Madonna of the Barn

 The fact that we even have  barns cracks me up.

We are not rural folk by any stretch of the imagination,

although the Mr. sometimes fancies himself to be.

I fancy myself 10 pounds thinner,
so it all evens out.

 We have three long, rectangular chicken-type barns,

although one of them looks to have harbored goats in another lifetime.

The barn closest to the road has been dubbed the "wasp and cat poop barn",

as it has produced a never ending stream of pesky wasps all Summer long,

and a feral cat seems to like to make her "deposits" inside.

One day, with a lot of patience and elbow grease, this will

be the future Man Cave.

 Our middle barn is actually a semi-gutted barn which serves as

a three-car garage.

Outside of this barn is where my beautiful barn Madonna resides,
alongside an assortment of rusty old farm implements and fire wood.

She just "fits" out here, her delicately weathered patina

blending seamlessly alongside her rustic companions.

 Our third barn is also the infamous storage barn y'all have been

given glimpses inside of in posts past.

Truth be told, it's the mother of all storage units, and I'm still

holding out hope that a barn sale of some sort can take place here,

perhaps next Spring. 

I had hoped to do this in the Fall, like now

but then...well, readers of this blog know what happened.

Is she not lovely?

She gets more and more beautiful with age.

Speaking of...

not the beautiful part, but the age thing.

I endured celebrated another birthday yesterday, and to all those 

amazing Facebook friends who wished me a happy one, thank you!

And to all of you lovely folk who still
operate under the misconception that

I'm much more of a Spring chicken than I actually am,

far be it from me to burst your bubble.  ;-)

Off to face the day.

Hopes yours is blessed and joyful!

Yo Mama...

Everybody thinks that their mother is, or was, beautiful.

We're just hard wired that way,
to believe that our mom's are the fairest of the fair.

Now far be it from me to talk smack about anyone elses mama,

but I'm pretty sure that my mama ranks waaaay up there.

 Not just your garden variety pretty, 

but movie star beautiful.

And my goodness, her brothers, my uncles, confirm that she was
the hottest catch in all of Dallas back in the day.

I came upon this priceless stash of photos this past month,

as I was sorting through her belongings...what a find!

 My mom and her mop-top,
tow-headed little brother.

What a darling pair!

 Sweet, smiling eyes.

She had those until the very end.

It's been a month since she passed,

and the stages of grief still sneak up on me in random order,

at often inopportune times.

Still, I know she is with me.

My beautiful, beautiful mama is right here...

...forever in my heart.

linking with

at the picket fence

and

feathered nest friday

The Inside Story ( Revisited )

** originally posted a year ago this month. resonating with me quite a bit again lately **


I have dimpled thighs.

And some gray hairs.

My teeth would be a whole lot whiter

if I drank less Diet Coke.

And you know what else?

I have a pooch.

No, not a dog, although I do have two of those.

No, I have a tummy pooch.

No washboard abs on this girl.

Not anymore, anyway.

I am imperfect.

Flawed.

Less than ideal.

But you know what else?

I am more than the sum of my parts.

My imperfect parts, that is.

I may be imperfect, but I am perfectly so.

Perfectly Imperfect.

Just like my well-loved French pitcher, there is a beauty to my scars. 

My blemishes.

My signs of age.

A nobility to those wiry gray hairs,

and those crinkles now appearing
to frame my eyes and mouth.

As a woman, I struggle as to whether to

embrace or erase

these changes.

The culture as well as the cult of youth encourages us to wish away

that which has been hard earned.

"How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth..."

{John Milton}

And yet, I know.

Oh yes, I most certainly do know...

That the measure of my worth

as a woman

and as a child of God

lies not in what the eye can see

but rather in what is hidden away from view.

And now here is my secret, a very simple secret; 

it is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eye.

 {Antoine de Saint-Exupéry}

Love yourselves, imperfections and all.

Just as God does.

"So we do not lose heart. 

Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day."

{2 Corinthians 4:16}

P.S.

Unapologetically, occasionally re-posting gems from the archives...because

I've been doing some spiritual and emotional house cleaning.

Blog breaks are good. Essential, even.

Twice a Year...

Every Spring, Every Fall,

I have the absolute pleasure of visiting with 

and photographing my gorgeous friend

Christie Connelly's space at

Sommerfeld Place in Warrenton.

 My beautiful, talented friend shies away

from fanfare and self-promotion,

so I am always thrilled to sing her praises.

Shoot, I landed in the issue before last of  

Romantic Country Magazine

with two photos I snapped from her space...

 This past month, I was fortunate enough

to pay sweet Christie a visit,

so here are the fruits of our labor...my photography,

and Christie's amazing vision.

Enjoy!

Just beautiful, 

love you Christie!

Wishing everyone a blessed week!

Sunday Psalm

"So we, Your people 

and sheep of Your pasture, 

will give You thanks forever;

   

We will show forth Your praise 

to all generations."

 

Psalm 79:13

Giving thanks for 

hidden blessings.

{ photos taken here at Zapp Hall }

Pull up a chair...

Or rather, just sit yourself down.

There's certainly enough chairs for a

small confab of sorts.

I don't wanna talk about grief

or worry or anything heavy today.

I want mindless and brain numbing.

Let's talk Dancing With the Stars!

I have never, ever felt the Derek Hough love,

so I'm pretty meh about Ricki Lake.

I think if J.R. Martinez doesn't win the whole thing, 

it'll be a crime.

Although Carson Kressley certainly does bring the fun factor!

Who are your faves?

For those of you going "who?" and "whaaaaa?",

just pop on over to the next blog. I won't be offended.

Let's talk pet therapy.

The past couple of weeks, I've signed on

to volunteer some time each week to pop by

the local SPCA to give the fur babies some TLC.

It's my way of working through the gr....that word I wasn't going to say.

The Mr. tagged along with me on one of these trips,

so I thought you'd enjoy seeing the avowed cat hater in action.

Yeah, this last pic just screams  anti- feline hostility.

Cat hater, my butt.

And just one more thing.

I'm keeping the lid on a happy secret I have to share soon.

It's just a little something, nothing earth shattering, 

but something nice I'll be able to

share in a couple or three weeks.

More Warrenton photos coming soon,

wishing you the happiest of weeks!

Speaking From the Heart

There's a bit of irony in the title of this post...

in that the words are not coming easily of late,

and I'm finding it difficult to wax rhapsodically

about design and decor and all that jazz that I normally

love to gab about.

It all feels shallow and silly
and of small consequence. It isn't shallow and silly,
that's just the grief talking.
Art and beauty and creativity still matter,
perhaps now much more so than ever.

But for me?
I'm feeling quiet and contemplative,

and even a bit lost.
It's okay, it's normal, I get that....
it's a process, one I must go through.
No circumventing the stages of grief,
no going around it.
Through  it.

So, in the spirit of being true to myself and to you as well,

I'm letting my photos speak for me instead.

Another small handful
from the fields of Warrenton last week...

Thank you all for understanding,
and for just being you.

:-)

photos taken here:

#1 The Sweet Pea Collection

#2 Garden Antqs Vintage

#3 Christie Connelly's space

#4 Talking Trash

#5 Garden Antqs Vintage