I don’t usually bring too heavy a posting to my little wild gooseberry garden. Today, though, is the 70th anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor and I just can’t imagine letting it slip by uncommented.

My parents were just little children when Pearl Harbor was bombed, bringing the United States into World War II. My mother’s father served in the Navy and was in the most horrible places in the Pacific during the war. I never knew him, but I know he was changed forever due to his experience. Everyone who served must have been to some extent.

My husband’s family had their own experiences. My husband’s mother is from Japan and her parents were university professors in Tokyo. They spoke out against the Emporer and Japan’s actions on December 7th. As a result. my husband’s grandfather was taken by his own government and tortured and beaten for the duration of the war.  He never recovered completely from the brain damage that was inflicted. His wife sold the silk kimonos that were treasures in the family and at the end of the war, was subsisting on grass. This proud family of Samurai heritage lost everything in the war, except their lives. My husband’s grandfather never flew the Japanese flag again.

How many lives were changed, how much courage was shown, how much America changed as a result of December 7, 1941. Let us remember the courage of the Greatest Generation and let us honor their sacrifices by honoring our country. America is still great…and I hope we can keep it that way.

I love, love, love my birthdays. My mother always made sure I had lovely parties and cakes and my parents always made my special day just that…special. I don’t mind one speck getting older, as my mother says, it beats the alternative. People who say “This is my last ‘birthday’ ” make me sad. You will still keep aging with no nice benefits of cake, dinner out, and presents. All you’ll get is older! What fun is that? I say, bring on the goodies and let me celebrate this wonderful life I have!

Today I am 43. I feel like I’m lying when I say that and wonder what “43″ is supposed to feel like. My 43 feels like this: I love to do art projects, I love to blow bubbles in the park, I love to play tag, I love to eat popcorn while watching scary movies (not alone, I can’t handle scary movies alone!) My 43 still wishes on falling stars, on the first star of the night and on eyelashes and dandelions and birthday candles. My 43 believes in faeries and angels and kindness and goodness. My 43 thinks snowfall and fireflies are magical. The 43 year old I am still has the child I was alive and well and happy living within me.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Happy birthday to me!
Happy life to me! ♥

Yay!

Tonight is the night of the Full Beaver Moon, or the Full Frost Moon. For Native American peoples in the North and East, it was time to put out beaver traps to ensure warm winter furs through the cold Winter. Also, beavers become more active during this time of year as they build their dams and prepare for the cold months to come. We haven’t had a frost yet here this year, but the first frost often coincides with this moon.

Welcome, Beaver/Frost Moon to the sky…

Today, we celebrate another happy doggy day. Tonight will be 5 years since our little Georgia Rose came into the family. We weren’t looking for another dog, we didn’t want another dog, but sometimes, the best things are those you are not expecting…

We had gone to a Haunted Forest set up by a volunteer fire department in a town about 45 minutes from us. We had just arrived with friends and were out in the parking lot, when my husband (Joshua) saw this little red dog step out of the treeline. He called to her and she came over. She was the saddest little doggy in the world. He pet her and she was just so sad and meek. After a few minutes we left her and went through the Haunted Forest. Lots of fun, lots of screaming haha! I almost forgot about the sad little dog. When we came back out and were talking with our friends, we could see the little dog by the trees again. Again, he called to her and again over came the saddest little dog. We could feel the tics embedded in her ears and see her hipbones and ribs. I questioned whether this little dog lived there as they weren’t taking good care of her. He guessed she did live there as there was nothing else around but woods. Just as we were saying goodbye to the little dog, a man came along and said as he walked by “That little dog wandered over here about 3 days ago. We’re not feeding her so if you want her, you better take her.” In to the car we went, with me holding this little dog for the longest ride home we had ever had. She shivered and shook and was so scared. I held her as Joshua drove and she finally fell asleep in my arms. We found out later that she probably came from a hunting lodge nearby and was either lost or culled away as she may not have been working out as a hunting dog. It’s a terrible, mean practice to just send the dogs out to fend for themselves. At least this little girl was saved.

