BLUE SKIES

Recently I wrote a blog about RAINBOWS. Today is all about BLUE SKIES.

When I got online this morning my main page had the age-old question, “Why is the sky blue?”, written with other questions and where to find the answers. Since I have asked the sky blue question myself, I read on. To make a long story short, I will give you a link so you can read the answer as well! But for me I just like a true blue sky. Why? It’s pretty!! It’s just that simple. It’s even prettier if it has bunches of clouds dancing around in it. The clouds can be huge and billowing or ethereal and wispy . . .  barely there . . .  transparent.

What do you like? Think about it.

But if you want details, here is a non-scientific-I’m-going-to-Cliff-Note-it-for-you-explanation to that question for not only you but for your little one that constantly asks “Why, why, why?”

Here goes: 

“Why is the sky blue?”

The sky is blue because that’s what you see with your eyes. But that’s not all that the sky is . . .  it’s really made up of some of the crayon colors in your Crayola Box. Let’s go get them and line them up on the kitchen counter.

Ready? Now get out these colors . . .  what you see in a rainbow. That’s right!! Those colors would be red, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. Ask your parents to look up the word “indigo” for you. Remember the next time you see a rainbow in the sky that the tiny raindrops that are falling on your face are the very same thing that the light from the sky shone through and broke up into tiny colors of red, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet to form a big, beautiful rainbow. So all those colors are there in the sky but your eyes usually only see the blue on a clear day.

And here are some more facts about blue:

That color in the sky has, what really smart people found out, was a longer wavelength. You can understand that better as you get older and can know what a wavelength is, but for now, it means that it lasts longer and stays longer in the sky hanging around with the other blues just waiting for you to look up and ask the question, “Why is the sky blue?!!!”

But if you, mom or dad, want more details, then you can go to: http://www.sciencemadesimple.com/sky_blue.html
and try to answer your little one’s question to his or her heart's content. Or you can just take your little one's hand, go outside, point to the blue sky above, and say, "Isn't that pretty!"

© Nancy 6.28.2010

Happy Father’s Day,
DAD...

I Love You
!!!

HUMIDITY

It's HOT !!! Summertime hit with high temperatures this week and the humidity followed suit. Ugh. The more I age as a fine wine, the more I dislike feeling as if I am swimming through the deep end of a pool to get to my car in a steamy parking lot. Might as well carry a beach towel around my neck to dry off once I do unlock my car to get in and thank God, once again, for those individuals who envisioned the idea of air conditioning a home and then a vehicle.

But with the humid days of summer come the glorious thunderstorms and downpours that make even a shingled roof sound like your grandmother's tin roof out in the country. Ahhh . . the smell of fresh rain on the way with a promise of coolness is worth opening the front door to take a gulp of it into my lungs. Breathe in . .  breathe out. And the hot sun will begin to turn the tomatoes red-orange on the vine along next to the basil that will co-mingle on that white bread spread with mayo that will find its way into my mouth. Yum.

The zucchini and the yellow squash plants are producing big, beautiful leaves that hide the deep yellow flowers that will produce fresh veggies for my plate. Guess what? You are eating sunshine. Seriously!!! And I am fortunate to get two volunteer watermelon plants from seeds that remained in the garden from last year, surviving a few good snows. This summer I will wait a little longer before getting the juicy fruit off the vine to hear it crack open as I spear it with a long knife hoping to see that sweet, succulent strawberry color on the inside. Yum.

Maybe the humidity will bring back that humungous manna from heaven like mushrooms that popped up in my grass last summer. Unreal !! Look in earlier posts to find the blog on that one!

But the best thing is my friendly, young deer that has graced my yard in the evenings to eat my Knock Out rose bush and just look pretty. Two times I was almost in the yard with it as I crouched behind the catmintha while weeding the veggie garden. No sooner did I decide to come in the house and wash my hands but I saw the deer through my kitchen window come out from the neighbor's ivy and stand right where I was not a minute before. I am waiting to see my fox too. That was a blog as well. If you have been reading, you will remember that he/she was crippled and would rest in my flower garden during the cold winter to let the weak sun warm its bones during the day! But the spooky thing is the raccoon who came onto my deck one night while I was minding my own business watching my TV shows. You know how it is . . . you can't quite place it, but you feel as if somebody's eyes are on you, but you know you're the only one in the house. Then you look over and through the sliding glass doors in the dark are two masked eyes peering at you while you peer at the tube. Raccoons really do look like little robbers waiting for you to turn your show off and go to bed so they can sneak down your unprotected chimney and steal all your silverware. Just to show the furry ball that I was paying attention and received its vibe, I got up off the couch, grabbed a flashlight, and shone it through the glass and screen into the critter's eyes. It posed with one foot up in the air, staring back at my light, as if to say, “I'm a garden statue . .  don't mind me. You can't see me can you?”

