It all began here…

In the old abandoned rose garden

Where once there were nine beautiful rose bushes…growing…thriving…producing gorgeous, fragrant, flowers. And then the weeds set in…they took over. Hubby and I would go round and round about the weeds and what to do with them. He is an avid fan of Round Up, while I prefer to pull the infernal things out by their roots. So, the debate began about what to do with the area in question.

A certain someone (that would be me) came up with the idea of ripping the entire garden out…posts and pickets included…and adding a sleeping porch to the side of the garage. I’ve always loved the idea of having somewhere to escape, from our hot summers, and a sleeping porch seemed the perfect solution. So we ripped out the roses and another year went by.

This year…2013…we decided to host Easter at Brambleberry Cottage and as I looked at the view from my kitchen window I was faced with a 16’x8’ pile of dirt…filled with weeds…still no sleeping porch…”but what about an Arbor covered in grapevines,” I thought to myself? That seemed like a perfect solution…so we began to dream and plan and build.

By Easter we had the posts and cross beams up as well as a pea gravel floor beneath, but no paint and I debated as to whether I wanted to paint at all. What about just leaving the wood as it was. But I, being a girl who LOVES COLOR was not about to paint it white!!! I am so OVER WHITE!!! Now don’t get me wrong because I do enjoy all the varying shades that white has to offer, as long as they’re mixed with texture, texture, texture! But white by itself with just white…no thank you!
God has created so many gorgeous hues, shades, and tints in nature, as well as giving us red and green cones to view all the colors of a rainbow. So why would we want to limit our eyes to just whites?

Well, I can see that I’ve gone off on a little rabbit trail and need to find my way back to what I was thinking. Oh yes! The arbor and color. As you can see I decided to go with green. It’s a lovely shade that my images don’t quite reflect, but I would have to say it’s close to leaf green.

Then I decided to add a back wall to my arbor.
1. To block the view of the ugly cypress trees from my kitchen window, and
2. To add a back drop for the iron bed I bought for the sleeping porch.
The question again…to paint or not to paint? I decided to leave the back natural because I loved the varying knots and grain of the shiplap. The lattice was salvaged from our old garden fence that had fallen to pieces and was hiding behind the garage. Plus, it  just happened to be the perfect size.

Oh! I see another rabbit trail…shall we follow it for a moment? Why yes, I think we shall…
when I went out my front door yesterday morning, to pick these roses, I walked right through a giant spider web. It would seem that this spider has taken up residence in my wisteria because this morning he was there again. Right in the middle of the arched vines. Luckily hubby saw him before he stepped off the porch.

Sometimes, in the cool of the morning, I like to come back here and play my harp. Did you know I had taken up playing the harp? It is the chosen instrument of Angels, Elves, and Faeries so why would I not want to learn how to play it?
I’ve heard it said that the harp is the easiest instrument to pick up and play, but the hardest instrument to master. Me thinks that’s an understatement! Try learning to play the harp, read music, and get your fingering straight all at the same time. It is really difficult…especially when you try to play with your toes…she giggles to herself.

Do you have an instrument you play?

I’ve been staring at this piece for months. It’s a beautiful arrangement by Loreena McKennitt called Bonny Portmore and a difficult piece to learn when you have the tune in your head but not necessarily the notes. But I will learn this piece if it takes me a year…or two…or three.

There is still so much work left to do back here, so until it gets done, I’ll continue to dream and plan and create.

Remnants of my past

Mother’s Day weekend, Twenty-thirteen.
Hubby and I decided to go spend the weekend in Yuma AZ. A place I spent part of my childhood, a place I loathed, a place my mother feels I ran away from. Maybe I did, I don’t really know, but what I do know is that when I was old enough, I got out of Dodge and swore never to return. At some point each of them left too, only to return a short while later and that’s where they are to this day. Rooted deeply into the brown parched ground of the old desert town.

(The old counter where I spent much of my eighth grade, collecting money from clients, and totaling out the books at the end of each day).

When we cross over the muddy green waters of the Colorado, and pull into town, we always make a right onto 1st Street, then pass the old brick house where I once lived. About a mile down the road we make a left onto Avenue B. And that’s where they always greet me…so many forgotten memories flooding back to the forefront of my mind. There, stands the old shop that was once owned by my grandparents and now its sole owner, my papa. It didn’t come to him easily, In fact there was a huge price to be paid. The cost? His own personal dreams, shattered then tucked away in a little box, as the life he planned for his family was altered, and new plans were made by another. But it is finally his and he’s putting his own personal mark on the place, plus he’s cleaning it up at the same time.
My old grand-dad would part with nothing!

There is all manner of interesting objects hanging or propped precariously against the walls and I wonder if one of those objects might contain my papa’s hidden dreams. Does he take them down and sift through them from time to time…wondering what might have been, what could have been, but never was? Does he sometimes wonder, or is he content with the way his life turned out.

