Words of Wisdom on Dreams-Kassem
27
06, 2018
25
06, 2018
In My Garden – Resurrection Fern
Almost a year ago, we moved back to Texas. Our top priority was to find housing. We were very fortunate and quickly found a place that suited our needs.
Not only was the interior exactly what we wanted, the giant oak tree in the front yard captured our hearts. It was love at first sight.
After we moved in, we noticed dried brown leaves curled on the branches of the big, beautiful tree and feared the giant oak estimated to be 200 years old was dying.
“Oh no,” said the neighbors. “That’s resurrection fern. Once we have some rain, all the leaves will turn green.”
Raising my eyebrows, I tilted my head and smiled. I’d never heard of such. Sure enough, the first rain those ugly brown knobs of dead leaves unfurled to life.
The name resurrection fern comes from the plant’s ability to live for 100 years without water. Common names include little gray polypoid, scaly polyploidy, and miracle fern.
The resurrection fern is an epiphyte — an organism that lives on another living organism without negative impact on the host. Air and rain nourish an epiphyte.
Even though it can lose up to 75 percent of the water in its cells during droughts, the fern can exist with only air. Rain revives the plant as it absorbs the water into its cells and it becomes a healthy green fern again.
The fascinating fern carpets the branches of large cypress and oak trees like ours. It can also be found growing on the surfaces of rocks and dead logs as well. Frequently Spanish moss, another epiphytic plant, is found nearby.
Here’s a YouTube video of a fern resurrecting. You can see the brown leaves stretch outward and turn green. I’ve never actually seen the process happening, but I can attest that it does.
22
06, 2018
Interruption on Miller Farm
A Blog by Chicken Wrangler Sara
A finger injury recently interrupted Life on Miller Farm and it was my finger.
The accident happened at the beginning of June but it has taken me a while to process the mishap. This is what happened:
I was slicing a red bell pepper with a mandolin slicer. I did not use the holder and sliced the tip of my right index finger – off. I screamed and Beekeeper Brian came into the kitchen immediately.
To be honest, it is not unusual for me to cut myself. In fact, there is a tube of super glue with my name on it near the kitchen counter. However, Beekeeper Brian took one look at my finger and said, “Let me get some shoes on.”
We went to the closest urgent care clinic where the FNP called in the MD to confirm her diagnosis. She called it an “avulsion” which is a tearing away of the skin. She used silver nitrate to stop the bleeding and the nurse wrapped it in a pretty purple bandage.
The doctor wrote a prescription for an antibiotic and pain medicine which I took as often as I could for the first two days.
I practiced playing the piano with my other nine fingers and told the worship leader at our church that I would be at 90% for a while. I have now realized how much of my piano playing is muscle memory. It takes a lot of brain power to remember not to use finger 2 on my right hand.
After a trip to my regular doctor I was able to switch to a fingertip bandage. It reminds me of a finger puppet so Brian drew a face on it.
It has been nearly three weeks and the finger is slowly healing. Another week or so and I should be able to get back to swimming.
The doctor said I could get in the pool if I kept my finger out of the water. I’m not sure my brain can figure out how to swim without my right hand getting wet. I could just walk back and forth across the pool with my finger up in the air.
Or I can just wait a little longer.
In the meantime, my mom gave me a mesh glove to wear when I use a knife in the kitchen.
I’d like to keep the rest of my fingers intact.
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06, 2018
18
06, 2018
Gnomes and Google Doodles
Recently, Google’s search engine home page featured a gnome Google Doodle. (Try not to laugh when you say that fast.)
If you’re not familiar with the term Google Doodle, it’s the temporary alteration of the logo on Google’s homepage.
Google Doodles first appeared in 1998 and are now a regular feature on the search engine’s homepage to illustrate a range of interactive games and drop down articles to commemorate holidays, events, achievements, or people. Those who create the Google Doodles are called Doodlers.
I’ve only recently started paying attention to the Google Doodles. I’ve always been fascinated by gnomes. These gnomes live on my kitchen windowsill.
That’s why the Google Doodle gnome game caught my eye.
Gnomes are diminutive creatures that can live below the surface or inhabit gardens. All Gnomes have long, shaggy beards and pointed caps. History traces their roots from 13th century Anatolia to 16th century Italy to 19th century Germany.
Myths, legends, and fantasy fiction attribute good and/or bad qualities to the creatures depending upon the needs of the individual storytellers. You’ll find gnomes in the pages of such fantasy fiction as C. S. Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia, J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter, Terry Brooks’ Shannara series, and the novels of J. R. R. Tolkien.
The garden gnome – the one Google Doodle celebrated – originated in the Thuringia mining area of Germany. The local artisans hand carved the little statutes with shaggy beards and pointy hats.