Yes, you little nutcase!! Now don't do that again. But I would like to see my deer pop up on my deck and peer in one night while I'm watching Glee. That would be just too spiritual, and I hope I won't jump off the couch from fright but take it as a blessing.

So . . . what's your summer delight? The next time you feel as if you are swimming to your car with your three grocery bags full of hamburger meat to slap on the grill along with all the fixins, try to think cool thoughts and be thankful for the AC in your car, the freezer to put that chocolate chip mint ice cream in when you get back to your air-conditioned home and the family you get to share it with.

And if you are lucky enough to have small children still at home, then enjoy the sprinkler days of summer with your kids 'cause school will be back sooner than you think, and you'll be packing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches all over again from August until next summer. Ick.

© nancy 6.19.2010

Memorial Weekend

Memorial Weekend is coming up. What are you going to do? Same 'ol, same 'ol?

Why not do something different this year. If you always go to the beach, then go to the mountains instead. If you always stay home and cook out, then go somewhere out of town and eat at a restaurant. If you're waiting for a family member to figure out a plan, you figure one out instead and go for it.

If you haven't figured it out yet . . . let me clue you in . . . life is short. Don't make it boring.

But on the other hand, I have to admit that boring is better than an accident and you find yourself hooked up to IV's and who-knows-what-else in the hospital. That's what my mother and I said one day when I was helping her after she had a heart attack which led to a triple by-pass. We thought about the days in the past that we thought were boring and thanked God for every single one!!!

We thanked God for being able to wake up in the morning with our chests uncracked and our hearts un-by-passed. We thanked Him for the time flying by slowly so we could enjoy every crawling moment. We thanked Him for home-cooked meals and not hospital cafeteria food, being able to breathe fresh air, being able to walk down a hall all by ourselves without an IV pole following us like a dog on a leash!

So even if you don't stir things up this Memorial Weekend and do something different, just enjoy doing what you normally do. Go ahead and lounge in your big chair in front of the TV with a sweet tea watching the cooking channel while someone else grills out on the deck. Enjoy the aroma of the hamburgers and hot dogs as they near their medium-rare goodness before they land on your plate next to your potato salad. Smile while you watch your children or grandchildren play with each other even if they do yell, “Mom . . .  Bobby's breathing on me! Tell him to stop!!”

Whatever you do this upcoming holiday weekend have fun and thank God for those who made it possible for you.

© nancy 5.23.2010

SUMMER GARDENS

Have you planted your summer crop yet? No?!

You think they wouldn't look great between your Black Eyed Susans and your Knock Out Roses?

Think again.

Everyone's doing it! It's the summer of “grow your own” produce. I saw baby plants lined up outside the grocery store this year just waiting to be adopted, tons more veggie plants stacked on racks at Lowe's all dressed up in pots ready to go somewhere in your yard, and a newly constructed square foot garden at my nearby church.

So get on the dirty bandwagon and catch the rake and hoe bug. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised when your healthy, yellow squash plant takes over your dying zinnias and produces beautiful flowers which drop off leaving tiny buds of yellow which will grow into a delight for your tummy. If you have a spot of earth that is barren, then go right now to your neighborhood plant store or Wal-Mart where you will find all kinds of delicious things to plant and eat later when the summer is hot. Wouldn't a ripened tomato plucked straight off the vine after soaking in the hot sun's rays all day long taste really good to you after you come home from work? You could put it in between that hamburger bun to saddle up next to the patty you grilled, and the juices could mingle to drip down your chin onto that white T-shirt you just put on. Or maybe you would like to pair it with a cucumber and a zuchinni that you also grew from a tiny plant. A little poppy seed dressing would taste great sprinkled over the salad along with a couple of strawberries and blueberries you may have to buy in the organic section of your grocery store.

