This week's challenge at SPA is Greek Mythology. I've always liked the legend that, at the bottom of Pandora's box after the sins were released, there remained HOPE. Isn't that a nice thought? I waxed poetic and wrote a bit of poetry about it! Thanks for indulging me....and my thoughts are with Mandy in her temporary absence from SPA.
Patti has chosen sheet music for this week's challenge. Where would we be without music to soothe us, to cheer us,to romance us and to make our hearts sing? Everything here is cybersurfed. Thanks for your visit.
An experimental blending of yesterday and today. I received the vintage photo in some advertising junk mail today, and wanted to use it somehow, so I scanned it and cybersurfed for a setting. Then, it needed a story, so here goes..... Many years ago, on a fine, crisp autumn morning, the Byers family set off on a trip to another state to visit distant cousins. They vanished mysteriously, and despite extensive searches, not one of them nor their automobile was ever seen again. Legend has it, so the locals say, sometimes on crisp autumn evenings, if they look to the road that runs through the valley, they hear a motor car, and seem to see the phantom car and the Byers on their way. So, if you happen to be in Byers' Valley on a crisp autumn evening, look toward the road and ...... who knows what you might see!
When I was a child, my mother raised bantam chickens. Her prize rooster looked just like this fellow. Every sunrise was greeted with his enthusiastic crowing, and he strutted about amongst the lady bantams all day. He was a glorious fellow, but he was evil! He lay in wait every day for me to come home from school and, as soon as I was in sight, his feathers fluffed, his wings and head went down and he came after me helter-skelter like a runaway freight train. If I didn't reach the house fast enough he'd flog my ankles with his spurs. On one particular day I raced to the door, tripped on the downspout to the cistern and fell against the steps, knocking me quite breathless...and I passed out. The next thing I remembered, I was flat on my back in the grass with my mother bending over me with a damp cloth to my forehead, and he was nowhere in sight. I hated that gorgeous fellow. I was glad when mother went out of the bantam business! If you happen to meet one of his descendants, don't trust the handsome devil! (By the way, this is not my childhood home, but it is reminiscent of it).
This is a collage of items that might have been of interest in my mother's lifetime. My brother (pictured here with her) was born just 7 years after women earned the right to vote. She took that privilege seriously. She was a dedicated Democrat, and she and my father frequently cancelled each other's votes. Fiercely independent, she established her own egg business while my father farmed. She had her own bank account and kept her own records. My father fondly called her Maggie, and was proud of her sassy independence. Happy Mother's Day, Mom. You set the bar mighty high!
I have tremendous respect for Eleanor Roosevelt, a strong woman who left her mark on the history of the United States, on human rights and on the rights of women. I was torn between featuring Eleanor Roosevelt or Sojourner Truth, an equally strong African American woman who also left her mark on black history. Both are women I greatly admire.
A view of a friend's garden. A lonely tulip which escaped the squirrels, and Virginia bluebells, a gift from her Daddy. I wonder if she was in the garden when the "visitor" did a fly-by. Probably not, but it struck my fancy to send him by. Thanks, Diana!