The frosted wren is a winter bird It loses its rime in the summer The frosted wren has a yen for the cold In the summer, its glimmer is glummer.
You cannot catch the frosted wren You must not touch its feathers For the frosted wren will freeze your bones And winterize all your weathers.
When the frosted wren alights on your deck ‘Tis a rare sight of wintry glory. For the Father of Frost made this sparkly bird A transient denizen of His story
Many thanks to my friend Barb for sending me that delightful photo of the rare Frosted Wren, thus inspiring a poem.
I’ll probably melt this Frosted Blog Post in the morning.
When I was a child, I watched a short French film called “The Red Balloon.” The plot, if you can call it that, involved a beautiful round red balloon that began following a little boy. It knocked on his bedroom window when he went inside and then tried to follow him into the school, causing such a large distraction for all the students that both the boy and the balloon got temporarily expelled. There was very little dialogue, but plenty of sounds: running feet on cobblestone streets, children playing and shouting, etc. After school the other children tried to get the balloon away from the boy and chased them around the town relentlessly. Finally, they cornered the balloon, tied it down, and threw rocks at it until it punctured and “died.” The little boy wept, but at the same time, all the balloons in Paris made their way to him, coalescing into such a huge group that when he grabbed ahold of all the strings, they carried him away up into the sky. The end.
I loved that little film so much that my husband ended up buying me a copy of it early in our marriage. Our children universally hated it, and although that surprised me initially, I can understand why. In a way, it’s really a movie about death and resurrection. The death part comes as a shock, since the balloon seems very much alive, and the feral cruelty of the children is distressing. What appealed to me as a child was the whimsical friendship that sprung up between the boy and his balloon and then the fantastical scene at the end when all the balloons come to take him away. The narrative arc goes from whimsical to tragic and then to joyful triumph in a way that I always found satisfying.
Our son-in-law just got a job at a fairly new job board company called Red Balloon, which got me thinking again about that film. I wanted to find a connection between my Red Balloon movie and the name of the company, but alas, there was none.
Did any of you see that film? And if so, what were your impressions?
This blog post might meet with a cruel fate at the hands of children in the morning.
The monster in my dream was a man who became a giant when he ate a small white egg-shaped thing. In his giant form he was destructive, intent only on murder and mayhem, always rampaging and seeking to destroy. He came at us in his giant form but just as he was upon us, he went through an explosive transformation back to a man. When this happened, the egg dropped and he picked it up again and ate it, so that he could continue in this cycle: from man to giant to man to giant again. Whenever he became a man, it gave us a short reprieve, a chance to escape.
We ran into a tall building and began to run up the stairs going around and around. We could hear him behind us, a giant again. We knew the transformation back and forth happened fairly quickly – it was just a matter of outrunning him. As we were getting to the top, he transformed back into a man, but this time when the egg fell, it went to the bottom of the stairs and one of our group grabbed it. It seemed that victory was on our side. We threw it down from the top of the building, somehow under the impression that when it fell it would explode and end the cycle. It did explode, but the cycle did not end. More eggs were created in the explosion. The man/giant took one, but we took one as well and found a hiding place to regroup and determine a new strategy in the fight.
We decided that the best way to fight the giant was for one of our number to eat an egg and meet him in battle. The decision made, one of us ate the egg and instead of transforming into a giant, he became an elephant. He rushed out and ran toward the giant to fight him. The giant grabbed the elephant by the trunk and held him firmly, in a sense completely disarming him. What now? We went into hiding, demoralized that the egg gained us no advantage whatsoever. It seemed that all was lost.
But in the next scene, we saw that our despair was premature and not based on reality. For the elephant had befriended the giant and in that friendship, peace had been forged.
There are so many intriguing elements to this dream. On the surface, it is a nonsensical dream story. But upon closer inspection, I can see that I am the monster, continually eating the sin-egg, repelling it, but being compelled to eat it again, a never ending cycle. And I am also the person being chased by a monster, always in danger of being destroyed. And then there’s the element that one of us, a representative of us, had to be willing to eat the egg, to risk becoming the monster to in order to overcome the monster. And lastly, the one who was going to save us has been seemingly defeated by the giant, a moment of false despair that lifts when we find out that the savior had a different kind of battle in mind. The enemy has been overcome by a friend. I don’t want to draw too much of a line from this to the gospel, because it’s a bad analogy at best. But I still see it there, in seed form, in shadows grasping at reality.
But then again, maybe I’m all washed up. Thoughts?
I’ll probably dream about deleting this in the morning.
As you can tell by the title, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so let’s get going.
If you like doing crafty things, find yourself a crafting friend like mine. We’ll call her “Barb.” (Mostly because that’s her name, but it looks more mysterious to have it in quotes.) I found a photo of some cards that I liked and sent it to Barb with the comment that I thought we could figure out how to make them. The next thing I knew, we had ourselves a card-making date with her supplying nearly all the materials from her own crafting shelves (and she even made a trip to JoAnn’s to get additional supplies – above and beyond the call of duty!).