Heck, last year I grew my own watermelon, and I wanted to grow my own pumpkins for Halloween but somewhere along the line I forgot to buy the little seed packet. Oh well, it's not too late for me to plant one or two so that they'll be ready for me to carve the word “Boo!” into them this October. I also grew eggplant which I have to tell you is the prettiest vegetable in the garden. It shines like it's been polished to within an inch of its purple life. It's truly gorgeous . . . a photographer's dream. Can you call an eggplant “sexy”? I took the picture above of mine.

At any rate . . .  here's a trick that I learned from my older sister. Plant some sweet basil next to your tomato plants so that when you go outside to pick one for your sandwich you can also snip off a few basil leaves and lay them out over your mayonnaise under the tomatoes. Talking about good!! Yum !!! My Dad likes to put basil leaves in his mayo jar and let it mingle in the fridg. Not a bad idea. A friend of mine incorporated it into his life and names it basilnaise.

And if you've never grown okra it's a treat to watch. It gets really tall and the okra grow vertically on the stalk. The leaves are big and the flowers that come out first aren't bad either. Last summer I would pick a tomato, some okra, and an eggplant and sautee them in a bit of olive oil. They all comingled in their combined juices and the tomato acidity broke down the eggplant and made it all sweet and the okra held them all together like a group hug. It can take less than fifteen minutes to have a dish that will melt in your mouth! It's your turn to try it!!

So get outside your garden box and plant some veggies this summer. Who knows . . .  you might be the next best thing in your neighborhood since Santa Claus when you come bearing fresh gifts from your garden to their plates!

© nancy 5.16.2010

The Beach House

She drove for four and a half hours and as she got closer to her destination the worries fell off her shoulders one by one like pieces of stone chiseled from marble. As her concerns broke away from her mind, the muscles around her neck and down her back felt lighter. She found that she was sitting up straighter with every mile and felt an inch taller too! The corners of her mouth began to curl upwards, and she found herself breathing in deeply.

“Ahhh,” she moaned to herself as she turned off the AC and rolled down the windows with a button. “That's more like it.” She exhaled to the wind as it blew across her nose carrying with it the promises of sea salt, shells waiting to be found, and drying seaweed.

She would be there soon. The beach house had been in her family since she could remember. Her grandfather was a fisherman and worked very hard. She could see in her mind's eye his roughened, dry, cracked fingers as he worked a piece of driftwood into a toy for her when she was five years old. His eyes were as deep and blue as the ocean. She would swim into them when he told her bedtime stories of days of old, and she wouldn't come up for breath until she felt her own eyes closing in sleep.

One of the stories she made him tell over and over was how he built the beach house with his bare hands. He would explain to her that when he was younger and stronger, he saved what money he could to buy the isolated stretch of sand. The house started out as one room, enough for shelter from the wind and the cold. But he made it strong and the fireplace in that wood-built room was large. When he would visit his brother in the mountains or vice versa, stones would be brought back to use in the construction. Incorporated in the mortar were empty conchs and seashells of varying sizes, shapes, and colors. The mantle was made out of a huge piece of ship's wood that had drifted up on shore after a storm. Her grandfather liked to believe it came off of an eight-masted sailing vessel that found its demise on the Outer Banks, splintering into huge pieces after wrestling with a sudden hurricane. Her grandfather told her that when he met his love, he added on a bedroom, proposed, and brought his bride over the simple threshold. The additions occurred child by child until it was a warren of rooms connected by hallways and creaking, cypress doors.

She thought of all this when she turned down the sandy driveway which wound its way through the bent over, stunted trees that hid the beach house from the road's view. Whatever concerns remained within her floated off her soul and sifted themselves through the gnarled fingers of those trees which had protected the family from the outside world for three generations.

She needed to be here. Life had thrown many obstacles her way in the past year and this was the first time she was able to get away and come to this house where she felt safe.

She parked the car, hauled all her bags through the kitchen door, and found some wildflowers waiting for her in a vase on the wood counter. He had been here. Just like he promised. How did he know she was coming? It was as if he had a sixth sense about her for she could show up at any moment in time and there on the counter or on a table would be a bunch of freshly picked beach flowers and grasses to greet her.

