I have no idea why Hannah started shouting this out whenever we see a train, but now Abba bellows out her version: "TRAY BOW!" Living near Clifton Forge, a town with a long railroad heritage, these shouts are common in our ears.
Hannah has a thing for trains. Even before we moved here she couldn't get enough of "I Love Big Trains" - versions one, two and three. Her best (imaginary) friend is named Jeff, the youthful narrator of the series. She's going to work for the railroad when she gets older - "working with the trains all day."
Clifton Forge is mecca for C&O (Chesapeake & Ohio) Railroad fans. The C&O Historical Society's headquarters are in town. In the newly-restored Heritage Center, they have an educational program and visitor's center that includes a huge model train layout encompassing (at least) local routes. Hannah can tell you all about it if you come visit.
Well, last night after the town council meeting, Andy came home with a poster announcing a train show and sale on February 21 &22. We hung it on Hannah's bedroom door. She was SO excited when she saw it this morning! Anyways, we're planning on going. Its on the calendar.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
birdwatching
Well, so in high school, middle school and elementary school I think I was a dork. And in college, too, most definitely. In grad school I learned not to care so much so I forgot about my dorkiness, but as a mom I am afraid once again that I will nerd out on my kids and embarrass the heak out of them. Only time will tell.
The thing is, though, as I get older, I think (and you may just snicker behind my back and make snide un-dorky comments) - I think that the things that make one dorky are just grown up types of things that, done as a kid, were out of place and nerdy only by virtue of their chronological placement in your life.
When I was in the seventh grade, we were forced to - I mean, we were able to choose between four or five elective subjects in school, with Birdwatching being one of the selections. I think it was even called "Elementary Birdwatching," but I am old now and could be mis-remembering. No matter what it was called, though, for a red-headed, freckle-faced, "pre-braced" girl, any type of Birdwatching was fourth on my list just wasn't going to fly. Home Ec, Auto Repair, Needles in yer Eye or whatEVER else was being offered was my first, second and third choice. Alas, (and fortunately for me) my parents deftly placed the blue Peterson's Field Guide to Eastern Birds in by hand and said, "But Chap is our frieeeeeend." Just my luck that not only would I have to sit in a class populated ENTIRELY by other dorks like me, but the instructor was my parents' friend - no, a good friend - who would, no doubt, embarrass me to no end by pointing this out. To the other dorks. Imagine. My very own parents actually having a FRIEND who was a high school science teacher and amateur ornithologist. The horror of it all.
The semester began smoothly enough and I think I remember I tried not to get too tight with the other students. I learned that there were many, many birds populating the skies other than crows, sparrows and robins. Grudgingly, I came to realize that it was impossible NOT to enjoy myself out at the Triple-R Ranch in Chesapeake at 7AM by an ancient pear tree "bssshhhh, bssshhhh, bsssshhhhhing" in an attempt to flush a Carolina Wren out of her hiding place. I didn't enjoy waking up at o'dark-thirty in the cold darkness of a Spring morning to drive to the Outer Banks to peer at sanderlings, waders, gulls, and terns, but a line of pelicans floating single file over the breakers led me to believe that I was mistaken in my misgivings. (Aside: Every time I drive down to Hatteras I still remember our mantra: "There's no bathroom on Pea Island!") .
The thing is, though, as I get older, I think (and you may just snicker behind my back and make snide un-dorky comments) - I think that the things that make one dorky are just grown up types of things that, done as a kid, were out of place and nerdy only by virtue of their chronological placement in your life.
When I was in the seventh grade, we were forced to - I mean, we were able to choose between four or five elective subjects in school, with Birdwatching being one of the selections. I think it was even called "Elementary Birdwatching," but I am old now and could be mis-remembering. No matter what it was called, though, for a red-headed, freckle-faced, "pre-braced" girl, any type of Birdwatching was fourth on my list just wasn't going to fly. Home Ec, Auto Repair, Needles in yer Eye or whatEVER else was being offered was my first, second and third choice. Alas, (and fortunately for me) my parents deftly placed the blue Peterson's Field Guide to Eastern Birds in by hand and said, "But Chap is our frieeeeeend." Just my luck that not only would I have to sit in a class populated ENTIRELY by other dorks like me, but the instructor was my parents' friend - no, a good friend - who would, no doubt, embarrass me to no end by pointing this out. To the other dorks. Imagine. My very own parents actually having a FRIEND who was a high school science teacher and amateur ornithologist. The horror of it all.
