tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62969666529557033922024-03-12T18:47:45.075-07:00Mimi PearlCarol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-69351952792907618242010-12-23T06:00:00.001-08:002010-12-23T06:48:14.320-08:00Baby, Its Cold -Although a number of singers have recorded <span style="font-weight:bold;">Baby, Its Cold Outside<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span> through the years, I prefer Dean Martin. Guess its my age. When you look at the lyrics, it really isn’t a Christmas song, but you always hear it sung during the holidays and it remains a favorite with me. <br /><br />It sure is cold outside in northwest Tennessee. I promised myself I wouldn’t complain about cold weather this year as our summer was insufferably hot. Only a few short weeks ago there was an article in the newspaper predicting warm weather through February. Well, whoever ventured out onto that limb was terribly mistaken. It is cold outside, and has been for about 3 weeks now. <br /><br />I didn’t see the lunar eclipse this week but I did notice that it was still pretty dark at 7am on Tuesday morning. I read that Tuesday was to be the darkest day the western hemisphere has seen since the 1600’s because the total lunar eclipse coincided with the shortest day of the year, but it seemed like a normal cloudy winter day by the afternoon. I bundled up and spent some time taking pictures in my yard. Of course, everything is barren except for the evergreens but I enjoy the seasonal changes and even see beauty in the plants that have gone dormant for the winter. I fear some of my landscape may be worse off than just dormant due to the severity of the summer, but I’ll deal with that in the spring.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TRNY5PG_5iI/AAAAAAAAACg/xkgkS439yOc/s1600/IMG_0755.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TRNY5PG_5iI/AAAAAAAAACg/xkgkS439yOc/s400/IMG_0755.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553880505809626658" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Oops..... an overlooked Easter egg that had been hidden behind the daylilies!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TRNbjb-c_KI/AAAAAAAAACo/YKQqr1P7E8c/s1600/IMG_0758.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TRNbjb-c_KI/AAAAAAAAACo/YKQqr1P7E8c/s400/IMG_0758.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553883429841206434" <br />/></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I love the looks of dried hydrangea blooms. Should have brought some of these inside.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TRNY4wsTSKI/AAAAAAAAACY/xIWriZVwpcM/s1600/IMG_0777.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TRNY4wsTSKI/AAAAAAAAACY/xIWriZVwpcM/s400/IMG_0777.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553880497644587170" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />These are the dried pods on a crepe myrtle. Crepe myrtles are beautiful here in the summertime, but the bark and these dried pods are beautiful in the winter.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TRNfY2lvfyI/AAAAAAAAACw/SN-HEKpPCk0/s1600/IMG_0774.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TRNfY2lvfyI/AAAAAAAAACw/SN-HEKpPCk0/s400/IMG_0774.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553887646053269282" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This is a dried Oak Leaf Hydrangea bloom. I guess that Oak Leaf Hydrangea bush is about 15 years old. I am very partial to it.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />For the past couple of mornings the weatherman has been telling us that we stand a good chance of having a white Christmas. Oh, I hope so! That is rare in my neck of the woods, and this year will be special for more than one reason. I have a special gift to give and I’m as excited as I hope the recipient will be. Stay tuned.Mimi Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03959516572053406129noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-53208092842437375932010-12-16T15:18:00.000-08:002010-12-16T15:31:57.929-08:00Special Gifts<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TQqfVf0eygI/AAAAAAAAABQ/_Lq5lqF64vM/s1600/IMG_0331.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TQqfVf0eygI/AAAAAAAAABQ/_Lq5lqF64vM/s400/IMG_0331.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551424682355247618" /></a><br />Like everyone else, I’m doing a little Christmas shopping. This year has been more fun than usual. Some of my unique finds have proved to be items made by artisans. I have a sweet friend who has opened a glass studio in our little town. Missy is not originally from Dyersburg but moved here as a newlywed. She is a farmer’s wife and mother of 2 fine sons. She was a stay-at-home mom, and for those of you who don’t know about it - being a stay-at-home mom and farmer’s wife is a full-time job. After she got her boys raised, she got involved in an interesting hobby, and it turns out that she has a lot of talent in her chosen field. Missy’s skill as a glass artist has progressed rapidly. The earrings pictured are only one example of her work, and they make wonderful gifts. I hope she’ll either start a website, blog, or Etsy shop before long. MH loves glass so she is working on something special for him. He is hard to buy for, and even harder to surprise.<br /><br />Another artisan whose work has been of great interest to me is Beth Stone. Although I have never met Beth, I grew up with her mother. Beth is an accomplished artist in a variety of mediums. I have had my eye on some of her paintings, but when I visited her blog today and then followed it to her Etsy shop, I saw some jewelry I LOVE. The pricing is very reasonable and it pleases me to be able to give gifts like these. And it pleases me to own pieces like this also. I’ll be ordering right away and hope for delivery in time for Christmas. To see some of Beth’s work, visit:<br /><a href="http://bethstonestudio.blogspot.com">http://bethstonestudio.blogspot.com</a><br /><br />Although Christmas is not quite here, I’ve already received a beautiful gift. My very closest friend gave me a Christmas gift that she bought for me last June. As I’ve shared with you before, my friend, Kaye, is a book buyer. When she was buying for the bookstore last spring, she spotted a book she knew I’d love. She presented me with the book this week and I’ve poured over it ever since. If you’ve visited my blog - even irregularly, it will come as no surprise to you that I am positively enamored with this book because I am so passionate about the value of libraries. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TQqgXwYcBpI/AAAAAAAAABY/VZvcKxTqNhA/s1600/IMG_0484.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TQqgXwYcBpI/AAAAAAAAABY/VZvcKxTqNhA/s400/IMG_0484.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551425820672394898" /></a><br />Sure would like to visit all of these libraries, but owning the book allows me a privilege I would not otherwise have. Thank you so much, Kaye. I love my book.Mimi Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03959516572053406129noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-46316698731285253302010-12-14T19:35:00.000-08:002010-12-14T20:01:19.268-08:00Squirt Alert! Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TQg5CR3OMbI/AAAAAAAAABA/L5nyZtTuuMw/s1600/IMG_0313.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TQg5CR3OMbI/AAAAAAAAABA/L5nyZtTuuMw/s400/IMG_0313.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550749252051677618" /></a><br />Squirt has taken to waking up at about 4:30 am. He trots into our room and comes near me and shakes off. You’d have to be deaf not to hear it. Sometimes I think I’d like to ignore it, but I know he rises early for a reason; and I have a pretty good idea I’d regret not getting up to let him outside. It has been so cold the past few days, I haven’t had to worry about him running after trespassers. He goes on his mission and returns to the back door very quickly.<br /><br />Once Squirt is up, he is up. And then we are up. The Memphis news is on by 5am and one of the first things they report is the anticipated weather. This morning the weatherman said that we may have freezing rain and sleet tomorrow. It snowed early this past Sunday morning. Where am I? This is not West Tennessee weather. By 6:30 or so the sun is beginning to come up and when I saw today’s early morning sky, I could only think “cloudy and a chance of meatballs”. The title of the popular children’s book and movie is appropriate for more than one reason. The clouds look like we really can expect something - and with all the Christmas food we’ll soon be eating.... well, what can I say? Meatballs won’t be falling from the sky, but there will be no shortage of food over the next couple of weeks.<br /><br />And as for Squirt? Most of his day will be spent taking an extended power nap.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TQg9aj3eLjI/AAAAAAAAABI/tdUh_Mne50U/s1600/P2120009.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TQg9aj3eLjI/AAAAAAAAABI/tdUh_Mne50U/s400/P2120009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550754067247935026" /></a><br /><br />And the Mimi Pearl alert is this - my teaching schedule:<br />Beth’s Heirloom Sewing in Wetumpka, AL - Jan. 21 and 22<br />Children’s Corner School - February 4 and 5<br />Stitchin’ Post in Little Rock, AR - March 11 and 12<br /><br />You may contact any of the above shops for more details.Mimi Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03959516572053406129noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-42799533102946736732010-12-11T17:20:00.000-08:002010-12-11T18:54:43.339-08:00Playing Catch-Up<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TQQoYLXA8RI/AAAAAAAAAAY/IeQWIssyA6Q/s1600/IMG_0259.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TQQoYLXA8RI/AAAAAAAAAAY/IeQWIssyA6Q/s400/IMG_0259.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549605036658585874" /></a><br />I guess it is time I did a little catching up on this blog because I’m getting private e-mails from friends wondering if I’m OK. I am doing just fine, although I have been very busy. Maybe after the holidays I’ll be a little more conscientious about keeping up with posts.<br /><br />The busy-ness of the holidays and my ongoing library work doesn’t include the computer catastrophe that has taken a toll on my available time, not to mention my disposition, over the past few weeks. I’ve been having a hankering for a desktop computer with a big screen, so I bought one. Instead of being smart and moving my data from the old computer to the new one on my own, I purchased the service as an “add-on”. In my case, this move proved to be a big mistake. Don’t ever leave your computer in the hands of someone you don’t know. Computer sales people and technicians come and go from all the stores that sell computers, and it would be undeniably impossible for a store to know if all the people they hire are honest. The individual who was to do my data transfer called me and said that my old laptop computer crashed before the move was complete. When I went to pick up the old laptop and the new desktop, this young man told me that my old laptop was junk, worthless, crashed, and would never be of any value except for scrap. I was in Memphis, it was late afternoon, and I was totally worn out and wanting to come home, so I swallowed his story about how I should be a good steward of the environment and allow him to send the “scrap heap” back to the factory for recycling. When I got home and started trying to set up the new computer, I immediately had big problems with the portion of data that did get loaded onto the new computer so I called the customer service number listed on the website of the manufacturer. As the customer service person on the other end of the line began to hear my story, he broke the news to me that this recycling business was not at all in line with the company’s policies. He advised me that I should never have left my computer behind. So..... I made MH (who can be quite scary) go with me the next day to reclaim the old computer. When I got back home with the old computer I discovered that it had not crashed at all. It booted right up. My name was still on it. The newest operating system had been installed, as well as a copy of Microsoft Works, which I had never had on my computer before. Well, all of this begged a whole new set of worries. Everything about me was on that old computer - my address, my social security number, my credit card info, and on and on. Sadly, most of my library documents did not make the move and had been deleted. I don’t know what the would-be thief’s intentions were, but I’m guessing he was about to pocket a little cash on the sale of a used laptop. Besides losing a lot of valuable data, I was forced to assume that my identity was compromised. The damage control for possible identity theft just goes on and on. So, folks - I’ve been a very busy and inconvenienced woman.<br /><br />On the bright side of things..... we had a near perfect Thanksgiving and I am having a good time getting ready for Christmas. I like Christmas trees and since I am not a spring chicken, I have accumulated many ornaments over the years. I’ve got 3 decorated trees. My favorite is the one that is decorated with miniature toy ornaments and strands of colored lights.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TQQqeXaz-HI/AAAAAAAAAAo/iKXG4nfRy30/s1600/IMG_0214.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TQQqeXaz-HI/AAAAAAAAAAo/iKXG4nfRy30/s400/IMG_0214.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549607341998209138" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e)href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TQQqd2oLGMI/AAAAAAAAAAg/Xzs3PXpMHOE/s1600/IMG_0194.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TQQqd2oLGMI/AAAAAAAAAAg/Xzs3PXpMHOE/s400/IMG_0194.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549607333195880642" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TQQxMWZp9SI/AAAAAAAAAA4/pZnTOLzpVRY/s1600/IMG_0178.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TQQxMWZp9SI/AAAAAAAAAA4/pZnTOLzpVRY/s400/IMG_0178.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549614729068672290" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e)href=" com="" _yen9oxj6ruw="" tqqxmdhsaui="" aaaaaaaaaaw="" ructlyuyesy="" s1600=""><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yeN9OxJ6Ruw/TQQxMDhSaUI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ructLYUyesY/s400/IMG_0218.