Moody Monday!

"Growing up, I was the plain one. I had no style. I was the tough kid with the comb in the back pocket and the feathered hair." ~ Cameron Diaz

"A great social success is a pretty girl who plays her cards as carefully as if she were plain." ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald

"It is impossible to think of any good meal, no matter how plain or elegant, without soup or bread in it.' ~ M. F. K. Fisher







Moody Monday has given us the word plain for today..

The picture above is of two apparently plain ladies.. One of them is me.. I bet you can guess that I am the fat and plain one.. the other is my cousin Sheron.. I love her to death.. she is my longest time friend.. I would be friends with her.. if she would let me.. even if we were no kin.. neither of us wear makeup.. well maybe every once in a great while we might.. but it has to be something special.. we have gray hair and we are too plain to get that erased.. we both laugh to loud and say what we think and don't care too much about our clothes.. we fish.. and garden and keep chickens and dogs and all the things that plain women do.. we like to grow our own food.. we wear tank tops and cut off blue jeans.. we go barefoot.. we do brush our hair.. but I can't tell you how long it's been since mine was actually styled.. Maybe I am a little plainer than her.. She doesn't write but she can do the best story jokes of anyone I know.. she is funnier than me.. But I will say for plain folks we are both pretty funny.....

Plain~
•unadorned, without decoration; simple and ordinary
•clear and obvious; easily understood
•not beautiful

just above is the definition of plain according to Moody Monday! I agree with the first two.. I am simple and ordinary.. I am clear.. I am easily understood because I speak my mind.. I have always considered myself.. just Plain old me.. I am what I am.. you get what you see.. Sheron fits that too..

but I don't always agree with the last part.. not beautiful.. some things even when they are plain have a deep or hidden beauty.. Sheron is such a beautiful person..
she loves her family and friends deeply.. she would do anything ..and I do mean anything.. for any of her loved ones..she is very artistic.. she decorates her yard for each holiday with decorations she has designed and made.. most are wooden cutouts that she has draw then cut out and painted.. Ghosts for Halloween and Candy canes hanging from every tree for Christmas and Hearts for Valentines day..

Remember that those of us who appear plain.. me and Sheron included.. are not always what we seem.. if you ever got a half a chance to see inside our lives you would realize that there is way more that you never knew..in some cases .. more than you could have imagined.. and behind our plain wrapper.. there might just be a very fancy person.. Have a great Night!!
Patsy

Little Things!

“Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.”
~ Robert Brault

"Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn't die; so, let us all be thankful." ~ Buddha

"In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed." ~ Kahlil Gibran

"The greatest wealth is to live content with little. " ~ Plato

Some days everything annoys me. Someone here left a sock on the floor. Not a pair of socks.. ONE SOCK.... DON"T THEY KNOW That this is how socks get lost!!! A little thing. But Lord knows I hate it. I pick up the sock that Most likely belongs to a male person who lives here because Me and everyone else knows I WOULD NOT drop my sock on the floor! Are any of you laughing? Do any of you see yourself in this? Yes the little things can annoy me. But on the other hand......

The strong smell of Coffee. Not the very expensive, so called, best brand but not the cheap chicory beverage stuff either. It's early. Frost still covers the ground. I have ignored them long enough. They will crow and cackle till I come out and break the ice. As I open the door and step out into the cold morning air I breath deeply. I thank God for a new day! I sip the hot black coffee and walk slowly out to the pens. The three Roosters all crow good morning then they try to see who can crow the loudest or maybe they are trying for the longest. I enjoy the show either way. I stop at the first pen and reach into the nest feeling around for a still warm egg. Peg rarely fails to lay first thing in the morning. As my hand closes on the warm brown egg I remember Daddy with his chickens and I also think of his fried eggs. He fried the very best eggs!

After checking the nests on all three pens I put the eggs I have gathered into an old Kitchen pot that I have left atop the first pen just for that purpose... ....Being a very organized person I do things like that.... Besides that pot didn't mean to loose it's handle. I found it a new use and saved it from the land fill.... Also on top of that pen is a big jug for filling the chickens water containers. They love water. They have to have lots and lots of water. I fill the jug and bring each pen fresh water. I love to throw the thick square of ice into their pens and watch them peck it. They will peck at it after it's on the ground and yet they squawk and fuss every morning until it is out of their water. Little things must annoy them too.

After I tend to the needs of my chickens I always sit on the upside down milk crate that awaits me and drink my cup of now half cooled coffee and watch the hens scratch in the dirt and leaves searching in their mindless way for a tasty bug or a fat worm. Sometimes one will unearth a tasty morsel only to have a sister hen snatch it up and run away. Some mornings I sit there and laugh at them. I can only hope that none of the neighbors are watching and wonder what on earth I am laughing at. Or better yet wonder who I am talking to out there by the pens where only chickens live. I do talk to them I thank the hens By saying good job as I gather the eggs. I do fuss at one rooster who's hens seem to be a bit lazy. He cocks his head and listens as if he understands. He usually then runs and jumps on a hen penning her down and pulling on her comb. So maybe he is trying to get them to lay more....