The semester began smoothly enough and I think I remember I tried not to get too tight with the other students. I learned that there were many, many birds populating the skies other than crows, sparrows and robins. Grudgingly, I came to realize that it was impossible NOT to enjoy myself out at the Triple-R Ranch in Chesapeake at 7AM by an ancient pear tree "bssshhhh, bssshhhh, bsssshhhhhing" in an attempt to flush a Carolina Wren out of her hiding place. I didn't enjoy waking up at o'dark-thirty in the cold darkness of a Spring morning to drive to the Outer Banks to peer at sanderlings, waders, gulls, and terns, but a line of pelicans floating single file over the breakers led me to believe that I was mistaken in my misgivings. (Aside: Every time I drive down to Hatteras I still remember our mantra: "There's no bathroom on Pea Island!") .
This being a Christian school, choruses of anything rowdier than "100 Bottles of Milk on the Wall" were verboten on field trips. But for the handful of students who showed up for the Saturday field (often literally) trips, comparing notes on life lists, sightings and habitat garnered more attention and interest than any verse of "Henry the Eighth" could elicit.
Ah, now it comes back to me and I remember when one of the popular girls intoned, "Ahh, the BHURD-vatchahs" as we filed out of our classroom on the second floor. But I have to smirk when I recall that she sat behind me the next semester....Mr. P even had to limit students from taking more than two semesters of the class - funny, I don't remember what else I took after those Fall and Spring sessions.
Occasionally throughout my high school years and even into college, when I'd see a Prothonotary Warbler alight on a low branch or hear the echo of a Wood Thrush through the forest, before I could mask my delight I'd spoken its name aloud, identifying it, much to the amusement (? were they laughing at me or with me?) of my friends. One year I even received an obviously re-gifted coffee-table bird book because "you always seem to like those birds!"
Nowadays, I drink my coffee watching the birdfeeders outside of our kitchen window. We have five feeders: a pinecone smeared by little girl hands with a delightful mixture of lard, stale bread, birdseed, and leftover potato pancakes; a suet feeder with a homemade cake of peanut butter, several roasts' worth of congealed beef fat, goldfish cracker crumbs and the crusts from Hannah's sandwiches (YEAH, what ABOUT it?!), two tube feeders and one homemade milk-carton feeder that Hannah helped me to "recycle." (Note that the cost of birdseed is exactly the same as the sum at the bottom of our "entertainment" column on our monthly budget worksheet.) I eagerly point out Blue Jays, Downy Woodpeckers and nuthatches to Hannah, and she tells me when she sees a Cardinal, a Mourning Dove or a Goldfinch. I'm sure I can design a series of lesson plans around those feeders....
Ah, now it comes back to me and I remember when one of the popular girls intoned, "Ahh, the BHURD-vatchahs" as we filed out of our classroom on the second floor. But I have to smirk when I recall that she sat behind me the next semester....Mr. P even had to limit students from taking more than two semesters of the class - funny, I don't remember what else I took after those Fall and Spring sessions.
Occasionally throughout my high school years and even into college, when I'd see a Prothonotary Warbler alight on a low branch or hear the echo of a Wood Thrush through the forest, before I could mask my delight I'd spoken its name aloud, identifying it, much to the amusement (? were they laughing at me or with me?) of my friends. One year I even received an obviously re-gifted coffee-table bird book because "you always seem to like those birds!"
