tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37901957814076581862024-03-05T11:08:00.824-05:00My Secrets for HappinessI am handy, artsy fartsy and have a rewarding gift. What better reason for creating a Blog dedicated to serving spirit and humanity, comfort, taste and happiness? I have an amazing lifestyle business, I travel, I cook, I'm a car guy and I enjoy life. I also have a need to pass these things along and I am hoping you will enjoy taking the trip with me. The ride may be bumpy, but rest assured it will be one worth joining. I am Medium Kathleen, (Kathleen Janes) and I am your host today. Enjoy!Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.comBlogger234125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-3339720689347360192017-09-16T12:01:00.000-04:002017-09-16T12:01:45.898-04:00Flannel Shirt Feelings and Toes In The Water Memories.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I had a Blue Jay outside my bedroom window this morning! Yes, with the first hint of dawn, he was filling the air with his squawking and chirping! Nothing, not one single thing, makes me feel like I am living at the lake more than the sound of a Blue Jay's cry. Flannel shirt feelings and toes in the water memories... #grateful <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiImdi4cQIUKz51xxQKp73Z04xaWsOO7tgSnmW6S3sYD8TuQuJMataEV8iJ4z9w8v0pSYo7axUqmj68HhsOcRb-C8riHFvIKDXJtwPdt06Z4uXlRGtWGzf9UCfBHvPppfjltLY1EuHj_-U/s1600/IMG_20170916_113647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="675" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiImdi4cQIUKz51xxQKp73Z04xaWsOO7tgSnmW6S3sYD8TuQuJMataEV8iJ4z9w8v0pSYo7axUqmj68HhsOcRb-C8riHFvIKDXJtwPdt06Z4uXlRGtWGzf9UCfBHvPppfjltLY1EuHj_-U/s320/IMG_20170916_113647.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
This photograph was shot with my Blackberry Q-10 and downloaded directly from the camera and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</div>
Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-22592687663385398852017-07-16T12:51:00.000-04:002017-07-16T12:51:03.764-04:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I still love to bake!<br />
Every time I eat pie, I remember my mom, who I'm named after. She ALWAYS had to have pie! Here's what happened last night for supper : Chocolate Bourbon Pecan Pie!<br />
There's a zillion recipes out there on the ol' Google, so no use me printing another, but I did take photographs!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr39ValHA4rlBW16PpFGHUa5a6wJUYzERf25HLsxOkHVYSsSprEEyidvYm-KHi0BJX7ziMvtXZxTBrHBvoo2XQYGmqkhswrHJLfRhQ-6My2YVH_WrPYwnBNHS3t72XAaXyoF5kuTrEOG8/s1600/IMG_20170715_142912.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr39ValHA4rlBW16PpFGHUa5a6wJUYzERf25HLsxOkHVYSsSprEEyidvYm-KHi0BJX7ziMvtXZxTBrHBvoo2XQYGmqkhswrHJLfRhQ-6My2YVH_WrPYwnBNHS3t72XAaXyoF5kuTrEOG8/s320/IMG_20170715_142912.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja6_rFvoF8RnMAQJ1HDUc9krff8lIzYj3-N3Vt-OYzSR1a9lg2sJtosJjyvqWYRTdVSSWHw2tf2uE7RQX3vT13cYXo7n_lVvR36WcYR4Dnvj1KAZYkxGMF6xeJVcS_6gcZo2nmqfyL53w/s1600/IMG_20170715_144248.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja6_rFvoF8RnMAQJ1HDUc9krff8lIzYj3-N3Vt-OYzSR1a9lg2sJtosJjyvqWYRTdVSSWHw2tf2uE7RQX3vT13cYXo7n_lVvR36WcYR4Dnvj1KAZYkxGMF6xeJVcS_6gcZo2nmqfyL53w/s320/IMG_20170715_144248.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmyv9S5pImsU1e42fYIdGeZfgAsLNhzmHG1tiB_7e0Drek8R70zWdj7Q9En2D70FuvLx3Uq5UN802eFQfYWbvHy9z0ejwN7fPSpbiu2uIbXU5G_7WqTEy26wgJB7JhJLiKUX95wEz0beE/s1600/IMG_20170715_152818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmyv9S5pImsU1e42fYIdGeZfgAsLNhzmHG1tiB_7e0Drek8R70zWdj7Q9En2D70FuvLx3Uq5UN802eFQfYWbvHy9z0ejwN7fPSpbiu2uIbXU5G_7WqTEy26wgJB7JhJLiKUX95wEz0beE/s320/IMG_20170715_152818.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn9CkkHC2tBeFeZJ9XxpG9cwPw84KJkRDNENf7W02iVH0P71gnXP4X8ye58qzS5f65sx6s8SkpsGenyxSYnRFdrLibmsiopqYgWIE-4Ki1TmN7YWKykW4Y0pAc4U3p6JI_AA-aAiHzjXk/s1600/IMG_20170715_214750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn9CkkHC2tBeFeZJ9XxpG9cwPw84KJkRDNENf7W02iVH0P71gnXP4X8ye58qzS5f65sx6s8SkpsGenyxSYnRFdrLibmsiopqYgWIE-4Ki1TmN7YWKykW4Y0pAc4U3p6JI_AA-aAiHzjXk/s320/IMG_20170715_214750.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
These photographs were shot with my Blackberry Q-10 cell phone camera and downloaded directly from the camera and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</div>
Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-12886321376382173592017-07-15T11:12:00.001-04:002017-07-15T11:13:34.502-04:00Mediums At Large in Port Dover, On. Canada<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ah..... A day at the lake! Beautiful Port Dover on Lake Erie, Canada side and lunch at The Beachhouse. We counted the fishing tugs coming into harbour, riding so low in the water, totes full of fish.<br />
I have to learn to take more time off....<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH_tByPBjCG-BCL9mIeW9Qoo2OIWIDcVSDi4NjiSxn5JqjcCDnCeswDu5O_aXClhShsNKdyEVULqJPZLG1bmg4NbTLc0LbjceBFU31ftE94CRnAK2dIlm-XwCtz3XxNyUegzPHN_CJOlo/s1600/IMG_20170714_134201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH_tByPBjCG-BCL9mIeW9Qoo2OIWIDcVSDi4NjiSxn5JqjcCDnCeswDu5O_aXClhShsNKdyEVULqJPZLG1bmg4NbTLc0LbjceBFU31ftE94CRnAK2dIlm-XwCtz3XxNyUegzPHN_CJOlo/s320/IMG_20170714_134201.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjan5sNbpgNnwfnGLMt-plIQNH36qDAQN44yzp0SFV1WpWACuw-hETVJ9pubyjKq1imaXrsiAOp2c08enh1-kpZv27y6ssgp0d1eGLI8s17dvdOJ1Oz0DZMsXd4c-jo2LiXIqMFuhhAJXw/s1600/IMG_20170714_134236.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="675" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjan5sNbpgNnwfnGLMt-plIQNH36qDAQN44yzp0SFV1WpWACuw-hETVJ9pubyjKq1imaXrsiAOp2c08enh1-kpZv27y6ssgp0d1eGLI8s17dvdOJ1Oz0DZMsXd4c-jo2LiXIqMFuhhAJXw/s320/IMG_20170714_134236.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, a Palm Tree in Ontario!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIaSnnXz3M60vf5uWAeZ6aDHnRjoIxsHUSupFSpXKMCpCIwzrtOkunqcX4uOTeOGeFa7tjcxA-sVnZQUg-iHHFGzTPr5xTCvz7mQN2Nrk8YPi3ms5_9MuiNGh0Vxs9h_57ku11BjApD-E/s1600/IMG_20170714_134350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="675" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIaSnnXz3M60vf5uWAeZ6aDHnRjoIxsHUSupFSpXKMCpCIwzrtOkunqcX4uOTeOGeFa7tjcxA-sVnZQUg-iHHFGzTPr5xTCvz7mQN2Nrk8YPi3ms5_9MuiNGh0Vxs9h_57ku11BjApD-E/s320/IMG_20170714_134350.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI64WkZr6Nc9KuOxVkNL3ZuZuMcVUxO00m3trBrj5KNZwY2cSti5l3zZqODOVNI-RyRAEleHTKObkr8nnEjdJfRGw9rcr7q4QhqqlrSwW-ijj7xX9jjz1deoHLqYdvJ8MxouePWFEnIbc/s1600/IMG_20170714_134448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI64WkZr6Nc9KuOxVkNL3ZuZuMcVUxO00m3trBrj5KNZwY2cSti5l3zZqODOVNI-RyRAEleHTKObkr8nnEjdJfRGw9rcr7q4QhqqlrSwW-ijj7xX9jjz1deoHLqYdvJ8MxouePWFEnIbc/s320/IMG_20170714_134448.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mediums at large!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxmm5AuC7c7frruLatp7iJVWhoffAV0HdfE-mgBV-okv0U27T3I1DkOlZJA7RBi5YeJkR9msEWWaWaZqV-FApeqZ4tccnVfWxuKAn-QfZLVpCOjFQhQU11qN9ROmnVoRWLx8EL8u79To/s1600/IMG_20170714_134517.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxmm5AuC7c7frruLatp7iJVWhoffAV0HdfE-mgBV-okv0U27T3I1DkOlZJA7RBi5YeJkR9msEWWaWaZqV-FApeqZ4tccnVfWxuKAn-QfZLVpCOjFQhQU11qN9ROmnVoRWLx8EL8u79To/s320/IMG_20170714_134517.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
These photographs were shot with my Q10 Blackberry phone camera and downloaded directly from the camera and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</div>
Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-75814681615133564612017-07-07T14:14:00.000-04:002017-07-07T14:14:01.375-04:00My Profile Picture .... Finally!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For years now, I've been adding to this blog, post after post.... Photo after photo and never a picture of me.<br />
The buck stops now:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyopQgIKNRvf7fYJLrehG6ixk8mGy930PgkikNU8Vc1UVWcHp9C4HQpFsu0pT4_Vtyiv8tVnibckkMQ2dogq22G9YYOD5oactptRxSwnWMU79zpvykUpyyfi-3I-fSEGTQ1DahAz64Ik/s1600/DSCN4712.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="936" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyopQgIKNRvf7fYJLrehG6ixk8mGy930PgkikNU8Vc1UVWcHp9C4HQpFsu0pT4_Vtyiv8tVnibckkMQ2dogq22G9YYOD5oactptRxSwnWMU79zpvykUpyyfi-3I-fSEGTQ1DahAz64Ik/s320/DSCN4712.JPG" width="187" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
www.MediumKathleen.ca </div>
<br />
<br />
This photograph was shot with my Nikon P-90 digital camera July 4, 2017 and downloaded directly from the camera and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</div>
Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-47924568038386895202017-07-03T12:32:00.001-04:002017-07-03T12:32:56.787-04:00My Wednesday Class Visits The Pet Cemetery<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I teach classes in Port Burwell, Ontario, Canada on Wednesday nights through the good weather. Last week, we took a field trip out to a pet Cemetery just south of a little town called Eden. We wandered...We practised our empath gifts by "seeing" what energy we could "feel" from the back side of the headstones there. What sort of fur baby was there, any inscription, dates, names.... It's something that anyone can do in any cemetery to practice. I thought you might like to see the place too and i highly recommend you road trip out there. Not only is this a lovely place to remember our babies, but the place has such love!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJM_WZRLRP-TmE5vR6w1611LLegUrNUejaZqzwU6zvAxxt5lQuyWY8hHfQUa0JKFPeELDvP-xHeTFU0j2X8T7JALcCb8x-af6lKWXJ6-0I6Qr2hvwlK7Qa8Ibd-K00Jg2_tnae5YpW940/s1600/IMG_20170628_201024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="675" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJM_WZRLRP-TmE5vR6w1611LLegUrNUejaZqzwU6zvAxxt5lQuyWY8hHfQUa0JKFPeELDvP-xHeTFU0j2X8T7JALcCb8x-af6lKWXJ6-0I6Qr2hvwlK7Qa8Ibd-K00Jg2_tnae5YpW940/s320/IMG_20170628_201024.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimi58k9rEj8YKPj-54-dlu2zBSPKWDDxSopQWEgiK2IsXyrIj00x6hk8DLL_ThZ6PO6N_hsTNvyi5ppp5KgEC0RlpXwRtJ6XImThNy-9MctNCRBnw2w9N89EpWuqUYrYq8dWlLeo7hBH8/s1600/IMG_20170628_200824.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimi58k9rEj8YKPj-54-dlu2zBSPKWDDxSopQWEgiK2IsXyrIj00x6hk8DLL_ThZ6PO6N_hsTNvyi5ppp5KgEC0RlpXwRtJ6XImThNy-9MctNCRBnw2w9N89EpWuqUYrYq8dWlLeo7hBH8/s320/IMG_20170628_200824.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9AvPZHAaaGSIti7n01bcZ1_a2tWeVVI3DKoMcJTDNFIBrz-V8TKBApZkyPX8MNYZ59v_9u9NMRC44M4u9PUIIEjPUilzqf1ibl6q1QzHmLthSi-IU0wSHnZWciy85iKGs4xtdsyWSJX4/s1600/IMG_20170628_200829.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9AvPZHAaaGSIti7n01bcZ1_a2tWeVVI3DKoMcJTDNFIBrz-V8TKBApZkyPX8MNYZ59v_9u9NMRC44M4u9PUIIEjPUilzqf1ibl6q1QzHmLthSi-IU0wSHnZWciy85iKGs4xtdsyWSJX4/s320/IMG_20170628_200829.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil31QmLP4R6rlHj9pY6drJCs-1_ANm2QgvoSMnGG14nMGgw4TAn9giplq0RCPDJIVnwiZco6BdhtaheXEp_QYen_d9dIkgsBWeqkcRWH7ztWURQMVG6mizj-arDafZw3PrRQTH8AQ9eKc/s1600/IMG_20170628_200906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="675" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil31QmLP4R6rlHj9pY6drJCs-1_ANm2QgvoSMnGG14nMGgw4TAn9giplq0RCPDJIVnwiZco6BdhtaheXEp_QYen_d9dIkgsBWeqkcRWH7ztWURQMVG6mizj-arDafZw3PrRQTH8AQ9eKc/s320/IMG_20170628_200906.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHm6fN36GOjjKzRQIlPgf4x7NkkYD55ZDRePGMmT5mIK7hbDgV8RNG1rY0BsQcF9tnlOhUmP_O8CUIo2rNY_-_NcVnLmejVMKLQ02X240TkpTWTnfvliygi7qT-zJMHVzV9le7zEhMf6A/s1600/IMG_20170628_200925.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="675" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHm6fN36GOjjKzRQIlPgf4x7NkkYD55ZDRePGMmT5mIK7hbDgV8RNG1rY0BsQcF9tnlOhUmP_O8CUIo2rNY_-_NcVnLmejVMKLQ02X240TkpTWTnfvliygi7qT-zJMHVzV9le7zEhMf6A/s320/IMG_20170628_200925.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr0DEldgtH7S1W7T5ZDvWZ4bH1ifKnenPdrr7aWDOJKdPxjTJnxNE-OfTKaB5dVjgVgHP1dge8iYcoZmD7UsKWRM6PCPvgI2EuiktBQw4nXt-y1PE2BoGfT9cHyRw92WiieHZqPbuoFIE/s1600/IMG_20170628_201031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr0DEldgtH7S1W7T5ZDvWZ4bH1ifKnenPdrr7aWDOJKdPxjTJnxNE-OfTKaB5dVjgVgHP1dge8iYcoZmD7UsKWRM6PCPvgI2EuiktBQw4nXt-y1PE2BoGfT9cHyRw92WiieHZqPbuoFIE/s320/IMG_20170628_201031.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
www.MediumKathleen.ca</div>
<br />
These photographs were shot with my Nikon P-90 digital camera and downloaded directly from the camera and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</div>
Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-57264171848171747482017-06-30T20:11:00.002-04:002017-06-30T20:11:58.891-04:00Wondering... Curious... Reaching Out...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
Wondering how many of my "old" followers are still on Blogger?<br />
<br />
Any photographs were shot with either my Blackberry Q-10 cell phone or my Nikon P-90 digital camera and downloaded directly from the camera and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</div>
Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-49943207287270763202017-06-27T23:22:00.000-04:002017-06-27T23:23:49.250-04:00Here I Am Back After A Very Long Time! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hat in hand, I again type in this blog. It's been years and so much has happened! Let me explain a tad:<br />
My own mentors have told me over and over that I need to create and I haven't wanted to, because:<br />
<br />
Excuse #1 - I was surprisingly widowed in 2011.<br />
Excuse #2 - It was hard to just get out of bed in the morning.<br />
Excuse #3 - I was busy. My house is a ton of work.<br />
Excuse #4 - I was consumed with my new business developing my old gift: Mediumship.<br />
Excuse #5 - I've travelled. I've gambled. I've loved. I've lost. I've lived!<br />
Excuse #6 - I had completely lost the desire to create!<br />
<br />
This morning, thanks to my amazing friend Rhonda Hall Couch, I WANT to blog... Create... Communicate. I can't ever repay her!<br />
So here will start a dialogue with you, a reader. Some travel. Some writing. A bunch of photos. Some discussion, thoughts and yes, messages from and with you, me and Spirit.<br />
<br />
Tonight another rainbow in my sky view from my upper deck! I guess I do live in the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15JGk8fTmcJpKHCaQ8cHd5Z9xW7EKcfeH88PISIRzx4gAY3rvaAb-NFB72paO5qbi2SljeD2MLzC8DZ4pCNK321QgfCiMu3cfArb9wymIWrsG6IbDZ106U5xzs6LzOwEKz0OeYFfh2i0/s1600/IMG_20170627_204537.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="675" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15JGk8fTmcJpKHCaQ8cHd5Z9xW7EKcfeH88PISIRzx4gAY3rvaAb-NFB72paO5qbi2SljeD2MLzC8DZ4pCNK321QgfCiMu3cfArb9wymIWrsG6IbDZ106U5xzs6LzOwEKz0OeYFfh2i0/s320/IMG_20170627_204537.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxQtnct41SxRw7Tf3xKyhyj6YzOH05nVUZFAEbEUKo-Qd1noNb025WT9Was_TQfEf-usiVR6B_agKCv0Odut21kM_s2gtgAQJ3pB3PprYg3X0YR7JO4dCS4hPv7nmetFGp6NoLVQRRBpo/s1600/IMG_20170627_204547.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="675" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxQtnct41SxRw7Tf3xKyhyj6YzOH05nVUZFAEbEUKo-Qd1noNb025WT9Was_TQfEf-usiVR6B_agKCv0Odut21kM_s2gtgAQJ3pB3PprYg3X0YR7JO4dCS4hPv7nmetFGp6NoLVQRRBpo/s320/IMG_20170627_204547.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
These photographs were shot with either my Blackberry Q10 or my Nikon P-90 digital camera and downloaded directly from the camera and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</div>
Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-71669687356638552672012-06-30T19:36:00.000-04:002012-06-30T19:36:00.423-04:00Rondeau Provincial Park<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje_tzaJLC8TbQ1D6bRX-vkGm9MFYFIU6amBA8nRquAZkMb_gnBHsWigJsPBQ_HKTd9JJ55N7I6DOZjMyVfZGQ8IkS1vLtYjBeNXyBiZADy5O5NhipS2pQ73ORvpVYBZ4DkfGMruUdwREY/s1600/Chatham-Kent-20120614-00198.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje_tzaJLC8TbQ1D6bRX-vkGm9MFYFIU6amBA8nRquAZkMb_gnBHsWigJsPBQ_HKTd9JJ55N7I6DOZjMyVfZGQ8IkS1vLtYjBeNXyBiZADy5O5NhipS2pQ73ORvpVYBZ4DkfGMruUdwREY/s640/Chatham-Kent-20120614-00198.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.ontarioparks.com/english/rond.html"> Rondeau Provincial Park</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
A big turtle sunbathing. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
...Dick loved turtles!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
These photographs were shot with my Blackberry and downloaded directly from the phone to my laptop and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</div>
</div>Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-4644354202783040262012-06-28T19:34:00.000-04:002012-06-28T19:34:00.215-04:00Rondeau Provincial Park<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxeqqOVCuFaq8FaQDP9aMaCJ8y_C4GF0IvDPOjByBLmQ2Jubu512bVoFo2-iEt49MhBNBmWvluVEzzRiQgpwQlJa8BC5_G9mOk1zFscKLGN1FbRGM1dAU-oEdB7FnQJOWrgm7DlL6szo/s1600/Chatham-Kent-20120614-00195.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxeqqOVCuFaq8FaQDP9aMaCJ8y_C4GF0IvDPOjByBLmQ2Jubu512bVoFo2-iEt49MhBNBmWvluVEzzRiQgpwQlJa8BC5_G9mOk1zFscKLGN1FbRGM1dAU-oEdB7FnQJOWrgm7DlL6szo/s640/Chatham-Kent-20120614-00195.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.ontarioparks.com/english/rond.html"> Rondeau Provincial Park</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
The water is so clean you can see the fish swimming.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
These photographs were shot with my Blackberry and downloaded directly from the phone to my laptop and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</div>
</div>Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-70210042348618289402012-06-25T19:31:00.000-04:002012-06-25T19:31:00.515-04:00Rondeau Povincial Park<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDrp7yKWyq1J8BJR7TBbwbZhMjxjKH1nCOfoGseTbfqnUN7epMhBWjPVJpeJyE5EzmIbjs9Dq1VX1db-KKfdVInxhKYQ6fbyOVGmSPXJSP7P-cfletK_7BDQVLr_AjvVqftC7kdSxc2U/s1600/Chatham-Kent-20120614-00194.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDrp7yKWyq1J8BJR7TBbwbZhMjxjKH1nCOfoGseTbfqnUN7epMhBWjPVJpeJyE5EzmIbjs9Dq1VX1db-KKfdVInxhKYQ6fbyOVGmSPXJSP7P-cfletK_7BDQVLr_AjvVqftC7kdSxc2U/s640/Chatham-Kent-20120614-00194.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<a href="http://www.ontarioparks.com/english/rond.html"> Rondeau Provincial Park</a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
This is the view from the bay side of the park.<br />
<br />