The cards required the use of the hot glue gun. If your fingers began hurting reflexively the moment you read that, it’s a sign that you’ve used one of these handy little torture devices. Hot glue is really a great adhesive except for the fact that it’s impossible to use without burning your fingers and getting strings of the glue all over everything. We were a little worried that at one point we might accidentally glue ourselves together, but managed to avoid that.
Crafting with a friend makes the whole experience more fun. Thanks, Barb!
We didn’t end up using my hot glue gun, but when I got it out to bring it just in case, I was flooded with memories of the Amazing Eggstractor, the box of which now houses my glue gun.
My parents-in-law bought this for me over 20 years ago, having succumbed to the allure of it on the shopping network. I was thrilled, having many times been frustrated by trying to peel hard-boiled eggs and ending up with something that looked like it was trying to be a hard-boiled egg but which had lost a lot of its parts. As it says on the box, “It peels eggs for you!” Count me in.
I boiled up the first batch according to the instructions and eagerly put the first egg on the little stand provided. I pressed down on the accordion-style thingy and had to exert a fair amount of pressure. Finally the egg shot through…or at least part of it did. The yolk had parted company with the white. Probably just a fluke, I figured. I put the next one in and tried again. The egg came out at about Mach 2 and went flying around the kitchen, ricocheting off various cupboards before coming to a resting place that it took me awhile to find.
I never could get that thing to perform as promised. I gave it away ( ha ha!) but kept the box, which turned out to be the most useful part of it.
I’ll probably eggstract this post in the morning. Thar she blows!
We had some people over recently that we were just getting to know and chatted quite a bit about their jobs. Then the wife turned to me and said, “What do you do?” I probably should have anticipated that question, but instead I was taken aback and the only thing I could think of to say was “Nothing.” I hastened to explain that I’d retired last year and was keeping busy doing “this and that,” which sounded lame, even to me. I’ll have to come up with a better answer for the next time that comes up.
Here’s a little bit of the “nothing” I’ve been doing lately – making some flash cards for the beloved granddaughter.
The words (and drawings) are definitely getting more complex, but I think she’s up to it. Our daughter-in-law sent me a video of the little darling saying the words from the first four (I’m sending them out in groups of four). I received it while doing my grocery shopping and watched it right in the middle of Aisle 5, completely enchanted. I was so enthused, I had to fight back the impulse to gather a group of random grocery shoppers to watch it with me. How would you respond to a request like that? 😆
I’ve got nothing to do tomorrow morning but delete this blog post.
It’s official. The mallard lady couldn’t make up her mind and now has two swains following her around.
Those iridescent green heads must really hold a lot of allure. And just when the mallard trio thought they had the pond all to themselves, a couple of muscle-bound geese showed up and calmly took over the waters.
The drama at the pond just never ends!
Here in southern Minnesota, we’ve all seen robins by now and it’s popularly thought that they are the ultimate sign that spring has arrived. But in our back yard, the sure sign that warmer weathers are on the way is the reinstatement of the compost heap.
Of course, that’s not as lovely as a robin, but the photo I took of a perfectly nice robin turned out to be out of focus in a way that might give you a headache. Will a cardinal do instead?
The Monday Musings are over.
I’ll probably throw this one in the compost heap in the morning to keep the egg shells company.
The honeymoon send-off has changed and evolved over the years. When we were married, people threw bird seed at us. This was supposed to be a more ecologically friendly way than throwing rice, which had fallen out of favor because apparently the rice was upsetting to bird tummies. We never did get all the bird seed out of our car.
We’ve had three weddings in our family so far and the send-offs have been sparklers. Sparklers are so fun and festive, but when we had them at our daughter’s wedding, the specter of little burnt hands and legal culpability loomed over us a bit. In doing the kind of in-depth research you can expect from this blog, I went back to look at the photos and realized that one of our sons and his wife just took off into the night without any fanfare at all.
I don’t really know what the fad was back in 1917 when my grandparents got married, but I found a send-off poster made for them by some of my grandmother’s friends and sisters that was so funny! They cut a bunch of phrases out of newspapers and magazines and cobbled them together to create some well-wishes for them as they embarked on the honeymoon and on married life in general. The last section is particularly amusing with one random phrase after another serving as “advice” for the newlyweds. I took a photo of it, but also typed it up so you, my dear readers, could enjoy it as much as I did. I put all the cut-out phrases in brackets.
June 1917 [Harry] + [Lois] left [The Most Musical Town in America] for the [ferny dells of the matchless St. Croix River, and the vigor-renewing forests and streams of Northern Minnesota] [photo of forest inserted].
[The Silent Holstein Buick], [a Car You Can Trust for Life] succeeded in [Getting Away]. It was [Quick and Convenient – and Downright Fun] But oh, [The Fate of a Frock], her [photo of comb] + Harry’s [photo of glasses.]
