Coffee with the roses

And an orchestra of song birds. 

All sales final

It's amazing what you can find when you clean. Unearthing things you never knew you had.

The situation starts out easy enough. Ben states that he would really like for us to go in and basically clean up our bathroom. I'm not going to go into the layers of filth that are in there. I think I have mentioned before that cleaning isn't really my life calling and if it isn't a public area and it gets a good swiping every year or so then were doing great. 

So in the attempt to clean the vanity, first I must remove everything. Jewelry box, hair products, doodads, hairpins, and various and sundry other little things that always seem to get scattered about. I'm moving decorative boxes and tossing clothing tags and storing those extra buttons that always come on your clothes when I grab a yellow piece of paper. It's the back copy of some receipt I'm guessing when I notice the word "pawn" on it. Pawn?! We haven't been to a pawn shop in ages. I'm thinking oh great, I bet he got another hunting rifle, like he needs another one of those.  Or worse yet another guitar!

I open in up and see its from a pawn shop in Arkadelphia where we attended college. That's odd because the last time we spent any lengthy time in Arkadoo, besides the obligatory gas and bathroom stop on the way to Texas, had been well over a year ago. Well within our last bathroom cleaning mind you.

On further inspection I see the word  "jewelry" after the word "pawn". My thoughts race to the fact that my birthday is coming soon; could he have found some awesome antique piece he knew I would love or even for our anniversary in a couple of weeks? That's not usually his style but I can give him the benefit of the doubt.

Then all of a sudden things started to click. I noticed the date. May 11, 1998. A mere 12 days before our wedding. I looked at the price. Then I knew for sure what I was holding. 

Back in May of '98, we were two kids finishing college, scraping together a wedding, and expecting a baby that fall. We had never been big on spending a lot of money and were really excited that we happened upon a Mother's Day jewelry sale at the local pawn shop. 50% off. You can't beat that.

Now I have always prided myself in telling people how much we didn't spend. He got my engagement ring at a sale on a sale at Penney's. It was what I wanted and, when the sales lady found out it was to be my engagement ring, she said to come back  a few days later and she would make sure it was there for him on the sale day.  But we still needed to get our bands so the happy Mother's Day half off sale was the ticket. He got mine for a steal at $12 but because his was bigger I had to pay twice as much. A big whopping $26.66 with tax. There may not be a lot of monetary value in them but the story more than makes up for that.

And to think that I found this two days past 15 years from when I purchased his ring. We have no idea how the receipt was buried under piles of junk on our vanity. I can only guess it was in one of the old small hatboxes I had sitting out. They still have mementos in them I've had for years and they are the only things old enough.

Yet it amazes me that through all these years. All our houses (we've moved a lot). That it's been with us. And even though it's really just a scrap of paper something that should have been thrown out years ago, I like what it says at the bottom. 

"ALL SALES FINAL" 

And that's what we are. We're final. There's no going back or exchanging for something else. I like that. 

Inspire me

One of my favorite boards on Pinterest is my I want to paint that board. Some people are inspired to clean or exercise or decorate. For me it was a wealth of images I wanted to recreate. Brush and paint. Pen and ink. Paper and pencil. 

And for so long I would pin these photos thinking "This is the one I will bust out my supplies for. That blank canvas in my laundry room? I'll paint this farm scene on it."

All of those ideas seemed fleeting until a short time ago. Now I have my space and there's very little stopping me. Except for where to start. 

One of my biggest problems as an artist was inspiration. Tell me what you want painted and with what colors and I'm hot to trot. If I rely on myself I start to worry that it's not the right canvas for the picture or that I don't have the exact color of paint (I hate mixing colors). Or the idea that I wouldn't get it finished, have to clean up, then never get back to it, so why even start. So sometimes I would just sit there and nothing would happen. 

But over the last few weeks I'm tearing down those phobias. My creation station is nicely stocked and waiting. I've got friends feeding me ideas as well as a focus. 

Misty guided me to these books when I became so enamored and inspired by her new resolution. Making something every day. Misty and I came out of the same art rooms in college. She found herself in much the same situation that I did. Yeah I'm an artist but I don't practice it. So am I really one? My kids like to tell everyone that I am but this past January when an acquaintance I knew from a local art group asked if I was still painting I just said no. No excuse, no lying. Just no. 

But now the answer can be YES! And I plan to use these books to direct my focus. Misty started at the new year but I figure I'll start at my birthday.  Year 38 will start the rebirth of my creative spirit. That gives me little over a month to gather supplies and try to work my self into the routine. Here's  hoping I don't forget too much. 

The last crow

Today was a first for the Darley Farm. We killed, cooked and ate (well I picked a few bits to see how it tasted) an animal we had raised.

Our rooster, has crowed his last. I won't pretend I'm sad in any way. In fact it was I who sent down the death sentence earlier this week. As beautiful and proud as he looked, a peaceful addition to the flock he was not. Since his maturity into rooster-dom, we've lost 2 hens. And not to predators.

Our first victim survived and is currently running the show at the Greer Urban Cottage Farm Project.