She was red and we found her in Georgia, so we named her Georgia Rose. The vets have said she is all hound dog of various types, mostly Red Bone Coon Hound (most Americans are familiar with those dogs as “Where the Red Fern Grows” has long been required reading for a long time.) She also probably has Beagle in her, too. All she did for the first 3 days was sleep and eat. And on the 4th day she woke up and has been a little ball of happy energy ever since. As sad as she was that night is as happy as she is now. She has food, is warm and dry and is definitely loved. She has turned out to be a comfort dog. If ever I am hurt (like when I broke my toe!) or am sad, she stays right with me until I feel better. ♥ She has a white marking on her chest that Joshua said looked like an angel. His thought was that she had angels watching over her that night. I absolutely agree…but it also reminds me of her sweet little nature and how she has her own angelic qualities…on most days.

Here is our little Georgia Rose, our sweet and funny pup. 

I joke and say we have a Hund and a Hound. 

Today, our dear and gentle Hildegard turned 12 years old.  Joshua and I weren’t even married a month when Hildy came into our little family. She has been with us through every move, every deployment, ever minute. Through the years she has brought much happiness to just about everyone she meets. She is retired now, but when we were stationed in Colorado, she and I were a hospice therapy team. I have seen miracles worked through her on more than one occasion during this time. People, completely non-responsive, speaking for the first time in months after having a visit from Hildegard. Tears of happiness were shed over her visits and even the administrators needed visits whenever Hildy was on shift.

She no longer goes to hospices, but she still works her gentle doggy magic. Today I took her to PetsMart and she chose out treats (she did! She purused the selections and finally knocked the ones she wanted to the floor!) Some new toys came home with us, but most of all, much love was left behind us. Many people wanted to pet her, give her treats, hug her and remark on this most remarkable dog.

Tomorrow we will celebrate by taking the doggies out for wild romping in the Georgia woods. Today, though, is Hildegard’s birthday and I wanted to share with you this sweet and special dog we’ve been blessed with for a dozen years.

Happy Birthday, dear Hildegard.

There is a saying in the South when life is good one is said to be walking in “high cotton.”  I also think about the song from one of my favorite groups Alabama and the song from their album Southern Star, called High Cotton. It really reminds me of my roots, of my family, and makes me appreciate their love even more.

It is cotton harvesting time here in Georgia. Last month we passed fields full of beautiful yellow blossoms.

Recently, we were just over the border in South Carolina, and came upon this beautiful field, not quite ready for harvest.

My mama did teach me better than to stand out in the middle of the road, but no cars were coming either way for as far as we could see, and I really like how this picture turned out.

Speaking of Mama, this is one of my absolute favorite pictures of her. It was taken in the mid-50’s when she was a teenager, just arrived in California from Arkansas. I am proud to say I come from a long line of cotton pickers.

The fields around our area are ready for harvest. Life is good and we are indeed walking in high cotton. 
I wish the same for all of you as well.

Alabama, High Cotton, Southern Star

Tonight is the night of the Harvest Moon. From my research about it, I found that it is called the Harvest Moon because of the location of the Earth, moon and sun. September’s full moon sits low on the horizon for several nights in a row. This low-lying moon gives the farmers an extension of daylight in which to harvest the crops.

This moon reached its peak at 5:27 this morning. At 5:16am, Hildegard, our old-lady German Shepherd, needed to go out. Desperado the cat joined us and together we saw the exact moment of the full moon. I could have read a book, the moonlight was so bright. While the rest of the world slept (or so it seemed) the three of us sat together and welcomed the golden Harvest Moon.

I always think of the old song “Shine on Harvest Moon” in September. 
Here it is, performed the way it should be, by Laurel and Hardy.
This is from the 1939 movie “The Flying Deuces.”

Enjoy and shine on, Harvest Moon…

I can’t believe it’s been 10 years since the attacks of September 11th, 2001. As with all Americans, and the world, the images and experiences and emotions are etched on my mind. In an instant, I can be transported back to that time, those feelings, that sense of bewilderment, disbelief, and anger.

I was a teacher at a Christian school all those years ago. Every morning, the children and I would watch the weather reports and incorporate the weather into our science lessons. That day, the principal came by to tell us not to turn on the television. She also whispered to me that America had been attacked, but that was all she knew. I had to hold it together all morning for 14 little children who had no idea that anything had occured. It was good for me to be with them as children are a wonderful distraction. Some of the children’s parents came to pick them up early, but half the class stayed and I had to act like it was perfectly normal for so many to go home during lessons.  After work, not wanting to go home to an empty house (my husband was Active Duty Army and was then deployed to Bosnia) I went to the grocery store, bought a bag of Cheetos (for some reason that made sense) and headed to a friend’s house. There, we watched the news, the now iconic images, being played over and over and over. In the years that followed, my husband has been deployed 3 times to the subsequent war.