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549614724000409922" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I was honored to be asked to serve as the Grand Marshal for Dyersburg’s 60th Annual Christmas parade. I thought it quite the coincidence that Dyersburg’s parade tradition began the year I was born. I was never a beauty queen so this was my first ride on the back of a convertible, but being a beauty queen in adolescence could never have competed with the joy of having my grandchildren share this experience. This is a link to the photo that appeared in the local newspaper: <a href="http://www.stategazette.com/story/1684590/photo/1412906.html">http://www.stategazette.com/story/1684590/photo/1412906.html</a><br />It was mighty cold that night, but the grandchildren had a wonderful time. MH nearly froze as he had not anticipated riding with us and was not warmly dressed. He only relented because the grandchildren begged him to go along. He said it was the middle of the night before his feet thawed out. My talented and creative friend, Dianne, made an adorable float to represent our library and our fundraising campaign. It was a huge pig wearing a headband of antlers decorated with bright multicolored lights. The library float won 2nd place this year. I guess they hated to give us 1st place again since we won 1st place last year. Dianne is a lady of strength, courage, determination, and fortitude. She was undergoing chemo for ovarian cancer while she made that float. She worked alone because her blood count was very low and her susceptibility to infection was very high. Her chemo is finally over, her scans are clear, and we are all celebrating. Since I was busy riding in the parade, I did not get a photo of the library float. If I can find someone who took a picture of it, I’ll share in a later post. It was adorable.Mimi Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03959516572053406129noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-18003677730624639782010-10-31T22:07:00.000-07:002010-10-31T22:11:48.926-07:00The Long SilenceA person once told me they went through times when they just couldn’t “utter”. So that is the expression I often use when I can’t talk or write. In reality, the inability to utter is extremely rare for me. But lately, I’ve been “unable to utter”. Maybe it is what they call “writer’s block”, maybe it is “mental block”, or maybe it is turning 60 (which I did yesterday). <br /><br />For my birthday MH took me to Memphis shopping and out to dinner. I hate to make him the butt of a joke but I just can’t resist telling a funny story on him. We pulled up to park in front of the restaurant and he started looking for his wallet which he keeps in the console between the front seats. Well, the wallet wasn’t in there. He looked in the floorboard and between the seats. Then he took everything out of the console and looked again. By this time he was getting in a panic. I started in by advising him to think of the last place he’d had it and then think of the places he’d been since, which he did. The place he’d been since he’d last had his hand on the wallet was the dry cleaners. So..... he called the dry cleaners and told them he’d lost his wallet and was betting he’d left it in a pocket of a pair of pants he’d left there. Well, MH has gotten a nasty cold and his voice was deep and gruff. To add to that, he is a bit hard of hearing so he is a little on the loud side when speaking on the phone. In fact, sometimes I wonder if he really needs the phone to communicate. The deep, gruff, loud voice made him sound a little on the scary side I thought. The manager at the dry cleaners is a young fellow and he said they had surveillance cameras and he would search through the video to observe everything that went on from the time MH entered the store until he left. I could tell that the young manager was a little on the nervous side. After MH got off the phone, we got out of the car. And I’ll give you 3 guesses where the wallet was. Yep, it was in his back pocket. This was a relief to him, but it was a bit distressing at the same time. He looked me in the eye and said, “Sorry, but that young fellow is going to have to work for his pay today. I’m not about to call him and tell him where I found my wallet.” I tried to shame him, but to no avail. Sure enough, in just a little while the manager called and broke the news that the wallet had not been seen in the surveillance video. He went on at length about how they turn all the trouser pockets inside out and this is captured on the video. The poor fellow went on to suggest how MH might have lost the wallet in the car. MH was very nice, thanked him for his efforts, and assured him he’d take his advice about searching every nook and cranny in the car.<br /><br />I would be laughing even harder except I lost a blank check the day before. I tore a check out of my checkbook and put it in my little evening bag before attending a fundraising banquet. When I got ready to make my contribution, the check was nowhere to be found. Thank goodness, the blank check was found by some very honest people during the clean-up after the banquet. Today MH and I pulled out our long-term care insurance policy to see about our coverage. We are wondering if we need to get our names on the list of the best assisted living facility we can afford. <br /><br />Due to the flurry of work related to the library, I’ve had little time for taking pictures. And with the drought we’ve experienced , the fall foliage has been less than spectacular. Isn’t it ironic to have ended up with a serious drought after such a devastating flood! I did go outside for a few minutes yesterday morning and spotted this gray hairstreak butterfly on a pot of white mums. Because of the lack of color contrast, the stillness of the butterfly, and the small size of this specimen, I almost missed it. I just can’t post a blog without a photo of some sort. Maybe I’ll find something a little more enticing tomorrow. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsGi2uhi7riZEi7Ut9fzPFBpnCc8xWdJa0yJx7tQVY1HGM7bJgVYVa_vA5oheDf-UHZdBBGJHVmzty84dg5uYEG9HGnaQxCLUe3Jissfgd6UG_yxzetm9EDl1S4KOUw4xwCjmgJMLx1gM/s1600/IMG_9766.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsGi2uhi7riZEi7Ut9fzPFBpnCc8xWdJa0yJx7tQVY1HGM7bJgVYVa_vA5oheDf-UHZdBBGJHVmzty84dg5uYEG9HGnaQxCLUe3Jissfgd6UG_yxzetm9EDl1S4KOUw4xwCjmgJMLx1gM/s400/IMG_9766.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534444428656342402" /></a>Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-85919212012525745332010-10-11T18:40:00.000-07:002010-10-11T19:49:46.388-07:00Secretariat<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglyJk-ebDwStF9Bc7JTn3aQfQ57sCIv5fjhy26TLImHM51J2O2iwa-GmqX3YM32nKgNPYk968pFHs44CV_nyiI0Y3r4VxgPenGCchhJqFQHxHVbT8yoh-7Q9kbVCcW-aeoFQE1eMnfTPQ/s1600/IMG_9566.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglyJk-ebDwStF9Bc7JTn3aQfQ57sCIv5fjhy26TLImHM51J2O2iwa-GmqX3YM32nKgNPYk968pFHs44CV_nyiI0Y3r4VxgPenGCchhJqFQHxHVbT8yoh-7Q9kbVCcW-aeoFQE1eMnfTPQ/s400/IMG_9566.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526977156914504290" /></a><br /><br />Since I wanted to write about the movie <span style="font-weight:bold;">Secretariat<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span> tonight, I thought I needed some kind of picture. We do have a few horses on the farm and I thought Cara bore a bit of resemblance to Secretariat, so here you see her eye. In fact, if you go see the movie, you’ll see some close-up shots of the horse’s eye.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Everyone has vivid memories of certain events, and the day Secretariat won the Kentucky Derby is one of mine. I was a young mother working part-time at a bank. All of the girls in bookkeeping and a few of the tellers were into a little gaming. I don’t remember exactly how we handled our betting but the limit was a small amount of money. For one thing, none of us had more than a few dollars to put into something like that. We did our betting on Friday afternoon and the plan was to settle up on Monday. My money was on Secretariat and I loved the sound of his name. I had never paid a bit of attention to a horse race before but I’ve rarely missed watching The Run for the Roses since his win in 1973. Of course, going on to see him win the Triple Crown really turned me into a fan of horse racing, although I’ve never been one to bet much.<br />I’ve never been to a Kentucky Derby. In fact, I’ve never been to Churchill Downs; but MH and I have been to Keeneland in Lexington, KY a few times. We have a friend who has owned a few race horses in his time so he always got us a great spot to watch the races. Our friend has retired from the horse business and we haven’t been to Lexington in a long time, but I count those times as some of our more enjoyable trips. The bluegrass country in Kentucky is beautiful and worth the trip even if you don’t go to the races. We also love antiques and we’ve bought some of our best pieces in the Lexington and Louisville area.<br />We loved the movie <span style="font-weight:bold;">Seabiscuit<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span> but we were really excited that there was a movie in the works for Secretariat. I have been marking the days like a woman in jail until the movie came out. Yesterday afternoon we went to see it and it is truly one of the best movies we’ve been to in years. Don’t miss it! I don’t think it would matter whether or not you care a bit about horse racing. It is a great movie.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg50dcaltb9Pu4tUZnaNh2eCqTn34bdTtA-2mQuCcBcHiFQRy-CHSz_5ER4ezG9B0Cc9IzZ0Ly7iScT_W0qwPhQMV60BnyVvXGDoAhyphenhyphenEFOgrLUgBBLMhQfbuREtuC6jexF51XiAiOypy3g/s1600/IMG_9577.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 261px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg50dcaltb9Pu4tUZnaNh2eCqTn34bdTtA-2mQuCcBcHiFQRy-CHSz_5ER4ezG9B0Cc9IzZ0Ly7iScT_W0qwPhQMV60BnyVvXGDoAhyphenhyphenEFOgrLUgBBLMhQfbuREtuC6jexF51XiAiOypy3g/s400/IMG_9577.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526981269761391138" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />It is always hard to get a decent picture of Cara because when you come near, she is feeling pretty sure you are bringing something good to eat so she comes right to the fence. The fence is not real pretty but if you want a picture of Cara, you get the fence in the deal. Oh, well. She is no Secretariat, but she is a sweet thing.Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-6251593320559057042010-10-10T21:49:00.000-07:002010-10-10T22:00:48.046-07:00Sugar BearThere is going be a new member of our family. We may be the most blended family in Dyer County already, so what’s one more? I guess he’ll be a joint custody affair. My granddaughter loves one of those little foster puppies so much that we just have to keep him. And everywhere she goes, he’ll be sure to follow. Think Mary and her little lamb. I don’t tell my grandchild this but the cute little dog does look like he could have been sired by a skunk. Just look at him. Maybe I’ve lived in the country too long and have seen a few too many skunks in my day. I hope the local skunks don’t spy him, think there is a new kid on their block, and decide to throw a housewarming for him. On the bright side, that puppy is about the cutest and sweetest little thing I ever saw, and it warms my heart to see my granddaughter with him. I guess I’ll be ordering one of those electronic fences tomorrow.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAfEF0hMiMdmWbW7EssoriANKw01l0c3uVD9CUk_LwPgOnLlSX2uKxnAQVmQz1odn9-TZx74b-iIrRM9nsuEvdWU4zK8Lk2xq2gu5IE8TYs67Vovbquml_Nd-5JDCcrg-uUETYATJJT_Y/s1600/IMG_9394.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAfEF0hMiMdmWbW7EssoriANKw01l0c3uVD9CUk_LwPgOnLlSX2uKxnAQVmQz1odn9-TZx74b-iIrRM9nsuEvdWU4zK8Lk2xq2gu5IE8TYs67Vovbquml_Nd-5JDCcrg-uUETYATJJT_Y/s400/IMG_9394.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526647343155840722" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"> <b><i> Meet Sugar Bear!</i></b></div><b> </b>Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-39507752017168073832010-10-02T20:06:00.000-07:002010-10-02T20:50:24.820-07:00Operation Feed the PigFrom time to time I’ve mentioned my involvement with the local public library. We have long since outgrown our old building, and when I use the adjective “old”, I am providing a literal description of the building. Our library is housed in Dyersburg’s old post office which was built in 1912. Although it is beautiful, stately, and historical, the wiring is inadequate, it is landlocked (preventing expansion), there is little parking, and ADA compliance is a serious problem since the building is 3 stories and the only transportation between the floors is an old service elevator that rarely works. Compounding the obvious difficulties with the current facility, our county needs a good library like never before. Sadly, our county ranks high in unemployment and adult illiteracy, and low in its rate of high school graduates. At the beginning of this school year, 72% of the children entering the city’s primary school were eligible for free or assisted lunches. To say that this project is way overdue is an understatement. But we had some wonderful, and unexpected, news on Thursday, Sept. 30th. Late last spring I applied for a loan and grant that I spent weeks preparing. Since Sept. 30th was the end of the fiscal year for the granting entity and I had not heard a word, I was confident that we had been passed over; but my phone rang early Thursday morning and I heard wonderful news. It is my understanding that our project was the last one to receive approval, but we are going to get both the loan and the grant. Now there is still a lot of money to raise, but we could not have had better news. It is my belief that with this assistance, we will see this project begun and possibly completed in 2011. All I can say is “Hallelujah”!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqL6w-APYeFI7wbQwcUQkBrBYxvXjeJYYkBlAwtTcgZ6jkRVLMZuE5O4KJB3jf8i6uUw5QNboigPN7WWFTbBQ1fARRbWu-cqBtoA3pB8N7ah2i6zinFsbDIkb9QFrUhPXLikUuwesjdaE/s1600/P4090066.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqL6w-APYeFI7wbQwcUQkBrBYxvXjeJYYkBlAwtTcgZ6jkRVLMZuE5O4KJB3jf8i6uUw5QNboigPN7WWFTbBQ1fARRbWu-cqBtoA3pB8N7ah2i6zinFsbDIkb9QFrUhPXLikUuwesjdaE/s400/P4090066.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523652340873437890" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Dyersburg's old post office, built in 1912, is stately and historic; but it is no longer suitable for the needs of a modern library.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH3KaOn9kt8La-GCo5hwO7jK6rO5wEJ9qREMPBdAGuxgch6FPBqu3TXifrA6Fpmqo-H9d6du2rI3-G2L2xzCAe_U0rzksunBwrmMbdE1CfDIV8Q-F5rn8yow0CSMq1Jzxb_61SCQ87CKE/s1600/P3270005.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH3KaOn9kt8La-GCo5hwO7jK6rO5wEJ9qREMPBdAGuxgch6FPBqu3TXifrA6Fpmqo-H9d6du2rI3-G2L2xzCAe_U0rzksunBwrmMbdE1CfDIV8Q-F5rn8yow0CSMq1Jzxb_61SCQ87CKE/s400/P3270005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523654513786367378" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This is not a beautiful sight in downtown Dyersburg, but our architect tells us that the building is ideal for conversion into a useful and unique library facility. The obvious good points are a one level structure with a large parking lot.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh111OG7UQ899l8P2tZ-npEwKQntB6G1MqPJd-Wu2RJLKP9RDolKrdMzKDevIISXFw5EEUn5R2ZLGhzSrw_KHwIPO8KLmyvh4CL8myrqW_8ifXWxg-oYUlS4A5jVnDkJvu51OqVQk54Gc8/s1600/IMG_9522.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh111OG7UQ899l8P2tZ-npEwKQntB6G1MqPJd-Wu2RJLKP9RDolKrdMzKDevIISXFw5EEUn5R2ZLGhzSrw_KHwIPO8KLmyvh4CL8myrqW_8ifXWxg-oYUlS4A5jVnDkJvu51OqVQk54Gc8/s400/IMG_9522.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523657097173930594" /></a><br />This little piggy is overlooking the rendering of the new library that is shown on the front of our fundraising brochure. I believe this facility will be a beautiful addition to our county. As soon as it is built, our library trustees and staff have big plans for instituting additional and innovative programming to address the appalling rates of illiteracy in our midst, but we need a structure in which to work that will allow us to provide the services of a modern library.<br /><br />Those of us who are raising funds call our campaign “Operation Feed the Pig”. There is a reason for this. The property we are purchasing for the renovation is an old grocery store building that originally housed a Piggly Wiggly. The Piggly Wiggly has long since closed and the building is now rental property which has been primarily utilized for industrial purposes; but it is in the heart of downtown and ideally located. Since it is directly across the street from Dyersburg’s City Hall, it will provide a much needed facelift to that area of downtown. This project benefits our community in a multitude of ways and our residents are very excited that our effort has finally taken wings. If you visit Dyersburg, you might just see Piggy Banks situated near the checkout counters of many retail establishments. It will take all of us to make this happen, but it is a good thing for everyone in the community to feel pride and ownership in this very important project.Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-38656367689619893822010-09-28T20:40:00.000-07:002010-09-28T21:54:21.087-07:00The Dogs of Hilltop FarmI keep up with the blog that Jon Katz writes - Bedlam Farm Journal. He has a page called The Dogs of Bedlam Farm. If you’ve kept up with my blog, you may have read that at one time we called this farm “Hilltop Angus Farm” but took down the sign and quit calling our farm by that name when we got out of the Registered Angus cattle business. For this post, I’ve revived a portion of the former name as reflected by the title of this entry. Well... back to the dog story - my grandchildren have 8 dogs, at least they have 8 at the time of this writing. I’m not even sure that this would be legal if they lived in the city limits. There are 6 full time dogs that I call lifers, and 2 foster puppies as of today. These dogs receive lots of love and excellent care; and I enjoy seeing them interact with the children. Since my grandchildren foster a few dogs from time to time, the inventory changes periodically; but right now there is a Yorkshire Terrier named Sasha, a Golden Lab named Callie, an adopted stray named Cass (who came with buns in the oven, thankfully adopted out after their weaning), an Australian Shepherd named Josie, another adopted mutt named Sadie (named for my mother), and the newest adopted mutt named Patch. I argued that Patch should have been named Captain Hook or Pirate, but the grandchildren call him Blockhead when they don’t call him by his given name, Patch. Every one of these dogs is as sweet as can be and they are quite well behaved. The puppies that are soon to be adopted out are cute little Australian Shepherd/Border Collie mix rascals, each of which has one blue eye and one brown eye. They don’t have names and aren’t old enough to answer to a name anyway, but they are so cute; and since they are leaving this weekend, I wanted to get some photos while I still had the chance. Now these dogs aren’t like the dogs of Bedlam Farm in that I can’t holler “Photoshoot” and expect them to come and pose, but they do seem to like to play around in front of me while I have the camera in my hands. The lifers are trained well enough to sit on command and shake hands. I had a good time taking pictures this afternoon and I hope you’ll enjoy what I was able to capture.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4m3Jp-yj_yQRvwFDx44FsrC1xPW9ezfMrN-s3W9dNsNySkRq1L9OHm53Jzjtq14KMeMVQFSW63QtFMzAZ6SU_HnVesgoyB1OfyxIfTHNxglH7zqelsc-kbktnjcs7wNVm_bVTAPpC-WU/s1600/IMG_9377.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4m3Jp-yj_yQRvwFDx44FsrC1xPW9ezfMrN-s3W9dNsNySkRq1L9OHm53Jzjtq14KMeMVQFSW63QtFMzAZ6SU_HnVesgoyB1OfyxIfTHNxglH7zqelsc-kbktnjcs7wNVm_bVTAPpC-WU/s400/IMG_9377.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522178558323402578" /></a><br /><br /><br />This is the little male puppy, and no, that is not an artifact in the photo. He has a white spot on his nose. He is the calmer and gentler puppy of the pair. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGy_Oe6yf3cffjZ8WevP749k7z40x_gZ95mlx84eWNp0zPUv-HMs_Nug9QwR2VQhlmlAh-nzKNHpu-byRO4GJ7n51W5kc12KfdN5n6BsIfSseyE3OgkqHMv7l4AKCEAnDzKV6Yq1iPPGk/s1600/IMG_9390.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGy_Oe6yf3cffjZ8WevP749k7z40x_gZ95mlx84eWNp0zPUv-HMs_Nug9QwR2VQhlmlAh-nzKNHpu-byRO4GJ7n51W5kc12KfdN5n6BsIfSseyE3OgkqHMv7l4AKCEAnDzKV6Yq1iPPGk/s400/IMG_9390.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522181547627968274" /></a> <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The little female pup has her eye on something. The next photo shows her response to it.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8OhVNyPcLsavedm9BqZcMxa3vfXj8H-8KRlltSf4tRENUiN3EHJtP7CdxmpA4MzkkSqFKO-w91_I-6RJ98zBC6SKQdEYx13-DaMaekcEEGssK3_zm6_1ennh39oT_Rh9TANo1EIqv97Q/s1600/IMG_9380.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8OhVNyPcLsavedm9BqZcMxa3vfXj8H-8KRlltSf4tRENUiN3EHJtP7CdxmpA4MzkkSqFKO-w91_I-6RJ98zBC6SKQdEYx13-DaMaekcEEGssK3_zm6_1ennh39oT_Rh9TANo1EIqv97Q/s400/IMG_9380.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522183173649996626" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />She was hanging on to this toy for dear life. This dog is definitely going to be a handful.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglwJT186TZjRNhyphenhyphen9wWGVt1FwoF_JODaBKLl65C335wmI6xGFIW9cHV6kTIVLK6t22dijeA1nyyH9ZucwlFzfGC1pr2gHaT8XqhFKJxbvFTtac1SqoYIAOYsa93k5pRNfHE8JCVqp9wKmQ/s1600/IMG_9416.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglwJT186TZjRNhyphenhyphen9wWGVt1FwoF_JODaBKLl65C335wmI6xGFIW9cHV6kTIVLK6t22dijeA1nyyH9ZucwlFzfGC1pr2gHaT8XqhFKJxbvFTtac1SqoYIAOYsa93k5pRNfHE8JCVqp9wKmQ/s400/IMG_9416.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522186244079165858" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Josie has her tongue out and her paw high for a handshake. Sadie is trying.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfzoFhcxx79XytMbGJe5uFwrJMARJNUN6QiCYZNSQ82tgQEdP3-8m6iGD0UnmMjW5rP_z1h8R11FwxB3JRs9bRdWpYZ0rpioUnEPkKXh7pp9lqRGd_NvXRekWRYcrE7CycY2O-wRjNFZ4/s1600/IMG_9438.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfzoFhcxx79XytMbGJe5uFwrJMARJNUN6QiCYZNSQ82tgQEdP3-8m6iGD0UnmMjW5rP_z1h8R11FwxB3JRs9bRdWpYZ0rpioUnEPkKXh7pp9lqRGd_NvXRekWRYcrE7CycY2O-wRjNFZ4/s400/IMG_9438.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522188682342605170" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Cass is the sweetest of all the dogs. We don't know how old she is, but she is getting pretty old and we fear she won't make it through another winter. She lays around most of the time now.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKNlBvkyksasOgz4eZiGLr7wUoutqYx4R979yko2mTznOCya-WGd5YkrUcaFVCeQRnvRR5gabl9K_L3BJoJ1bjnuogb6hugrnL_McwBpsYf7VXfemJARSk69WqddaMpKjoPU8IRtv7fc/s1600/IMG_9388.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKNlBvkyksasOgz4eZiGLr7wUoutqYx4R979yko2mTznOCya-WGd5YkrUcaFVCeQRnvRR5gabl9K_L3BJoJ1bjnuogb6hugrnL_McwBpsYf7VXfemJARSk69WqddaMpKjoPU8IRtv7fc/s400/IMG_9388.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522190140244598066" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Callie has hip dysplasia but she still loves to fetch a ball. She is awfully sweet, too.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWI9QKpryvkX16lr4PotON_0GB2wFdWq6R3JPY2gef0sIkRbk7OZrzH-AAQ4VPdNU4k9SgXa_Vu3owm5poPNkOOcoy_X2lNq_UAtJarRaomjRDTynovsdCfy1WrTwB88yn_9Ulqk1l6yY/s1600/IMG_9414.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWI9QKpryvkX16lr4PotON_0GB2wFdWq6R3JPY2gef0sIkRbk7OZrzH-AAQ4VPdNU4k9SgXa_Vu3owm5poPNkOOcoy_X2lNq_UAtJarRaomjRDTynovsdCfy1WrTwB88yn_9Ulqk1l6yY/s400/IMG_9414.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522192049711145106" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Group shot! I think Patch is pretty obvious.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Sasha just wasn’t in the mood to have her picture taken. Maybe I’ll sneak up on her another day.Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-704926248822715812010-09-25T21:34:00.000-07:002010-09-25T22:21:42.192-07:00Oliver and S goes to Nashville<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPc1NBFK_6D-goMsBVi8jb-5zMNt7opWr5MD6-jtn-OpgR_kvAvFmqqGhtZ5jeZLQA2w_DAsdm-Ueh2BQQKCvp85fNv3dFnJG8uwI74EX8ZNPI96IB8VSp6J7KlTorNd5ljvTlFfjoCdY/s1600/IMG_9336.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPc1NBFK_6D-goMsBVi8jb-5zMNt7opWr5MD6-jtn-OpgR_kvAvFmqqGhtZ5jeZLQA2w_DAsdm-Ueh2BQQKCvp85fNv3dFnJG8uwI74EX8ZNPI96IB8VSp6J7KlTorNd5ljvTlFfjoCdY/s400/IMG_9336.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521077411661251154" /></a>When you think about the art of sewing for children, no place comes to mind quicker than The Children’s Corner in Nashville, TN. Susan and Sonya have an adorable shop and their inventory and samples never disappoint. Add to that the warmth and good humor always found there, and it amounts to a winning combination - a place you just like to visit.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXz-EV7HEOA97USyIvMJo8mlGI33DMSF4bkQFfFSbew8mPItUm6k43oMf2m2_UuoDHnE0PioreCieS8DDJNwyAeWhk54qtjY3Q-yASYEojshDGIDrv4_1tlGWCJjY4it7e94rQux7us54/s1600/IMG_9330.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXz-EV7HEOA97USyIvMJo8mlGI33DMSF4bkQFfFSbew8mPItUm6k43oMf2m2_UuoDHnE0PioreCieS8DDJNwyAeWhk54qtjY3Q-yASYEojshDGIDrv4_1tlGWCJjY4it7e94rQux7us54/s400/IMG_9330.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521079224332630018" /></a><br /><br /><br />This is just one corner of the shop that features a lovely display of samples flanked by neat bolts of high quality cotton fabrics.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I jokingly say that I don’t get out of my cell much, but I did escape for a couple of days this past week to attend a very special workshop at The Children’s Corner. Liesl Gibson, designer of Oliver and S patterns, was the guest instructor and she taught 2 of her newest patterns, The School Photo Dress and the Hopscotch Skirt, Knit Top, and Dress. It was a delightful experience from start to finish. Liesl is a skilled and talented designer, as well as an excellent and patient instructor. And I must add that she was lovely, unassuming, and a true joy to spend a couple of days studying with. With an extremely busy schedule and a young child, Liesl doesn’t travel to teach very often; so it was a rare opportunity that I’m so glad I took advantage of. If you get the chance to take a class from her, don’t pass it up. And if that chance doesn’t come your way, she has a great line of children’s patterns that are available in many shops, including<a href="http://www.childrenscornerstore.com"> www.childrenscornerstore.com</a> and her own secure on-line store, <a href="http://www.oliverands.com">www.oliverands.com</a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgLBdSpQ7bmQYbNnitWk6YZmVcLlgu5pPIr92xOidzEMuv0GQ4dddfWtfhnKZIYgWG4X6_rewSsiaKIDghDRlmXQnvYoeGQhtjOlXyksnycraDBdrSactEykgSvi-nS3aEwApr5UFWiGs/s1600/IMG_9338.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgLBdSpQ7bmQYbNnitWk6YZmVcLlgu5pPIr92xOidzEMuv0GQ4dddfWtfhnKZIYgWG4X6_rewSsiaKIDghDRlmXQnvYoeGQhtjOlXyksnycraDBdrSactEykgSvi-nS3aEwApr5UFWiGs/s400/IMG_9338.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521084627240600386" /></a><br />Liesl is standing in front of a wall of samples. This photo was taken at the end of the 2nd day of class. Liesl looks as calm and patient as she did at 9am on day 1 of the workshop. I hope Liesl enjoyed her time in Nashville as much as we enjoyed her workshop. Everyone that attended was a happy camper. And the samples on the wall?.... most of them were brought by students in the class who have been making garments from Oliver and S patterns since they arrived on the market.<br /><br />It won’t be too long before I post photos of the workshop garments. I am the notorious “snail” in every class I take, but I don’t let that worry me because I enjoy every second I spend working on a project. I’m not too far from finishing both of the projects and I am really happy with the way they are turning out. I look forward to showing you my version of some of the latest Oliver and S designs on one of my youngest granddaughters, cute little Halle.Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-47679603509440134162010-09-17T17:59:00.000-07:002010-09-17T19:06:33.482-07:00Cotton Pickin’When I was a child, the county schools had a completely different schedule from the city schools. They began the school year a little earlier - late summer, really - but they got out for a few weeks in the fall for “cotton pickin”. That was a time when the children of farm families helped in the fields. I grew up in town so I can’t relate first hand how it was all done, but MH knows all about it. He did a little picking by hand before the modern cotton picker was a common sight on farms around here. In later years the children’s work looked a little more fun. The machinery picked the cotton, a suction apparatus removed the cotton from the picker and deposited it in a cotton trailer, and the children’s job was to “tromp the cotton”. I never got to do that but I did observe it. Then the trailers full of cotton were hauled to the gin behind a pick-up truck.<br /><br />The procedure has changed over the years with a few major changes coming fairly recently. Now you have to give me a little latitude when I use terms like "years" and recently". I guess these terms are relative - I'm nearly 60 in case you need to know my point of reference when I use terms like these. On with the story at hand... I’m sure you’ve seen pictures of cotton bales. Well, we don’t see bales anymore. And the farmers used to pick a field twice, but they only pick once now. The farmer who works my ground started on the field around my house yesterday and he is finishing up as I am writing this. I guess I can tell the story in pictures better than I can say it with words. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFyfhvzdTnyTR8At12NFkbDpYQJ5Pzg90fFiiUQOZDaY0NoCfn4GoOnWzDOefy3zPX8dVNmO60N11B0pa1bRf4Dd74AhwAU3aWUfiyY9D0szCzXA2yu3x8ISojYa55qitv1VsXibFyAGs/s1600/IMG_9319.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFyfhvzdTnyTR8At12NFkbDpYQJ5Pzg90fFiiUQOZDaY0NoCfn4GoOnWzDOefy3zPX8dVNmO60N11B0pa1bRf4Dd74AhwAU3aWUfiyY9D0szCzXA2yu3x8ISojYa55qitv1VsXibFyAGs/s400/IMG_9319.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518052976285810834" /></a><br />This is not a bird, nor a plane - it is a Deere! If you click to enlarge, you can get a better look at the farmer. He can pick late into the night if he needs to as this beast has lights on it. And it is air conditioned. Farming is not quite the miserable job that it once was, but I have always likened it to going to Vegas. You are gambling on the weather, the markets, pests, and all sorts of things. Farming is not for the faint of heart, nor is it for the lazy. MH decided at a pretty young age that he'd find another way to earn his living.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpPe_2_RJq343DhJ6RdSaxScIrDr1HbUp5e7hxd1IyUZ9gfhFZerlCdspOjYGW5qG_2vbRcT4hEPziUoXMpdapdYD2J94h6nDDMEd3cGXsKCif_Ag2UjW2fI2gMEZTrIRdejguKt_fdQ0/s1600/IMG_9321.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpPe_2_RJq343DhJ6RdSaxScIrDr1HbUp5e7hxd1IyUZ9gfhFZerlCdspOjYGW5qG_2vbRcT4hEPziUoXMpdapdYD2J94h6nDDMEd3cGXsKCif_Ag2UjW2fI2gMEZTrIRdejguKt_fdQ0/s400/IMG_9321.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518055570014005634" /></a><br /><br />This is what you can't see in the previous picture. The apparatus shown here routes the cotton stalks into the area where the machinery takes the cotton off the plant. These yellow things are called "headers".<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio5eJZnRl3nH5uVMYdoeMOzyOc_hYL9cXq_T7MEI2RouqMA6FwzgEyUEo7jJM5BG45n9X62Elh0w0oOdy2EgVmm4H69RJBg2AOJSUhGUiIt3crP0Hn4HQP_4I730QIoIKm1N78gXmGa6g/s1600/IMG_9295.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio5eJZnRl3nH5uVMYdoeMOzyOc_hYL9cXq_T7MEI2RouqMA6FwzgEyUEo7jJM5BG45n9X62Elh0w0oOdy2EgVmm4H69RJBg2AOJSUhGUiIt3crP0Hn4HQP_4I730QIoIKm1N78gXmGa6g/s400/IMG_9295.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518061496839633426" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />These are called modules. What I could not get a good photo of is the machinery that forms the modules. That equipment was sitting at the far edge of the field and was partially obscured by a bit of a ridge. The module formers are large bright yellow pieces of equipment that resemble complicated looking cotton trailers. These module formers pack the cotton tightly and then shove the module of cotton out the end. The modules of cotton sit in the field until the Gin is ready for it. The farmer uses spray paint to put his name and a number on each module. <br /><br />Actually, these modules are not my cotton. My cotton modules are sitting way back in the field where the module formers are. These modules belong to the farmer who works the ground across the road, but you get the idea. I counted 11 modules in my field and my farmer wasn't finished picking yet. My field is larger than the field these modules were picked from, but my crop and probable yield looked a lot better before the picking started. We'll see what the quality is when it goes to the Gin. You never know....<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi3G8mzZKOOcJYmqanKzgXQ7w8G2c9OoxnVxEMUjgG4HlzC4FrTJIy_gmiIuNAQ_nn4WKbUOSPbYdAOm20YdcXh2ZQZtQaKJUahj1c28rOLYNB8G-5kmAZIoYGBuBMALqrbnZns9r1tyM/s1600/IMG_9291.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi3G8mzZKOOcJYmqanKzgXQ7w8G2c9OoxnVxEMUjgG4HlzC4FrTJIy_gmiIuNAQ_nn4WKbUOSPbYdAOm20YdcXh2ZQZtQaKJUahj1c28rOLYNB8G-5kmAZIoYGBuBMALqrbnZns9r1tyM/s400/IMG_9291.