Otherwise Known as Freckle Face...

These are the days when my Daddy starts to remember my age old nickname...

When the snow has melted away and the grass starts turning green once again, and everything seems to revel and bloom in the warm sunshine, I start to bloom, too. Not in the typical sense, mind you, but more freckles make their appearance across my face and the ones that had already been there, grow stronger.

I can't remember a time when my Daddy hasn't called me "freckle face". When I was a little girl, I used to love that moment when he would first notice my new freckles; when he would reach out one finger and trace the path they made across my face. With my hands clasped tightly behind my back, I would lean close and beam up at him, hoping he would notice the freckles that tripped lightly across my nose and were sprinkled across my cheeks like cinnamon, without my saying anything. "There's my freckle face," he would finally say. "You look just like your Mother." It was one of my proudest moments, and I would sigh in blissful content. *smile*

It's almost a rite of spring to me. Sun, Spring, Warmth, equals...freckles! I always hurry with my work on the first nice day, just so I can rush outside and feel the warm sun against my face once more. In my eagerness, I always seem to get a bit scorched...but I really don't mind. It's worth it, just for those few blissful hours.

When I was little I used to think that freckles were some fun, magical, sort of thing...like one of those t.v. commercials that profess that you can make a quick and delicious dinner if you will just add water to their product...only with freckles you just add sun! I would rush in from outdoors after a few hours, to see if the sun "worked". And sure enough, it always had. There's still some of that wonderment in me...I'm still clinging to the thought, silly or not, that freckles are just plain, honest to goodness, no-doubt-about-it, magical.

For quite awhile I loved my freckles, then I hated them, then I loved them again. I think I went back and forth between those two thoughts, many, many times growing up. But I really do love them, and I'm going to keep on.

So...once more Spring has come. And once more I ran outside and lay in our hammock just to feel the glorious warmth on my face. My small sister begs me to come and play with her, but as pull her down beside me to feel Spring, too, I laughingly tell her, "Not now, I'm getting my "freckle soak".

Gene...

It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!

~Mark Twain

She's Seeing Things...

Elizabeth is ten and one day she would like to be a photographer....

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She snapped this photo the other day of two vintage spools of thread on one of our old chests and I liked it so much I had to "steal" it and post it here for you to see, too!

She is a sweet little sister and is always so creative and imaginative...I know she'll be able to do anything she sets her mind to.

If you'd like to leave a comment for her, I know she'd be thrilled! *smile*

Goodbye, Chuck...

"For an actor, there is no greater loss than the loss of his audience. I can part the Red Sea, but I can't part with you, which is why I won't exclude you from this stage in my life. ... For now, I'm not changing anything. I'll insist on work when I can; the doctors will insist on rest when I must. If you see a little less spring to my step, if your name fails to leap to my lips, you'll know why. And if I tell you a funny story for the second time, please laugh anyway."

(From a taped announcement concerning him having symptoms of Alzheimer's disease)

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Charlton Heston

Born: October 4, 1924

Died: April 5, 2008

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Charlton Heston was such a great actor, and he seemed like such a nice man. His story closely touched my heart, as he suffered from Alzheimer's disease, like the mother of a close friend of our family did. We helped care for her as the disease progressed; we were there to see her as she changed to just a mere shadow of her former self; we were even with her as she slipped from this world to the next. To see them go is hard, especially like that, but at the same time we can be grateful that they no longer have pain, that they are once more well and whole again...

I guess I just wanted to say...so long, Mr. Heston. We will always love you!

The Best Years of Our Lives...

This beautiful and thought-provoking film is about three returning servicemen who fight to adjust to life after World War II. The story revolves around Al Stephenson (Fredric March), Fred Derry (Dana Andrews), and Homer Parrish (Harold Russell), as they are reunited with the people they left behind. It deals with so many of the issues that servicemen face when they find they are suddenly home again after being gone for months or even years, and realize that their life is suddenly completely changed from what it had been. It won seven Academy Awards, including those for Best Actor, Best Actor in a Supporting Role (Harold Russell), Best Director, Best Film Editing, Best Musical Score, Best Screenplay, and Best Picture.