Today, you find most garden gnomes are painted, wear red caps, and hold various garden tools. According to legend, a gnome protects your garden and brings good luck.
My concrete gnome has been watching over my flowers for years. He was always grey and he’s beginning to show wear. May be time to give him a coat of paint and a red hat.
If you want to give the interactive Garden Gnome Google Doodle game a try, click on this link.
15
06, 2018
Weed Control
A Blog by Chicken Wrangler Sara
A friend in my Bible Study Fellowship class is a gardener. She was talking about weeding one day and I mentioned that I always feed the weeds to my chickens. They love scratching through and finding bugs.
Vicky started bringing her weeds to me. She would put them in a mulch bag and I would carry them home in the back of my car. The chickens are thrilled.
I made a video of the chickens eating to send to Vicky. In it you can see them scratching and hear them clucking with contentment. You can also hear the dogs barking in the background.
At one point, Custard comes running by but he’s too scared to stop and scratch with them. He prefers to jump up and get the leaves off the tree behind the pile of weeds.
Why spend money watching movies when the chickens provide such great entertainment for free?
13
06, 2018
11
06, 2018
People Watching and A Writer’s Eye
I’m an observer.
I learned from an early age that the art of observation could be a lifesaver.
When I was young, my mother would drive my grandmother and me along with my two siblings downtown where we’d park in front of the department store and people watch.
Mother and her mother would discuss the walkers—what they wore and who they were. Sometimes, friends they knew would stop beside the car and visit for a while.
My younger sister always wanted to know when we could go home. My little brother would cry to get out of the car. Grandmother would bribe them with the promise of an ice cream cone on the way home.
Me, I’d sit in the backseat and imagine why the people were downtown, what they were doing, and where they were going. I gave them silly names and made up stories about their lives. It kept the younger kids entertained and me from dying of boredom.
Mother always said I was a good storyteller—especially if I was in trouble.
I’m still a people watcher. I’m not being nosy or specifically eavesdropping. It’s human nature to observe. We all do it at one time or another.
The difference between my adult people watching and what I did as a child is that I store images and make notes of my reactions to what I see happening. I call it book research and character study.
I rely upon my writer’s eye to bring the images and feelings to mind at the appropriate time.
I may never use any of my observations, but people watching does exercise my creativity and passes what could be boring wait time more quickly.
Even if you’re not a writer, people watching can be fun entertainment. Plus, you’ll find you have interesting conversation topics.
8
06, 2018
More Duck Tales
A blog by Chicken Wrangler Sara
The ducks must have read last week’s blog (http://judythewriter.com/ducks-to-water) and decided to cooperate with me. Topsy stayed in the pool long enough for me to get a picture.
The recent rains have filled the pool and with the temperature heating up, the pool is very inviting.
I’m curious to see if the chickens jump in also.
I was also able to get another picture of all the ducks:
Someone must have told them about another popular saying. I can now say my ducks are in a row. :)
4
06, 2018
Southern-isms Explained
We took a trip to Iowa for our granddaughter’s college graduation. Earlier in this spring, we attended another granddaughter’s master degree graduation. So proud of our grandchildren. All twelve of them.
We stopped on the way to visit with our former Tennessee neighbors. We purchased our house, built during the 1940s Manhattan Project, in 1970 and it still looks great.
Our friends, who lived across the street, now live in a lovely log cabin overlooking the Clinch River. We spent hours on their screened porch talking. One evening we cooked hot dogs over their fire pit. It’s become a tradition whenever we visit them.
We had such fun reliving early marriage adventures and visiting the old neighborhood.
With their permission, I’m using their home as a setting in the final book of the PROMISES series, Promises to Keep, which will come out later this year.
What warmed my heart the most on our visit was all the southern-talk that popped up in conversations. Southerners do have a language of their own. Here are a few southern-isms with my translations:
Full as a tick
This was a new phrase for me. Seems if a tick drinks too much blood, it actually bursts. Not a particularly appetizing comment for the dinner table, in my opinion. I much prefer “stuffed like a turkey at Thanksgiving” that we say around here.
It all comes out in the wash
My mother used this one a lot. Mostly referring to an enormous stain I’d gotten on a favorite dress. Translated it means “Everything will be alright in the end.”
Scarce as hen’s teeth
Loved this variation meaning something is rare. Clearly, chickens don’t have teeth. Personally, I am thankful chickens are toothless because those beaks can do enough damage on their own.
Thinking about all these isms, reminded me of this one. (I didn’t hear it on our trip.)
A whistling woman and a crowing hen never come to any good end
My grandmother said that every single time she caught me whistling. In her opinion, whistling was a male-only habit. We all know hens don’t crow. Roosters do. Her point was to behave in a ladylike manner. Daddy always added this part whenever he caught me whistling: “If you want to be treated like a lady, you need to act like one.”