E ~ Embroidery

     Hand sewing was always a bit painful for me, but I semi patiently sewed buttons on clothes and did the little bit of hand stitching that needed to be done on the inside of shirt cuffs and apron belts.
    But embroidery ... it was its own special kind of torture.
    In some Amish communities proper young ladies were expected to have some kind of embroidery to do when visiting. Most of my cousins on my Dad's (large) side of the family lived in such communities. Therefore Mom thought I too should have something to work on whenever we spent time at each other's homes.
    T'was an awful idea. 
    The floss would knot and snarl. I could not maintain the proper tension on my stitches no mater which ones I tried. Mom introduced me to all kinds of different special stitches, but I enjoyed none of them. 
    My cousins sat there creating beautiful embroidered things. Meanwhile I learned that peroxide removes blood from fabric, and I get a break from embroidering while the fabric dries after being treated with peroxide.
    My cousins homes now have lovely embroidered quilts and pillows in them. Not surprisingly, our home has nothing embroidered in it.

D ~ Dreams

     Most mornings when I wake up I can only remember fragments of my dreams, but occasionally some will stick with me for much longer.
    Such as the dream I had when I was in first grade. It was such a delightful one that I had to share it with my schoolmates while we were eating lunch the next day. Our teacher overheard my story and I got thoroughly scolded for it, but I felt quite unrepentant about dreaming it, or sharing it. Even now when ever I happen to think if it it still gives me a bit of the same thrill it did back then.
    I was out in our garden and spotted a huge red flower that towered above everything else in the garden. I ran into the house and grabbed my favorite little chair and dragged it outside, setting it down next to the flower. I stood on it but it was wobbly as one of the legs was sinking into the dirt. I grabbed onto the flower petals and stretched as much as I could to look inside the flower, and suddenly I was sitting inside the flower, I was looking at everything from my lofty perch when I started moving and I slid down the inside of the flower stem, plopping out into the middle of a beautiful field filled with happy children and all kinds of nice things. 
    Before I could go join them I woke up.

    ~~~~~

Another dream 

    I was driving home. Next to me, in the front seat was an armload of hay. The best hay available; a nice soft, third cutting alfalfa hay. I approached the next road I needed to turn on just as three police cars came speeding up the road. One of them headed up over the steep bank into a field and started driving after a bull. The other two parked across the road to block traffic and keep the bull from getting away. Wanting to get out of harm's way, I grabbed the hay, and ran over to a nearby house where an old family friend was sitting on his front porch. He smiled in welcome as I dashed up the stairs. "I brought your cats a treat," I said and proceeded to fill the cat bowls with handfuls of hay. 
    "They probably don't think it's a treat," he said. 
    Embarrassed at what I had just done I gathered up the hay and started walking across the porch to leave, and then I noticed Grandpa sitting there smiling and watching me. He didn't mention the hay but said, "Mary Ann, do you remember where to find the verse I like so well "'Bless the Lord, o my soul, and forget not all his benefits."'
    "Yes!" I said excited. "It's in Psalms 103." I quoted the first four verses for him and his smile grew bigger as he sat there listening. I couldn't wait to have a nice long talk with him and went to sit next to him.
    And then my alarm clock went off. 

    I don't know why these particular dreams have stuck to me so long, but I still find them interesting.

C ~ Cloud Watching

     As a child, lazy summer afternoons were perfect for lying in the grass and watching the clouds. My brothers and I enjoyed seeing all the different things you could spot in them. 
    

    I still enjoy trying to see things in the clouds. This one appears to me to be a hand reaching for something.

    This next one provided me with a number of different pictures. A taco, the spout and part of a teapot, a man's face with his mouth open, a possible elephant trunk. 

    Apparently I am easily entertained.

B ~ Butterflies

     I have always loved butterflies, and always try to capture a picture of them whenever I happen to see one.

     Among my memories involving butterflies, I have three that stand out above the rest. 

    1. One lovely summer day I was in our backyard when I noticed some movement on one of the tree trunks. Upon investigating I found a butterfly sitting there gently opening and closing its wings. And then I noticed another butterfly emerging from under the loose bark. It was followed by another, then another, I sat on the grass as dozens of brown and blue, flecked with some orange butterflies emerged fanned their wings for a while before fluttering off, some landing on me before they journeyed on. 
    I had never heard of such an event before, and have never seen it happen since, but I treasure the memory of that special day!

    2. One evening our family went on a short drive on a narrow dirt road. At one section it was lined with trees, and the air was filled with dozens of white butterflies. It was one of those moments where everyone fell silent and simply looked at the beauty surrounding us.
    As we continued on our way one of the girls whispered, "That was magical!" I couldn't have summed the experience up better.

    3. Last year LV took me to a Butterfly Conservatory. It was everything and more I had ever thought a place like that would be with hundreds of butterflies flying and posing everywhere. Utterly delightful!

    

A ~ Arrowheads

     Every once in a while when Dad was reminiscing about his childhood he would tell us about how he would roam the bottom fields of  their farm and find arrowheads and beads. 
     He had quite the collection of both, but when he was fifteen they moved and his collection didn't make it.
    It used to be one of my goals while traipsing through our fields and playing at the creek to find some arrowheads to start replacing his long lost collection.
    I never did find any.
    Several years ago some of our history curriculum included a nice handful of new arrowheads.
    We looked at them and then tucked them away.

    I now wish I would have at least sent a few of them to him even though they aren't the real thing.
    I could send them now, but with him being steadily consumed by dementia, I'm afraid it would be unwise.
    And so I simply look at them and try to envision a barefoot little boy roaming the fields of his home searching for arrowheads to add to his treasured collection.