I pull grass for them from between the buckets in my bucket garden. They love the grass and I am getting two jobs done at once. Garden work by cleaning between the buckets and treating my hens with fresh green grass. They love it. I love to watch them with it and I have a clean garden.
Wow I'm about to be impressed with my own self.

I live a very simple life. I rarely leave my house or I guess I should say My Land. I grow a lot of my own food. I love flowers. I grow those too. For many many years my children and yes even my Husband have given me my own flowers for every occasion. When my children were small they would find blooming weeds in the ditch and pick some for me.. I put them in a vase and we sneezed but still enjoyed the blooms. Finally they graduated to picking what ever was blooming in my yard and I loved them. Last week Mason picked me two mayonnaise jars full of daffodils. I smiled as I thought about how many times his Daddy and I picked Daffodils along the cemetery road as we cut through Fuller Park on our tromps around Barnwell. I was pleased to see that he grows some flowers at his home in New Mexico. I offered to help them build their own Bucket garden but they said no.

I love to live a simple life. If I could I would grow all my own food. Dave says I can't have pigs so I guess I won't be growing any bacon or ham. I haven't asked about a cow yet but I thinking maybe if I promise steaks........ He loves watching the chickens as much as I do. Many mornings we drink a whole pot of coffee sitting on milk crates watching them scratch tossing them bits of bread or maybe a raisin. Laughing at their antics. Getting geared up for the day.

We all live in a time now that doesn't fit well with living the simple life. High costs of everything and the rush; rush; rush of the world running by keeps us all so busy and keeps our minds and bodies occupied 26 hours out of every 24 hour day. I hear my children talk about how every second of their day is already planned out for something. For two of them it's drive, school, drive, work, sleep, drive, work, drive.. a never ending cycle. The ones who aren't in school still have the cycle. They just go one less place. They still don't have any time to relax. I worry about our young people. They never have time or never take time to just sit down and drink a cup of coffee and watch the chickens scratch. They are missing so much in their busy lives.

They are missing the songs of the earliest morning birds. The tiny finches that bathe in the chilly saucer of water, splashing his face and then his body as he sings a sweet song. Shaking his feathers dry before flying away only to come back as a quick flash of bright color as he swoops down and snatches a bite of dog food to carry away with him.

They are missing the warm sunshine that shines on the dogs back as he lays upon the soft green grass at midday. Resting for a while. Stretching his muscles before jumping up to chase the rabbit who streaks through the dog yard, Hopping sideways before finally escaping with his cotton tail still with him. They are missing the squirrels who jump from tree to tree and leap across to the roof to fill his jaws with corn from Dave's feeder and then make the dangerous trip back to his home somewhere back there in the top of a pine tree. They are missing the lazy fish that swim in the shallow ponds and streams just hoping for a fat worm or a juicy cricket to fall into their trap. Little do they know when they bite that the trap was set for them and they will be a feast for someone tonight. In short I fear that The younger people are missing the simple things in life. Things that bring great beauty and pleasure to all of our lives if we only take the time to notice them. Our adult children don't have the time.. Life keeps them running in the rat race. Who will show their children?

Today my poem is an older one. It is called Little Things. I am a simple woman. I love the simple life. Today please take the time to enjoy one quiet simple thing. Maybe watch a bird or even stop just long enough to watch the sun set or enjoy a few minutes under a starlit sky. Be thankful for the simplest of things. Enjoy the Little Things in life! Have a great day!
Patsy






Little Things

It's the little things

that bug you

said a wise old man.

like shoes on the floor

and trash in the can.

I love the little things

for them I'd walk a mile

Keep your fancy words

and just give me a smile.

take my hand as

we walk along.

My knees go weak

but my heart beats strong.

Keep your money

and the fancy diamond rings

for all I need are the little things.

I want the sunrises, sunsets

the rainbows too

Midnight, starlight,

I'll gladly share with you.

Hugs, gentle Kisses,

a walk along the sand.

Fire flies Flickering

in a riverbank sky

it's the little things

that get me high

It's the little things that bug me?

No way my friend

I love the little things

I hope they never end

For it's the smiling,

the sharing,

the little things!

They make us friends!

By: Patricia B. Sawyer

2-27-1999

Thinking about the Past!

“The reason people find it so hard to be happy is that they always see the past better than it was, the present worse than it is, and the future less resolved than it will be”~ Marcel Pagnol

“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.”

~Buddha

"There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where colors are brighter, the air softer, and the morning more fragrant than ever again. " ~Elizabeth Lawrence

"The older I grow the more earnestly I feel that the few joys of childhood are the best that life has to give." ~Ellen Glasgow