These photographs were shot with my Blackberry and downloaded directly from the phone to my laptop and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</div>Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-88132336406616888462012-06-20T19:27:00.000-04:002012-06-20T19:27:38.778-04:00The Lake Erie side of Rondeau Provincial Park<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbKL3Jl-xE47SM2HzfwSmsO6pSR1feM-tXXuYCtBWsLxxpv5hhAa4DykITCQ4ZDFXeuH8HH7iqwDY7mgj79lWF6whBw5r6MUknIKNkhAYzpYtHUFCWIzoN7xxVx8vJc-vIhlzSJk0QWyk/s1600/Chatham-Kent-20120614-00192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"> </span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpcQO44eahmbyxLYExQOre28n1a2U8IVeB6oFtcjzBU5TMm9lJz66NBazE8u1m3TCOzT3-iuAfPI7myvcb7OZjmcFa_nkMpbDT4syMUNI3Np2ofhfIImyj60pdP3vOAyveBYwnUH_4xME/s1600/IMG-20120614-00191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpcQO44eahmbyxLYExQOre28n1a2U8IVeB6oFtcjzBU5TMm9lJz66NBazE8u1m3TCOzT3-iuAfPI7myvcb7OZjmcFa_nkMpbDT4syMUNI3Np2ofhfIImyj60pdP3vOAyveBYwnUH_4xME/s400/IMG-20120614-00191.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbKL3Jl-xE47SM2HzfwSmsO6pSR1feM-tXXuYCtBWsLxxpv5hhAa4DykITCQ4ZDFXeuH8HH7iqwDY7mgj79lWF6whBw5r6MUknIKNkhAYzpYtHUFCWIzoN7xxVx8vJc-vIhlzSJk0QWyk/s1600/Chatham-Kent-20120614-00192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbKL3Jl-xE47SM2HzfwSmsO6pSR1feM-tXXuYCtBWsLxxpv5hhAa4DykITCQ4ZDFXeuH8HH7iqwDY7mgj79lWF6whBw5r6MUknIKNkhAYzpYtHUFCWIzoN7xxVx8vJc-vIhlzSJk0QWyk/s400/Chatham-Kent-20120614-00192.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.ontarioparks.com/english/rond.html">Rondeau Provincial Park</a> was the first destination to take my new motorhome and what a great choice I made! The park is a peninsula that cuts down into Lake Erie several miles and has the double pleasures of the lake on one side of the campground and the bay on the other. These shots are facing east.<br />
<br />
More to follow.<br />
<br />
These photographs were shot with my Blackberry and downloaded directly from the phone to my laptop and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</div>Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-55101393506842268302012-06-16T13:36:00.000-04:002012-06-16T13:36:59.521-04:00Hello all my old friends...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
So here I am, sitting in my new RV in Rondeau Provincial Park, writing for my blog again. It's a Thursday night. 7:08 to be exact, or 19:00 hours for you military folks. I'll start this off with a short run down of where I've been for the last year and a half.<br />
<br />
Dick died last August. Need I say more?<br />
<br />
Surprise! Widow!<br />
<br />
The while before that you ask? Well, Dick and I were having the best months we'd ever had! Funny that….<br />
<br />
I'm going to look up my last posting on Secrets For Happiness to see when the last regular post was there. Right at this moment, I can't remember and I've used up my monthly quota for download on my internet stick, so I'll check when I'm back home and on my unlimited home plan. Once I look that detail up, I can cross reference the timing, but I do know that I tried to write just after he died. I apologize for making such a cryptic post at that time. (Eva - I couldn't reply. I tried…)<br />
<br />
I'm healing nicely. I've got on with my life somewhat and can function, although most of that is because I met my Dick late in life and I'd been single for 13 years before, so I know how to be that. I'm also blessed with fairy tale types of friends and family. I have never lacked for help or someone to talk to. I do have Post Traumatic Stress disorder attached to the building where I worked, but that was not their fault and is just one of those flukey things we all must live with. I'm very much a cockroach. I adapt. And last but not least, the best medicine; I have my cat. 'Nuff said on that.<br />
<br />
So! The plan:<br />
<br />
I'm going to start blogging again. Almost Retired Handbook is going to be a sort of novel interspersed with some true occurrences and some flights of fantasy. I likely won't tell you which is which. (I won't get sued that way if I hurt somebody's feelings.) And I'll warn you. I'm not going to watch my language or try to be politically correct because… Seriously?<br />
<br />
My Secrets For Happiness will be sporadic with photos of places I'm going in this new life of mine. (Called Lucy's New Life Plan I might add!) I just took some pictures of Rondeau Park today while I was out walking. Don't get the wrong idea… I walked to the restaurant, Rondeau Joe's, for a pickerel dinner! And the pictures might look different because I'm taking them with my Blackberry because one of us scratched the lens on my Nikon in Florida a year and a half ago. We couldn't for the life of us think when we'd done it, but there it is, a half inch gouge in the lens and more to fix it than the things worth! I still use it for my Ebay stuff and have taken a few thousand pics since.<br />
<br />
Now, bear with me if I miss a day or week or month. I still work a lot what with Ebay and my other internet store and you know with all the stuff I did around the house and all the stuff he did, I'm a busy girl. (Damn! I hate vacuuming!)<br />
<br />
Enough preamble here…<br />
<br />
I'll be in touch...<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-36171293999311472652011-01-16T19:25:00.000-05:002011-01-16T19:25:47.289-05:00The Sculpture and Statues Of Pinafore Park<span style="font-size: large;">Hi all my old friends! I just felt the need to post tonight.... I'm glad I've got some pretty summer pictures in my drafts for you. With all the cold we've had, I need some sunny pictures, don't you? </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The story of Katie and Mr Werbowski will continue someday, but for today....</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We are very lucky to have such a wonderful park in St Thomas!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> They keep adding to it and many of the local service clubs donate and contribute.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I just wanted to show you some of the things!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT3rFJGTIRgsJpCoqYmv2RFMC2TTdwlPHzl_XyLDfojiK5MGjE06sEOEzGvAQs-Dk46dGncZvg94rlgGpFahtK9So1zZSfEfXT0XjcZH-OVN832GgAkXXobpsl-ozM1fbuWzQWXRMcWME/s1600/Man.1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT3rFJGTIRgsJpCoqYmv2RFMC2TTdwlPHzl_XyLDfojiK5MGjE06sEOEzGvAQs-Dk46dGncZvg94rlgGpFahtK9So1zZSfEfXT0XjcZH-OVN832GgAkXXobpsl-ozM1fbuWzQWXRMcWME/s640/Man.1.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This is a statue of an actual person. His hand holds (I think,) soil.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFZ0wNr0w-DDf6xgZpxzC312YOFXMoUiYkde7l0Oyb-LSvbzO1HnrIROWGnH0WU3f9ZiEFnSv4a0Dh2RbhebFfYZId4D_dZPLSuUZ8wS2b-FCK7DFURLa5Z8sb_kMXf7gC_H2v2OtGsdk/s1600/Tribute.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFZ0wNr0w-DDf6xgZpxzC312YOFXMoUiYkde7l0Oyb-LSvbzO1HnrIROWGnH0WU3f9ZiEFnSv4a0Dh2RbhebFfYZId4D_dZPLSuUZ8wS2b-FCK7DFURLa5Z8sb_kMXf7gC_H2v2OtGsdk/s640/Tribute.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As well as the Trees of Lives walls, there is this piece of sculpture.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1JU-u8PQFRE_m5xQReh_vLnyWBaHhLX0FiVR5bvQ_KalhzQ6xKwQRi4xy0sUghric5U3RHkWdlSat3XHZbS_dhCKnDQ15PR35Y-sYnc_h083CFs7i5x723LS1KcmMqSCAdWeZyfMb8Jo/s1600/tribute.2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1JU-u8PQFRE_m5xQReh_vLnyWBaHhLX0FiVR5bvQ_KalhzQ6xKwQRi4xy0sUghric5U3RHkWdlSat3XHZbS_dhCKnDQ15PR35Y-sYnc_h083CFs7i5x723LS1KcmMqSCAdWeZyfMb8Jo/s640/tribute.2.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiagKEXa0i1_Lyy_wJ4mDVIeqi4hnn02gSxggTHwEVEY7tO9HtIDY6ZBPyY7awlLiiAPC6VxIiY57OwiowZ9xSPOARfKVNsvdFmWttKUTU7-OAfiWxDBr1z0as_ts0F2luJuZiDwUojwvI/s1600/tribute.3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiagKEXa0i1_Lyy_wJ4mDVIeqi4hnn02gSxggTHwEVEY7tO9HtIDY6ZBPyY7awlLiiAPC6VxIiY57OwiowZ9xSPOARfKVNsvdFmWttKUTU7-OAfiWxDBr1z0as_ts0F2luJuZiDwUojwvI/s640/tribute.3.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I think more things like this should be built! Oh! If only I was a schmillionair!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">These photographs were shot with my Nikon P-90 digital camera and downloaded directly from the camera and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</span>Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-36236563245133751162010-10-20T12:17:00.000-04:002010-10-20T12:17:54.163-04:00Who's Home?<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;">The story of Katie and Mr Werbowski will continue another day. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For now:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuGQRmPiKFm3rgzoITVmoemVqz3Cm0kuCbn11YEsCglef6XHtD-BXCHcAsLVC9XfRldt6ts6ejFDfmgPAmmOun6YQtyfYXrN6xLxenDmhIt1v2TQCabVTU6TyBwAoxiCAZyu1kXtUUSNA/s1600/bluebirdhouse.1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuGQRmPiKFm3rgzoITVmoemVqz3Cm0kuCbn11YEsCglef6XHtD-BXCHcAsLVC9XfRldt6ts6ejFDfmgPAmmOun6YQtyfYXrN6xLxenDmhIt1v2TQCabVTU6TyBwAoxiCAZyu1kXtUUSNA/s640/bluebirdhouse.1.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Yoo Hoo!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAbAKVSgTqMjI5o_mm7cPBoomkkbpuYN0Zq8NseTrUzA_7YLakAUrJXjzjyVRODZ6Z_Ov_b0NXdtTb-KovXFWcQHFyGkFTmZICiMN2NjfwhqX8iXnZDUlJ9dXLRAKA3HNKVkmic9HQnYE/s1600/BlueBirdhouse.2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAbAKVSgTqMjI5o_mm7cPBoomkkbpuYN0Zq8NseTrUzA_7YLakAUrJXjzjyVRODZ6Z_Ov_b0NXdtTb-KovXFWcQHFyGkFTmZICiMN2NjfwhqX8iXnZDUlJ9dXLRAKA3HNKVkmic9HQnYE/s640/BlueBirdhouse.2.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Anybody home?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdkTNTN5SYoQhZIXp2nEtt32cn1f0iJbfPfZSv6kj66fMQmnXKUtQble1vTev_6E1R30L2aVv4yzIv2wQCg5Hu_PEz4rBcRik1xvUyzZrkxfxoOSVH5GgTPyyjH7Cxt3WNdpgGxoz24u4/s1600/BlueBirdhouse.3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdkTNTN5SYoQhZIXp2nEtt32cn1f0iJbfPfZSv6kj66fMQmnXKUtQble1vTev_6E1R30L2aVv4yzIv2wQCg5Hu_PEz4rBcRik1xvUyzZrkxfxoOSVH5GgTPyyjH7Cxt3WNdpgGxoz24u4/s640/BlueBirdhouse.3.