotten so used to the sounds of their whistles blowing, that I usually don’t really notice them.

The other night though, I couldn’t sleep, and around 3 am, I heard the familiar blasts of a train whistle. At intersections, train engineers usually blow their whistles in the same pattern. Long.  Long.  Short.  Long.  Morse code for the letter Q. 

What’s the story behind the letter Q? When the ship carrying the Queen of England would come into harbor, it sounded the letter Q to let other ships know it should be given the right of way because the queen was on board. Trains went on to adopt this same signal as a warning to yield the right of way.

This particular train engineer had a flair for the dramatic.  He varied the lengths of the long and short whistle blasts at each intersection, until finally leaving town with and his final Q.

Long.  Long.  Short.  Looooooooooooooooooooooooooooong. 

I didn't think he would ever stop! 

I’m glad this guy was having fun with his job, and I’m glad I was awake to hear his performance.  But I had to wonder.  Does Rod have a new job now?

My latest concoction, the day tripper backpack done up in a lovely tan and red hibiscus barkcloth.  Might I modestly add that I think it’s pretty Long.  Short.  Long.  Short?  

(Make that C for cute!)

Happy Monday, my Dears !

A Birthday

My Uncle Pete was born on July 1, 1914-and if he were still alive he would be 98 today.

I’m thankful to have several pictures of him as a boy-interesting not only because I am his niece, but also for a glimpse into the way the world was back then.

Pete around the age of three.

 

Pete with his older brother Carl, circa 1918.

 

The least I can do today is to have a piece of cake in his honor…

Happy Birthday Pete!