Do we give up or do we give in???

I will be sixty years old in August and I've found that a couple of words have been missing in my vocabulary. I'm going to...

I sat tonight and thought about why they were missing and I came to the conclusion that I had banished them to the dreaming part of my mind. I've given in to the notion that I'm getting too old to be trying new things and to worn out to do the thing I enjoy doing.

Well let me say that thought didn't set well in my head so I banished it to the totally silly never think of it again part of my mind.

Yes I'm slower getting my "to do list" done every day

Yes I have wrinkles on my wrinkles

Yes I take a nap every once in a while... not meaning to of course but hey they should make better TV shows

Yes I'm getting a little grouchy ... oh okay I've always been grouchy but now I can be surly and cantankerous and everyone just chalks it up to my age... I love it!

Starting today I'm going the say out loud one thing "I'm going to" and do my best to do it.

This isn't a bucket list. It's a list of things you can do and enjoy doing.

I'm going to take the time to walk to the pond and see if there is any tadpoles along the edge.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

I know my friend Irene is jumping for joy... yes I read poetry and I love this poem.

It's all about hopes, dreams and desires... making the best with what you have and thanking the higher being for his blessing.

I know some might see this as a sad poem but I see it as an inspiration... life is hard and not everything is like the fairy tale but you do what you can with what you have and LIVE

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

The free bird leaps
on the back of the win
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

Summer in Alabama

These pictures were made several years ago... look how little Ella was, she is in the green shirt by the chair.

I'm sharing these pictures to show why I write southern. It isn't what I am but who I am. Southern describes me from my rustic home where you can have your own handmade quilt to snuggle with while watching TV, to my kitchen with the large table and home cooked meals, to my front porch with a swing, to my slow talking quick wit ways.

This was a Friday afternoon and it was around 95 degrees and we just loaded up the kids and dogs and went to the creek. Instead of beach chairs we have creek chairs.

The water is so cold, even in July and August, your lips will be blue and your teeth chattering in less than a minute.

Another cool thing about this spot, when it rains hard the deep hole moves. It's like a new swimming hole every year.

I love contests

A good contest to win books. Go to the blog and follow instructions

http://baskinex.blogspot.com/2011/05/im-not-going-to-bea-contest.html"

I don't understand ... why does everyone say my dog is fat??

This picture just too cute not to share. Lexie is not fat... she is just big boned. I love her just like she is and I don't care that she can't roll over.

What color is inspiration?

Is it oranges and purple like a sunset on a cloudy day?
Is it red like a rose from your garden?
Is it green like the first sprouts of grass after a hard winter?
Is it yellow like a newly hatched chick?
Is it pink like the bloom of a peony?
Is it aqua like the ocean or azure like the summer sky?

Inspiration isn't a color it's a material thing. From your lover to your grandmother, an illness to a birth, one moment to a lifetime.

Touch each person in your life so you will be their inspiration.

Momma's don't let your babies grow up to be a StableGranny

As far back as I can remember I've loved horses. I wasn't like little girls today that have all the Breyer horses... I made my brother and cousin be horses. I would tie ropes around their waist and drive them like stagecoach horses. My cousin would always fall down and cry... I broke my ankle, I twisted my knee, I broke my leg... depended on have much I had been running them ... if she wanted to quit playing something was broken, if she just wanted to be the person instead of a horse ... it was only twisted. I always told her that they shot horses with broken legs.

What I would give to run wild and free again like we did when we were kids. We had the world by the tail and didn't know it or really care.