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518067204591927778" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Another field hand was following a few rows behind the picker with the bush hog. He is cutting the stalks. Soon my field will be bare. We'll probably plant something different on this field next year. I hope it is not corn. I don't like corn beside my house.<br /><br /><br />I'll take you to Edwards Gin in another day or so. They work 24/7 this time of the year.Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-54824519201272892582010-09-15T20:25:00.000-07:002010-09-15T21:16:27.601-07:00Dog DaysNow for an update on the dogs around here... I've had a number of personal e-mails inquiring as to the status of Gracie's health. I am pleased to report that, so far, Gracie is just fine. All we can figure is that maybe Gracie swallowed one of her cookies whole. She is inclined to hide her treats in unusual places and if she heard Lori on the way to find her, she may have hurriedly gulped it down in one piece for fear that Lori would take it away. At any rate, there has been no sign that a foreign body has traveled through her little body. Lori figures that this adventure probably cost as much as a new piece of furniture.<br /><br />Now to report on Squirt - he had the staples removed yesterday and he is beginning to bear a little weight on his leg. He seems to genuinely be "on the mend", which we are thankful for. The next 2 weeks will probably be harder than the previous 2 weeks since he is still supposed to avoid running, jumping, and stairs. <br /><br />Squirt and Gracie have a lot in common. He, also, has had some experience with ingesting something he shouldn't have gotten hold of. In fact, this has happened several times with him. The closest call we had with him was when he got hold of my blood pressure medication. I laid that little blue capsule on the kitchen counter and then fixed myself a glass of water to take it. When I looked down to pick up the capsule and swallow it, it had disappeared. I reckoned that it had rolled off the kitchen counter and, sure enough.... when I looked down, Squirt was standing at my feet with a guilty look on his face. I tried to grab him quickly and, of course, he ran like a cheetah. By the time I caught him, the capsule had been swallowed. In a panic, I called our vet (who is no longer surprised by anything, I might add). I now know what will induce vomiting in a dog. I was fortunate to have a bottle of hydrogen peroxide in the house and a plain old straw. I fed Squirt several straw's full of peroxide (against his will), but I got it down him. Well, up came the capsule and, fortunately, it had not done enough dissolving to cause a problem. But Squirt sure was a sick puppy for the rest of the morning. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAp0CYAWV0WCRKQ32nja1-RhaSPZGvh18rWMCnxa6CPVhab5sk1SHRoox25-8eLBpyoMExtVrYe48-8l-Mv1XParO9A8HiYXoWUCwjyyp1JN3osIYPm0-pS914vjG1O1nv2I5A8kSQEZk/s1600/IMG_4997.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAp0CYAWV0WCRKQ32nja1-RhaSPZGvh18rWMCnxa6CPVhab5sk1SHRoox25-8eLBpyoMExtVrYe48-8l-Mv1XParO9A8HiYXoWUCwjyyp1JN3osIYPm0-pS914vjG1O1nv2I5A8kSQEZk/s400/IMG_4997.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517358725897094002" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />There is no telling how many pieces of furniture I could have bought with the money his misadventures have cost me!Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-40886641883967401872010-09-13T21:19:00.000-07:002010-09-13T22:51:19.555-07:00Wings Over HallsThere was a real special event near my home this weekend. I know everyone was commemorating September 11th; but Halls, TN remembered World War II at the same time by hosting an air show. Halls is the closest little town to Dyersburg, situated on the north end of Lauderdale county. In fact, I live closer to Halls than I do to Dyersburg, although I am a resident of Dyer County. Halls was the site of an Army Air training base during World War II. It was the only inland site east of the Mississippi River that trained airmen to fly B-17 bombers. Quite a few of my friends’ parents met and later married as a result of that Army Air base. Congressman John Tanner, who represents our district in Washington, was born in the little hospital on the base. It was called the Dyersburg Army Air Base in spite of the fact that it was situated in Lauderdale county just outside of Halls.<br /><br />Bob and Jane Little were at the air show yesterday and it was my privilege to watch the show standing beside them as they talked a bit about the history of the air base. My husband calls Mr. Bob “Captain Bob” although Captain Bob retired from the army at the rank of Lt. Col. Captain Bob will be 91 years old on November 8th. He was a flight instructor on the base. His wife, Jane, is a native of Dyersburg. As we were watching the air show, Jane pointed out a freight train sitting on a section of track about a mile from the base. Jane told me that trains carrying soldiers would stop at that very spot and let the young men off carrying duffles containing everything they owned. The soldiers would walk on over to the base from the tracks. Captain Bob said he had never owned a suit of clothes until he finished his flight training when the army issued him his first suit. After the war, Captain Bob enjoyed a long career as a pilot with one of the commercial airlines. <br /><br />Bob now spends some of his time at the military museum situated on the old base. The DAAB (Dyersburg Army Air Base) Museum is the fine amenity that it is largely due to the efforts of Pat Higdon, a retired high school history teacher. Others are due credit also, but Pat has been tireless in making that museum a class act. Jane mentioned yesterday that Pat once asked if Bob had any old uniforms that she could put on display in the museum. Jane then told a delightful story about what became of Bob’s uniforms. Jane said that after the war they were living in Memphis and one cold winter she got to wishing for a rug beside her bed that she could put her feet on without stepping directly onto the cold floor. She cut Bob’s uniforms in strips and braided a rug out of them. Now the braided rug made from Bob’s old uniforms grace a section of the floor in the museum. <br /><br />State Senator Mark Norris worked hard for 3 years to get Highway 51 that runs alongside the old base designated as a Tennessee segment of the Purple Heart Trail. If you are ever driving along this stretch of the Purple Heart Trail, I highly recommend taking the time to stop and visit the museum. It is a fascinating and moving experience, and a pleasant surprise to see such an astounding collection of history in a small rural area like Halls, TN.<br /><br />I took nearly 700 pictures at the air show yesterday, most of which were not tack sharp; but I hope you enjoy the few I’ve picked out to share with you.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsvKEuDgk0ESq1HVw6bNkfHUkJUJqZvfVWjMXLk9BJAijsrWliuBeZNbbJkUjCGoOyOpmINLDV0NPyNt-_AD-YkTVfjRxLI-n-oe9biS-eyWg7q544MSW5kZm5sNqHuAFxXhHLbIIKocU/s1600/IMG_9125.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsvKEuDgk0ESq1HVw6bNkfHUkJUJqZvfVWjMXLk9BJAijsrWliuBeZNbbJkUjCGoOyOpmINLDV0NPyNt-_AD-YkTVfjRxLI-n-oe9biS-eyWg7q544MSW5kZm5sNqHuAFxXhHLbIIKocU/s400/IMG_9125.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516623514071064002" /></a><br />This is the B-17 bomber, also called the Flying Fortress. This style of aircraft flew most of the bombing missions over Europe. The famous Memphis Belle was a B-17 bomber. Notice that the bomb hatch is open in this photo. Very few of these airplanes are still in operation and MH believes there might even be as few as 3 that are not permanently grounded. Jane remarked that she wished there was not a stream of smoke coming from that one engine.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhttAuWbtSi5iiJyz5t7W55HMUYlzIA8SWWZoOPXDAegQeban0G0mrvSq3ybHfRUTWzUJytAApurb6WSU3lS5UjsysxiA__7C2St1kj9pWmNp0RjneJTLukl221rAQMdLeEIH-MbtY3HZQ/s1600/IMG_9201.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhttAuWbtSi5iiJyz5t7W55HMUYlzIA8SWWZoOPXDAegQeban0G0mrvSq3ybHfRUTWzUJytAApurb6WSU3lS5UjsysxiA__7C2St1kj9pWmNp0RjneJTLukl221rAQMdLeEIH-MbtY3HZQ/s400/IMG_9201.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516627696005031954" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />This is another view of the B-17. The bomb hatch is closed in this one and the smoke is not pouring out of that one engine.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeBWzMjXrePaRFuxUCeH57sS52PKStyzoFY_IU9sRCLHY3YsR-LmQQzNdctfPcYSg7daYGqitNlrMUxayOlW3o8cK6wRLzijpMSoZ3Nq9IkXIeSv_fAM7XIM7oKkWgnD2PCbB8DKQg8po/s1600/IMG_9106.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeBWzMjXrePaRFuxUCeH57sS52PKStyzoFY_IU9sRCLHY3YsR-LmQQzNdctfPcYSg7daYGqitNlrMUxayOlW3o8cK6wRLzijpMSoZ3Nq9IkXIeSv_fAM7XIM7oKkWgnD2PCbB8DKQg8po/s400/IMG_9106.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516629018849247314" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I had to zoom out to get both planes in this photo but I thought it important to show them flying together. The small one is a P-51. The B-17's were escorted by P-51's on the bombing missions. There is a wealth of information on the internet about both of these planes and how they were used together on bombing missions. I believe them to have been aircraft used mostly in the European theater.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Q8MxIhrLIzCinfCf6x0Pj5vD7cZXyBp4RZ6y2NcJ7mwtPM4qNld_EolmNrcoIl6TMbsLFE_YAOiz9t-H20ESeCr-bQJTje3kHUFic0UrzvH-XFqp45WdRqJAJzvsnOYd18iUndAq4Bw/s1600/IMG_9246.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Q8MxIhrLIzCinfCf6x0Pj5vD7cZXyBp4RZ6y2NcJ7mwtPM4qNld_EolmNrcoIl6TMbsLFE_YAOiz9t-H20ESeCr-bQJTje3kHUFic0UrzvH-XFqp45WdRqJAJzvsnOYd18iUndAq4Bw/s400/IMG_9246.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516631512115986738" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />This is Jane Little holding a piece of her hand painted china. She had just been to the Dyer County Fairgrounds to pick up the china she entered in this year's fair. If you enlarge this photo, you can see the blue ribbon affixed to this piece. What you can't see is the rest of the china that was packed in a box in the back seat of her car. There was a ribbon attached to every piece of it, and each item was perfectly beautiful.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyGDHj6-IRK0ERBXWPzAaPvpCWYs4WX4znSw981AHndKX07FBs9VY8vkqT7WlIGCZiVqT0ZrRBkC5KXO5j0GBHG3QBW6GjmsmkqwezWM1CGsgUSPV53roeS2sYfANq2ecuj7uUZhMUKDM/s1600/IMG_9237.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyGDHj6-IRK0ERBXWPzAaPvpCWYs4WX4znSw981AHndKX07FBs9VY8vkqT7WlIGCZiVqT0ZrRBkC5KXO5j0GBHG3QBW6GjmsmkqwezWM1CGsgUSPV53roeS2sYfANq2ecuj7uUZhMUKDM/s400/IMG_9237.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516635278350218658" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Bob Little is a very smart and interesting man who served our country and went on to a career in aviation after WWII. His hobby now is antique clocks. MH owns the old hangars on the air base. We are going to take Bob and Jane on a tour of the hangars and they are going to show us their large collection of antique clocks and hand painted china.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCv8PM0IZHQ8KeVFSTMsO65RUfwJmgZ7_V7o7wzTOTy3MNFsib6vtld8ELNuKUEo89-7DWx1-CUvX8edt7h1MuWFDkn6ye6r-3NL2Q1WkaSAnl93JfjHRFpquir1F6Beq2U2lJCdO9AyA/s1600/IMG_8617.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCv8PM0IZHQ8KeVFSTMsO65RUfwJmgZ7_V7o7wzTOTy3MNFsib6vtld8ELNuKUEo89-7DWx1-CUvX8edt7h1MuWFDkn6ye6r-3NL2Q1WkaSAnl93JfjHRFpquir1F6Beq2U2lJCdO9AyA/s400/IMG_8617.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516638844452675250" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />There were lots of wonderful pilots and many remarkable stunts on display yesterday, but getting to spend a little time with Bob and Jane as they watched the aircraft he taught young men to fly and that he himself flew during World War II was the highlight of my day. Tom Brokaw named his book well..... <span style="font-weight:bold;">The Greatest Generation<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span>.Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-88689189143117303922010-09-12T10:53:00.001-07:002010-09-12T11:08:36.930-07:00A Wild Ride with Gracie<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheQj49llY3shSZ-S7mjeviaqyk09SrzRafHMtH8psrzCTIX7xnw0ycMjx_29NXyS843tLWOgjRYZk-jD2JpqCVJfW_r-HbtBjWXx2vMxHxaJSu-gwiPar6JF5pUnyqTXlotTgYelvm15I/s1600/IMG_3613.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheQj49llY3shSZ-S7mjeviaqyk09SrzRafHMtH8psrzCTIX7xnw0ycMjx_29NXyS843tLWOgjRYZk-jD2JpqCVJfW_r-HbtBjWXx2vMxHxaJSu-gwiPar6JF5pUnyqTXlotTgYelvm15I/s400/IMG_3613.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516086928179757426" /></a><br />MH’s cousin, Lori, was in town visiting her parents for the weekend. She has an adorable little Yorkshire Terrier named Gracie, but Gracie (being a terrier) has some traits in common with Squirt. Gracie is up to no good whenever she gets half a chance. Last night at about 7:30, Gracie went missing for a just a minute or two. When Lori realized that Gracie was mighty quiet, she knew it was time to see what was up. Gracie came out from under a piece of furniture gulping and gagging. When Lori investigated, she saw that Gracie had been into Lori’s grandmother’s old sewing basket. Since Lori and Gracie were visiting from Mississippi and too far away from home to get to their own vet, we called our vet. Dr. Martin met us at his clinic and after X-Rays, it was determined that Gracie had, indeed, ingested something that looked like a wad of fabric, ball of yarn, or some such. Since our Dyersburg vet clinic doesn’t have the equipment to do an endoscopic exam on a dog, we made a flying trip to the emergency vet clinic in Memphis. Now this is a 2 hour drive and it was around midnight when we got there. By this time, the foreign body (whatever it was) had left the stomach and was on its way through the intestinal tract. Let the waiting begin.....<br /><br />So Lori, Gracie, and I were stuck in Memphis in the middle of the night. Lori wasn’t about to leave Gracie in the clinic overnight but we couldn’t afford to get too far away in case Gracie got obstructed. So Lori, Gracie, and Mimi Pearl head out to find a hotel that takes dogs. No toothbrush, no pj’s, no face cleanser, and by this time we were creeping up on 3 A.M. But the Memphis Hilton took us, gave us toothbrushes, and even brought a puppy kit for Gracie. I am pleased to report that Gracie is feeling pretty chipper this morning and even had the nerve to growl and bark at me when I crawled out of the bed after about 3 hours of sleep (I slept in my clothes, I might add). MH had to bring Lori’s car to Memphis so she could make the trek back to Mississippi and we headed back to Dyersburg. Just as we pulled into our driveway, we noticed that Gracie’s X-Rays were still in my vehicle. Good golly! <br /><br />I am hoping that this story has a happy ending, but it may be a few more days before we can declare that all is well. This photo of Gracie was taken on July 4th of this year. She is a little "bear" to photograph because she is never still. The lighting was poor and impossible for me to correct in my photo editing program, so I put this sepia effect on it, which helped it. She really is a beautiful little Yorkie. I'm betting that sewing basket goes on a high shelf.Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-60589068001516259182010-09-08T20:32:00.000-07:002010-09-08T21:21:14.936-07:00Ordinary versus ExtraordinaryI first thought about naming this blog post “Taking Things for Granted”, but that just sounded too much like a cliche’. I got to thinking about the whole thing on my way to Jackson, TN this morning. I go to Jackson to get my hair cut. My hair is not easy to cut. In fact, one hair stylist described my neckline as a “Go to H--- (yep, you guessed it)” neckline. But Martha is an artist with the scissors.