But sadly the second died on Wednesday. She was one of our first hens we raised from a chick. An araucana. Admittedly she was getting up there in age. She was going on 3 years and her demise could have had a lot to do with that. But it still doesn't excuse the fact he left her crippled on the coup floor. She was a good hen and still provided eggs.
I as well as the rest of the family have had run ins with him. He would attack you. I had the glaring proof and pain to prove it.

Maybe it's just that our old rooster Birchy did such a great job. Maybe Black was just young. But to take our flock from 6 down to 4 wasn't showing improvement. And what if he got after a visitor who hasn't learned to keep him in the corner of their eye at all times. I want our farm to be a place where people can come and enjoy watching and experiencing the animals, not running for their lives.

Our oldest David had the hardest time with the fact that we had killed, plucked and had the rooster in the oven by the time he came home from grandma's. (now the other two were perfectly fine with this, namely because they share the chicken duty and have had a few run ins with him) He just didn't see why we just couldn't drop him off somewhere. We had a long talk (ok so I was rather excited because he called me cruel) about the fact that these animals aren't really our pets. We love them and take care of them the best we can but on a farm the animals have to serve a purpose. 
 
And I admit. When it came time for the actual harvest, I did waver a bit. The thought are we horrible entered my mind. But then I thought about the hens and I thought about my leg and all doubt was subsided. I'm still a bit squeamish with the whole blood and guts thing. I did assist Ben but turned my head a lot.

We were nervous about how he would taste. That old adage that mean birds were tough birds. After he had plucked and gutted, he quartered it up and we set it to roast on very low heat.  I tried a bit once it was cooked. So very tasty and only a bit chewy. Not in tough way though and certainly not dry. David is still turning his nose up at it. If he doesn't come out of this a vegetarian it will be a close miracle. Luke said he really didn't have any interest in eating him. Phoebe although happy to not have to deal with Black anymore proclaimed she would not be eating a bite of him because she believed he was possessed by the devil. Ben said then by all means, don't let her have a bite because she sure didn't need anymore of that.

I have to admit I am really looking forward to a crowless Sunday morning.

Evolution of a Saturday

As Saturdays go this one started out making me wish I could just curl back under the covers, but truthfully most mornings are making me feel like that.  Just let me sleep a bit more.  But alas we had a pinewood derby to race.

Loud raucous crowds are not my cup of tea.  God bless those that love me for I am less than ideal to be around in these instances. I’m becoming even crankier in my old age and seeing as my senior citizen eligibility doesn’t kick in for another 20 years or so they have a lot to endure.  But today was an exercise in self control in that I did not roundhouse kick the man in front of me incessantly drumming his fingers on the plastic chairs.  It had a tone that just set my teeth on edge.  So I popped my gum and tried to find my happy place.  What a day for me to leave my crochet bag or a book at home lest I seem unsociable.

After a greatly belated lunch (Let’s just Hangry to the psyche mix) and the drizzle cold day I gladly curled back into bed while listening to my husband brag of the songs they would sing about the nap he was planning to take.  I am not a napper.  So I donned a pair of socks and turned to my new favorite area, my corner.

I am really enjoying it. Just to be able to sit and paint or draw and not have to worry about cleaning up the table for a meal or to bring everything back in from outside.  I guess I was inspired by Liz’s library and Cyndi’s studio.  Claimed areas of the home for your creative inspirations.  Ok so inspired is to clean of a word.  Spurred by jealousy?  Maybe a bit closer.  I wanted my own spot.  So I carved it out.

And Saturday ended brighter than it began.  Sweet talking friends to pass through on their way home with the offer of deer chili on this drizzly day.  So a day that began with grousing ends with giggles, good friends, and boys that take the art of passing gas way to seriously.

Plop upside down spells bold

Thanks to a flat tire we had a one vehicle day today. 

I rescued Luke from a fate worse than death. He's just too full of life to sit quietly in a school office waiting for Ben to finish his meeting. So we walked backed over to the church where I work and enjoyed the lovely spring afternoon in the columbarium. 

This is what I learned:

1. The soft whispy clouds are called nimbus. 

2. Little boys like to pick flowers even if they are from the bushes of a church building and stick them in their mothers hair. 

3. If we got rid of all the noisy cars and big building we would have a prettier view of nature and it would be like paradise. 

4. Apparently I can "charm speak" (his words) little red headed boys into forgoing noisy school functions in favor of yummy Honduran food with the promise of a Hobby Lobby trip.

5. "Plop" upside-down spells "bold" 

.....well, sort of ;)

Rusty

I'm so very out of practice with the whole painting thing. My art is where I turn into an OCD perfectionist. I'll blend paint and work at shading a drawing over and over with minute changes that only I can notice. 

And I hate mixing colors. Tints and shades I'm great with. That's why I love to work with so many bottles of craft paint. I can buy the color I need instead of trying to decide if that shadow in the picture has a bluish red tone. 

I know they are not high quality paints and for the most part nothing I work with is. 

But hopefully the results are.