This year, he was again gone from home, but this time to South Carolina and his National Guard unit.  He returned today with news of deployment once again, this time to Kosovo. Eastern Europe and September 11th go hand in hand for our little family. Earlier this morning, I was the teacher for the children’s class at the church we attend. Again, I had to hold things together for little children who were not even born then. So many echos back to that day…

Even earlier this morning, I attended a memorial at the lighthouse we love. I drove to the beach, to the lighthouse and heard “Amazing Grace” being played on bagpipes from the top of the high balcony of the flag-draped lighthouse. The playing of the bagpipes coincided with the time of day that the World Trade Center was attacked. It was a beautiful and moving tribute.

I received an e-mail this week from two friends over in England. One had been to the twin towers mere weeks before the towers fell. The other was actually in one of them on that day and barely escaped with his life. Both e-mails meant a great deal to me as they spoke of thinking of America, of our resilient American spirit, of friendship that spans the wide ocean between us. We are England’s baby and to me, England was still checking on us today. Thank you, friends.

The world is watching us, mourning with us, some still wishing to harm us. May our resilient spirit always overcome the darkness. May we be worthy of the sacrifices made and blessings bestowed upon us.

God bless America.
God bless us all.

I was greeted by several lighthouse friends, all very dear to us, including the sweetly loveable Miss Kitty. She came out of the summer kitchen and right up to me, offering kitty purrs and love and I petted her in return. She sat next to me for most of the time I was there.

We had been over to the beach for a function just a couple of nights ago.
Here is my favorite picture of the lighthouse from that night…

On Monday, August 1, 2011, we took Slumber in to the vet for the last time.

We had the weekend with her. She did her best to eat, but would only eat corn and blueberries. That’s it, nothing else, not even her beloved boiled eggs were appetizing to her. She only ate the corn or blueberries when we hand fed it to her, she wouldn’t get it on her own. She ate a little dry oatmeal on Saturday, but nothing else like that the rest of the time.  On Sunday night, we had the last rattie play time with her in the bathroom (rattie play time is where we put out climby toys and other interesting things and sit with them while they explore and play. The bathroom is the perfect and only good place for them to play out of Rattyton.) I fed her corn kernel after corn kernel. She finally had enough energy to attempt to run with the rest of the ratties. She slept a lot and then would try to play again. Finally, she rested and Ghost curled around her while the other ratties played.

On Monday morning, she seemed a bit more alert, but didn’t want to eat or move from her bandana hammock. Ghost came and rested with her and when we lifted Slumber out of the hammock, Ghost was still there. We let Slumber touch noses with the dogs Georgia Rose and  Hildegard and even our cat, Desperado. All of them were so gentle with her. We let the other ratties curl with her one more time and then we left to go to the vet.

The vet and the technician were absolutely wonderful. We arrived before the doctor did, so the tech took care of us until the vet arrived. We explained how Slumber was and she agreed that she had lost a lot of weight and that her breathing was even more labored than before. She explained with the little guys that they use an areochamber to literally put them to sleep with oxygen and then inject when they can no longer feel pain. She went to get things arranged and left us with her to say our goodbyes. We petted her and fed her corn kernels we brought along, just in case she wanted them. She did. She seemed so content to let us feed her the corn. She held each kernel in her little hands and nibbled it and then cleaned her little face. Joshua fed her the last corn and we petted her until she closed her eyes. When we were ready, the tech let us go with her to make sure Slumber wasn’t scared. She used a large dog oxygen mask (it was shaped like a large bell) to place over Slumber because the chamber itself was so large. At first Slumber didn’t like what was happening and got a little excited. We were there, though, and I “pet” the side of the mask where she could see me. She saw both Joshua and me, and she calmed down and watched us. We talked to her and petted the mask and after a few minutes, she became very drowsy. During that time, the vet came and agreed that it was Slumber’s time. When Slumber was mostly asleep, but eyes still awake and she was still breathing. they took her out and gave her an injection of anesthesia. She didn’t flinch at all. They wrapped her up in a little towel and let us take her back to the room we were in until we were ready for the last injection. We took turns holding her in her little towel and cried and cried over this little rattie who wasn’t with us for very long, but who left her little paw prints on our hearts. The last thing Slumber knew was that we were there, petting her. Finally, we let them know we were ready.