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Baby Starlings. My Dad used to call them the scourge of Canada. Brought to our country on the boats way back when. They didn't do as well in Europe and England because of the smog from all the coal fires, but one of the earliest explorers brought them in cages and once set free here, they flourished! They scavenge the nests of other birds and dump the eggs and then lay their own. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The European Starlings in North America are the descendants from 2 introductions in New York City. In 1890, 60 birds and in 1891, 40 birds. They have spread to the Pacific coast and up into central Canada. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Taken on June 30, 2010 in Pinafore Park in St Thomas, Ontario.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">These photographs were shot with my Nikon P-90 digital camera and downloaded directly from the camera and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</span>Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-39021434738713175602010-09-16T18:07:00.000-04:002010-09-16T18:07:29.624-04:00The Scent Of Lilacs<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;">Chapter 7 starts below:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This story was begun on Monday, June 28, 2010 and is entitled Katie and Mr Werbowski. Sometimes, I'll still post photographs and jump back and forth, because that's just how I am!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So if you'd like, use the following link:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://secretsforhappyness.blogspot.com/2010/06/john-werbowski.html">Katie and Mr Werbowski: The very first post</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">...For the very first installment! I 'll also copywrite it, so don't get any thoughts there either!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(Little joke there! As if!)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">__________________</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Chapter 7</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> The Scent Of Lilacs</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The heavy door latched with a clunk and Katie turned toward the dusty streets of Dublin. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> "Hail there lass!" Came a lusty growl and Katie sidestepped the horses hooves and beasts pulling a dray.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> "Morning Mr McGovern!" She shouted, but the man, team of Clydes and wagon load of firewood had plodded on down the street. All she could see of the driver was a hand raised in greeting. No time for pleasantries for sure on this weekday morn'. She must herself make haste in order to get this letter on it's long journey to America! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> " I should have asked in my letter if Missouri had telegraph?" She made a mental note to asking her next correspondence to Mr Werbowski. Surely, even if the farm was far removed from a city, there must be a telegraph machine for the train? She must stop and ask at the Post Office.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> The post office in question was just a few blocks from her parents home because of course, they lived in the oldest and also poorest section of Belfast due to financial restraints.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> "It will be grand to get Ma and Da out of this despicable city!" She cursed under her breath and sidestepped yet another horse plop. "I must come back this way," she thought. That plop will sure an' be dry by the time I come back!" Even if she was bound for America, there were still many bleak and blustery months ahead to survive and dried horse dung made a nice and cheap, toasty fire! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Katie had trod this same path to the post many times, but today was the first in many years that she actually hummed a tune! Now that she had made up her mind to go and her path was set, she felt somehow that there was a possibility of happiness in this life of hers that had before this, been one of just hard work and grime. When her brother had been forced to flee the country, she had made him promise to find a way to fetch her and when he had written that there were so many men in the wilder parts of America and not so many women still yet, they had hatched this plan: To find Katie a husband! Because of course, a slip of a thing like fair Katie could be allowed to work her fingers to the bone in Ireland and die a haggard old crone, but not ever could she leave her parent's protection without a man at her side! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Even just remembering that heated conversation with her Da two Christmases ago, she grimaced and cursed! "By the gods! I'll be free of this land full o' killin'!" She shook her head in denial of everything Belfast. "I won't stay here an' watch it na' more!"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> She quickened her pace in determination and just as she was rounding the last corner, she caught her reflection in the windows of a dry goods store. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> The image of a young woman stared back at her in serious concentration. Slight, only five foot three inches tall and her bones stuck out at all the angles: Ankles and elbows and that pointy chin! That's what a person saw when they looked! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> "Gor!" She drew herself up as tall as she could and her hand found the errant wisp of red blond hair that always wanted to hide her eyes. "The mess you look lass an' you think a man will want you!" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Her gaze was drawn through the glass of the window and took in the items temptingly displayed there for shoppers. An idea formed in her mind. "Clever Katie!" She congratulated herself and reached into the folds of her smock for the pocket there and yes, there were the few coins she always carried with her. "For emergencies my girl!" Her Mam had always taught. "Ye must have need of a penny or two and you always have to make sure you carry a few! Never be caught without yer mad money me lass!" This was the very first time in her young life that Katie actually had need of the coins and glad she was that they were tucked in there! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> She walked into the dim cavern of the dry goods store. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> "Mornin' lass!" The store clerk greeted, seeming to sniff a sale. "An' what cha' be a lookin' for this fine fall morn?" His toothy grin was meant as pleasant, but Katie only shivered. His chin bore a jagged gash of a scar that only a bullet would leave. "Just another reminder that I'm doin' the right thing." She thought.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> "Mornin' sir, I would like to see the scented soaps if I might please? My mam is poorly an' I was thinking that a wee bit of scent might perk her up! Do you have anything in lilac?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> The store clerk rushed over to the counter and snatched up a block of creamy soap stamped prettily in the center with the shape of a lilac flower. "Hand milled and straight from Paris France!" He proudly proclaimed! "This is a gift fit for a queen! Your Mam will love it I'm certain!" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Katie took the small bar in her hand and almost gasped aloud as she spied the price tag and silently cursed herself!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> "Ooh! I only have my few pennies! Not enough to buy this! What will I do?" The unspoken words ran through her mind and just as quickly as she spoke, she turned her wide, green eyes up to the clerk and asked, "Oh! An' do you have any lilac water to go along?" Her eyes searched the shelves behind the clerk as if seeing a bottle of perfume there. The clerk turned to look, as she hoped he would.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Katie quickly drew the letter back and forth over the surface of the bar of soap, hoping it would take on some of the beautiful, aristocratic scent.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> By the time the clerk turned back to her, she had the bar of soap reaching back over to him and she plopped it into his hand. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> "Oh! I think I hear me Da! I'll be right back! Thank you!" And she fled the store, the clerk not seeming to be the wiser for the transfer.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Katie fairly skipped the rest of the way to the post and slipped the letter over the counter. At least the letter would smell like she was sophisticated! She prayed:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> ..."Oh Lord! Please let it still be there in America!"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> </i></span><span style="font-size: large;"><i> .....Mr Werbowski lurched toward the wagon and grabbed the envelope. His senses were tickled with a hint of fresh lilac. His nose involuntarily lowered to the thin parchment of an envelope adorned with fine, fancy handwriting and drew in a heavenly scent. "Ah!" Tears filled his eyes.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> </i></span><span style="font-size: large;"> <i><br />
