~~ Reality…   2 comments

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Broken limbs, partially covered by a frigid, crystalline blanket of white, protrude upwards in desperation,
reaching for a sun that is hidden behind a steel gray sky.
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The only movement, flakes and grains of frozen snow swept across the fields by  an icy winter gale.
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The wheel of winter grinds exceedingly slow.

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Posted February 25, 2015 by PapaBear in Experiences, Photo, Poetry

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My Perfect Winter Day   4 comments

 

I must warn you…, not everyone is cut out for this kind of excitement!

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The day begins with the celebration of the sunrise at the beach…

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and continues with a nice breakfast…, citrus, strawberry, banana, and an egg croissant while I peruse the scenery outside the window…

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Then a walk around the Preserve to visit with a few friends…

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Followed by a late afternoon walk on the beach and maybe a short swim…

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and then sticking around to enjoy the beauty of the sunset…

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Afterwards, it’s back to the cottage for dinner.  Tonight’s fare is a shrimp stir-fry…

With the dishes done….

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…retiring with a good book and snuggling with my girlfriend…

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…in front of a glowing fire as both of us drift off to our dreams.

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Mind you that nowhere in this day is there a mention of any such 4-letter word such as “work” !!!

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Good Night Everybody !

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Footprints…, and Dreams   1 comment

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It was quiet in the house.  The only sounds were the crackling of the logs in the fireplace.  He had been working every spare minute to get the cottage ready so that he could move in before snow and the Christmas holiday came.  He didn’t quite make it.  The structure of the building had been repaired and it sported a new steel roof.  The old, rotting wooden siding had been replaced with vinyl, and the porch was rebuilt with new wood.  From the outside it was beautiful.  On the inside, though, all seemed to be in a state of chaos.  He had piled wood in the parlor and tools littered the living room.  In the kitchen, new cherrywood kitchen cabinets were hanging over a black granite counter that was imbedded with gold metalflakes.  The stove was an antique, an old kerosene range with a huge oven, that he’d found on Craigslist.  It was old ivory, almost gold, with black trim.  He had been working for a week to sand and refinish the hardwood floor leading from the kitchen into the dining room.  Tonight he was cutting and installing the baseboards and trim.  The kitchen looked pretty good now…., the rest of the house was a war zone.

Christmas had come and gone.  The New Year was no longer new, Even Valentine’s Day had passed quietly with little notice.  In all, though, the past two months had been a time of creative productivity.  He’d completed refinishing all of the hardwood flooring, repaired and painted all of the interior walls, and installed a new bathroom, complete with a tiled shower and floor.  The place was finally livable, except for the stairs and the upper level.  He had scarcely touched them……, “out of sight, out of mind”.  With all the commotion, dust, and dirt downstairs, Ghost had concluded that she was safer upstairs, away from the chaotic din down there.  The lane had been completed.  He’d gone into debt for that because he’d wanted something other than a gravel path.  Thus, the gravel path became rolled, packed, and paved – 5 inches of asphalt…, a quarter mile long.  He’d long since traded his nice car for a pickup with a snow plow on it as that seemed much more practical with his need to be hauling supplies and winter coming on.

In preparation for the winter, he’d cut and split about three cords of wood for the fireplace and set aside a lot of kindling for starting the fire.  Good thing, as it was a frigid winter…, not so much snow, but cold, with an icy wind coming off the lake.

Tonight was “one of those nights”.  He’d come home late from work, exhausted from hours of paperwork and phone calls.  A quick dinner of a chicken pot pie and he sat back with the cat and listened to music on the stereo.  He knew that he needed to get started on the stairs and the two bedrooms but his heart just wasn’t in it…, not tonight.  Just too tired and his head drooped as he dozed off.  Ghost, curled up in his lap, followed his lead and was soon sound asleep too.

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“My, my, what a sweet scene.”  The apparition drifted across the room, picking up a blanket that had been on a chair, and covered the two sleepers.  “You’ve finally worn yourself out, haven’t you?”, she mused as she sat in the chair, quietly watching them sleep.  She had watched all the while he’d rebuilt the fireplace and chimney, replaced the roof and siding and finished the downstairs of the cottage, never dreaming that it could ever look so grand as it did now.  He’d been so driven, seemingly tireless as he went from one project to another over the weeks, months, but now was spent and finally had given himself permission to rest.  She could tell that he’d fallen in love with the cottage, as had she when it had been originally built.

He woke in the wee hours of the morning, wondering how the blanked had appeared, how the fire had fresh logs, and the dishes in the sink had been cleaned.  …….(she’s been here again, keeping tabs on me…, and the house)….  She hadn’t been there since before Christmas but there were telltale footprints in the sawdust on the floor.  Did this little visit foretell something auspicious?  He struggled up the steps, undressed, and was probably asleep again by the time his head hit the pillow.  Ghost was quickly asleep by his side.

