The Small Things In Life

  Music.   It has been one of the constants in my life. It can give you many feelings. The feeling to sway, the feeling of remembrance, of happiness, of sadness, and the connection to someone; someone living or someone who has passed on.  I love good music; music with the right harmony and the right rhythm. I do not consider 'Rap', music. Good music should have the power to emotionally lift your spirits and touch your soul with the lyrics and with the melody.
  A good book.   I dearly love to read.  Reading can transport your mind into a different era, or into another dimension, whether it be fantasy, mystery, history, fiction or fact. I hate to finish a good book and there are some novels that I've read more than once. If I don't have another book to read before I finish the one I'm currently on I start getting anxious and have to go out looking for a new novel that will ' take me to another place.'  That's bad....but....when I have problems, reading takes my mind off of them.
  Art.   Rembrandt's and Picasso's are breathtakingly beautiful, but my most favorite art works by far, are the ones that my children and grandchildren my first husband and my Mother drew or painted. Those, I cherish.  I also have letters and notes that I've kept through the years from my family.  What fun it is to go through one of my scrapbooks or to delve into my 'special letters' place and re-read those notes, or look at the precious hand drawn pictures  from so many years ago.
  Crafting and Sewing.   I come from a family of women whose sewing was a big part of their lives. My Granny who did drawn work on a plain piece of linen turning it into a treasured tablecloth, napkin or towel, sitting there patiently pulling small threads one at a time and creating beautiful artwork of the threads that remained in the material.  My great Aunt who could make beautiful tatting and lace from fine thread. The neat and colorful embroidery, crochet and knitting that my Mother did; the bedspreads that she made from cotton thread, the quilts, clothes, draperies and slip covers that she stitched.  My aunt, who loved doing needlepoint.
Some of these types of sewing and crafting have been passed down through generations, others lost by the wayside.
  Gardening.  Oh how I love to watch something I've planted come spurting up from the ground in spring. Not sure where my love for gardening came from. Mother loved her rose bushes and gardenias, and she sometimes took shoots from outside plants to root at the back porch window in the sunshine. But I never remember seeing her outside digging in the dirt planting flowers.  I love playing in the dirt. Potting a plant, or just buying seeds to see if they'll make it through.  I don't have the energy now that I once had to 'play' in the dirt for long periods.  I used to go outside and work for hours, planting, tending. pruning, mowing (well I still mow, but with a riding mower now). I've gone out many a time and talked to my plants. I've loved them all.

   There are many small things in life that I appreciate and am grateful for....a good hot shower, clean sheets, ice, (yes, ice) air conditioning, pillows, a good mattress, comfortable shoes, sea shells, butterflies, birds,  etc..etc.. I could keep going...but I'll quit.
   Above pics.-side yard at beach w/butterflies on zinnias. Seashells on one of our excursions. An apple that I made & painted from a gourd, hanging in backyard 'bottle' tree. Stephanie statue in part of back yard. Seagull on beach.  One of my front yard gardens.

   
  

Christmas season 2011

December 1st 2011, and I'm awake at 5:30 laying in bed feeling just a bit nostalgic. Could've just laid there and wallowed in it, but then it would just make me sad, so I'm up and writing about Christmases past instead. I don't have many pictures to put in this blog, they're already in albums but I make take one or two out to scan later.

I have so many wonderful memories of the Christmas seasons in my life, of the family who are now gone that I shared this time of year with. It's this time of year that I miss them most. Mother was a Christmas catbird, wrapping gag gifts each year. One year she dumped an ashtray full of cigarette butts and gave them to Harold; another year she and daddy wrapped a cinder block to give me and I just knew I had the greatest gift only to watch them heehaw when I opened it. Another year a pair of dirty underwear for Neil that he'd left behind on one of his visits there, watching his face turn red when he opened it. Oh they got the biggest kick out of that. But also the gifts that Mother would make to give me that would make me cry when they were opened. Mother would make the comment..' this is Joanne's crying gift'. A handmade quilt; embossed sheet set (that I still use); knitted sweaters and ponchos for the kids. One year she knitted sweaters for every family member. The woman worked her fingers to the bone that year.

The Christmases when Harold and I lived in the mountains and we'd bundle the kids up after he got home from work on Friday, load up the station wagon and head for Raleigh. We'd arrive at Mother and Daddys, put them to bed and start putting their 'Santa' things out (or put them together), finally getting to bed in the wee hours of the morning, only to be awakened by the kids when we'd had two or three hours sleep. But we were still young and energetic so it didn't bother us to lose the sleep. What excitement to see their precious faces while seeing what Santa brought. Mother and Daddy usually stayed up with us and we'd eat some of Mother's famous fruit cake and drink whatever until time to go to bed, bone dead tired.
When my siblings married and moved away, they would all come back 'home' to congregate for Christmas. The presents were piled so high that it took hours to get everything opened. But the best times were the times we spent together, talking, hugging, relating the things that had been going on and having just plain old fun together.
Then we'd go to Harold's parents to celebrate. Grandmother prided herself on her Christmas tree and it was always beautiful. She would cook the best Christmas dinner's and we'd stuff ourselves with her homemade fruit salad after we'd finished. She would take fresh fruit, (bananas, oranges, apples,raisins) and cut them in small pieces, add nuts, then pour canned milk with a little water, add sugar and stir. It was so delicious and sweet with all the fruit juices and milk combined. As the family grew, there was more fun to be had with all the children around.
I'll never forget the Christmas when Harold and I had been married for a year. He gave me the engagement ring to match my wedding band. He had saved his extra money (not much left) and made payments on it all year so that he'd have it to give me that year...yes, I cried.  Me, the emotional Christmas freak who always cried when opening special gifts. Everyone came to expect it.
The Christmases after our kids grew and we had grandchildren to celebrate with. In the early years while Harold was still here with us, Stephanie, Alixe and Ricky gave us so much pleasure and happiness at Christmas time. It seems that when there are children around to celebrate with, that it is so much more special. The old saying that 'Christmas is for children' is so true. Christmas is for adults to enjoy watching children.

Times pass, families grow, loved ones leave this earth, things change, but Christmas is always that special time of year. A time when we gather together, if we are blessed enough to have family to gather with.  If we remember the meaning behind the whole season.  Now I have great-grandchildren to celebrate with and I just wish that Harold were here to watch their little faces with me. It wasn't meant to be, but I am so blessed to be here with them. I am so blessed that I have the wonderful Christmas memories of the past.

Photo at the heading is of Shepherd and Josephine at Christmas 2010..my great grandchildren.