[They] reached [Watertown] but [“He laughs best who laughs last,” and they’re now wearing the smile that won’t come off]. [They] [got a lower berth in the middle of the train]+ reached [St. Paul]. [Away they go again] [Just You and I] says Harry, [are quickly reached by boat, rail or automobile from Saint Paul.]
[Welcome to Our City!] [Who is this Girl?] [Why Don’t You Fill Next Summer with Genuine Pleasure?] [Keep Young – for Harry’s Sake]. [Never molest a skunk]. [Do an errand for your wife.] [Don’t fret – take a bath]. [“Have You a Little Fairy in Your Home?”] (signed Florence) [Never let your husband persuade you to gaze fixedly at the neck of a bottle or the top of a sugar-bowl]. [Invent Something. It May Bring Wealth.] [Protect Your Car.] [Learn at home by mail to mount birds, animals, tan skins.] Buy [photo of fancy car driving through water with side shields] for rainy weather. [Get back to nature, get out in the open] [Photo of a young couple canoeing] [We are particularly anxious for you to make an early call.] [This is a personal invitation to you. Will you accept it?] [Good night] Florence, Bess, Myrtie, Ada, Annie & Daisy
I can just picture Florence and company giggling while they put that masterpiece together. Can you imagine their shock to realize that over 100 years later, it’s still intact and being featured in a blog? (“What’s a blog?” would probably be their first question.)
I don’t have one of their wedding photos, sadly, but here’s one taken during their engagement.
Ain’t they cute?
I’d love to hear about your honeymoon send-off, if you had one.
I’ll probably have some sort of send-off for this blog post in the morning, whatever is acceptable in the blogosphere.
I still bring my camera with me often when we go on walks. I want to be ready to take a photo if I see something that interests me. Not long ago, we were walking past a little swampy area filled with cattails and I noticed an overturned white plastic chair with a large green ball under it. Click.
We continued down the path and I was enthused by a puddle of running water near the edge – the ice is melting and spring is headed our way! Click.
We were approaching a fairly large puddle in which were some delightful reflections and I was getting ready to take a photo when I noticed a woman coming toward us, so I held off, always reluctant to take photos when people are nearby for fear they might think I’m surreptitiously taking their photo.
“Hi,” she started out in a friendly manner, “My neighbor is wondering why you were taking photographs of their house.” Oh dear… We got it sorted out as I was able to reassure her that it may have appeared that way, but I mostly take photos of plants and puddles and such. I hadn’t even noticed that there was a house somewhere in the background of the chair.
I’ve often thought that if I saw someone standing near my home with a camera more or less pointed in the general direction of my house, I would find it creepy. Now I know that I’m not alone.
We had a pleasant conversation with that lady. Her neighbors were elderly and so she volunteered to walk over and ask me about it, which I thought was very nice. We should all have such wonderful neighbors.
I’ll probably delete this this in the morning and – oops, gotta go!
I heard an interesting quote on a podcast the other day:
“The test of a man’s religion is what he does with his free time.”
I happen to have a lot of “free time” these days, so the test is real. At first glance, it would appear that the message is that we ought to be pretty busy using all our free time for “kingdom work,” so to speak. But the context in which the quote was given was actually in terms of setting aside times of silence: to think, to reflect, to pray, to listen.
When was the last time you remember sitting in silence?
This doesn’t mean that all our free time should be spent in silent moments, but that those quiet times may provide the inspiration for the way we spend the rest of our time.
“See then that you walk circumspectly, not as fools but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil.” Ephesians 5:15-16
If you consider time to be a valuable and limited commodity, the way we spend it seems pretty important. I don’t think this rules out leisure activities, but it might rule out living a life of leisure at all times.
Something to think about, isn’t it?
I’m going to be very intentional about deleting this in the morning.
I overheard such an amusing conversation between mallard drakes the other day. They were so cleverly hidden in the brush down by the pond I almost didn’t see them at first.
I tiptoed as close as I could without alarming them and this is what I heard:
Mallard 1: I saw her first. Mallard 2: You most certainly did not. The only reason you even looked over there was because you saw ME looking. Mallard 1: Oh, please. You had your fat yellow bill stuck in the water trying to find food when I saw her. Mallard 2: Really! What a nice little story you tell. I’ll be sure to pass that on to her when I meet her. Mallard 1: You’ll have to get past me to meet her and I assure you, that will not be an easy task. Mallard 2: Why haven’t you gone over there yet, then? Mallard 1: What a fool you are! If you want results, this requires a nuanced approach. You’re much too dull to understand it. Mallard 2: You’re a coward, that’s what you are. Mallard 1: I don’t see you moving in that direction, Mr. Bravado. Mallard 2: I thought maybe I’d let you go over first so I could watch you and your “nuanced approach” get rejected before I show her what a real duck acts like.
It appeared this might go on for some time, so I tiptoed over to the object of their affections.
She appeared to be ignoring them, but then I heard her sigh heavily as she fluffed her pretty wing feathers and walked away.
I’ll probably delete this in the morning, but not right away – it requires a nuanced approach.
Lynniebeemuseoday 