6:45…, the alarm went off and he rose to start his daily routine.  Wait ! Today is Saturday !!!  Oh, well, he thought.  I’m awake now.  Might as well do something.  He dressed, fixed coffee, and made a list of things to buy at the lumberyard…, newels, risers, treads, and some carpeting to cover them, screws, nails, and few other miscellaneous items.  He put Ghost’s food and water bowl at the top of the steps and was off.

He left his order at the lumberyard and went down to the café down the street for some breakfast.  It was early and he was their only customer at the moment.  About the time his order came to the table another customer drifted in.  It was the clerk from the county tax office.  She gave her order at the counter and came over to his table…

“Want some company?”

He nodded, “Sure, if you don’t mind being seen with someone as grubby looking as I must be this morning”.

She slipped into the booth and they were soon into a discussion about what was happening at the cottage.  She’d heard that he was buying a lot of supplies, building materials, and appliances.  Gossip spread quickly in a small town.  He recounted what he’d done so far and that he was now starting on the stairway and the upstairs bedrooms and bathroom.  She seemed surprised that there was a bathroom upstairs.  He admitted that there hadn’t been but he was installing one.

“What do you have on tap for today?”, she asked.

“Stairway”, he replied, “new treads, risers, newels, and I’ll carpet them.  Should look nice when I get finished.”

“What does a girl have to do to get an invitation to see this palace you’re building in the wilderness?”

“I think you just did it.  I’m there most every weekday after 5 and almost every weekend.  A lot to be done there yet, and when I finish the inside, there’s landscaping to be planned and planted and a garden.  Just give me a call before you come out to be sure I’m there.”  He wrote his phone number on a napkin and gave it to her.

“I have to confess, I saw you come over here and I wanted to talk with you about the property…, and its former owners.  After you bought the property and left I started looking at the names on the documents again.  After a little research with family members, it seems that I’m related to them.  Marie Latimer was my grandmother’s sister.  I never knew anything about any of this til yesterday evening.  I took a chance that, being Saturday, you might come into town for supplies for the house.  I’d really like to see it…, if I’m still invited, that is.”

He smiled, “Sure, I haven’t had any guests out there since I moved in.  Hope you don’t mind ghosts.  That’s my cat – Ghost.”

They finished their breakfasts and  he went back to the lumberyard to pick up his order then headed back home.

Back at the cottage, he took up all the treads and risers from the steps and measured for the new ones which would be slightly deeper to make it more comfortable to go up and down.  He cut, sanded, and stained the treads and risers an re-installed them on the stair.  Next came the newels.  Those were sanded and stained before replacing the old ones, which was a relatively easy job.  He unrolled the carpeting, measuring, cutting, and fitting it to each tread so that it rolled over the front of the tread to the riser below and nailed it in place with large brass head nails…., all 10 steps.  It gave the steps a “modern/rustic” look that was in keeping with the rest of the interior.

Ok, he thought to himself.  Now for the bedrooms…, but they can wait til next week, I’m really tired.  After a quick lunch, he stretched out on the sofa and dozed.

“I think you’re almost there…, finished with the house. I love everything that you have done…, and I love you.  I’ll leave the upstairs to you…, and whomever you might share it with.  Now it’s time for you.  Time rebuild and put yourself in order like you have the cottage.  Ghost is a wonderful companion, but you need something, someone more than a cat…., and she’s closer than you know.”

The dream ended and he woke, feeling like he’d just been lectured by his mother.  About five minutes later the phone began to ring…

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Celebrate !   9 comments

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Happy Valentine’s Day

May it be filled with happiness,

and fun, and dreams that come true,

but mostly with the love

of all you hold dear.

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Posted February 13, 2015 by PapaBear in Experiences, Personal, Prose

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Happy Valentine’s Day   3 comments

A few interesting thoughts as tomorrow, Valentine’s Day, approaches…

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“Let us always meet each other with a smile, for a smile is the beginning of love.” — Mother Theresa

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“Men always want to be a woman’s first love — women like to be a man’s last romance.”

– Oscar Wilde

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“I want a man who’s kind and understanding. Is that too much to ask of a millionaire?”

– Zsa Zsa Gabor

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“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.” — Helen Keller

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My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

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He felt now that he was not simply close to her, but that he did not know where he ended and she began.  ~Leo Tolstoy

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A man had given all other bliss,
And all his worldly worth for this,
To waste his whole heart in one kiss
Upon her perfect lips.
~Alfred, Lord Tennyson

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And so, it is Good Night to you now.

Sleep well and may your dreams

Bring you to a bright tomorrow !

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Posted February 13, 2015 by PapaBear in A Little Romance, History, Humor, Prose

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A Prelude to Valentine’s Day   6 comments

 

 

 

 

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Just some interesting facts/reading that I stumbled across and, with the day at hand, thought a little history of it would make interesting reading.