Nowadays, I drink my coffee watching the birdfeeders outside of our kitchen window. We have five feeders: a pinecone smeared by little girl hands with a delightful mixture of lard, stale bread, birdseed, and leftover potato pancakes; a suet feeder with a homemade cake of peanut butter, several roasts' worth of congealed beef fat, goldfish cracker crumbs and the crusts from Hannah's sandwiches (YEAH, what ABOUT it?!), two tube feeders and one homemade milk-carton feeder that Hannah helped me to "recycle." (Note that the cost of birdseed is exactly the same as the sum at the bottom of our "entertainment" column on our monthly budget worksheet.) I eagerly point out Blue Jays, Downy Woodpeckers and nuthatches to Hannah, and she tells me when she sees a Cardinal, a Mourning Dove or a Goldfinch. I'm sure I can design a series of lesson plans around those feeders....
I am so grateful to my parents and their friend, Chap, for introducing me to a hobby which has been a constant in my life through its many incarnations. Those Saturday birdwatching expeditions are among my best memories of high school. The other day Andy said that he and a friend had seen a Flicker on their drive through town. My first inclination was to ask, "Was it a yellow-shafted or a red?" But I uh...well, I didn't want to um, blow my cover you know, and dork out on him or anything.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
historical day
I tried to get Hannah to watch the innaguration on MSN.com with me today but she asked so many questions (why are all those police cars there? why do they want to kill him? where are the bad guys? Is he really from Africa {this in response to Rick Waren's term "AfricanAmerican"} can I go watch Sesame Street now?) that I finally cut her loose. We watched Aretha Franklin singing an edited version of "America". Here's the lyrics:
1. My country,' tis of thee,
sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing;
land where my fathers died,
land of the pilgrims' pride,
from every mountainside let freedom ring!
4. Our fathers' God, to thee,
author of liberty, to thee we sing;
long may our land be bright
with freedom's holy light;
protect us by thy might, great God, our King [emphasis mine].
But Ms. Franklin omitted the last four words - that is the whole point of the song! Instead she repeated "freedom" a few times and closed. Personally, I think this is telling, significant and calculated as were other things about speeches I heard.
Coincidentally (yeah, right), just last night we were reading Little Town on the Praire by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Read for yourself here (pages 75 and 76) what we read in the chapter, "Fourth of July" and contrast that with current events.
It sent chills when I re-read it just now.
1. My country,' tis of thee,
sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing;
land where my fathers died,
land of the pilgrims' pride,
from every mountainside let freedom ring!
4. Our fathers' God, to thee,
author of liberty, to thee we sing;
long may our land be bright
with freedom's holy light;
protect us by thy might, great God, our King [emphasis mine].
But Ms. Franklin omitted the last four words - that is the whole point of the song! Instead she repeated "freedom" a few times and closed. Personally, I think this is telling, significant and calculated as were other things about speeches I heard.
Coincidentally (yeah, right), just last night we were reading Little Town on the Praire by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Read for yourself here (pages 75 and 76) what we read in the chapter, "Fourth of July" and contrast that with current events.
It sent chills when I re-read it just now.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
a quiet Saturday evening
This is what happens when you ignore a crunching sound from the other room while washing dishes:
1. They were barefoot, so it was a tactile experience.
2. There was no butter on the popcorn, only salt.
3. I saw it happen; the biggest bowl tipped just out of her fingertips...
4. But the rest of it wasn't a mistake.
5. Big deal!
6. The vacuum cleaner was efficient when set on "high carpet."
7. Daddy-o was at a meeting until late. (Whew!)
And speaking of vacuum cleaners, what is it about turning one on that makes them screech like banshees and run screaming from the room? They're not afraid of it - I even say, "OK, girlies, I'm going to turn on the vacuum; don't yell." And they start hollering the minute I've pushed the button. They run laughing with their arms in the air up and down the hallway like pingpong balls in a bingo basket. I give up. The funny thing is, though, Andy came home about 10 minutes after this picture was taken and was none the wiser. If he noticed le aroma du popcorn, he didn't mention it!
Oh, and for what it's worth, here's the view from our loo: Its not the Virgin Mary, but -
Maybe a Righteous Reindeer?