<br />On the 45 minute or so drive, I pass a Safari Park that I’ve never even stopped at. I always look to see what kinds of animals might be in the pastures along the highway and today it was the zebras. Sometimes it is giraffes, sometimes antelope, sometimes buffalo - you never know. My favorite are the zebras, though. I go to Jackson at least once every couple of weeks and I never give those exotic animals a second thought, although I do usually glance that way as I pass. I guess sometimes what separates the ordinary from the extraordinary is just a matter of your perspective. People come from all over the globe to visit Graceland, but even though I live only 75 miles from Memphis and go there regularly, I’ve never been to Graceland. The landscape and the wildlife out west were extraordinary to me, however. The food out west was extraordinary too, but not in a good way. I guess people from other parts of the country find our food extraordinary in a bad way, too. My precious friend, Gail Doane, just can’t bring herself to try our southern style pimento cheese. I don’t believe she is a bit interested in the fried catfish (which happen to be bottom feeders) that are a common sight on southern tables. And heaven only knows how people from other parts of the country would react to our incredibly aged and salty country ham, but it is a delicacy that the Harris family reserves for the holidays.<br />I stopped today and took a few pictures of the zebras. Yesterday I took pictures of the cotton; and in the days to come, I’ll probably take some pictures of the machinery in the fields, the modules (it used to be bales, but that has changed), and then I’ll probably make a trip to the Gin to get a few pictures. And to provide a little contrast, I’ll go ahead and show a few pictures of the landscape shots I got before I left Montana and Wyoming.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfu6ZzA7OtbRhNvb67jVsCQZa6nwIg4fGEKraebVkTPvu53JJKYThXNeW0zxCd4AMn2-hgB3Hv_qmqo1I3QpyxrxIg1hYarPTCA4Lu3DuqZSKC9F8e4YPGiDCi4E1Aim872XTmvAVN_8/s1600/IMG_8505.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfu6ZzA7OtbRhNvb67jVsCQZa6nwIg4fGEKraebVkTPvu53JJKYThXNeW0zxCd4AMn2-hgB3Hv_qmqo1I3QpyxrxIg1hYarPTCA4Lu3DuqZSKC9F8e4YPGiDCi4E1Aim872XTmvAVN_8/s400/IMG_8505.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514752440704492258" /></a><br /><br /><br />The cotton defoliated itself while I was on my trip. This is what I see on 3 sides of my house. When I look out my kitchen window I see the house my parents lived in and the pasture behind their house that sometimes has cows grazing in it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBYUsSHJ6mfMO3j1P3dDm2dX7_MuXqAOClfHWHExEciM5FmUvP8uKJi9qXbSa9IaUBiMxFDAfix0L8k9TWQgZLEjNunCTrJ5JC_jL3Vq1n3eXh1OawwDvtgN8hlRNeo8BnpnyUcLQdlhc/s1600/IMG_8539.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBYUsSHJ6mfMO3j1P3dDm2dX7_MuXqAOClfHWHExEciM5FmUvP8uKJi9qXbSa9IaUBiMxFDAfix0L8k9TWQgZLEjNunCTrJ5JC_jL3Vq1n3eXh1OawwDvtgN8hlRNeo8BnpnyUcLQdlhc/s400/IMG_8539.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514756833419136258" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Although there were several adult zebras in this pasture, I couldn't help but believe these little ones were twins. They sure did stay together and they stayed near this momma zebra.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiovqR6XJ32Pk-oDAdn2VfLdxH4wa4rgoV32hwxuNzLYqaTUAddDmEH2OPNyL2uXWO4cc317ApXmKev3uQCJGcczlJe9WV_H5QiPArs7h8u6VWbhm0to665xFAl2QHMc4LSzPkx1grmI6E/s1600/IMG_8558.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiovqR6XJ32Pk-oDAdn2VfLdxH4wa4rgoV32hwxuNzLYqaTUAddDmEH2OPNyL2uXWO4cc317ApXmKev3uQCJGcczlJe9WV_H5QiPArs7h8u6VWbhm0to665xFAl2QHMc4LSzPkx1grmI6E/s400/IMG_8558.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514758154225902546" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />There is no way to know what the momma zebra was thinking or how she was feeling, but as I stood and watched this scene unfold, I perceived her as being maternal and nurturing while this little fellow nursed.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9jvhosHB1Tjpqb7LkX4gl3AXOzo_B4VeJ4W1fR5C0_5uIBNdKa7gNYUX9lzN4z-ZWfNqB0SQ3rquC1qkgl9CaVAj0qOpnBlz5rQ1Scc-uXaPtT4RxldL0irAV0lz46I3n0lTmExVGcIQ/s1600/IMG_7957.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9jvhosHB1Tjpqb7LkX4gl3AXOzo_B4VeJ4W1fR5C0_5uIBNdKa7gNYUX9lzN4z-ZWfNqB0SQ3rquC1qkgl9CaVAj0qOpnBlz5rQ1Scc-uXaPtT4RxldL0irAV0lz46I3n0lTmExVGcIQ/s400/IMG_7957.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514760034297420034" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This was taken near the west entrance to Yellowstone. There are no mountains in West Tennessee, but seeing snow on anything in August is extraordinary to a southern gal. The fact that the temperature was in the 40's and 50's in the daytime made this scene even more dramatic to me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ7ocZFLv5-0cyGxrJLFvkPMMEFbxUYIOEnRC3OaMLyMFWZMd32Qtrwy0pIUBQKymRwXoMB_3Py0RxDqjfMBPPuAygUxAW1W177wpgWO7qZ3107kCollOUlAh9i6tUR4xtVT7jOnqx9KI/s1600/IMG_8189.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ7ocZFLv5-0cyGxrJLFvkPMMEFbxUYIOEnRC3OaMLyMFWZMd32Qtrwy0pIUBQKymRwXoMB_3Py0RxDqjfMBPPuAygUxAW1W177wpgWO7qZ3107kCollOUlAh9i6tUR4xtVT7jOnqx9KI/s400/IMG_8189.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514761983574986962" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />We drove out the southern Yellowstone entrance and right into Grand Teton National Park. This was Jenny Lake. If I'd had a wider angle lens, this shot would have shown more snow capped mountains. I chose to frame this shot in this way because of the reflection in the water. There was not a lot of color in most of these shots. It was so cloudy that the water, the mountains, and the sky were all pretty gray. There is a bit of blue sky peeking through the clouds and that is what helped this particular shot. The Grand Tetons were a stunning sight.<br /><br /><br />Just like Ray Stevens sang - Everything is beautiful in its own way.Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-87770259558963081512010-09-06T20:52:00.000-07:002010-09-06T21:02:41.719-07:00Hit the Ground Runnin'That's what I've been told I'd probably do. And yep, I'm gonna hit the ground runnin' tomorrow. I've had a nice vacation and today I concluded my time off by spending the day pampering myself, so I'll get back with it tomorrow. Lots of library work to be done, lots of money to raise, and lots of details to take care. I've never done too much in the way of civic work so I guess my time has come. I did get a bit of a head start tonight by designing a poster for the <span style="font-weight:bold;">Kitchen Tour and Tasting<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span> the Friends of McIver's Grant Public Library will be having in October, which should be a real nice affair and a good fundraising event.Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-19487955616596025652010-09-05T20:16:00.000-07:002010-09-05T22:27:52.402-07:00Home Again, Home Again...Our trip was wonderful but MH and I decided, like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, that there really is no place like home. Squirt agrees with us. We arrived too late on Friday night to pick him up, so I got out to Petcetera first thing on Saturday morning. He sure was glad to see me but he is really not feeling great. This surgery was more extensive that I had thought and he is still on pain meds 3 times a day and antibiotics for another week or so. We were instructed that he is not to run, jump, or do stairs for a month. I may be crazy by then. In spite of his discomfort, he’d do all 3 of those activities if we gave him half a chance, particularly since he is beginning to bear a little weight on the operated leg. Squirt normally jumps on the back of the furniture like a cat, so every piece of furniture in my house that he can jump on is now barricaded, and I guess that is what I’ll be looking at for the next few weeks. We’ll make it, but it might not be fun.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjA-1jUI99IRdRYFpHMmZVWcA9dHm1t6Z5Y8J8R16Rba785BVzecNQXIDgNRExF4eWT6pwqwirUdI1OvrxjSFCmvsi9SSJZPmwawa-68CzZdlpYSbpFHexJTYlequ5-p_o6LPGWX7lXy0/s1600/IMG_8358.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 353px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjA-1jUI99IRdRYFpHMmZVWcA9dHm1t6Z5Y8J8R16Rba785BVzecNQXIDgNRExF4eWT6pwqwirUdI1OvrxjSFCmvsi9SSJZPmwawa-68CzZdlpYSbpFHexJTYlequ5-p_o6LPGWX7lXy0/s400/IMG_8358.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513634882521040722" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I'm not exactly sure what it means when one ear is up and one ear is down, but I can read that he doesn't feel so hot. The photo is a little fuzzy, but Squirt was feeling a little fuzzy.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Before I sign off tonight, I’ll share a few of the wildlife photos I got at Yellowstone. Maybe tomorrow I’ll post a few of the landscape photos I got at Yellowstone and in the Grand Tetons, a mountain range that was breathtakingly beautiful. I'll say right up front that I don't have any photos that are nearly as sharp as I'd like. When you are traveling with a group, none of whom are interested in photography, you can't impose on them with a tripod. The price - photos that aren't tack sharp. The fact that the sky was very dark and cloudy didn't help either because that made my exposures even longer. I thought the photos turned out right pretty in spite of their shortcomings. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfAo6QZyBOmU4thmU2U9I0NlZJWO7U535TLf4YklYLgxrPtvSJfSdWAy1dh1gHul6ypZDIoadfomKxhvja9OX7ghkNW1HcIjOslFQDmZlDsIYfVSsgmpB82NS6BrdChtEAf0jzSvAQQxY/s1600/IMG_7313.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfAo6QZyBOmU4thmU2U9I0NlZJWO7U535TLf4YklYLgxrPtvSJfSdWAy1dh1gHul6ypZDIoadfomKxhvja9OX7ghkNW1HcIjOslFQDmZlDsIYfVSsgmpB82NS6BrdChtEAf0jzSvAQQxY/s400/IMG_7313.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513646481542875346" /></a><br /><br /><br />Trumpeter swans - our guide said that they are territorial and very mean.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5v4RhOZwsnObGQdnX5Ay7tB8LcgR4pcoh5kncvnN5RhvniTbBMppEzApsqLyBzsyLtdPU9runc3ydW5EH8AxCzQ82m4WjSqD1faYo6mcDwiyJTIvNU2kbBdLROPUcykCXRIGmiNlNqs/s1600/IMG_7378.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5v4RhOZwsnObGQdnX5Ay7tB8LcgR4pcoh5kncvnN5RhvniTbBMppEzApsqLyBzsyLtdPU9runc3ydW5EH8AxCzQ82m4WjSqD1faYo6mcDwiyJTIvNU2kbBdLROPUcykCXRIGmiNlNqs/s400/IMG_7378.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513647299260255634" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This is a grey wolf. According to our guide, his black coloration is just a genetic variation. He was so far away that I couldn't zoom enough to get a lot of detail. Most folks were looking at him with a scope. He was looking at us, too. I had to severely crop the photo so you could, indeed, see that he was looking at us. I tried lightening the photo up some in my editing program, but it just lost too much quality when I tried. I took a number of photos of this wolf. He was wearing a radio controlled collar so the park rangers could track him. I was disappointed when I saw that, but I know wolves are endangered. If you will click on this picture to enlarge it, you can see more detail on his face, which I found interesting. Wolves are supposed to be highly intelligent animals.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAyCLhpcMdzsTgY6uq6cxU7cA0fwDlJptptUg9DFiWMa8Kjd-cnf_vf4CiyJn45PiyHiGcTFVcyeF1Qbx55BkdywocPYjfWqcjIO_yO8QZ0Z_585V-mPUG5HshbEa4C9wvc5avRklrLks/s1600/IMG_7404.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 283px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAyCLhpcMdzsTgY6uq6cxU7cA0fwDlJptptUg9DFiWMa8Kjd-cnf_vf4CiyJn45PiyHiGcTFVcyeF1Qbx55BkdywocPYjfWqcjIO_yO8QZ0Z_585V-mPUG5HshbEa4C9wvc5avRklrLks/s400/IMG_7404.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513653450423180642" /></a>This is a mule deer. I have quite a few different views of her, one in which she appears to be asleep. I thought she was a beautiful and peaceful looking animal. Of course, I wasn't anywhere close to her. I might have found out differently had I been within range of her hooves. Makes me think of a hysterically funny story about a rancher who thought he'd rope a deer and corn feed it. He liked venison, but the deer didn't like the idea of being roped. The deer won that battle.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbNX5uiiTYnJ6pzLPGCCJsoCKHIeuySoOo1ZEjqjwPPk2zcEdFOrddVOdHfcNchfiDdfck4yL68tMPP2slK3reEXiguy7zDzcBiTyEhhgSW19EhWvru0_5l0-fCMVChYMBiUC5CNpmO04/s1600/IMG_7463.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbNX5uiiTYnJ6pzLPGCCJsoCKHIeuySoOo1ZEjqjwPPk2zcEdFOrddVOdHfcNchfiDdfck4yL68tMPP2slK3reEXiguy7zDzcBiTyEhhgSW19EhWvru0_5l0-fCMVChYMBiUC5CNpmO04/s400/IMG_7463.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513659398168271442" /></a><br /><br /><br />Home on the range where the deer and the buffalo roam...... the buffalo roam alright - anywhere they want to. I guess a 2,000 pound animal with horns doesn't have to give a rip about cars. They can walk wherever they please. I saw more of these than anything else. This fellow looks like he could do with a good bath, but I can't imagine who is going to tell him to take one! I'm glad this animal species is on the rise, but they sure are ugly beasts.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJKzcTIL_1UWViiTBTZFVV4Ig-4k60V5PiIgoFRj7RB88QCDuTC0QZTi6b2FxnzxWKnkfNp8lRxHM6sW3roka8h4RhKG_bv0Nel5l6M-U1phneUhObZXQgX_mCyijGUrhGUOqLssriDQ/s1600/IMG_7645.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJKzcTIL_1UWViiTBTZFVV4Ig-4k60V5PiIgoFRj7RB88QCDuTC0QZTi6b2FxnzxWKnkfNp8lRxHM6sW3roka8h4RhKG_bv0Nel5l6M-U1phneUhObZXQgX_mCyijGUrhGUOqLssriDQ/s400/IMG_7645.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513661459013641602" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This is a beautiful, older male elk. The younger ones have velvet on their antlers and their antlers have fewer points.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB1r7Hpir-YtNL9iaQisBgwTrVDZeUB1-i9PNsSltT8FrxEI1UPbKeKTpKYXsDENj0FfYsulQoGfTVXMlaR_vMCuxvldIf5k5Cclv1Ibqab-7nmMtIOnBJsLOMxvcFDmZdklklrqdM07M/s1600/IMG_7860.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB1r7Hpir-YtNL9iaQisBgwTrVDZeUB1-i9PNsSltT8FrxEI1UPbKeKTpKYXsDENj0FfYsulQoGfTVXMlaR_vMCuxvldIf5k5Cclv1Ibqab-7nmMtIOnBJsLOMxvcFDmZdklklrqdM07M/s400/IMG_7860.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513663103735376274" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The female elk were plentiful and did not seem the least bit timid. This one was grazing right on the grounds of the Visitors Center. The sun had come out and this photo was sharper than most. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Now to change the subject just a bit, but to change it to a subject I had originally meant for my blog to be centered on -<span style="font-weight:bold;"> sewing</span> (which I have mentioned almost none!)<br />I have some teaching engagements for 2011. On January 21st and 22nd, I'll be teaching at Beth's Heirloom Sewing in Wetumpka, AL and I've booked March 11th and 12th at The Stitchin' Post in Little Rock, AR. If you would like more information on either of these classes, you may contact me or either of the respective shops.<br />I'm excited about teaching at both of these wonderful shops.Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-33057138883296122132010-09-02T21:35:00.000-07:002010-09-02T22:19:19.402-07:00Rednecks on the RoadIt has been nearly 2 weeks since I posted, but I really have been busy. The early part of the week following the last entry was spent on heavy duty library related work AND getting ready to leave for our big trip out West. MH and I left on Thursday, August 26th and we will return home tomorrow, Sept. 3rd. I guess the timing was about as good as it could possibly have been. We had meant to wait a little later in the season but as it turned out, Squirt had to have surgery on his right hind leg - a torn ACL. Since he was going to have to spend several days in the hospital anyway, we thought the time might be right. Our vet has a lovely boarding facility called “Petcetera” and Squirt always has first dibs on the Grandmother Suite, so he had a couple of days of care in the hospital and then he moved on to what we are calling his rehab experience. I have called to see about him daily and all reports have been good. It will probably take several more weeks before he will dare to bear weight on that right hind leg, but our vet feels that the surgery was successful. We’ve been down this road with the other hind leg several years ago. I asked the vet if this was somehow our fault but he assures us that it is not. He says that Squirt is just such a busy little dog and always getting into mischief, therefore his risk of injury is high. I suppose we are lucky he is well trained to stay out of the road.