In the back yard of the old shop is where the true treasures can be found…

The faint indentations of my childhood memories, reminiscent of the old vehicles deteriorating in the yard.  Riddled with rusting holes and battered by the desert sands. Some of those memories are fond while others of them are not so.
Take this old Ford Vanette for example. I still recall the morning when my papa stopped five blocks from my high school to drop me off. My choice, of course. For what young sophomore wants to be seen driving around in an old Ford Vanette with two 6 foot long  yellow #2 pencils on top? And then the humiliation to follow, that same afternoon in the cafeteria when one of the varsity football players shouted from one end of the room to the other, “Hey, Hilsinger! I saw you get out of that giant bread truck with the yellow pencils on top! Where’d your dad get such a weird truck?” Like Bilbo Baggins used to do when wandering through the woods, I wish I could have reached into my pocket to slip on my magic ring, only to vanish in thin air.

Now I look at this lovely rusted heap and wonder to myself, “how much do you think it would cost to restore the old thing? Would it be worth it? Would it finally be redeemed in the eyes of a young impressionable girl, as something worthy?” Aah, one has to wonder.

Sadly, it has seen better days and most likely will continue to sit there until all hope for it is lost. Funny, but that’s how I felt about living in that dry parched town.

The old Mustang! Now she holds better memories for me. Memories of our family driving along the coast. Singing songs and stopping to buy peanuts from the “Peanut Lady” along the Palos Verdes peninsula. I still remember the day my papa brought her home. He wanted the fast back model, but mom being a little more realistic knew that you couldn’t fit three kids in the back seat of a fast back. “Really, Cloyce Hilsinger, what ever were you thinking?” He did get to drop the car off at Earl Schieb’s and have her painted candy apple red when I was in kindergarten. Now the red has faded and the old copper color is beginning to fade too.

I think hubby was asking himself the same question that I was asking about the old Vanette…”hmm, what would it take to restore this old girl. Would it be worth it?” He once had a Camaro Rally Sport that he called his sweetheart and I for one do not know if I could handle the competition of another lady in his life. Even if she is just a rusted bucket of bolts and rubber hoses “-).

So, we spent a lovely weekend in the old desert town and when it was time to leave,
I realized that I never ran away, I just went back home.

Sense the sorrow untold, as you look down the road
At the clamoring crowd drawing near
Feel the heat of the day, as you look down the way
Hear the shouts of Hosanna the King

Oh, daughter of Zion your time's drawing near
Don't forsake Him, oh don't pass it by
On the foal of a donkey as the prophets had said
Passing by you, He rides on to die

Come now little foal, though your not very old
Come and bear your first burden bravely
Walk so softly upon all the coats and the palms
Bare the One on your back oh so gently

Midst the shouting so loud and the joy of the crowd
There is One who is riding in silence
For He knows the ones here will be fleeing in fear
When their shepherd is taken away

Oh, daughter of Zion your time's drawing near
Don't forsake Him, oh don't pass it by
On the foal of a donkey as the prophets had said
Passing by you, He rides on to die

Soon the thorn cursed ground will bring forth a crown
And this Jesus will seem to be beaten
But He'll conquer alone both the shroud and the stone
And the prophesies will be completed

Oh, daughter of Zion your time's drawing near
Don't forsake Him, oh don't pass it by
On the foal of a donkey as the prophets had said
Passing by you, He rides on to die

Music and Lyrics  by:
Michael Card

image: Book of Hours

All Hail the Chief!

Of course you must know that I’m referring to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords!
The One Who holds the universe in His hands and covers Himself with light as a garment.
The One Who stretched out the heavens as a curtain… It is He to whom I refer.

I was reminded of this scripture last week on a day when we were supposed to have rain. The rain came, along with a pelting wind that drove it against the side of my wee crumbling cottage. But then I noticed something else. Not the gentle sound of rain drops splashing against the windows but something more like rocks being thrown from above.

I peered out the window and saw that my backyard was being covered in tiny white hail.

Streaks of it blanketing everything in its icy coldness.

Usually when it hails, in our little hamlet, it hits the ground only to melt within minutes, but this time it decided to stick around for well over an hour. In all my years of living here I’ve never seen anything quite like it, but then strange things are happening in the heavens and I think stranger things are yet to come.

Today it’s supposed to rain again. So far all we have are gray, dreary skies.
What’s going on in your world?

Bless the Lord, O my soul!

O Lord my God, You are very great:
You are clothed with honor and majesty,
Who cover Yourself with light as with a garment,
Who stretch out the heavens like a curtain.

He lays the beams of His upper chambers in the waters,
Who makes the clouds His chariot,
Who walks on the wings of the wind,
Who makes His angels spirits,
His ministers a flame of fire.

You who laid the foundations of the earth,
So that it should not be moved forever,
You covered it with the deep as with a garment;
The waters stood above the mountains.
At Your rebuke they fled;
At the voice of Your thunder they hastened away.
They went up over the mountains;
They went down into the valleys,
To the place which You founded for them.
You have set a boundary that they may not pass over,
That they may not return to cover the earth.

Psalm 104: 1-9