A Friday ritual.
A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week.
A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
Not A Duck
I have an uncle who likes to classify birds in one of two ways.
Duck.
Not a duck.
Duck, clearly, being the preferred type.
Storm seems to be taking after him. She duck hunts with John and she upland hunts with both of us. But after today, I think her preference is falling heavily toward duck.
On another beautiful, blue sky, fall day my mom and I went out pheasant hunting. We started out with a bang. Trip had a perfect point and retrieve for me and then my Mom and her dog got a bird. (It was probably just as perfect but I didn’t witness it. So for the purposes of this post my dog wins the Most Perfect Dog award). Just after that Storm held a point for me for ages. Ages, because that’s how long it took me to realize she was missing, search her out in the long grass, find her locked on point, come up next to her and finally flush the pheasant. It was a great point and, fortunately, I was shooting straight that day. The bird went down and Storm ran off after it only to return with a slightly damp pheasant. Which was odd, but there was a bit of water around so I didn’t think too much of it.
I should have.
Apparently Storm was looking for ducks.
Mom shot the last bird of the day and I watched as Storm took off after it for the retrieve. She picked it up, ran directly to a very large, muddy puddle and dunked the pheasant in the middle of it. For those of you unfamiliar with how bird hunting with dogs work, let’s be kind to John’s dog (remember that fantastic point!) and just say that’s… not the ideal retrieve. After the pheasant’s initial dunking I believe she looked at it and was still un-satisfied with it’s not-a-duck appearance. So Storm, nosed it and mouthed it, repeatedly rolling it over and over in the giant mud puddle until it was a dark, soggy, mass of feathers.
At this point it may have been a good idea to work on some dog training but it’s quite possible that my mom was too busy making indignant comments on the worthiness of John’s dog while I was too busy giggling and taking pictures, so we didn’t. Eventually Storm crawled out of the mud hole with the sodden mass of feathers. It still didn’t look quite like a duck but on the other hand it no longer looked like any pheasant I’ve ever seen retrieved!
I picked it up, heaviest pheasant I’ve ever handled, and stuffed it into my mom’s game vest for her. I think I heard her sloshing a bit on the way back to the truck.
As for Storm? I’m pretty sure that this weekend John needs to take his dog duck hunting.
The Grayson Trilogy by Georgia Rose
Putting down the third book and wiping away tears I mulled things over, trying to pin point just what it was that pulled me in.
What was it that had me reading the last two books of this trilogy in a marathon afternoon into evening read?
It wasn’t the flowery language or exquisitely turned phrases. In fact the language of this book is very simple. Coffee is made, horses are cared for, the thoughts in Grayson’s head are just like thoughts that might be in mine.
Just, normal – stuff.
And I think that was it, what I thought at first was over simplified writing, that was the key. Because when everything goes decidedly not normal, whether for good (the tall, dark, handsome, possessive man, yeah, it totally goes there) bad ( I won’t ruin anything but let’s just say there are baddies and they’ve got guns) or sometimes crazy (again, no spoilers here, but when I tried to tell my husband what was going on and why I couldn’t talk to him even though he’d been at work for the last 12 hours, he raised his eyebrows and told me I read “weird stuff”), it was still believable.
I’d already been riding along in Grayson’s life, for all the everyday mundane things. So when the not so everyday, bordering on crazy, happened, her reactions didn’t surprise me. Of course she did that, of course it was believable (even if when you tell your husband in the kitchen after midnight it’s so not) and of course I was so emotionally involved.
Buckets of tears involved.
Would I recommend it? I’d call this trilogy a tear soaked, romantic adventure. If that kind of thing is your style go pick them up – all of them. They only get better as they go!
Laundry Day
It was laundry day.
But it was not a day for doing laundry.
It was a day of perfect weather and blue skies.
It was the kind of day that makes those of us who live with the ebb and flow of four full seasons glow. We shine as if to match the glowing autumn leaves because we know that we are just that lucky to live these blue sky days of fall.
These blue sky days of fall aren’t worth missing.
It was a day for looking up,
and digging down.
A day for bare feet in leaves,
and watching honey bees.
It was laundry day.
But it was not a day for doing laundry.
I Created The Monster
I created the monster.
Well, that one too, but that’s not the one I’m talking about.
No, the monster I’m talking about is the one that rears it’s ugly head every year at Halloween when I try to tell my children to wear weather appropriate clothes with their costumes.
Probably if I told them to wear weather appropriate clothes more often, this wouldn’t be an issue. But that’s not my way. I’m more of a, “Alright if you don’t want to wear your hat/shirt/shoes/pants/jacket/socks/mittens that’s fine,” sort of mom. I’m a, “Sure you can wear a tank top in October but grab a sweatshirt to leave in the truck just in case,” kind of mom. I’m a, “My kids are smart and will put on clothes when they are cold,” kind of mom. Most importantly I’m a choose your battles kind of mom.