</i></span>Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-27244634224919883402010-07-31T12:18:00.000-04:002010-07-31T12:18:07.921-04:00Chapter 6 Panic In My Heart!<span style="font-size: large;">This story was begun on Monday, June 28, 2010 and is entitled Katie and Mr Werbowski. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes, I'll still post photographs and jump back and forth, because that's just how I am! My job has also sort of taken over my energy, but I'll post as much as I can!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So if you'd like, use the following link: <a href="http://secretsforhappyness.blogspot.com/2010/06/john-werbowski.html">Katie and Mr Werbowski: The very first post</a> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> ...For the very first installment! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> __________________ </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">From the previous post..... </span><br />
<h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span> <i> ( John, hands and arms flailed in anguished expression of his dismay and he yelled his misgivings to the heavens: " I've finally found meself a young lady and what on earth will I do with this bachelor's farm?" </i></span></span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span> His worried eyes took in the view..... )</span></span></i></h3><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Chapter six....Panic! <br />
</span><br />
<h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span> Suddenly and without warning, there appeared a second cloud of dust as John Werbowski's butt hit the dirt of the laneway. He hung his bronzed chin in his big, working man's hands and wept.</span></span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "Oh my Lord! What will she ever think?" He raised his watery </span>gaze to the scene in front of him and here is what he saw:</span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"> A shack. A tired and hastily built shack. Made with boards bought at the lumber store in town and they weren't even properly matching boards. Just whatever the lumberyard had that was cheap! </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Aw Jack! You an' me didn't need much, did we?" The dog wagged back. A sharp lick to a defenseless cheek. Jack thought the tears tasted nice. Sort of like the salt pork his master sometimes dropped from his fingers as treats! He cocked his head. Maybe if he stayed very, very still and looked cute enough, there would be pork somewhere?</span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"> John rubbed at his bursting eyes to clear them, looked again and this time saw a dirt yard. Not a blade nor a bloom to break up the expanse of Missouri dirt. Not a decorative stone nor a wooden gate for relief. Just dirt. </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
"We didn't need any fru-frus, eh Jack?" He patted his dog's head and Jack wagged his tail in anticipation... </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "He's getting ready to drop pork!" He sniffed his master's hand. "Is there pork there?" </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"> John had stopped the tears the panic had sprung and with the determination he was known for, he studied his homestead. The shack had a window. A door and a window and one big room. Not a thread of cloth hung in the window, not a doorknob on the door. Just plain, simple, functional bits and pieces that a man and dog needed to make a day with. </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"> John lifted the dog's head in both hands and allowed the pet to lick the tears to his hearts content. He laid his cheek next to this buff colored animal who had been his only companion and ordered:</span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Well boy! We've got some work to do! We have a fine Irish lady who says she's going to come and keep us company and if we expect her to stay, we'd best get busy and make her a house fit for staying in!"</span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"> ... And so as Katie was making plans with her trunks and boxes, Mr Werbowski and Jack began the plans for a proper home. </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"> ... And with the planning and work, the panic receded to the back corner of his mind.... </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;">_____________________</h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"> <span style="font-size: large;"> I 'll also copywrite it, so don't get any thoughts there either! (Little joke there! As if someone would steal it and actually put it into print!)</span></h3>Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-84072435879782365102010-07-14T19:48:00.000-04:002010-07-14T19:48:10.496-04:00White Flowers!<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;">Katie and Mr Werbowski will continue... But for today: </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">White flowers are a symbol of purity and chastity. (Funny, I had to use spell check for both of those!)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRqSGpNH4kMy7_dm33qdal61wRfvrWg_v18IDO8PovD38V6FKcNFo2hgcpUm87nV5A-ue0_b3OghN-bDLi13HEwEJ9mKFlhlRk_f_INUDjBTj912kpGr2j7TOzEO075Ufdge5TBF6dHQA/s1600/whiteblooms.1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRqSGpNH4kMy7_dm33qdal61wRfvrWg_v18IDO8PovD38V6FKcNFo2hgcpUm87nV5A-ue0_b3OghN-bDLi13HEwEJ9mKFlhlRk_f_INUDjBTj912kpGr2j7TOzEO075Ufdge5TBF6dHQA/s640/whiteblooms.1.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> These Hydrangeas were in full bloom in Pinafore Park in St Thomas when I drove through on June 30th.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQStFDt2f-jC-1fC5KKjra9la4JXVlzfeVMTlOujak-bkrFDZI3zCdMrG4quTK3Jz8NVxQ8QF8rc_2USvjs8uJt_ksTiaCkxyWIJAV8f7Hc0amWuho4qaRqHQDSmjSoHvMIkfNlV9jBRE/s1600/whiteblooms.2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQStFDt2f-jC-1fC5KKjra9la4JXVlzfeVMTlOujak-bkrFDZI3zCdMrG4quTK3Jz8NVxQ8QF8rc_2USvjs8uJt_ksTiaCkxyWIJAV8f7Hc0amWuho4qaRqHQDSmjSoHvMIkfNlV9jBRE/s640/whiteblooms.2.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When you see these, you can imagine why folks think white means purity!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv7jI7CHjkFGTJYKiTU2s-wg34KErBC0z4KkGOS15iK_4ZiMUSYkVxeT3TZ-zO-x099hEjSU8QVRIoOsllrxk610hdJGSoGB1Jrm-iMtG3s9RAJupYX4Qk2C_TkLHfSa8Y6ZkIpxUm-hg/s1600/whiteblooms.3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv7jI7CHjkFGTJYKiTU2s-wg34KErBC0z4KkGOS15iK_4ZiMUSYkVxeT3TZ-zO-x099hEjSU8QVRIoOsllrxk610hdJGSoGB1Jrm-iMtG3s9RAJupYX4Qk2C_TkLHfSa8Y6ZkIpxUm-hg/s640/whiteblooms.3.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The shading of greens and the white that is actually just the palest of green!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwotG0vHDZfcIBZAme4KBC4hwVFRKmuWUYb3YCFr-E65By-Lu4wFyHAW1RG3rjuzUhLcFnec_hid0I0N_2lLz-xV0-1HrTzF8GCK7eon9rJ32rfb7SXR5kax8J2IwKBSccUXTaXq4barA/s1600/whiteblooms.5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwotG0vHDZfcIBZAme4KBC4hwVFRKmuWUYb3YCFr-E65By-Lu4wFyHAW1RG3rjuzUhLcFnec_hid0I0N_2lLz-xV0-1HrTzF8GCK7eon9rJ32rfb7SXR5kax8J2IwKBSccUXTaXq4barA/s640/whiteblooms.5.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">These photographs were shot with my Nikon P-90 digital camera and downloaded directly from the camera and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</span>Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-38684471404917119972010-07-07T07:52:00.000-04:002010-07-07T07:52:38.861-04:00A Journey Begun<span style="font-size: large;">Chapter 5 starts below:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This story was begun on Monday, June 28, 2010 and is entitled Katie and Mr Werbowski. Sometimes, I'll still post photographs and jump back and forth, because that's just how I am!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So if you'd like, use the following link:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://secretsforhappyness.blogspot.com/2010/06/john-werbowski.html">Katie and Mr Werbowski: The very first post</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">...For the very first installment! I 'll also copywrite it, so don't get any thoughts there either!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(Little joke there! As if!)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">__________________</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Chapter 5 </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Katie finally sobbed herself to sleep that night and crawled into her bed in the rafters with a heavy heart. The sleep of total exhaustion enveloped her and a finger of morning light found it's way through the thatch of the roof way too soon. She rubbed her gritty, swollen eyes and sighed. "Well my girl? You've decided and so ye'd best make tha' best of it!" She swung out from under the bedclothes and made her way back to the worn, wooden kitchen table where she had last night sealed her fate into a filmy piece of paper.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Today, she would begin the process of telling her hard won customers that she would no longer be available for their abusive comments and filthy clothes! She lifted her chin just a notch. "An' that'll be a joy, it will!"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> "What di' you say there my Katie?" Her mother was already at the sink, a big spoon in hand and as she turned to give the oatmeal a stir, she jumped into Katie's thoughts: "Are ye a goin' to tell your customers today? You hated the drudgery for sure!"