<br /><br />On to the trip..... we headed up to South Dakota and did the Badlands first. It was as hot there as it was at home. I couldn’t believe it when I looked at the car thermometer and saw it register 100 degrees. And the wind was unbelievable. It was the strongest, hottest wind I ever experienced. I got a few photos of the Badlands, but my tripod would not have stood up and, needless to say, it was impossible to hold the camera real still in that kind of wind. I’ll post a couple of the best ones and then tell you about our next stop in South Dakota tomorrow. After South Dakota, we did Montana and Wyoming. It was a great trip!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6HwEPJr0RHwP5XpWqkm4wV6mVUohWsyXTa89EmAd4y73BWSra_6MUj6Y_u9gfNWpIznxvncECD_Znhgvwv44Pu_q0w2r3eX11LnDNCWVVzhixZ3mSYQ7Lw9qFeTn_gHEl4mr_GaCz38Q/s1600/IMG_6866.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6HwEPJr0RHwP5XpWqkm4wV6mVUohWsyXTa89EmAd4y73BWSra_6MUj6Y_u9gfNWpIznxvncECD_Znhgvwv44Pu_q0w2r3eX11LnDNCWVVzhixZ3mSYQ7Lw9qFeTn_gHEl4mr_GaCz38Q/s400/IMG_6866.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512542182610414546" /></a><br /><br />I know this must be some kind of a deer. It doesn't look like the kind of deer we have at home, but I know this is not a prong horned antelope either. If anyone knows exactly what kind of animal this is, please tell me. We saw him grazing on a ridge just as we were driving into the Badlands National Park. This is a beautiful animal.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNgN1N606Ahl0y0DCDh44EnXhmiKFoz2xsJL9NAKp0sqm6DqQsdy3GsJ8btg0A0aAaU19AOAy7ZrLZd6jx3CJm0H2Qdym-gyTBT-NWeuoN3uYCP05kkt6QDSUNE7I1xHyI__3V5rLltQs/s1600/IMG_6872.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNgN1N606Ahl0y0DCDh44EnXhmiKFoz2xsJL9NAKp0sqm6DqQsdy3GsJ8btg0A0aAaU19AOAy7ZrLZd6jx3CJm0H2Qdym-gyTBT-NWeuoN3uYCP05kkt6QDSUNE7I1xHyI__3V5rLltQs/s400/IMG_6872.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512544018885357442" /></a><br /><br />It was a real cloudy day. In fact, most of our days out West were cloudy. At least I wasn't dealing with the dreaded white, featureless sky, which I don't know how to fix in Photoshop. I did like how the sun rays were pouring through this break in the clouds. And this photo is a broad sample of the Badlands. I read that the area got its name because the French fur traders referred to it as "bad land to cross". Badlands is a translation of their description. If you will click on this picture to enlarge it, you can see the highway with a car driving toward us in the distance. You can even see a highway sign. Can't remember if it was one of those "beware of rattlensakes" signs - probably not, but we did see some of those. It seemed like there were miles and miles of this exact landscape. Seeing pictures in books could not have prepared me for what this actually looked like.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUpEETTPelO64s4f09mjS3ENUjiCkmOKobIUlv4wT4zLSo-3xRAN7R57GHLBqyGqDSRv5AZ9qaXht-_FBjN0V356odQm02Eye1YNeVW9-5MWvfhNfG1CAnmTdCpKr0CksWCR2EkDIAd3o/s1600/IMG_6972.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUpEETTPelO64s4f09mjS3ENUjiCkmOKobIUlv4wT4zLSo-3xRAN7R57GHLBqyGqDSRv5AZ9qaXht-_FBjN0V356odQm02Eye1YNeVW9-5MWvfhNfG1CAnmTdCpKr0CksWCR2EkDIAd3o/s400/IMG_6972.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512547217685227458" /></a><br />We were driving out just as the sun was getting lower and providing more color. I bet that place is spooky after dark and I wouldn't want to be caught there, but I sure am glad I got the chance to see this amazing sight (in the daylight hours).<br /><br />As an aside, MH has a wicked sense of humor. After seeing those numerous "beware of rattlesnakes" signs, we didn’t venture more than a few steps from the car while in the Badlands, and we kept a keen eye on the ground when we did get out. As I said, the wind was fierce. We saw a man’s glasses get blown right off his face. MH deadpanned (not in the poor fellow's earshot) that a rattlesnake would be wearing those spectacles the next day. I sure did feel sorry for the man and watching that happen made me think twice before I got out of the car again. I’d be in a mess without my glasses.Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-70109993061687212692010-08-22T23:23:00.000-07:002010-08-23T00:03:04.154-07:00Sixty CandlesMaybe you get a little sentimental as you age. Or maybe what I am about to discuss is a small town phenomenon. I don’t know - I am a small town gal and have no way to compare growing up in a small town to growing up in a big city. I had the same friends all of my growing up years. It was pretty rare for families to move away, and fairly rare for families to move to town. I’d like to think we were a bit of a Mayberry type of town. And the only time I’ve lived away from here was to attend college. Now don’t you Yankees get mad, but my father used to say that Yankee people could come to town, complain about the heat, complain about the food, make fun of the way we talk, and in 6 months time you couldn’t run ‘em off with a posse. Since I’ve been grown, there have been some factory people move here, and I’ve met more than one person who was appalled that most of us have never traveled very far from home, much less lived anywhere else. I suppose the only explanation is that we are happy here and have never felt the urge to leave. In fact, you can’t even run us off with a posse!<br /><br />Two wonderful friends from my high school graduating class succumbed to cancer within weeks of each other since the first of the year and it has really hit the rest of us hard. Most of us have lost at least one parent, with many (me, for one) having lost both. We’ve lost a few classmates through the years and it has been heartbreaking every time, but we’ve arrived at the cold, hard fact that we are getting older so we feel the need to reconnect as often as possible. Most of us have stayed here or are no farther away than just scattered around the south, so it isn’t terribly difficult to make a gathering happen with a little bit of advance notice.<br /><br />I’m not sure who had the idea to have a collective 60th birthday party. We were every one born in 1950 (it was a very good year - at least to us). Our birthday party was at Lupo’s, our local Italian restaurant; and it was a lot of fun. We had 60‘s music playing all evening, but the surprise was the parody on the song <span style="font-weight:bold;">Sixteen Candles<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span>. One of the waiters sang <span style="font-weight:bold;">Sixty Candles<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span> just beautifully. I wish I had a copy of the words. There are a few parodies of the song on the internet but I don’t think any of them was what I heard last night. It was real cute.<br /><br />I am posting a few photos of the 40th class reunion we had 2 years ago. Our class President, Sam Hummer, promised he’d e-mail me a group shot of last night.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg2Qa8UfVsgAFboIlUbUSEtsn0z517UjFrUwAYXWozUd42IHh3nmX9sP0uPwuxP5EWM4fktHCqdWcyfxV_bhpReRLmT28FwNjswLaNClyAV81ZpXptHf7yOIiaPieAJQKmPB251YJ3p3o/s1600/P9200133.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 377px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg2Qa8UfVsgAFboIlUbUSEtsn0z517UjFrUwAYXWozUd42IHh3nmX9sP0uPwuxP5EWM4fktHCqdWcyfxV_bhpReRLmT28FwNjswLaNClyAV81ZpXptHf7yOIiaPieAJQKmPB251YJ3p3o/s400/P9200133.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508487931851160674" /></a><br /><br /><br />This is Sam. We called him Sammy growing up. He was a good choice for class President. He's one of the key people who has always helped pull these events together.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9JfPS8PaAoqKEfVnC_JvUyv18WrNYaH5BvgTl_JCSPr7xWBlFV4FnrajydWkEGOqVkvTn3bDDAo4rPiVb529jPyeu53Cn_MyM18f7ynMw4bu5752RSlWDJDdG5c3o1H4kwS_cU0R4DsM/s1600/P9200111.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 315px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9JfPS8PaAoqKEfVnC_JvUyv18WrNYaH5BvgTl_JCSPr7xWBlFV4FnrajydWkEGOqVkvTn3bDDAo4rPiVb529jPyeu53Cn_MyM18f7ynMw4bu5752RSlWDJDdG5c3o1H4kwS_cU0R4DsM/s400/P9200111.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508489322782619026" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I guess this lady was everyone's favorite teacher. Mrs. Bell was a young woman with a small child when she taught us. Anyone who can teach you Chemistry and lead you to love it is a gifted teacher. She later taught Chemistry at the local college and 2 of my children had her. They loved her just as much as I did.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsT9YFvQLcGFBJFqOrEL9R5uWWpRNSUplPPNmmcqAkXXD9SyAWm47ZdO6p4UN5eV23fjjw3KVBucNnPWFDmE0qfbHshJEJIMG3pW5YEhjOwi0NNWFng6vLwtGuQgEEXlRTRcpNw8_g_yQ/s1600/reunion+9-19-08+020.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 302px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsT9YFvQLcGFBJFqOrEL9R5uWWpRNSUplPPNmmcqAkXXD9SyAWm47ZdO6p4UN5eV23fjjw3KVBucNnPWFDmE0qfbHshJEJIMG3pW5YEhjOwi0NNWFng6vLwtGuQgEEXlRTRcpNw8_g_yQ/s400/reunion+9-19-08+020.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508491791887088034" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Well, that monkey-in-the-middle is me - Mimi Pearl or Mary Carol, or whatever you want to call me! Those other 2 blushing blondes are Nancy and Sharron. There is nothing quite like wearing glasses and having your picture taken.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0RSVUfiTOVLUA5BDLUtm8Y2i5tGkJzIzjkhDthFJqf0Te6ehVPjLlog4580g-MI9pkgvG7iCH-UoraPPzJ8yYe1cwVMtLGvg6oHqAIkl8Z6PZhWEikGYtOa8WiGrrBt_9hA9PrFXnE6E/s1600/iPhoto+Library.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 297px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0RSVUfiTOVLUA5BDLUtm8Y2i5tGkJzIzjkhDthFJqf0Te6ehVPjLlog4580g-MI9pkgvG7iCH-UoraPPzJ8yYe1cwVMtLGvg6oHqAIkl8Z6PZhWEikGYtOa8WiGrrBt_9hA9PrFXnE6E/s400/iPhoto+Library.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508493536234073762" /></a><br />This is the 6th grade class at Alice Thurmond Primary School. I am the 2nd child from the left on the back row. I am standing next to my tall friend, Mary Jane. This picture was taken after my first real haircut. Oh, I'd had hair "trims" before, but I had finally managed to get my mother to let me ditch the long blonde ponytail for something a little more grown looking. I had spent the first 6 years of school going off in the morning with the ponytail pulled so tightly into a rubberband that my eyes looked like I had borrowed them from a blue-eyed Asian child. <br /><br />Keep up with your friends. And to borrow a line from Miz Booshay, "Encourage one another".Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-65468847650493672802010-08-19T21:46:00.000-07:002010-08-19T22:52:59.130-07:00Modern FarmingMaybe what I live in the midst of is modern farming, maybe not. I guess a definition of modern farming depends on what part of the country you are from, what you grow, and how commercial you are. The only thing I know about is what we do, or what our farmer does. And I suppose I’d better qualify that statement as I really don’t know very much; I know very little and consider myself fortunate that MH and our farmer are quite capable, so this is a big burden off of me. When my father was alive, he did his own farming. Now we rent our land to a farmer who has a lot of land of his own but also rents ground from others. MH decided when he was growing up and working in the cotton fields that there had to be an easier way to make a living. He did not enjoy farming one bit, and I am sure I would not have liked it either. Our farm was a much more sophisticated operation during my father’s lifetime, even though he passed away 20 years ago. He raised registered Black Angus cattle, grew all kinds of crops, had an orchard, grew grapes, had an enormous garden, and you name it - he did it, if our climate allowed it. He was an Anheuser Busch wholesaler, but he distributed beer so he could farm. His heart was on this farm. It even had a name back then. He called it Hilltop Angus Farm. We dropped that name because we weren’t able to keep the cattle operation going after his death. We tried for a few years, but we didn’t have the expertise to raise cattle and it was not enjoyable to us. Cows are beautiful to look at while they are grazing out in your pasture, but they don’t look so hot when you are responsible for taking care of them and you don't know what you are doing - and I sure didn't know what I was doing!<br /><br />Now to address a couple of questions Kris had about the cotton..... The weather allowed us to plant the cotton real early this year. It is usually mid-September before the cotton starts opening up but MH says there are 2 factors that have caused the cotton to open so early, one of them being that the crop went in early. The other factor (that we had not counted on) is endless days of intense heat. The heat is one thing, but the heat index is another thing entirely. With many days in a row of heat indices reaching temperatures between 110 and 116 degrees, the cotton opened prematurely. MH has really begun to worry about it. We have been thinking that this was a near perfect year, but now his thinking is that the quality of the cotton will be inferior. MH likens it to a premature baby - the cotton won’t weigh enough. It does hurt for the cotton to sit in the fields all opened up and unpicked so the farmers will begin the defoliation process via crop dusters very soon. Then all of the bolls will go ahead and open and once the foliage is off, the farmers will get into the fields with their huge cotton pickers and get it harvested. Until recent years, they often picked the fields twice. Because of the expense involved, farmers have started waiting until the entire crop is ready and then pick only once. I’m guessing that our fields may be picked mid to late September this year, but this is a guess. Again, I have a great farmer who makes these decisions. I watch from my back porch and thank my lucky stars that I have someone capable of farming my ground.<br /><br />Now on to the boll weevils.... You can google and find out more about the Boll Weevil Eradication program. Bolls Weevils are almost a thing of the past because of this program. When we were plagued with boll weevils, they attacked the bolls when they started forming. I guess I describe a boll weevil as looking a bit like a tick with a rounded behind. A couple of our children worked in the Boll Weevil Eradication program in the summers during their high school years. Baited boll weevil traps are placed along the edges of the cotton fields, although there aren’t as many traps now as there were when the program started. The traps are checked periodically, usually by an Ag student (like our kids were) employed for the summer, and if boll weevils are seen in the traps, the field is sprayed.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtdfaMmHhg5IKvgnNZfk2zVvckxCF72uqlFNeZExWv6pic85OHXNn3kgBVfgBcYvuLgJFVjeshC2ANpXA_aO6rokvvVoNuJg2FBqSHVoQn2aC1XIHz0InrtsCf-halH6hBfFABv5Uq_Gg/s1600/IMG_6409.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtdfaMmHhg5IKvgnNZfk2zVvckxCF72uqlFNeZExWv6pic85OHXNn3kgBVfgBcYvuLgJFVjeshC2ANpXA_aO6rokvvVoNuJg2FBqSHVoQn2aC1XIHz0InrtsCf-halH6hBfFABv5Uq_Gg/s400/IMG_6409.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507352538830876674" /></a><br /><br /><br />This is a boll weevil trap on the edge of my neighbor's cotton field. The same farmer works her land that farms for me. Notice that the trap has a number on it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtx15EdRwU_CENOPa0SdG0sykZ03HcDJA8lX9mfN6MOAWWW1BeaLbfajGof1Hql43KBT_bbvzMrmblAuHVF05nTT9c0C_OD10j2c7ExbROgA3KzP4mFrLBLYYnqNunlnWJgvsJD0oBqQ8/s1600/IMG_6424.