1. They were barefoot, so it was a tactile experience.
2. There was no butter on the popcorn, only salt.
3. I saw it happen; the biggest bowl tipped just out of her fingertips...
4. But the rest of it wasn't a mistake.
5. Big deal!
6. The vacuum cleaner was efficient when set on "high carpet."
7. Daddy-o was at a meeting until late. (Whew!)
And speaking of vacuum cleaners, what is it about turning one on that makes them screech like banshees and run screaming from the room? They're not afraid of it - I even say, "OK, girlies, I'm going to turn on the vacuum; don't yell." And they start hollering the minute I've pushed the button. They run laughing with their arms in the air up and down the hallway like pingpong balls in a bingo basket. I give up. The funny thing is, though, Andy came home about 10 minutes after this picture was taken and was none the wiser. If he noticed le aroma du popcorn, he didn't mention it!
Oh, and for what it's worth, here's the view from our loo: Its not the Virgin Mary, but -
Maybe a Righteous Reindeer?
Friday, January 16, 2009
weather
The first thing I did after rolling out of bed this morning was check the thermometer in the carport. It read 2. The second thing I did was grab an armload of wood. I smiled. It was 2. I like saying that. "What shall I wear today, dear?" "I think you better put on a jacket, it's 2 degrees outside." "What's the weather like up there?" "Oh, its 2."
Last year, when the wood stove was new and somewhat of a novelty, my ever lovin' husband would gallantly keep us well supplied with firewood in the house and dutifully stoke the coals each morning to ensure we girls had a roaring blaze by which to warm our sleepy limbs.
Not so much anymore.
Hmph. No. Instead, he spends several hours a month chainsawing felled trees, loading them in the truck, hauling them down the mountain, unloading them, splitting them on the log splitter, stacking them and engineering the design of the stacked wood so that it doesn't cascade on our heads when we pull from oldest to newest. Of all the nerve.
Which is why I was checking the thermometer - to see if I could balk at my chore, especially on this freezing morning - and to judge whether I would be able to garner any sympathy in a blog post. However, instead of raising an objection to the frigid concrete under my bare feet, I was a little giddy at the prospect of a high temperature of 12, a mere 10 degrees over the chilly 2 at 5:45 AM. Outside. INSIDE was toasty and quite comfortable.
Made me appreciate free firewood...the wood stove....my dear husband....and the pile of logs stacked neatly beside the hearth.
Last year, when the wood stove was new and somewhat of a novelty, my ever lovin' husband would gallantly keep us well supplied with firewood in the house and dutifully stoke the coals each morning to ensure we girls had a roaring blaze by which to warm our sleepy limbs.
Not so much anymore.
Hmph. No. Instead, he spends several hours a month chainsawing felled trees, loading them in the truck, hauling them down the mountain, unloading them, splitting them on the log splitter, stacking them and engineering the design of the stacked wood so that it doesn't cascade on our heads when we pull from oldest to newest. Of all the nerve.
Which is why I was checking the thermometer - to see if I could balk at my chore, especially on this freezing morning - and to judge whether I would be able to garner any sympathy in a blog post. However, instead of raising an objection to the frigid concrete under my bare feet, I was a little giddy at the prospect of a high temperature of 12, a mere 10 degrees over the chilly 2 at 5:45 AM. Outside. INSIDE was toasty and quite comfortable.
Made me appreciate free firewood...the wood stove....my dear husband....and the pile of logs stacked neatly beside the hearth.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Something to look forward to
Hannah said today she was "house sick." I told her she meant that she had cabin fever. So I packed 'em both up and we haded over to Douthat State Park to enjoy the 29-degree cold and get out of the house for a bit.
BUT!
Before we left I was perusing a day-old Virginian Review and there in the Letters to the Editor was the first glimpse of summer! A letter mentioning that Magic In The Mountains will be in Clifton Forge beginning June 19, 2009 - WOO-HOO! I promptly jotted it on the calendar - now, you go put it on yours.....
But then, when we got home, there was the Maple Festival brochure for March 14-15 and 21 and 22. MMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, maple doughnuts....maple syrrrrup.
That is the great thing about the Highlands. There is always something going on to bring the kids to. This year I think I'll have some sort of entry in Magic in the Mountains. Either that or I'll set up a craft table.
Remind me, OK?
BUT!