I brought a little pink box to place her in with a pink bandana inside it. When the vet brought her back to us, she had wrapped her up in the bandana and she was tucked gently in the box. The vet was crying a little, too. She told us what good parents we were (she did use the word “parents”) and handed Slumber to us. She assured us she went to final sleep peacefully. It was surprising how heavy she was. The vet hugged us both and said if there was anything else she could ever do for us, just to let her know. Then she made sure that the waiting room was clear before she allowed us to leave, which we greatly appreciated. She told us to be careful on the drive home. She gave Slumber the most gentle passing anyone, human or animal, could hope for.

We buried little Slumber near the lake behind our yard, next to a big pine tree. I placed three big lamb’s ear leaves from our garden inside her grave to make it pretty and soft. We pulled back the bandana to say goodbye, one last time.  The vet had closed Slumber’s eyes and had placed her on her side, with her little hands placed hand-over-hand. She looked so peaceful and it was evident the care the vet took with her. We petted her again and placed three kernels of corn and three big blueberries in with her, wrapped her back up and gently laid her on the bed of lamb’s ears.

After her little ceremony, we sat by the lake for a while, just watching the turtles surface and resting our souls.

We cried on and off all day. Slumber’s death was pre-mature. She didn’t even live a year and she was only two weeks old when we brought her home. She was never healthy, it seems and just didn’t have much of a chance. I told him that maybe we were chosen to take care of her because maybe other folks may not have taken such care.

Ghost was still waiting for Slumber to come back. She finally went down and joined Raya and Sweetie in the downstairs hammock. She made me cry almost as much as Slumber’s passing has. It’s been amazing watching these remaining three take care of each other. Ghost was Slumber’s best friend and I was very worried about her missing Slumber. The other two, Raya and Sweetie, have not let Ghost be alone for more than a few minutes since Slumber died. They will take turns sleeping with her or will all pile in together. They are still subdued, but have been a little more active today.

Goodnight, little Slumber. 
We miss you.

Slumber in her “hospital” cage, munching on a blueberry.

The last picture taken of all four ratties,  Sunday night, July 31st…

July marked a special day in the life of the authoress of Anne of Green Gables.  On July 5th 1911, Lucy Maud Montgomery married the Rev. Ewen Macdonald. The wedding took place at her grandfather’s house at Park Corner, Prince Edward Island (PEI), Canada. Last year, my husband and I were given the gift of a lifetime when we visited this jewel of an island set in the sapphire-blue North Atlantic. On our travels around this beautiful place, we happened upon Park Corner and the setting for the wedding.

The house belong to her Grandfather Montgomery and she had very fond memories and feelings for the house. Her Grandfather Montgomery was very kind to and loving to her. It seemed perfect that she would get married there, next to the Lake of Shining Waters.

In the book Anne of Green Gables, there is a part where Anne asks Marilla if she may use the rosebud tea set, as Diana was coming to tea. Anne was denied this priviledge, but we actually got to see the real rosebud tea service! It was so delicate, we could see through the plates. Mr. Robert Montgomery, L.M. Montgomery’s 3rd cousin and current owner of the house, held up a plate so that we could see.

When Anne first arrived at Green Gables, Marilla handed her a card from which to learn The Lord’s Prayer. Anne proclaimed she had nothing more to do with God once she found out he made her hair red on purpose and Marilla didn’t want the neighbors (Rachel Lynde) to know she had a “heathern” girl under her roof. I thought of that when I saw this beautiful calligraphy rendition of that prayer.

Lucy Maud Montgomery was married to the Reverend Macdonald in front of this grand fireplace.

The organ that was played at the wedding…

Once she married, Ludy Maud Montgomery left Prince Edward Island, only to return for visits. How much she must have loved her husband to have left her beloved island home.  He did arrange for her to be buried on the island. She finally came back home.

How much he must have loved her to make sure she was brought back to her island home. He passed away the following year.

Happy anniversary, L. M. Montgomery and Reverend Macdonald. I’m happy you found each other.