Friday, December 30, 2011

California Quail in an Apple Tree


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You know how the song the Twelve Days of Christmas has a partridge in a Pear Tree?

Well, I don't have one of those for you but I do have a Flock of Quail in an Apple Tree.
They are hidden pretty well so it might be hard to see them. I know when I looked out the window they sure surprised me and then brought a smile to my face.
They seemed convinced that I couldn't see them there.

It's hard to believe that this is the last post and photo for 2011.

I wish health, happiness and prosperity for all of you in 2012
Thank you for your interesting posts this year.
I am blessed to have met all of you and thank you for your comments.
I appreciate it very much

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Favorite Christmas

This is an old story that has been going around for years but it's my favorite.




Grandma and Santa Claus

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid.
I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered.
"Even dummies know that!"
My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her
that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew
Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went
down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-
famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because
Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I
told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she
snorted...."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going
around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your
coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second
world-famous cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General
Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about
everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten
dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she
said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you
in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother,
but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed
big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas
shopping.
For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-
dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.
I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors,
the kids at school, the people who went to my church.
I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby
Decker.
He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind
me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a
coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the
winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he
had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a
cough; he didn't have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill
with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!
I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked
real warm, and he would like that.
"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the
counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I
replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."
The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really
needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the
coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out
of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper
and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it.
Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove
me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was
now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I
crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then
Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered,
"get going."
I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present
down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of
the bushes and Grandma.
Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door
to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.
Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent
shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night,
I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what
Grandma said they were -- ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and
we were on his team.
I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.


I wish all of you a wonderful, blessed, joyful Christmas.

Friday, December 9, 2011

The Owls have it again

I'm still recovering from some sort of flu with sinus problems so I haven't been around too much.  I've noticed that other people are having a hard time getting rid of this illness too.
The one good thing about needing to rest is that I just read the most wonderful book about a woman (biologist) who raises a rescued Barn Owl. If you love birds or nature or need a gift for someone who does, this is a great read. I hope I did the link right  Wesley the Owl


Owls have really become popular perhaps it's due to Harry Potter. Fortunately, they are one of my favorites too as their faces seem to display so much emotion.