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  • Google

The history of Valentine’s Day–and the story of its patron saint–is shrouded in mystery. We do know that February has long been celebrated as a month of romance, and that St. Valentine’s Day, as we know it today, contains vestiges of both Christian and ancient Roman tradition. But who was Saint Valentine, and how did he become associated with this ancient rite?

Other stories suggest that Valentine may have been killed for attempting to help Christians escape harsh Roman prisons, where they were often beaten and tortured. According to one legend, an imprisoned Valentine actually sent the first “valentine” greeting himself after he fell in love with a young girl–possibly his jailor’s daughter–who visited him during his confinement. Before his death, it is alleged that he wrote her a letter signed “From your Valentine,” an expression that is still in use today. Although the truth behind the Valentine legends is murky, the stories all emphasize his appeal as a sympathetic, heroic and–most importantly–romantic figure. By the Middle Ages, perhaps thanks to this reputation, Valentine would become one of the most popular saints in England and France.

While some believe that Valentine’s Day is celebrated in the middle of February to commemorate the anniversary of Valentine’s death or burial–which probably occurred around A.D. 270–others claim that the Christian church may have decided to place St. Valentine’s feast day in the middle of February in an effort to “Christianize” the pagan celebration of Lupercalia. Celebrated at the ides of February, or February 15, Lupercalia was a fertility festival dedicated to Faunus, the Roman god of agriculture, as well as to the Roman founders Romulus and Remus.

To begin the festival, members of the Luperci, an order of Roman priests, would gather at a sacred cave where the infants Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome, were believed to have been cared for by a she-wolf or lupa. The priests would sacrifice a goat, for fertility, and a dog, for purification. They would then strip the goat’s hide into strips, dip them into the sacrificial blood and take to the streets, gently slapping both women and crop fields with the goat hide. Far from being fearful, Roman women welcomed the touch of the hides because it was believed to make them more fertile in the coming year. Later in the day, according to legend, all the young women in the city would place their names in a big urn. The city’s bachelors would each choose a name and become paired for the year with his chosen woman. These matches often ended in marriage.

Lupercalia survived the initial rise of Christianity and but was outlawed—as it was deemed “un-Christian”–at the end of the 5th century, when Pope Gelasius declared February 14 St. Valentine’s Day. It was not until much later, however, that the day became definitively associated with love. During the Middle Ages, it was commonly believed in France and England that February 14 was the beginning of birds’ mating season, which added to the idea that the middle of Valentine’s Day should be a day for romance.

Valentine greetings were popular as far back as the Middle Ages, though written Valentine’s didn’t begin to appear until after 1400. The oldest known valentine still in existence today was a poem written in 1415 by Charles, Duke of Orleans, to his wife while he was imprisoned in the Tower of London following his capture at the Battle of Agincourt. (The greeting is now part of the manuscript collection of the British Library in London, England.) Several years later, it is believed that King Henry V hired a writer named John Lydgate to compose a valentine note to Catherine of Valois.

In addition to the United States, Valentine’s Day is celebrated in Canada, Mexico, the United Kingdom, France and Australia. In Great Britain, Valentine’s Day began to be popularly celebrated around the 17th century. By the middle of the 18th, it was common for friends and lovers of all social classes to exchange small tokens of affection or handwritten notes, and by 1900 printed cards began to replace written letters due to improvements in printing technology. Ready-made cards were an easy way for people to express their emotions in a time when direct expression of one’s feelings was discouraged. Cheaper postage rates also contributed to an increase in the popularity of sending Valentine’s Day greetings.

Americans probably began exchanging hand-made valentines in the early 1700s. In the 1840s, Esther A. Howland began selling the first mass-produced valentines in America. Howland, known as the “Mother of the Valentine,” made elaborate creations with real lace, ribbons and colorful pictures known as “scrap.” Today, according to the Greeting Card Association, an estimated 1 billion Valentine’s Day cards are sent each year, making Valentine’s Day the second largest card-sending holiday of the year. (An estimated 2.6 billion cards are sent for Christmas.) Women purchase approximately 85 percent of all valentines.

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Happy Valentine’s Day

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The Water   2 comments

Originally posted on Journey:

 As you can see below, I’m trying to avoid any of those nasty 4-letter words like snow, wind, cold,  so as not to bore you with the obvious of the environment surrounding me right now.

Think Warm Everybody !

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The Wabash River near my boyhood home

When I was a young boy I was awestruck by the river.  It looked so wide, so powerful, and so mysterious.  At first there was a twinge of fear whenever I was near it, afraid it would draw me into its mighty current and carry me away to…I didn’t know where.  After a time though, I started to like the idea of its deep, dark, magnificent power.  It yielded to no one or nothing, either at low ebb or floodtide.

As I grew, I began to see the river as my friend, fishing from its banks and enjoying the bounty that it offered…

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Posted February 9, 2015 by PapaBear in Uncategorized

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