And when it comes to battles, I never choose clothes.
Except.
Except on Halloween.
Because cold children and trick or treating go poorly together and when one ridiculous evening of candy gathering (don’t get me wrong I love the candy) is hyped for weeks and costumes are gathered (thank you Grandma Pat), the last thing I want after experiencing the horrid-ness that is Halloween (I’m a Halloween hating curmudgeon, it’s true) is for all that effort turns into snot nosed, whining, crying, cold children who need to cut the evening short where they (and I) will be devastated by their meager candy haul. (Miniature Milky Way bars are the only thing that continues to ensure my participation in this terrible holiday.)
And so on Halloween I tell my children to wear more clothes. This is a direction that is so unpracticed on both the directing and the receiving end that to call it a lead balloon would be a kindness.
This year, I eventually remembered that I’m a choose your battles kind of mom, threw my hands in the air and we left the house looking like this.
While I personally feel that that picture contains a lot of cuteness it’s totally lacking in clothing for weather befitting a drizzly October evening in Wisconsin.
Ivy had cold toes and Clara had cold fingers and Jane was frozen all over. Not that that meant she wanted to put her shoes on. So John and I stood at the end of many sidewalks and showed concerned citizens of our town that our pockets had both sweatshirts and shoes for the small purple princess who was shivering as she slowly minced down the sidewalk after us.
It was just after John made the comment that perhaps we should take away her crown and give her a box of matches that she was done. John took her back to the warmth of the truck while I continued to follow the others through the town. To their credit none of them whined about the cold. They just talk about it in an, “Oh my gosh I can’t even feel my toes” sort of incredulity as they marched on through the ghoul-filled darkness.
It’s true, I created the monster.
And I’m ok with that because for the other 364 days of the year it’s a monster that serves us well.
As for Halloween, well, I’ve never liked it anyway.
Except for those mini Milky Way bars…
I’m A Tiny Pepper!
I know, I know, you thought I walked more upright and was less green, didn’t you?
But for the month of November I’m joining in with the insanity that is posting every day with the NanoPoblano’s and a tiny pepper I will be!
Why?
Mostly it’s because I love a good challenge.
You see, it starts like this…
Someone says, you should do this thing with me. And I say to myself, “No I could never do that thing because x, y and most importantly, z.” And then I say to myself. “Whatever, I totally could do it if I wanted to.”
And then I do it – just to spite myself.
Because that’s just how contrary I am.
And also, because dinosaurs are very convincing creatures.
If you’d like to hear more about the NanoPoblano’s or NaBloPoMo read “waiter, there is too much pepper in my coffeekash”. Of course what you will read is written by said convincing dino. You might not want to actually follow the link unless you are willing to publish a blog post daily for the next thirty days.
(And you could, it’s not too late!)
See you tomorrow!
(and the next day… and the next… and…)
Weekly Photo Challenge: Careful
Weekly Photo Challenge: Careful
I suppose one could call out to the three year old with the dozen eggs traipsing around outside in nothing but her swimsuit on a chilly October day to be careful.
But I don’t.
I’m not that kind of parent.
She knows all about broken eggs. She knows what breaks them and what to do with the broken ones. She’s been there and she’s done that.
And after a few run-ins with thistles, raspberry canes and other less desirable things, she knows how to watch what she’s stepping on.
And as for the swimming suit, all you grandmas out there shivering just looking at her, will be glad to know that after an hour or so she told me she was going inside to warm up.
I could tell her to be careful.
But I won’t.
The Selection by Kiera Cass
Do you trust me?
If I told you I had a book for you to read would you read it?
You see, the thing is, if I tell you that this book is a dystopian future version of Cinderella set up like a season of The Bachelor, I’m afraid I’ll lose your interest in a sudden fit of scoffing and eye rolling.
Would I recommend it? This book is approximately 12 bajillion times better than it sounds – forget all that other stuff and trust me!
Pumpkin Party
The food is piled willy nilly in the kitchen and there aren’t enough bowls to go around.
There are people carving pumpkins on the table and people carving pumpkins on the floor. 
The house is getting hot and the kids are getting loud.
Friends have come with mere hours notice, food and pumpkin carvers in hand.
Now they rummage through the kitchen to find spoons, dinner and drinks.
Great Gramps grew the pumpkins and John made the chili. 
Halloween is still my least favorite holiday but in this moment…
… in this moment, it’s the best.
Dogs…
Sometimes they are fantastic… 
…and sometimes not…
… but whether they are done for the day…
… or still on the hunt …
…it wouldn’t be my kind of hunting without them.
This picture is blown out but I had to use it anyway. My first three bird limit with a pile of my favorite dogs- photography be damned, it was a good day!
Behind the Willows 