It seems to come around this time of year for me. A pining and wishing for the simple life we knew as children. I well remember us running around the yard in front of the the little white house as dusk settled over the yard. The tall pines Mama had wanted planted around the yards edge standing as sentry's guarding over our home. The azalea's Daddy had planted on a Sunday afternoon scenting the evening air. Someone was hiding scrunched down in those flowers. We knew they were there somewhere. But in the faint darkness they were invisible to us. I can feel the tremors of excitement as we skipped along holding tight to each others hands. Singing out loud ~ " Ain't no boogers out tonight; out tonight~ out tonight! Ain't no boogers out tonight! Granddaddy killed them all last night!" And then with a screech the hider would leap up from the flower bed and away we would all run screaming back to the step where Mama and Daddy sat talking quietly together. Sometimes Aunt Lucy or Grandma Black might be sitting with them talking about grown-up things. They might even be shelling peas or butter
beans in the evening shadows. The porch light casting a golden pool around them. I can see them even now as if I am standing out near the pines looking back through years of time.Tingles of fear racing along my spine. Jimmy is hiding and he loves to scare us as much as he can. He will make us walk and sing forever; building the fear in all of us until he will leap from the shadows with a blood curdling yell as we race to the safety of the golden light around Mama and Daddy. He will cause us to scatter in fear, each running for their own life, afraid to hang on to each other. Afraid to look back.

Closing my eyes I can remember the smell of Daddy's cigar and can almost hear the whisper of Mama's laugh at something he said just loud enough for her to hear. We children would run and play until darkness was full upon the yard, then settle on the steps to watch in wonder as the fireflies flashed around over the same flower beds that had only moments before held boogers. Children don't play like that now. Dusk finds them on-line or playing video games or maybe just watching television. They miss so many wonderful things that happen in those moments between daylight and darkness. Nothing in life is simple now. Even small children have cell phones and I-pods and hand held games. I am so thankful for my childhood. I have tried very hard to give my own children a sense of the goodness of living simply. I know that they and their friends have laughed at my fondness for the simple life. I hope that one day, as they stand and look back through time, They too will remember the good times~ the fun~ the sew it up game~ the fireflies over the field~ the railroad hills~ me and my chickens~ The simple life.


Tonight I am going to share with you a story from the past. A story that tells of my love for some more of our childhood things. If there are children in your life, try to see that they enjoy some of the simple things. Maybe share with them a sunrise or a sunset. They may not appear to enjoy it but the time you spend on them will matter. I hope you enjoy the story and I hope you have a wonderful day.
Patsy

A Poor Man's Vacation

Mountain Climbing, river rafting, flying and exploring...we did it all when we were kids! We were sure our plane could fly higher and faster than any other plane ever invented. Made from an old hog chute at an uncle's hog farm and fueled by imagination, that old flying machine could take it's passengers almost anywhere. We would fly over Paris one minute and land in the Australian outback in the next. Sometimes we would fly over to Tibet and climb our own version of Mt. Everest.
Mountain climbing could take us all day once we got started because somehow it was always just as much fun to slide down the clay hills on flattened boxes as it was to climb to the top. Of course we also had to take time out to discuss where the passing trains were going and who might be on board.
After several hours of climbing we would wander along the river bank to the clearing where the Indians lived in their snowy white tepees. These Indians were very friendly. They showed us how to make chicken feather headbands and how to climb the tall scaly pine trees. Sometimes our friends would invite us to share their supper of buffalo dogs. When we cooked them over a small fire and added some ketchup or mustard they were almost like the franks mom would fix. The river was a great place for rafting and exploring. The currents would swirl our craft around and around as we dizzily hung on and rode the rapids. After a while David's arms would tire and we'd drift into the still waters. After a tiring ride down river we'd wander around in the great forest searching the well trodden paths for bits of glass or colored stones that we called treasure.
We really looked forward to going on an adventure with the Big Chief. We would load up in his red windblower and go deep into the forest. behind the river, where we would track down and capture such dreaded enemies as the sworded wild rose and the dangerous dogwoods. The chief would chop around their feet until they couldn't move. He'd hoist them up on his broad shoulders and we'd tie a burlap bag around their long trailing toes so they couldn't crawl away. We would load them into our windblower and haul them back to camp. The Chief would bury their feet and tie them to poles so they couldn't sneak away after dark!
I guess with every day being an adventure I was pretty near half grown before I realized that most people took some sort of vacation each year. I thought they were luxuries reserved only for the rich. I'll never forget the day I sat in class and stared with open-mouthed disbelief as Mrs. Davenport gave her best English teacher smile and the command to write an essay on our summer vacations. I couldn't tell my friends about our family outings. Even our camping trips and trips to the seashore didn't seem good enough. It was hard for me to understand why my parents couldn't take their eight kids on vacations like my friends went on. It took a lot of travel brochures and a lot of imagination to get me through those years.
Now that those Years are passed away and I have children of my own I often feel a longing to visit the places of my youth. The railroad bank mountains aren't nearly so high or hard to climb anymore and the creek river doesn't seem quite as deep. The old flying machine is only a rotting hog chute and the red windblower has long since been traded in on a Ford Escort. The dreaded enemies captured in the forest have become beautiful plants in my parents yard and the bed sheet tepees are long gone.
Now as I stand back and watch my children and the children of my brothers and sisters scramble to the top of the mountain only to come sliding down on red seated britches or cross the river on fallen tree bridges to claim as treasures the pretty colored stones, I feel a sudden urge to join them in the priceless pleasures of a poor man's vacation.

Written By: Patricia Sawyer
1989
Published: Southern Sensations Magazine
October-November 1989!