She sat down on the well-worn couch cushions in the fireplace room and put her face in her hands. Leaning forward she cried the tears she needed to cry months before but wouldn't let herself because to do so would mean she had been defeated. At least that's what she thought at the time. She knew now that she was as strong as this house and could weather any storm. But at that time, she felt as fragile as a baby bluebird's egg cracked open and left on the ground. Drying her face with the sleeve of her shirt, she looked around to see the bowls of shells that the family had gathered placed on a table and on a shelf. The landscape above the rustic mantle was one that her grandmother had painted in oil when she was a new bride. The ones in the kitchen she painted of sea creatures and vegetables that found their way into the savory dishes she had prepared for everyone. When the new oven had arrived, her grandmother had been intimidated at first, but she was determined to master the knobs and dials. Thanksgivings were the best.

Getting up from the couch she walked out onto the deck of the screened-in porch which spanned the length of the house. There it was . . . the beautiful ocean that seemed to heal her whenever she walked into its salty waves, washing over her like a baptism to cleanse her of all her failings. She would come up out of the water and walk back onto the sand renewed in spirit.

Remembering, she reached out her hand to open the screen door which led to the walkway over the dune. Once outside she took one step and then another. She took her shoes off when she reached the sand and dug her toes into its warmth. Carrying her sandals in one hand she swung them at her side and continued walking until she felt the cold water rise up to her knees.

No one was in sight. The seagulls cried and argued with one another. They always seemed to say, “That's mine. No! It's mine. Uh uh. Uh huh!” and run each other away from the speck of sand they were claiming as their own.

Looking back up toward the house, she realized with a start that the house was now hers, claimed by a piece of paper.

Mine.

It sounded good to her heart. She felt the throbbing inside her agree and she smiled again and laughed and kicked the water up in a spray which made all the seagulls fly.

“Mine,” she cried to their flapping wings and knew she was going to be alright. She had made the right decision. This piece of sand was hers, and she looked at the ramshackle house, loving everything about it. The weathered cedar shakes on the outside. The metal roof. The long, screened-in porch, the swing on the porch, the two-story addition with its dormers, the white-washed window frames, the curtains that blew in the breeze . .  the memories.

This house would be her home where she would make new memories. It was perfect. It was time.

“Dierdra,” she heard him call over the dunes.

She looked up to see Adam, drenched in sunlight in his blue jeans, walking toward her.

“You came,” he said as he approached, holding out his arms to her.

“Yes,” was her simple reply.

Nothing more needed to be said.


© nancy 4.26.2010

RAINBOW

The closer you get . . . the more you see the hand of God.

If you don't own a camera with a macro mode or lens, then borrow a friend's Canon, Nikon, etc., and go outside. Nature is the drop in the bucket of God's perfect handiwork on earth. The closer you get inside flowers the more detail will be exposed. You will see hues that He puts together to create something colorfully in sync and burst forth the spectrum of the rainbow.

Thus we get to the topic of this blog . . . rainbows.

Think about it. Rainbows are light shot through drops of water that act like tiny prisms which refract that light into bands of color.

Therefore since God is light, then, He is all the colors of the rainbow. Do you see black or white?

Think about that for a moment.

Have you thought about it? Good. You are beginning to see the light!

Think about the rainbows you have observed in your lifetime. Did you know that you have to be at the right place at the right time to see one? If you look up the word 'rainbow' in Wikipedia you will read about why that statement is true. You will read that the colors in a rainbow go from red to violet. Here's the sequence: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. Rainbows can be caused not only by a rain shower but also by other forms of water including mist, spray, and dew. You've all seen a small rainbow while jumping through the sprinkler's mist on a hot summer's day, right? Fun, huh? That should be a requirement - to jump through some rainbows this summer. What do you think?

To be specific about how a rainbow is formed, Wikipedia explains that “the light is first refracted entering the surface of the raindrop, reflected off the back of the drop, and again refracted as it leaves the drop. The amount by which light is refracted depends upon its wavelength, and hence its colour.”

Did you know that there are also moonbows? Again Wikipedia explains: “Moonbows, a lunar rainbow or nighttime rainbow, can be seen on strongly moonlit nights. As human visual perception for colour is poor in low light, moonbows are often perceived to be white.” The human eye may see only white but the truth behind the white is the colors of red through violet.

If you would like to take a picture of a rainbow, then you would need a lens with a focal length of 19 mm or less. A wide-angle lens would be required. Powerful software for stitching several images into a panorama would be helpful.

You don't want to? Okay. But I will gently urge you, the next time you see a rainbow, to think about yourself and how you can shine your light on others. Remember you are red to violet . . . not black or white.

© nancy 4.24.2010