Posted in Musing & Stories

If I Write It All Out…

ziggy days 2010We had to put our 14 year old dog down this afternoon. I’m in manic-limbo just now.  RT and Granddaughter were here most of the day; Glad for that interaction and distraction. Told dog stories. Like that time on the truck when I was walking him outside Wal-Mart in Dumas, TX; and he rubbed noses with a rattlesnake.  I about crapped. A. Brick.

He was a Scottie mix: We were told he looked like a gremlin… or Chewbaca’s Dad! He hated people, unless you threw the ball. He was scared of the cat. Loved hiking dirt trails, playing in snow drifts and garden hoses. He has pooped at every truck stop in 47 states.

I can’t believe it’s still Friday. Have to think back for a minute that hubby came home early from work. Feels like it happened yesterday. Maybe it will be when I’m done writing whatever this is. Then the exhaustion can take over.

In the afterlife, Friends and Confidantes- I don’t know if I’ll get to see the people I knew… but I sure hope I get to go where all my good dogs went. -Gma

Advertisements
Posted in Musing & Stories

The Pigeon Made Me To Do It

Were you ever so stuck in your life that you just hoped a sign would fall out of the sky? One day last summer, it did.

pigeon.jpg
Rescued Racing Pigeon & Ivy in Mugs

It was during a bout of mentally dark weeks. Felt like I had an invisible Eeyore as my shadow. I was tired of thinking and trying. I’d sit on the porch in pajamas, with my Dad, but that was about the extent of it.

One morning, there was a thud, thud, thud…. and a racing pigeon tumbled off my porch roof, onto the steps. Dad and I looked at each other as the stunned bird walked around the yard, then hopped to the edge of the rain barrel.

We let him get his bearings, but before long I realized he was lost or exhausted. And he took to crapping on my porch rail! So, like any good hostess does, I fed him a big meal.

I called pigeon racing central, but no one could help identify him by his tag number. Via Facebook, I found a guy who would come get it the following evening. By nightfall, I knew this bird needed saving and the Universe knew I need something to save.

I’ve rescued many animals. Never a bird. So the second day, we gained each others’ trust. I took my tablet outside and typed. I wrote. He cooed. When I stepped inside for coffee, he perched next to my keyboard. “Oh, great,” I thought “He’s a word bird! HA! Maybe an editor in a previous life.” I admired his bars a bit before opening the screen door and scaring him back to the handrail.

My husband helped me make a figure four trap and I caught him the next afternoon. Part of me wanted to keep him… Ok a lot of me want to; but it was still an unforgettable experience.

  • Lessons from the pigeon:
  • Just because you’re exhausted or lost; doesn’t mean you should give up entirely.
  • You don’t have to go far; to form a new bond or a create new piece.
  • Care for others, even if you can’t care for yourself.
  • And don’t read other peoples’ drafts when they aren’t looking- HA!

Well, Friends and Confidantes, ask for a sign, but pigeon-proof your porch 🙂  – Grandma Auburn- Sits on her porch often, tends plants and writes drafts.

Posted in Musing & Stories

I Was Stoned and I Missed It

PEACE

4/20- With a tip o’ the hat to Dennis (of Dr. Hook) and Ray Sawyer, who passed in December and Shel Silverstein, who’s body of writing and personality still fascinate me.

The Smoke Off-Shel Silverstein

I’m not entirely certain where this post is gonna lead us today. Infer what you will; it helps bi-polar and anxiety. Take it with a grain [or a leaf.]  Know that I live in the state that Pence consecrated. But if you think politics has ever stopped someone from tucking seedlings a cornfield… not so much. Years ago, we’d make a run for the [Michigan] border on Sunday for alcohol.  Now -I hear we Hoosiers still are, just for a different buzz.

The metaphors abound: It’s strange, nowadays to speak to relation that live in a medicinal or recreational state. Some of us always were. My hope one day, is to pull open a kitchen drawer; but instead of little K-cups, there’s little pods of pot. In rows, by name. {patent pending Gma Auburn- HA!}  And it will be as accepted on a Friday night as the fondue pot was in the 70’s.

And on that note: Thanks for stopping by today. THANK YOU to those on YouTube who preserve the music.  -Grandma Auburn    2 Dr. Hook Videos. “Sylvia’s Mother” because in my next life,  I’d like to hop on Ray Sawyer’s lap, like a pet-starved cat… and of course, “I Got Stoned And I Missed It”

Posted in Musing & Stories

Go Your Own Way

white book beside white mug
Photo by Ekrulila on Pexels.com

Grown Daughter, “RT” wants me to add some more of our text conversations. I’m kinda proud she thinks they’re worthy.  Here’s the first one. “Grandma Gets Volunteered.”

->While watching part of a replay of the 2019 Rock & Roll Hall of Fame)

  • Me: “When I turn 50, I’m gonna start dressin’ like Stevie Nicks.”
  • RT:  “I’ve been waiting 5 years to hear you say that, Mom.” :-O
  • -I think to my
    cat tee shirt, cats eyes, artist tee shirt
    “Arts & Cats”

    self, “That’s only ’cause you watched AHS.”

Grandma Auburn – Goin’ her own way for a few decades. {Takin’ the next generation along for the ride…}

Posted in Homesteading, Musing & Stories

Flashback: Foraging Morels -Indiana

TRADITIONS!

morels RenTiff Papa.jpgmorels on table.jpg

Picture: LaPorte County – Circa 1997 My Dad teaching shroom hunting to my daughter, the ginger, and her BFF.  – Now at 85, ‘Papa’ will soon be teaching his great-granddaughter as well.

  • Cut ’em; don’t pull ’em
  • carry a mesh bag
  • toss the paper bag back in the woods
  • soak ’em in salt water

#oldfarmers #shrooms #foraging #traditions #Indiana

Picture 2: Last year- my sister took our Dad. 2018 – Hendricks County, IN.

Northern IN, I think, is much better hunting ground than Central Indiana. – Grandma Auburn #greys #teachtheoldways