Before we left I was perusing a day-old Virginian Review and there in the Letters to the Editor was the first glimpse of summer! A letter mentioning that Magic In The Mountains will be in Clifton Forge beginning June 19, 2009 - WOO-HOO! I promptly jotted it on the calendar - now, you go put it on yours.....
But then, when we got home, there was the Maple Festival brochure for March 14-15 and 21 and 22. MMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, maple doughnuts....maple syrrrrup.
That is the great thing about the Highlands. There is always something going on to bring the kids to. This year I think I'll have some sort of entry in Magic in the Mountains. Either that or I'll set up a craft table.
Remind me, OK?
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
ick and crafts
The girls are sick. Again.
It started with Abba's launch of supper at BK before church on Sunday night. We were so careful not to stain their clothes with ketchup that....I won't finish that thought.
Then last night, in the middle of a blizzard from our Little House on the Prairie: The Long Winter reading, Hannah let loose in my bed. I closed my book as Daddy-o rushed to the rescue with a towel.
And today, I feel as though I am on the brink. Maybe the antibiotics for this sinus infection will stave off any nastiness, and maybe its the Breakfast of Champions (black coffee and a hard boiled egg) that is making me want to follow my daughters' leads, and maybe its just being cooped up in the house.
Enough pity.
Here's a project I've been working on: actually a late Christmas present for a neighbor. I don't know now, though - up close they look a little elementary - its been awhile since I've stamped and I just feel a little rusty. I used Diamond Glaze, Liquid Laminate or Mod Podge on the "water" in the vases. I added iridescent pigment to some of them and Tiny Glass Beads (those are the ones that are super-reflective in the photo below) to others. It gives them a nice 3-D effect. I wasn't sure about the black cardstock, but these are winter-made cards, so black seemed appropriate. I like the pink ribbon best - that was my original inspiration, believe it or not.
Anyways, I finally finished them last night except for the insides - I need to glue in piece of white cardstock for a writing area. Nothing fancy.
And, in case you didn't see them in person, here's the girls' Christmas Eve presents:
I am hoping to start a new tradition of new nightgowns as a Christmas Eve present. Abigail's is the one that I finished up that afternoon. Once I got the hang of it, I am able to make up one of these in about an hour and a half (if I am uninterrupted/undistracted). That's good news because this pattern is very flexible - it makes nice peasant tops for spring and summer.
That's all for now. I need to get laundry done (including my quilt - yuk!) and entertain the little ladies.
Bye!
It started with Abba's launch of supper at BK before church on Sunday night. We were so careful not to stain their clothes with ketchup that....I won't finish that thought.
Then last night, in the middle of a blizzard from our Little House on the Prairie: The Long Winter reading, Hannah let loose in my bed. I closed my book as Daddy-o rushed to the rescue with a towel.
And today, I feel as though I am on the brink. Maybe the antibiotics for this sinus infection will stave off any nastiness, and maybe its the Breakfast of Champions (black coffee and a hard boiled egg) that is making me want to follow my daughters' leads, and maybe its just being cooped up in the house.
Enough pity.
Here's a project I've been working on: actually a late Christmas present for a neighbor. I don't know now, though - up close they look a little elementary - its been awhile since I've stamped and I just feel a little rusty. I used Diamond Glaze, Liquid Laminate or Mod Podge on the "water" in the vases. I added iridescent pigment to some of them and Tiny Glass Beads (those are the ones that are super-reflective in the photo below) to others. It gives them a nice 3-D effect. I wasn't sure about the black cardstock, but these are winter-made cards, so black seemed appropriate. I like the pink ribbon best - that was my original inspiration, believe it or not.
Anyways, I finally finished them last night except for the insides - I need to glue in piece of white cardstock for a writing area. Nothing fancy.
And, in case you didn't see them in person, here's the girls' Christmas Eve presents:
I am hoping to start a new tradition of new nightgowns as a Christmas Eve present. Abigail's is the one that I finished up that afternoon. Once I got the hang of it, I am able to make up one of these in about an hour and a half (if I am uninterrupted/undistracted). That's good news because this pattern is very flexible - it makes nice peasant tops for spring and summer.
That's all for now. I need to get laundry done (including my quilt - yuk!) and entertain the little ladies.
Bye!
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