Harold Russell was a war veteran himself...not an actor. He lost both of his hands in a ship explosion and was actually "discovered" when director William Wyler saw an army training film called "Diary of a Sergeant" that Russell had appeared in about the rehabilitation of injured servicemen. Besides the Oscar he received for Best Supporting Actor (which surprised everyone very much that he actually won) he also received a special Academy Award at the Oscars for "bringing hope and courage to his fellow veterans through his appearance in The Best Years of Our Lives", making him the only person to win two Oscars for the same performance. He is definitely my favorite character in the whole film--his performance broke my heart...though he wasn't an actor, he played the part much better than one could have, because he had experienced and felt so many of the same things his character did. Just for his performance alone this movie is worthwhile.

Wyler also pulled the rest of his crew from the ranks of WWII veterans--props, mixers, grips, etc--to give the film more of a documentary-style realism. This movie is definitely a must-see.

[after Peggy tells her parents that they never had any trouble in their relationship]

Milly Stephenson: "We never had any trouble." How many times have I told you I hated you and believed it in my heart? How many times have you said you were sick and tired of me; that we were all washed up? How many times have we had to fall in love all over again?


Peggy: What d'ya do before the war, Fred?
Fred: I was a fountain attendant...soda jerk...Surprised?

Peggy: Yes, a little. I betcha you mixed up a fine ice cream soda.

Fred: You're darn right. I was an expert behind that fountain. I used to toss a scoop of ice cream in the air, adjust for wind drift, velocity, altitude. Then wham, in the cone every time. I figured that's where I really learned to drop bombs.

Homer: What about us? We're all right, aren't we?

Wilma: No, listen to me, Homer.

Homer: I'm listening.

Wilma: You wrote me that when you got home, you and I were going to be married. If you wrote that once, you wrote it a hundred times. Isn't that true?

Homer: Yes, but things are different now.

Wilma: Have you changed your mind?

Homer: Have I said anything about changing my mind?

Wilma: No. That's just it. You haven't said anything about anything...I don't know what to think, Homer. All I know is, I was in love with you when you left and I'm in love with you now. Other things may have changed, but that hasn't.

Anne...

Anne Frank and Friends

How true Daddy's words were when he said: all children must look after their own upbringing. Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands.

~Anne Frank

Walking in the Rain...

I looked out the window tonight, as dusk was just starting to settle over our land and rain was pouring down in great sheets, and I had such a desire to be out of the house and out in the weather.

I hurried to put on my raincoat, with a grubby sweatshirt and a pair of old jeans underneath, only stopping for a moment to stumble into a set of blue muck boots. As I stepped out the door, the air smelled so fresh, and clean, and new to me, as it always seems to when a hard rain has come.

I started off with the hood of my raincoat tied tightly about my head, but before I knew it I had untied the knots that held it there, and let it slip forgotten to my back; the rain making my hair curl in tendrils about my face, and the wind gently tugging open the edges of my jacket. Our puppy Holly went with me, too, happy to be let loose in the outdoors, bounding and playful with pent up energy.

My hair and jeans were soaked by the time I came in, but I really didn't care. It was worth it to be alive and well, alone with my soul and my God in the the great outdoors. Holly romped playfully at my feet, stopping occasionally to wait for me to catch up, or to take a happy-go-lucky nip at my raincoat.

We scared up all sorts of rabbits and birds, who would look up in surprise at seeing a "people" out in the wet, and then would dash off to hide once more in the underbrush, their dark eyes following our steps closely.

We stumbled across a small pool looking just like something from a fairy story, in amongst the trees that line the path that we walk. It hadn't been there before, but had come with all of the rain and was now near knee-deep. Holly was happy to run about in it, splashing and joyful with her tongue hanging out, trying to get me wet, too, but I was so overcome by the unexpected beauty of it, that I could only stand there, reverently touching the moss that clung to an old weathered oak, while the rain collected like dew on my eyelashes and ran in rivulets down the bridge of my nose. All that I could do was lift my face to the heavens and thank God for being alive.

Before long, as the sun fell in the sky and the rain began to seep through my clothes, I started to get cold, so we headed for home, the mud pulling noisily at our feet.

There's nothing quite like coming indoors all wet and tired, and changing into warm, sweet-smelling clothes...