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> "How did she read my mind?" Katie thought and then with a brave smile she answered: "Yes, I hated the servitude o' it Mam, but it was work all the same and I was glad o' it!"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Her mother again waived the worn, wooden spoon for emphasis. "There'll be none of that where you're goin' and for that I'll be ever grateful to your brother Sean and that Polish man!" And then she noticed her beloved daughter's weary countenance and scurried over to her side." Aw my babe! Is it changin' your mind you're thinkin'?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> "No Mam. It's surely I'll be missin' you and Da though." And then an idea invaded her mind like a bingo ball popping out the bubble to go down the chute. "Oh!" She couldn't help but give a start!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> "If I'm able and sent for you, would you an Da come to Missouri?" Her hand fled to her lips almost as if the thought wasn't better to be spoken! Where had that come from?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Her Mam fell back against the solidness of the sink and for a moment, Katie thought she might have to rush over and support her mam's weight. "Mam? Are you alright?" She quivered herself in fear!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> And then the future took an enormous swing to the positive and Katie's Mam said: "Why..... Why yes! We could! Do you suppose your Polish man would bring us?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> ....And Katie didn't know, but answered all the same, "Don't worry Mam. You an' Da will be with me in that Missouri before the next year is gone by!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> ...And Katie began placing the crockery for breakfast. She had to start this journey she had set herself and her family upon!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">______________</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">PS: If anybody's wondering... I've got a promotion and once again, life is getting in the way. So! If I go missing for a couple of days, don't worry, I'll be back again as soon as I catch my breath!</span>Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-39600249800675589522010-07-03T16:49:00.000-04:002010-07-03T16:49:25.550-04:00Walking Up The Lane<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This story was begun on Monday, June 28, 2010 and is entitled Katie and Mr Werbowski. Sometimes, I'll still post photographs and jump back and forth, because that's just how I am! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So if you'd like, use the following link:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://secretsforhappyness.blogspot.com/2010/06/john-werbowski.html">Katie and Mr Werbowski: The very first post</a></span><br />
<h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">...For the very first installment! </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">I 'll also copywrite it, so don't get any thoughts there either!(Little joke there! As if!)</span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">__________________</span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">Chapter 4 </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">Walking Up The Lane</span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Mr Werbowski fairly skipped up the lane! Well, if a fairly big man could skip and hop, that's what he would have done!</span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "John" as he thought of himself, was so truly, unbelievably happy! He had his letter in his hand, (gently held so as not to ruin the fragile paper! He would <i>never </i>let anything happen to this letter of hers!) And... The very fact that she had written at all, was just so unbelievably unbelievable! </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Little puffs of dust kicked up with each joyous footstep! The cuffs of his work trousers becoming chalky with it! A whiff of Missouri river sand hit his nostrils and plop! He stopped! He looked down towards his planted feet.</span></h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5xmpTI_-doVWaefMKHt4c9PmnartQlXiZ01Wi25QiskQSmXJ8c6M_Xu31TtVUZrmIDeneGgaHOZoC3lP2YRKgbTpnlbster1H27OsGgeiHwjMu9rzmORLVbMd1Os4cm_Wm6PO86hbJoo/s1600/John'sLane.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5xmpTI_-doVWaefMKHt4c9PmnartQlXiZ01Wi25QiskQSmXJ8c6M_Xu31TtVUZrmIDeneGgaHOZoC3lP2YRKgbTpnlbster1H27OsGgeiHwjMu9rzmORLVbMd1Os4cm_Wm6PO86hbJoo/s640/John'sLane.jpeg" /></a></span></div><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "What will a young lady think Jack?" He demanded to the yellow dog. </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jack of course just plopped himself on his haunches, (swirling more dust) and twisting his wide noggin sideways in universal dog-ism, asked his master: "What cha' mean boss?"</span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"> John, hands and arms flailed in anguished expression of his dismay and he yelled his misgivings to the heavens: " I've finally found meself a young lady and what on earth will I do with this bachelor's farm?" </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"> His worried eyes took in the view.....</span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">So here's something else: I've never been to either Missouri or Ireland, so if I make a historical, geographic or period information mistake, I'm sorry!</span></h3><span style="font-size: large;">These photographs were shot with my Nikon P-90 digital camera and downloaded directly from the camera and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</span>Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-60680237996803340942010-07-01T17:30:00.000-04:002010-07-01T17:30:49.544-04:00Happy Canada Day!<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I hope everyone in Canada has enjoyed their day!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> ...And rejoice in the truth that we live in a country that is so beautiful and free!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBhlCyzTZdNyxJnT1cQr5h_4WPu6t1jUq2cyVji4VQ3PubvR-3U1fO21xBSKC7o89Xbssl-qMEj6KFxWHWiFhDaRyyBeK7XG46d-YWdePrgVgstyYcR65VMjkY2-aZdqL3jcAgkyGa3JU/s1600/Park.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBhlCyzTZdNyxJnT1cQr5h_4WPu6t1jUq2cyVji4VQ3PubvR-3U1fO21xBSKC7o89Xbssl-qMEj6KFxWHWiFhDaRyyBeK7XG46d-YWdePrgVgstyYcR65VMjkY2-aZdqL3jcAgkyGa3JU/s640/Park.jpeg" /></a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">These photographs were shot with my Nikon P-90 digital camera and downloaded directly from the camera and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</span>Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-12625449922418200402010-06-30T19:19:00.000-04:002010-06-30T19:19:56.834-04:00What To Write?<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Sucking the tip.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Gripping it's feathery length. So hard to hold with any dexterity in your hand. A hand so chapped and worn from the lye soap and boiling water. Be damned!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Katie threw down the quill and wrung her tired hands in anguish! "What shall I say?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> What on this heaven's earth could she write to an American man she had never yet met? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A Mr Werbowski. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Ma had told her that he was Polish from Poland, but he was in America? Would she be able to have a conversation with him? Would he understand her lilting Irish speech?<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: Arial;"> </span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> "Sure and 'tis enough o' that!" She drew her dainty feet firmly beneath her chair, set her teeth and again clenched the fragile quill in her right hand. She started:</span><br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Dear Mr Werbowski,</i></span></div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> (Would 'Dear' be too personal? She hadn't met the man! Well, she pondered, that was how she'd been taught the way to write a proper letter was and by gor! She'd at least be proper! Mebe' this Polish man wouldna' have any schooling, but she did and she'd be proper about this whole affair, she would!)</span><i><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i></div><div></div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> My brother has said many good things of you and your wonderful farm in Missouri. It sounds truly beautiful and not at all like my home in Belfast. I am grateful that my brother has sent enough money for me to come to such a wonderful country full of such plenty and has befriended a kind and successful man such as yourself. </i></span></div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> (Whew! Katie wiped her brow. She wasn't used to speaking so many words at once! This letter writing was na' what it was held up ta' be!