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtx15EdRwU_CENOPa0SdG0sykZ03HcDJA8lX9mfN6MOAWWW1BeaLbfajGof1Hql43KBT_bbvzMrmblAuHVF05nTT9c0C_OD10j2c7ExbROgA3KzP4mFrLBLYYnqNunlnWJgvsJD0oBqQ8/s400/IMG_6424.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507355112431975890" /></a><br /><br />The next consecutive number can barely be seen on this trap. It is on my farm. Whoever set up the trap tied the slim rod it is mounted on to the fence post with a red cloth strap.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsawf1wC-tnJ12YQB4xa-7vqqfmYg8SnlDcpJAUgModLJ3kXrnKHGp5iLRgRgU7FQF2_CMzeEVmuwMkTHIQ86GecX8iWrmXHZTVWyshLlcP6xsm47F88YKxXaPUIkXnTlpXYq0msanyVE/s1600/IMG_6433.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsawf1wC-tnJ12YQB4xa-7vqqfmYg8SnlDcpJAUgModLJ3kXrnKHGp5iLRgRgU7FQF2_CMzeEVmuwMkTHIQ86GecX8iWrmXHZTVWyshLlcP6xsm47F88YKxXaPUIkXnTlpXYq0msanyVE/s400/IMG_6433.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507356751517043330" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Notice the orange squares in this close-up of the top of the trap? This is the bait. There are a few bugs that look like ants in the trap, but thankfully, no boll weevils. Can't help it, but I hate that spraying.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Well, I haven't mentioned soybeans. In case you haven't seen them before, here you go. There is a soybean field butting right up to the cotton field where the previously pictured boll weevil trap is. These fields are near the Pond Creek bottoms. They are also near what we call the "lost" farm. We have a farm - only 15 acres - but we can't get to it. It has timber growing on it, but we can't get to it for Pond Creek, a tributary of the Forked Deer River. The cotton near this farm was planted much later as this land flooded in May. You could see the flood water from my back door, although I live high enough that my home was never in danger.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF-wdQ9Xv60BvF75L5bgB8Wm7VghGlgnIHScEjI8TN1d7V7LGjIHUYHPlZN_-Kc2uH2Dc_YZcxLsUrSBzj5vSn29uxAu3Gohuy41Ag-Wy16ft8Y15RFeBh1yYwxECLKqO4S21ITJB_jUs/s1600/IMG_0287.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF-wdQ9Xv60BvF75L5bgB8Wm7VghGlgnIHScEjI8TN1d7V7LGjIHUYHPlZN_-Kc2uH2Dc_YZcxLsUrSBzj5vSn29uxAu3Gohuy41Ag-Wy16ft8Y15RFeBh1yYwxECLKqO4S21ITJB_jUs/s400/IMG_0287.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507361688257785218" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYt1JrNgeTUwhYg5roNA5XNzUsJ-KHjK4Nva0n99a-hQOib962YShs3btsZX3McUAPiEmMudNJS6Xq2EzQRYzRkd4_X8F2hs8yUJsCOtXH7nsTpIleJc6KSWDOKvlmZNVUJuvN1lk8QMQ/s1600/IMG_6029.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYt1JrNgeTUwhYg5roNA5XNzUsJ-KHjK4Nva0n99a-hQOib962YShs3btsZX3McUAPiEmMudNJS6Xq2EzQRYzRkd4_X8F2hs8yUJsCOtXH7nsTpIleJc6KSWDOKvlmZNVUJuvN1lk8QMQ/s400/IMG_6029.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507364868586732162" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I could not resist this last picture. If I named it, it would be "How Farmers Fix Things". If they have a can of WD-40, some barbed wire, and a pair of pliers, they are often good to go.Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-59066604150525059382010-08-16T18:28:00.000-07:002010-08-16T19:42:07.774-07:00Cotton, continuedI don’t believe I’ve ever seen a cotton crop on our farm as beautiful as it is this year, and our crop has matured unusually early. Cotton loves hot weather, and this summer has certainly been accommodating. The weather has been hard on the humans and the air conditioning units around here, but the cotton has been well pleased. Cotton puts down deep tap roots and can survive dry weather better than most crops we plant, but all of our crops look good. We had just the right amount of rain for everything. You will rarely hear a farm family make such statements, and we almost always qualify the statement with words such as “unless something happens”. Maybe nothing will happen.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf6MtK94wVcsQJytcXu-5H0KMo0NhgHBrmc8qETImIeELUAuu3Eyct1N-Ru4eVxTeakFAkvC673fEMsYAGvHooM75MNrYoUkEJRttQKFeYDQqpv4dNL_IIRk2YLrFnheUR8iLA1NgUwdo/s1600/IMG_5942.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf6MtK94wVcsQJytcXu-5H0KMo0NhgHBrmc8qETImIeELUAuu3Eyct1N-Ru4eVxTeakFAkvC673fEMsYAGvHooM75MNrYoUkEJRttQKFeYDQqpv4dNL_IIRk2YLrFnheUR8iLA1NgUwdo/s400/IMG_5942.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506185285453962866" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This boll is almost ready to open.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg1JF8b3QB1JSdKICZW_v4CHiyX1VMfCI6b4Tqd6ZizhyIe1na32d2VkJ671AswMZL879BW2QwSfyD1NTsGMbPxGvWjzYIBW3xE3V8sykIq-nvrv-Rxs5TpR03oEfw8M8EGjmpEYHzz8I/s1600/IMG_6002.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg1JF8b3QB1JSdKICZW_v4CHiyX1VMfCI6b4Tqd6ZizhyIe1na32d2VkJ671AswMZL879BW2QwSfyD1NTsGMbPxGvWjzYIBW3xE3V8sykIq-nvrv-Rxs5TpR03oEfw8M8EGjmpEYHzz8I/s400/IMG_6002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506186130063015362" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This boll is a little more open and it seemed to be looking right at me. Notice the 5 "locks" of cotton in the boll.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv6Fq-nSe2XYlX2W82uMTy4lU5OUlvjImFGRRS_zyOXut2TVkmr5i-sYXj5h3j33C4z9FxbkBSVdNh13RrWbapMfplu9MEMATtFv6tuGPnAjSG2aYgWkI5bfxuyUVrI9WF17C1JL5jTFw/s1600/IMG_5945.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv6Fq-nSe2XYlX2W82uMTy4lU5OUlvjImFGRRS_zyOXut2TVkmr5i-sYXj5h3j33C4z9FxbkBSVdNh13RrWbapMfplu9MEMATtFv6tuGPnAjSG2aYgWkI5bfxuyUVrI9WF17C1JL5jTFw/s400/IMG_5945.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506187704826438482" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The photo of this boll is taken in profile, but it has only 4 locks. MH says all the bolls either have 4 or 5 locks.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS0X41yI6UKsGnd-XaJGDxWuEZaLHlPUpHLwFXr2VxlWSzT5GFznRotbXzOCFor-D_Z9FKdHATguMyypwYh430512l1ilTn19zfvY0Rf2pWsWtCNgFL7SmmyTYxiE8XShh2J3tOTaa0tI/s1600/IMG_5951.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS0X41yI6UKsGnd-XaJGDxWuEZaLHlPUpHLwFXr2VxlWSzT5GFznRotbXzOCFor-D_Z9FKdHATguMyypwYh430512l1ilTn19zfvY0Rf2pWsWtCNgFL7SmmyTYxiE8XShh2J3tOTaa0tI/s400/IMG_5951.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506189248412706146" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The cotton plants are still loaded with bolls that haven't even begun to open. Here you see an open boll with 5 locks and several unopened bolls. MH says that once the defoliant is applied, the crop gets ready in a hurry.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYnbGlwnVvgBV-uWLVuUg2Pzj1f2EOa45tBU4HpJ_W8NjxNA5ngzW2FoYeuhn-PCgchSqL42XqpMcX1frDA7aO-hCE6sZ9VX8XIrACUJh7lg6iV87kpJTYWhHlvCwPYsuP0Nft3lJ0A5c/s1600/IMG_5984.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYnbGlwnVvgBV-uWLVuUg2Pzj1f2EOa45tBU4HpJ_W8NjxNA5ngzW2FoYeuhn-PCgchSqL42XqpMcX1frDA7aO-hCE6sZ9VX8XIrACUJh7lg6iV87kpJTYWhHlvCwPYsuP0Nft3lJ0A5c/s400/IMG_5984.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506201070560948770" /></a><br />Now this is what you call a pretty cotton crop! Thanks be to God for perfect weather, and thank you Johnny Dodson for your expertise as a farmer.<br /><br /><br />The crop dusters will be spraying the defoliants next and before you know it, the cotton pickers will be in the fields. I may miss the defoliating, and I hope so. The farmers and the Extension Agents assure everyone that the spraying isn’t harmful to humans, but I’ve always been very suspicious about it. It smells awful at the very least. MH and I rarely go on trips, but we are planning a little trip to South Dakota, Montana, and Wyoming; so I’m thinking maybe the defoliating will happen while I’m gone. It not, maybe I can catch a decent photo of a crop duster. At any rate, I’ll follow the cotton story to the end for those of you who live north of the Mason-Dixon line and have never seen a cotton crop up close and personal.<br /><br />It has been over a week since I’ve touched base with you. The first part of last week I was swamped with responsibility regarding our library fundraising efforts, but later last week I got a nice break. A group of good friends gathered at my house and we spent the weekend sewing, embroidering, chatting, eating, and generally having a wonderful time. It was a welcome reprieve for me and my idea of a perfect weekend. Stitchers are just the best!Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-40042455362125215152010-08-07T18:12:00.000-07:002010-08-07T19:32:48.692-07:00Blossoms, Butterflies, and BeesThis was another pleasant morning and I went outside for a little while. It seemed like butterflies were everywhere. I ran back in, grabbed the camera and took another couple of hundred pictures, with a handful turning out to suit me. I bought a little handbook this afternoon to help me with identification, but it is not all that easy. The underside of the wings are often much paler so if you catch them with their wings closed, it can be deceiving. My little book did tell me that butterflies rest with their wings closed. If you see something you think is a butterfly with the upper wings folded over the lower wings, you are looking at a moth. The antennae of butterflies and moths are also very different. I know the first few shots I've posted are butterflies, but I'm not sure about the brown one. I am sure about yesterday's post, though. The antennae identify that one as a butterfly. Anyone who can identify what I’ve caught on camera.... your knowledge would be welcome. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwUDfx0AAsGNdQyr0s6VlEx09Kxpe9V4Naom9RblWCrpWECuMcIuQnKeEKwwQflU7oIZUdGJhjCsiU6Z8KMPdd_OxgZF8ujpozi7xrJh_g3HSORl-iSR3E9Ao4r3n_MlgPiD7eoVUNwYA/s1600/IMG_5780.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwUDfx0AAsGNdQyr0s6VlEx09Kxpe9V4Naom9RblWCrpWECuMcIuQnKeEKwwQflU7oIZUdGJhjCsiU6Z8KMPdd_OxgZF8ujpozi7xrJh_g3HSORl-iSR3E9Ao4r3n_MlgPiD7eoVUNwYA/s400/IMG_5780.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502843078334933298" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Most of my butterfly shots turned out to be kind of artsy, which I liked. It was not exactly intentional but I liked the effect as much as if I had been able to capture tack sharp photos with perfect exposure.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU-kSkKVGGHjcQZ9fZGq28m8Ayt8xNQW2zgUW0cIdjr5AWPfpzsAj9ZrJPNdRc8kD81JxPp5SA37cdvxQ0n8m6dto0NrihewSuz0VulenMTZAIRGj2SunFyOk-qhLs0euXVST1oBBLJ2Q/s1600/IMG_5779.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU-kSkKVGGHjcQZ9fZGq28m8Ayt8xNQW2zgUW0cIdjr5AWPfpzsAj9ZrJPNdRc8kD81JxPp5SA37cdvxQ0n8m6dto0NrihewSuz0VulenMTZAIRGj2SunFyOk-qhLs0euXVST1oBBLJ2Q/s400/IMG_5779.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502846764799940690" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />You'll have to click on this one and enlarge it to appreciate the angle of the shot.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQsypjIk58dlJMh9UDgStLkeV-VlVY66lJ93ypMkTGf31wwJa1sZS1Gy5BK1clwhwLC3_643EdKGkfYeI33zzlwpC31vBB8D_hdODTqRtGSSNQi5vCOcCk8QiGq6BM952rl2WSWL_FZa8/s1600/IMG_5775.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQsypjIk58dlJMh9UDgStLkeV-VlVY66lJ93ypMkTGf31wwJa1sZS1Gy5BK1clwhwLC3_643EdKGkfYeI33zzlwpC31vBB8D_hdODTqRtGSSNQi5vCOcCk8QiGq6BM952rl2WSWL_FZa8/s400/IMG_5775.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502849208602893298" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This one was still in flight. He landed on the brick steps but my best shot of him was before he lit.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3tlRDFhLIuQiyQjM7qPqpwVyNZrTEuxuluCCE7B4MNJQDYA9OZxk9n69HXDYlAvWdkyKXTzgOkTsilaQ2pwMZlWK4gXaDrVHlGKgQ2ZukmZZ-25pOcf7K9vz4ueTfrBrHTZNfVDXgOY/s1600/IMG_5758.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3tlRDFhLIuQiyQjM7qPqpwVyNZrTEuxuluCCE7B4MNJQDYA9OZxk9n69HXDYlAvWdkyKXTzgOkTsilaQ2pwMZlWK4gXaDrVHlGKgQ2ZukmZZ-25pOcf7K9vz4ueTfrBrHTZNfVDXgOY/s400/IMG_5758.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502850899018898274" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />This shot was a complete surprise. I'm not even sure if this is a butterfly or a moth, but I loved the way the light danced around in my camera. I thought it looked more like a watercolor painting than a photo. There was very little editing done to any of these photos. I liked this one so such that I sent it to a friend who is ill. Maybe it told her that I think of her and pray for her often.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbo3dEeXX1jAfX7FI8D2uSFkMeiog6g_-TU-uLSDiboQyF5Tn0T98ZqAa3oG9T4zQf99L3XZVGNdTQRZiz_nVu5MaitArZSAobwBwcDRihOaYb3YclMMKvkMr_mTCZOCRj28Cbtp7k1v0/s1600/IMG_5829.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbo3dEeXX1jAfX7FI8D2uSFkMeiog6g_-TU-uLSDiboQyF5Tn0T98ZqAa3oG9T4zQf99L3XZVGNdTQRZiz_nVu5MaitArZSAobwBwcDRihOaYb3YclMMKvkMr_mTCZOCRj28Cbtp7k1v0/s400/IMG_5829.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502854177231615298" /></a>I know beyond all doubt what this dude is - a white headed bumblebee, and he is covered with pollen. MH used to catch them to the delight of our oldest grandson when he was just a toddler. These don’t sting and my grandson used to laugh hysterically when MH would catch them. I always worried that my grandson wouldn’t know the difference and attempt to catch the ordinary stinging kind of bumblebee, but MH assured me that his little hands weren’t quick enough.<br /><br />During those years we also had large clumps of ornamental grass in the back flower beds. One day this particular grandson, who we call Q, was looking out the window and quickly reported that a lion was in the back yard. He had seen The Lion King on video in the not too distant past. We were never able to convince him that lions weren’t in the yard. He didn’t seem to be afraid, but he was quite insistent that he was looking at lions. It made me think of Jerry Clower (are any baby boomers reading?) Jerry had a very funny story entitled “Lions in the Yard”. Jerry Clower was from Yazoo City, MS. His style of humor was similar to Minnie Pearl's humor. I enjoyed them both.Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-11474890510255464272010-08-06T10:24:00.000-07:002010-08-06T12:00:00.331-07:00What the Butterfly SawMalcolm Gladwell has a fairly new book out called <span style="font-weight: bold;">What the Dog Saw</span>. It is a collection of stories that he has written for <span style="font-weight: bold;">The New Yorker</span> magazine. I thoroughly enjoy Gladwell’s work and have read <span style="font-weight: bold;">The Tipping Point</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Blink</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Outliers</span>, and most recently <span style="font-weight: bold;">What the Dog Saw</span>. The title of <span style="font-weight: bold;">What the Dog Saw</span> is based on the story Gladwell wrote about Cesar Milan. Now you may wonder why I got into all of this “what the butterfly saw” business. Let me explain.....<br />It was a little cooler and a bit cloudy this morning. I haven’t been outside any more than absolutely necessary the past few days because of the miserable heat, so I took the opportunity to get outside this morning and enjoy the pleasant change in the weather. Well, I guess you’ve figured out by now that if I go, the camera goes, as does Squirt. <br />Soon after we went outside I saw another butterfly flitting from bloom to bloom so I set my camera’s shutter speed on 1/4000 and “gave it a shot”. I’ve not a clue what kind of butterfly this is and I’ve spent far too much time on the internet trying to figure it out. It doesn’t look exactly like any of the orange butterflies I see on the net. If anyone knows, I’d love to hear.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01rdu4FwC4JiBD-8dmlGq__CzpKPFqX8IENaT06TzzJ6DejeCLuIcw8nUtHHMOpJPaj-kOXyrBrccVS6IEUKG0Bg18VQmhlILfmfD-GsCHWB4GOtlS3ykBHrwvHCATQLj2qB8LWFFJfM/s1600/IMG_5552.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 298px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01rdu4FwC4JiBD-8dmlGq__CzpKPFqX8IENaT06TzzJ6DejeCLuIcw8nUtHHMOpJPaj-kOXyrBrccVS6IEUKG0Bg18VQmhlILfmfD-GsCHWB4GOtlS3ykBHrwvHCATQLj2qB8LWFFJfM/s400/IMG_5552.