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> Her brother had written a letter simply stating that this man was looking for a 'comely' woman of child bearing years to marry and work the farm with him. Her Ma and Da had told her she was comely, even pretty on the occasion of her birthday, but... and here she tucked a stray curl of strawberry hair behind her ear, but would a Polish man think she was pretty? What did Polish women look like? Lor'! She had never laid eyes on one herself! </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> Katie had read the letter to her Ma and Da because of course, they couldn't read. The three of them sitting around the harsh wooden kitchen table and sitting on the stools of many generations handed down. The firelight had made the words from America come alive! Her breath had come quicker in her chest just at the thought of America! Land o' the free and so much plenty and space! Could it be true that a man wanted to bring her there?</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> "Ma! Da! What should I do? How ca' I leave you both?" Katie had cried the words, flinging them out to the loving ears of her parents.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> "An' go you will child," was her mother's gentile voice. "Aye! Go my girl of my heart and you don' na' turn back! Yer Ma and me'l get by an' live happier knowin' you've got a better life!"</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> "Da! Should I go to the priest? Da! Should I?"</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> And her Da had scrunched his bristly eyebrows together, gently slammed a clenched fist to the table top and with vehemence, but also an indoor voice, proclaimed: " The priest won't feed ya or look after ya! You go!" And with that he had shoved off his stool and slammed out the door!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> Ma had said later that it was his way of dealing with the "losin' o' his rosie haired girl!"</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> And that had been the whole conversation that had decided her fate!)</span></div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> I have considered your kind offer of marriage and have spoken long with my father and priest and I write to you now to let you know that I will accept!</i></span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> (It was a small lie to say about the priest she knew, but gor! It needed to sound like she had a head about her!) </span></div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> I come by train and I am hoping you will be at the station to pick me up. </i></span></div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> (The boat and train tickets had taken all of her savings and her brother's bits would need to pay for her food! The ticket master had knowingly told her that Missouri was almost half way across America and that was farther than she could imagine? She had clutched her shawl to her breast and shivered as if it was January and it being only September!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> And how on earth would she find his farm if he didn't come to meet her? Katie whispered a prayer as her hand continued this letter of new life... "Please god! Let him be a man who would meet his new wife!" Her fingers swung the sign of the cross on her chest.)</span><i><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i></div><div></div><div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> I must apologize for traveling with a trunk and hope it will not be an inconvenience.</i></span></div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;"> (Her ma and her had been stitching and tucking away since she'd come to womanhood in preparation of this time. A decent girl came with a dowry. It didn't matter it wasn't grand or a whole house worth, but she'd need some necessities in the wilds of America she would!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Her normal spunk surfaced for just one moment and raised itself above the terror of her enterprise. "He'd better no mind!"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> She gazed toward the eternally grit soaked window, clenched her teeth in determination and finished her letter. ) </span><i><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><i> <span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;"> Your offer is very kind and I await our marriage and new life. I promise to work very hard and make you proud of your new Irish wife.</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> Yours truly,</i></span></div><div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> Katie Donovan</i></span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Very deliberately, the fine boned Irish lass her parents had named Katie, lifted the stub of tallow candle and gently dripped a splash of wax upon the folds of her letter to seal. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Katie flung the pen across the floor with a clatter and sobbed... </span><i><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i></div><br />
Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-59164226800953188812010-06-29T18:41:00.000-04:002010-06-29T18:41:39.266-04:00The Letter<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The paper came from pennies made with her sweat and the muscle wrenching wringing of other people's clothes. The boiling water to wash them in had been the back breaking labor of carrying the buckets from the only tap in the square. The fire under the enormous cast iron kettle built from precious kindling. (There was no "hot and cold" here in this time and place.) The soap; sparingly shaved from a hard brick of harsh lye.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">She had saved each and every penny that hadn't been needed to feed the family. Saved and saved and when her brother had finally come to rescue her with such news, she had been ready.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> For she knew that she would not, could not stay in this city!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> The filth and misery that was the place of her birth would be replaced with a greener, wider country that they promised was free of conflict between this religion and that. Cousin against cousin and neighbor against neighbor. It would never stop.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Katie felt her red rimed eyes fill with tears as she picked up her pen to write the letter.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Dear Mr Werbowski..... She began.....</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span>Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-33684343340884294542010-06-28T18:06:00.000-04:002010-06-28T18:06:25.659-04:00John Werbowski<span style="font-size: large;"></span><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">John couldn't help but pace the width of the gateway in frustration.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Damn! The cursed man should be here by now!" His feet would not hold him in one spot and he resumed his pacing back and forth....</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> ...Back and forth across the entrance to his farm.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> And keeping the vigil with him was his mongrel Jack.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> "Jack!" Mr Werbowski always talked to the gold colored mutt like he was a human. "Jack! Do you think it'll get here today?" </span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But, of course Jack had nothing to say. Just a tail wag and a lop sided grin that was more from thirst than anything.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mr John Werbowski, thirty seven years of age was a successful farmer. He raised crops that provided many bushels of grain. His cows and sheep gave more than enough milk to use at his own table and a bit to churn yellow butter from and sell at the market on Saturdays. The jug on the mantel was stuffed to the brim with coins and he had possession of a rare thing: A bank account.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mr Werbowski was well respected and held a position on both the church board and local council and his opinions mattered. Tall and well built, with sandy brown hair and ice blue eyes. He was his mother's son and the spitting image of his father and yet, no one here had wanted him!</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> He had waited too long you see. Worked his whole life so far to make a go of this parcel of land and yes, he loved it! Loved the dirt and the blades of grass and even the breezes that blew the dust in his eyes! He loved it! With Jack by his side these last ten years, he had carved out a homestead from this backend piece of America.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">...And now that he figured it was time (and it was the time for a wife and please, some children,) the girls were just that, girls and all the women were already married with young-uns and haggard faces and bodies. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Eh?" John whirled, his eyes searched the dirt road leading from town. He hand shaded his brow against the morning sun and ... "Yes!"</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He slapped his thigh and anyone standing there would have just been compelled to guffaw! Mr Werbowski actually danced a jig! (Jack the dog sat plop on his haunches. He had never seen such goings on!)</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The horse and nondescript gray cart slowly approached the farm gate and really, Mr Werbowski was wringing his hands by the time the postmaster commanded "whoa!" and wrapped the reins on the doorpost of his wooden mail wagon. He smiled a toothless smile and greeted: "Hallo there John! I think that letter you've been waiting for has come." He lifted a small white envelope high as if it was a prize. "Do you suppose this is it?"</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mr Werbowski lurched toward the wagon and grabbed the envelope. His senses were tickled with a hint of fresh lilac. His nose involuntarily lowered to the thin parchment of an envelope adorned with fine, fancy handwriting and drew in a heavenly scent. "Ah!" Tears filled his eyes.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Lord and be govern!" The postman exclaimed! "Well! I never! You have to sign! " He waived a stumpy pencil and Mr Werbowski snatched it up and scrawled his name on the dull paint with the others.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH9HPdqKp9oMEWTHqMBtjcWsTxytMXrZ4e5vP-761gD9No6XxwBfKcWKtKy4eH5iD5kNsTjjY0hUhIKBeyYb-ZgEnVj3HxWgSKgGfzIqm0f1vuahSrMEUS8jGRB59nAvES21LLnNHbKok/s1600/John.1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH9HPdqKp9oMEWTHqMBtjcWsTxytMXrZ4e5vP-761gD9No6XxwBfKcWKtKy4eH5iD5kNsTjjY0hUhIKBeyYb-ZgEnVj3HxWgSKgGfzIqm0f1vuahSrMEUS8jGRB59nAvES21LLnNHbKok/s640/John.1.jpeg" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The postman, unaccustomed to such a spectacle of emotion, yanked the reigns and the poor horse lunged in his traces. The small wagon left a dust boil in it's wake, but Mr Werbowski was not paying any attention.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He gently ran his finger along the fold of the envelope and gingerly pulled the pages from the folds. "Jack! Do you suppose?"</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He started to read:</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Dear Mr Werbowski,</span></i></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"> My brother has said many good things of you and your wonderful farm in Missouri. It sounds truly beautiful and not at all like my home in Belfast. I am grateful that my brother has sent enough money for me to come to such a wonderful country full of such plenty and has befriended a kind and successful man such as yourself. </span></i></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"> I have considered your kind offer of marriage and have spoken long with my father and priest and I write to you now to let you know that I will accept!</span></i></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"> I come by train and I am hoping you will be at the station to pick me up. I must apologize for traveling with a trunk and hope it will not be an inconvenience.</span></i></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"> Your offer is very kind and I await our marriage and new life. I promise to work very hard and make you proud of your new Irish wife.</span></i></div><i><br style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /></i><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"> Yours truly,</span></i></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"> Katie Donovan</span></i></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Mr Werbowski scuffed a big fist against his cheek, vainly trying to wipe the tears coursing down his face. His hand reached down to rub the old dogs head.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Jack my boy! We best get home and throw the windows wide! We're going to have a Missus!" </span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Can you see his signature? What were all those signatures for? Who were those people and what did they do? I can't help but wonder..... Do you?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">These photographs were shot with my Nikon P-90 digital camera and downloaded directly from the camera and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</span>Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-10070736022849316372010-06-26T18:17:00.000-04:002010-06-26T18:17:18.490-04:00Help! The House Is On Fire!<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Way back when....</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Is it any wonder that when a fire burst out, that the whole city would burn down?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipOWqL0nFYR5k0ijIAdsxz5AXm0mgBr2Wuewo5l5u3Ijm2I8ZesfL-sROHgkfSw8_x9okYUqhpD2qTUhmsEdaz7t0XBDYsv6vZf9BNefRh2sVcznKSopHPhBSbaOHvOg2Bp_BOjMQmN98/s1600/fire.2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipOWqL0nFYR5k0ijIAdsxz5AXm0mgBr2Wuewo5l5u3Ijm2I8ZesfL-sROHgkfSw8_x9okYUqhpD2qTUhmsEdaz7t0XBDYsv6vZf9BNefRh2sVcznKSopHPhBSbaOHvOg2Bp_BOjMQmN98/s640/fire.2.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">How totally frustrating it must have felt to see someone's home be devoured by hungry flames and have just a trickle of water and not enough of it to boot?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I was raised tagging along to auction sales with my mom because you see, both sides of my families were burnt out and had no heirlooms! We cherish what we do have, but they only go about a generation back!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpU902S2RuF4uNWuOYJwOps8chChG-BnA8eSjUWXOu_fEhyphenhyphenabeXyWzkhqs4f0iMN9E9bTSCIhLXaCgiz5_1IHV1xHLGTbIOw052Ohe6uO6OeUb7v5U7BHOZf9AsaMwnTKG2Y22ASIanNg/s1600/fire.1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpU902S2RuF4uNWuOYJwOps8chChG-BnA8eSjUWXOu_fEhyphenhyphenabeXyWzkhqs4f0iMN9E9bTSCIhLXaCgiz5_1IHV1xHLGTbIOw052Ohe6uO6OeUb7v5U7BHOZf9AsaMwnTKG2Y22ASIanNg/s640/fire.1.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> What do you have right now in your home that could be the next generation's heirloom?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Is it a piece of sculpture that you bought from some starving artist, or something simple like the jug you brew your sun tea in?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">...A couple more pieces from the permanent display at The Henry Ford!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">These photographs were shot with my Nikon P-90 digital camera and downloaded directly from the camera and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</span>Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790195781407658186.post-69793435543939812092010-06-25T20:01:00.000-04:002010-06-25T20:01:06.394-04:00The US Mail<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Neither rain nor sleet nor threat of night can stop the US Mail!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDTs59w4USUvgxXUH1axqAMle8Qi4iJ9o_ZY65jB_oDH1mP4dpGz-JBLuwhv8JHU9j5rBmeQJLdRrIzBdOngzE4tP-WqgJQE7CxvHWGG0qsiBiqJIMiMbF1OxaT19E0D0ybIVhehWoc90/s1600/Mail.1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDTs59w4USUvgxXUH1axqAMle8Qi4iJ9o_ZY65jB_oDH1mP4dpGz-JBLuwhv8JHU9j5rBmeQJLdRrIzBdOngzE4tP-WqgJQE7CxvHWGG0qsiBiqJIMiMbF1OxaT19E0D0ybIVhehWoc90/s640/Mail.1.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This basic wagon was in service delivering the mail.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDbyhwoCgtU697enT8xNWGDUbHxWTWt-WqRRf0OKtDiqcrVkSXzLuh9G0fJyWN2UUF8HrPfFZpyZmzg0YNcc-Ue6XRAr_CFPlfBMvF7RLl2r10syPNHTvu13-rgDot4xIvDWQnKY3Pr3U/s1600/mail.2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDbyhwoCgtU697enT8xNWGDUbHxWTWt-WqRRf0OKtDiqcrVkSXzLuh9G0fJyWN2UUF8HrPfFZpyZmzg0YNcc-Ue6XRAr_CFPlfBMvF7RLl2r10syPNHTvu13-rgDot4xIvDWQnKY3Pr3U/s640/mail.2.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Imagine finding something like this in a barn or shed!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikCe-qNtLGsTbkI1L5K-FKgvla_kCLQe9oRTDZBUvc1CSzjZx9sgnyXROwF2rL1e6Y07mVsQf-zeLerF3HyPwB6HEepF9SanXoYVNZTym1uWgnsvGbBOrgOovy7F6q8s4s4p84QvrRXfE/s1600/mail.4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikCe-qNtLGsTbkI1L5K-FKgvla_kCLQe9oRTDZBUvc1CSzjZx9sgnyXROwF2rL1e6Y07mVsQf-zeLerF3HyPwB6HEepF9SanXoYVNZTym1uWgnsvGbBOrgOovy7F6q8s4s4p84QvrRXfE/s640/mail.4.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> The whole surface is covered with signatures!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAUQBZoeBN68Kq8JjGvTh6xwmWPGaWb5OwmrgLv0glUmvJcTZKxoTH-pABo2Jq4TNXt6V9PXRQ3hEJlnRTFbN_chjNLjbdTPhaoqcj3XjYrzyYC4L4_z_qoCDiPqbnNAOtsxr8R4Rc7M/s1600/mail.3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAUQBZoeBN68Kq8JjGvTh6xwmWPGaWb5OwmrgLv0glUmvJcTZKxoTH-pABo2Jq4TNXt6V9PXRQ3hEJlnRTFbN_chjNLjbdTPhaoqcj3XjYrzyYC4L4_z_qoCDiPqbnNAOtsxr8R4Rc7M/s640/mail.3.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I'm so glad they preserved it!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFRM1yZl2v6c9NtBS9rMXYCNN0mICmT-MkgrLTKAYKDXhRJfXimyyAxrDMbQjGPPIEhvEufCpAuR4ud3ceu3ZB80Z5xSToH1vDvi8Sbtt8AWPo5P-G6vr6V9FczNZ1-gSXVtHG1yeWVk/s1600/mail.5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLjwPkxcwnrlqb_LrxYTu0lOJjDvevyNXpOuIGT7QQ0bCpEFR1NZJ65cp-iN19thR_NlgzW-lE8Zi3utVgTSbjl2PJ0USlhSEZTJCsJ-bUK2jdsZZcXC1QMOmvPFwnpQdgvx00mTGbYU/s1600/mail.5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLjwPkxcwnrlqb_LrxYTu0lOJjDvevyNXpOuIGT7QQ0bCpEFR1NZJ65cp-iN19thR_NlgzW-lE8Zi3utVgTSbjl2PJ0USlhSEZTJCsJ-bUK2jdsZZcXC1QMOmvPFwnpQdgvx00mTGbYU/s640/mail.5.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">These photographs were shot with my Nikon P-90 digital camera and downloaded directly from the camera and then to this blog. My aim is to take my reader along with me on the journey, so although I am aware of my framing of the shot, content and quality, I am most interested in sharing the experience.</span>Lucyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12339761246576419905noreply@blogger.com3