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502350109718245378" border="0" /></a><br />And I guess I still haven’t explained why I titled the blog “What the Butterfly Saw”? These purple flowers are what the butterfly saw. Since my thumb is anything but green, I let my lifelong friend, Harolyn, choose what is planted in the pots every year, and I must add that I beg her to find someone to do the planting since I hate to get my hands dirty. Harolyn is the town landscaping expert and I give her free reign with “everything outdoors” here. I only know the difference between the more ordinary flowers like petunias, geraniums, etc. so I don’t even know what this plant is; but I love the way it grows and drapes. I’m not usually a big fan of purple, but I think this is one of the most beautiful plants I’ve ever had on my patio. I guess this butterfly liked the looks of it, too. I took a variety of shots of this plant, some of which were actually better compositions, but I decided on these views because I think either of these might have been the way the butterfly was looking at it.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvdVhLOVRjBnIzzoXSzqA-4FhPm9t1rf4X5ew6deAjeIGVpt9rkURt7aYyNYctpsq13SmtOFeUO7ooUmllr0PtLgmdrDveAtF62hyphenhyphenO8dcJjYZXJ0RCk0liKFNhlv_NwTa7xhdyHeNu4c/s1600/IMG_5567.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvdVhLOVRjBnIzzoXSzqA-4FhPm9t1rf4X5ew6deAjeIGVpt9rkURt7aYyNYctpsq13SmtOFeUO7ooUmllr0PtLgmdrDveAtF62hyphenhyphenO8dcJjYZXJ0RCk0liKFNhlv_NwTa7xhdyHeNu4c/s400/IMG_5567.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502354038406611378" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii55WeRx7bzO1SfJ2DQxntfEaQH0UPNAZYvfoqLaKRA3GEyBz3_2gq9VpN2C1cTIqeYFRINN3czHVQ8ObE7ByP8HX1cDvQtjQlxRbQLAxkfHZjFnw5Xd7OGrYm_qYwJDPA90jipUTP26Q/s1600/IMG_5568.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii55WeRx7bzO1SfJ2DQxntfEaQH0UPNAZYvfoqLaKRA3GEyBz3_2gq9VpN2C1cTIqeYFRINN3czHVQ8ObE7ByP8HX1cDvQtjQlxRbQLAxkfHZjFnw5Xd7OGrYm_qYwJDPA90jipUTP26Q/s400/IMG_5568.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502354909532594466" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />While I was busy trying to get some good shots of the butterfly, there was another story going on. It should be titled “What the Dog Smelled”. My guess is that there is a desperate frog under the hose reel. Even though I was confident it could only be a pitiful frog, I wouldn’t move the reel for fear of an imminent illness or death. If it were, indeed, a frog as I suspected, Squirt would have quickly captured it and the final result of that would have been a sickly Squirt. The lesser of the possibilities was that there was a snake under there. Had that been the case, Mimi Pearl would have had a heart attack. So I let it be. Squirt tried every contortion to get at whatever was hiding under the hose reel.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidDRxMl5bezy0DzckcklyYTmQYdsYpyRUkPudTKK0CEARAu6zM_NkwnruvScvFNK0YiL28q3GlsayQOz0alI1YeCYVbIPzPdvDP4gGCHsnLJ2PcMgawWY4mwZ4lAPWwEvoSd014hmYG3s/s1600/IMG_5572.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidDRxMl5bezy0DzckcklyYTmQYdsYpyRUkPudTKK0CEARAu6zM_NkwnruvScvFNK0YiL28q3GlsayQOz0alI1YeCYVbIPzPdvDP4gGCHsnLJ2PcMgawWY4mwZ4lAPWwEvoSd014hmYG3s/s400/IMG_5572.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502357885878602706" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWuq1I8sQS2YNB6NNOoOwPD28bx6ZaIlYYf4YZ-KU43fzzO25Cz0P9Mli9tUuniFKinh8oNE8i79OFywi9Gf9Eks8IDvE-QqGRG_EiATa60-8rtB3QejCsRNEOVDEQPKz4f-czsxOtWBE/s1600/IMG_5578.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWuq1I8sQS2YNB6NNOoOwPD28bx6ZaIlYYf4YZ-KU43fzzO25Cz0P9Mli9tUuniFKinh8oNE8i79OFywi9Gf9Eks8IDvE-QqGRG_EiATa60-8rtB3QejCsRNEOVDEQPKz4f-czsxOtWBE/s400/IMG_5578.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502359682433914082" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiABkGHGktVSGqKahTSOK5kgyl2XYJ41RI0_vhSbDUSJadsCGYRoYxj9Nm1gjVidoG3FXvJb0PEBLppWbimAVuVaQsvdNw1Wn4_DvH_TUTf9O5nEVVrXpclJ6PFLZqxDOihlUmWH6PhpYQ/s1600/IMG_5591.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiABkGHGktVSGqKahTSOK5kgyl2XYJ41RI0_vhSbDUSJadsCGYRoYxj9Nm1gjVidoG3FXvJb0PEBLppWbimAVuVaQsvdNw1Wn4_DvH_TUTf9O5nEVVrXpclJ6PFLZqxDOihlUmWH6PhpYQ/s400/IMG_5591.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502360568085571362" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIZAEX8nvdOfpbqfszFO4UO7EFE8tBi54myeXbDBdw48zZvaMtzb969VkYGlRb5I2nfiIibdHXLvHBn70mgLSVO2AtoVAKdZJXdwgUxF_DUl7ebehyphenhyphen-bCxIBCE2X93bkRKOdtqhSwYUz0/s1600/IMG_5607.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIZAEX8nvdOfpbqfszFO4UO7EFE8tBi54myeXbDBdw48zZvaMtzb969VkYGlRb5I2nfiIibdHXLvHBn70mgLSVO2AtoVAKdZJXdwgUxF_DUl7ebehyphenhyphen-bCxIBCE2X93bkRKOdtqhSwYUz0/s400/IMG_5607.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502361705194811026" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />I guess he decided that since all else had failed, he might be able to chew the hose reel up enough to get to whatever was under there.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Squirt finally exhausted himself and came inside. I always tell him to let me see his feet so I can wipe off any dirt or mud before he can track it all around, and on command he rolls over and holds his feet up for me to clean them off. He may be a spoiled rotten dog, but he is a smart one.Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-89678522927001714572010-08-04T21:35:00.000-07:002010-08-04T21:47:32.057-07:00Cards and SignsCards have been on my mind this week. A couple of weeks ago I attended Fay Hendren’s funeral. I don’t guess I ever heard an unkind word about Fay, and those of us who knew her will miss her terribly. Fay sent cards. It was a very special ministry for her. If you needed encouragement or if she thought she ought to thank you for something, you got a card from Fay. All told, there is no telling how much money Fay spent on cards and postage during her long ministry of sending cards. A couple of ladies in our church received cards from Fay, in Fay’s handwriting no less, on the day we attended her visitation. Those cards always meant a lot to folks.<br />It seems like I never have the right card, or a card at all, when I get struck with the notion to send a card. With that in mind, I decided to find out about getting some cards made from my own photography. I upload photos to Flickr and that site links you right over to Snapfish, where you can order cards. They are quite inexpensive, so I ordered plenty. I’ve used some of the better photos I’ve posted on this blog for the bulk of the cards, but I did have a special card made from a photo I’ve never posted before. The photo below is an antique pincushion and spool holder that some friends gave me for my birthday several years ago. I used what my Mac iPhoto program calls an “antique” finish rather than using the color version of the photo. I think this one is just “me”, and I hope it turns out well. If it doesn’t turn out well, it may well go in the trash.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHhp-zoBqk7HWdNQynTFG0rC4ZZtx-p7c0zSJzg72QfyvMoKnLskFE_TzI3KmVFHbv3IBTbN-FDl1PP90kofDf4uaV9_Gz5mRAsfryeC1CuiAGtxjorEf3UObUvXw22nuI-N_fFz8nUNg/s1600/IMG_1552.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHhp-zoBqk7HWdNQynTFG0rC4ZZtx-p7c0zSJzg72QfyvMoKnLskFE_TzI3KmVFHbv3IBTbN-FDl1PP90kofDf4uaV9_Gz5mRAsfryeC1CuiAGtxjorEf3UObUvXw22nuI-N_fFz8nUNg/s400/IMG_1552.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501780457483185938" /></a><br />Now, on to signs...... which have been on everybody’s mind locally if they can see!<br />Tomorrow is election day here in Dyersburg. We have state primaries and local elections both. We’ll definitely have a new sheriff in Dyer County. There are some good men running, but I’ll miss Jeff Holt. He has had a flawless career in my opinion, but he’s moving up to a US Marshall position. I’m happy for Jeff and I’m relieved that all 3 of the men running for his position are well qualified and, regardless of the winner, our county will continue to enjoy good protection.<br />It is stunning to me that less than 100 years ago, women still did not have the right to vote. HBO produced a special movie called <span style="font-weight:bold;">Iron Jawed Angels</span> starring Hillary Swank a couple of years ago that tells a remarkable story about the women’s suffrage movement. I attended Tennessee public schools from grade 1 through college, but I don’t remember ever being taught a thing about women’s suffrage. And Tennessee played a pivotal role in the women’s suffrage movement. As a matter of fact, it all came down to Tennessee. Tennessee passed the law by a margin of one vote. A young legislator named Harry Burn had previously voted against women’s suffrage, but the day of the final vote he got a letter from his mother urging him to vote in favor of the amendment. He had the letter in his pocket when he cast his vote. So the 19th amendment was ratified as a result of one mother’s influence on her son in the state of Tennessee. There are many articles on the internet about the women’s suffrage movement. For a more detailed account of the movement in Tennessee, you can visit the following website:<br /><a href="http://www.tennesseehistory.com/class/LizzieCroz.htm">http://www.tennesseehistory.com/class/LizzieCroz.htm</a><br />Oh, I guess I still didn’t even mention signs. Well, there are political signs everywhere. They absolutely litter the landscape and I hate looking at them. I hope the candidates get them cleaned up by Friday and give us a bit of a break before the November election. Those signs don’t do a thing toward helping me make up my mind. The candidates could save themselves a lot of money on signs for my part.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJiu5qn5WI_vAIpRXI-iI0_Oc-TrIdsF526nt_9ayW2xk44poSdOLHVMR8u9eSVg-QnuNcBsWklaLSSHr8c5qultU-WtQ-Pdy1DDTGHLhSw5r0GsTiHgYU2YyrzHozNJYW6TgKTfwRhtg/s1600/IMG_5249.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 260px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJiu5qn5WI_vAIpRXI-iI0_Oc-TrIdsF526nt_9ayW2xk44poSdOLHVMR8u9eSVg-QnuNcBsWklaLSSHr8c5qultU-WtQ-Pdy1DDTGHLhSw5r0GsTiHgYU2YyrzHozNJYW6TgKTfwRhtg/s400/IMG_5249.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501781620909330530" /></a>Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6296966652955703392.post-46575013523609284302010-08-01T22:46:00.000-07:002010-08-01T23:12:29.386-07:00Dogs, Grief, Foxy and JackIf you love dogs and photography like I do, you’d enjoy <a href="http://www.bedlamfarm.com/">www.bedlamfarm.com</a>. It is one site I visit every single day. Jon Katz has written a number of books about dogs. Right now he is writing a book on animal grieving and I’m anxious to get a copy of it. I could have used it about 15 months ago when someone shot and killed my grandchildren’s 2 beloved border collies. Jon Katz has 4 dogs and 2 of his dogs are border collies. He takes beautiful pictures of his dogs and some of those photos end up on notecards that he sells via <a href="http://www.reduxart.com/">www.reduxart.com</a>.<br />We knew early on that we’d never be able to prove who killed the children’s pets, but besides their parents getting divorced, losing those dogs in that manner was the most devastating thing that ever happened to my grandchildren. I have since decided that it is just as well that we never found out who was responsible. By law (at least in TN), dogs are considered property and it is doubtful that there would have been very much punishment for a crime of this sort anyway. It might have been worse to know who would murder sweet and defenseless animals and devastate innocent children in order to hurt you. My grandson finally told me about 6 months ago that he had come to a place where he could just remember the dogs and appreciate the time he had with them. My granddaughter never talks about it. The truth is that both children suffered terribly. A front page picture and article appeared in the local newspaper about it and one of the Memphis television stations came up and did a news segment on it. Of course, there was all kinds of speculation from people who did not know us that the dogs ran loose or in some way infringed on the rights of others, but we live out in the country and the dogs were trained to never get out of the yard. Both dogs were friendly, affectionate, and full of the usual border collie type energy. They were extremely smart and my grandson spent time outside with them every single afternoon teaching them various tricks. He also got into photography just a bit and took some really good pictures of them. If he has picked up a camera since, I do not know about it. The person that shot these dogs came into the garage to kill the female dog. The garage door was down, so they entered a back door to shoot her. The male dog was lying under a pickup truck possibly trying to shy away from whoever shot him. I will spare you any further grisly details.<br />I have a friend who suggested a book that I think did help them. The book is <b>Heaven</b> by Randy Alcorn. The long and short of it is that the scriptures don’t say that your pets <i><b>won’t</b></i> be in heaven. The scriptures just don’t address the issue. Revelation tells us that horses will be there, so it is not unreasonable to believe that other animals will be there as well. I don’t know whether we’ll see pets in heaven or not, but this book did help my grandchildren move forward during an awfully tough time.<br />I’m not going to post my own photography tonight. The following pictures were taken by my grandson with a point and shoot camera.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoZXnK_MxVYp-mr0NqLbUzGRTW1DoGKB6IJrqeEpyilTNFLE5FCePQpoNkz4Zm79ZgtK4GQJWgBz-_DxzxYLcY0G9btBzU46jzih3PABjHws4yJ_2NQGUse1-G7OROyWOs-Df47H6wpV4/s1600/P8300058.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoZXnK_MxVYp-mr0NqLbUzGRTW1DoGKB6IJrqeEpyilTNFLE5FCePQpoNkz4Zm79ZgtK4GQJWgBz-_DxzxYLcY0G9btBzU46jzih3PABjHws4yJ_2NQGUse1-G7OROyWOs-Df47H6wpV4/s400/P8300058.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500685793996536466" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6obnoIaSY0HdiSOTkbXIBb7nHBmmJ1VSr4qoAjW1Y6T_4JJ4lEyHCuwfHljlTUkYxzP5vHBCJZLcITByoOmkq-AWDaUmplGUfcEmM3rp4Y1Mc-0ChgvyvWy0jh2V6uPns9sX-WZsfM1c/s1600/P8300051.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6obnoIaSY0HdiSOTkbXIBb7nHBmmJ1VSr4qoAjW1Y6T_4JJ4lEyHCuwfHljlTUkYxzP5vHBCJZLcITByoOmkq-AWDaUmplGUfcEmM3rp4Y1Mc-0ChgvyvWy0jh2V6uPns9sX-WZsfM1c/s400/P8300051.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500686850942739506" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUiz5B2vmZ8591vPV9EjUfdubEVfL63KGmCdrf8BllpYxUEh48N606IzgvXvAueFvdcMcvWwFf9yaudUGOH6ElQQMtpoR673uECfsx605av8amZ6GiD2mk_NCmbBl52YqICqiuWJQa_3Q/s1600/P8300059.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUiz5B2vmZ8591vPV9EjUfdubEVfL63KGmCdrf8BllpYxUEh48N606IzgvXvAueFvdcMcvWwFf9yaudUGOH6ElQQMtpoR673uECfsx605av8amZ6GiD2mk_NCmbBl52YqICqiuWJQa_3Q/s400/P8300059.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500687439631979858" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTl8NioXa-Eg_risGJQJWzM0VCpDcL5AOY6EcdAcXqoD4FxSCqYSGuESnINnhb_CsbdxEeOkesYdeamlCqS89mrxBu4HQygFIcRNXJFWKjAGQu7W5lEeWF3i5wBaMBcortiHUM1V95eGo/s1600/P8310087.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTl8NioXa-Eg_risGJQJWzM0VCpDcL5AOY6EcdAcXqoD4FxSCqYSGuESnINnhb_CsbdxEeOkesYdeamlCqS89mrxBu4HQygFIcRNXJFWKjAGQu7W5lEeWF3i5wBaMBcortiHUM1V95eGo/s400/P8310087.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500687917196621826" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvN7tIy9tiILZIGLs6HJJtLvwFVVoyn1RpauR5SjkzdJzoRA66LAb8ieeaK_l_R1GkNMEnbovwI8vhqBEXlwPfXPHwPo-lSfs3wW2QUs0uQM4os5dqyj5kSWcvW649Gu5sbhDM5r3Gw9U/s1600/P8300062.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvN7tIy9tiILZIGLs6HJJtLvwFVVoyn1RpauR5SjkzdJzoRA66LAb8ieeaK_l_R1GkNMEnbovwI8vhqBEXlwPfXPHwPo-lSfs3wW2QUs0uQM4os5dqyj5kSWcvW649Gu5sbhDM5r3Gw9U/s400/P8300062.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500688432954312098" /></a><br />The dogs, Foxy and Jack, were both very intelligent, sweet, and full of personality. I think my grandson might have had a gift with the camera. Both grandchildren have a deep love of animals.Carol Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15507311300436266176noreply@blogger.com2