Happy Memorial Day …

Soldier, rest! Thy warfare o’er,
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,
Dream of battled fields no more.
Days of danger, nights of waking.

- Sir Walter Scott

Save our seas …

 

When I wrote my little haiku poem about the Deepwater Horizon oil spill, it was out of despair. 

Despair over what was happening to our seas.

Little did I know that three weeks later, I’d be writing another post born of the same frustration for the I Love the Gulf bloggie carnival. 

Sadly, BP’s efforts so far to seal a blown-out oil well in the Gulf of Mexico have met with little success and I’m fuming.  And, ashamed. 

Say what you like about the EU, but I can almost guarantee that had this catastrophe happened in the North Sea, a solution would have already been found.   They would have demanded nothing else.  Unlike our government officials.

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One of the fabulous perks of living in the Sunshine state is its impressive shoreline.  Although not an avid sun worshipper, I have many memories of glorious beach days with family and friends.  I’ve visited and frolicked on many a Florida beach, but one particular one stands out to me. 

And, even more so after hearing the news yesterday that the oil spill had reached the beaches of the Florida Panhandle.

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It was 1997.  A hot summer — I think one of the hottest on record – and my hubby, young son and I were headed on vacation to Cape San Blas in Florida’s panhandle. 

I’d been warned how absolutely breathtaking the beaches were in this part of Florida, but nothing could have prepared me for how gorgeous they are in reality.

Picture sparkling sands as white and fine as powdered sugar, towering dunes and seas as blue and crystal clear as you can imagine.

Paradise.

We had a wonderful few days on these uncrowded beaches especially at the award-winning St. Joseph Peninsula State Park.   We sun bathed, snorkeled, dug and boated to our heart’s content.  Good times indeed.  And, this was the first time my oldest son had really seen the Gulf in all its glory.  It was so awesome to watch him play in its surf or stare mesmerized at its waves. 

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We’ve always meant to go back and revisit the area — to show our other sons this beautiful part of Florida’s coastline, but just have never made the time to do so.  

And, as the murky oil creeps closer to shore my heart is heavy and I wonder if we will ever be able to do so.  

Save our seas, BP. 

Love the Gulf.

Sunshine and sunflowers glory …

Sunflowers are one of my most favourite flowers.

Ever.

I absolutely adore them.

So, leave it to me to go and get my family lost in 350,000 of them this past weekend.

This is the second year that my family has visited the family owned Sweetfield Farms’ blooming sunflower maze.  And, what a blast we had with sunshine and sunflowers glory.

 

True, it was hot and humid and because of that there was whining aplenty, but all that was soon replaced with laughter and lots of running amok .  Thankfully, there was plenty of shade along the path and even a couple of cooling stations strategically placed throughout the maze as we explored its many pathways.  With my oldest sons leading the way and the youngest sitting atop his father’s shoulders for most of the journey, we meandered our way successfully through the five acres of these majestic, towering flowers. 

I was just captivated by the gorgeous stalks and lost my boys a few times as I stopped to take photographs … mamarazzi that I am.

After tackling the maze, we stopped for a while and played on the swings and treehouse, had a rubber ducky race or two, planted a couple of sunflower seeds and bought some delicious u-pick green beans which we had for dinner that night. 

I love these kinds of family outings — where we’re all outdoors enjoying some good, old-fashioned family fun.  If you’re in the Tampa bay area, this is the last weekend the maze will be open so do be sure to stop by.

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I am beyond thrilled to have made it as a finalist in the first ever UK mummy and daddy blog awards aka the MADS and would be so very honoured and humbled if you could please, please, please vote for me here.  Thank you.

Taking a drive …

“Everywhere peace, everywhere serenity, and a marvelous freedom from the tumult of the world.” — Aelred, Abbot of Rievaulx Abbey (1142-1167) on the North Yorkshire Moors

There’s a drive I often like to take in my mind. 

Yes, it’s in my mind.

No, I’m not crazy.

Much.

*sigh*

When life gets all too complicated and I just need to escape, I shut my eyes and go to a memory of this drive.  And, it’s so clear it feels like I was only just there yesterday. Sometimes I picture it during the day, but most times I see it just as night is falling.

It’s a beautiful, yet bittersweet drive because it’s of a place I ache for.  It’s harsh and it’s desolate, but a place of captivating scenery that has this magical ability to make me both smile and miss it every day.

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I close my eyes and enter the North Yorkshire Moors National Park and therein my journey begins.  A strange feeling of calm always settles over me as I gaze at its stunning landscape.  The beauty of these moors is truly haunting.  Truly.

 The bleak road hugs the moors as I pass by the natural beauty spot called the Hole of Horcum — a vast basin carved out from a glacier thousands of years ago. I find myself gazing into it.  Drawn to its wild and wonderful scenery like a moth to the flame.  Incidentally, my hubby’s family owns a pig farm not too far from here.

Immediately beyond the hole is a celebrated pub called the Saltersgate Inn that stands alone against the quiet of the moorland.  I’ve never been inside, but it’s said that a fire has burned continuously in its hearth since 1801. According to legend, if the fire is allowed to go out, disaster will befall the landlord and his customers.

At this point, you can sometimes see or hear the railway.  Just off in the distance.  Chugging its way effortlessly through the valley below.

Next along this drive is the early warning station, RAF Fylingdales nestled amid the stark terrain of the moors hillside.  In reality it’s a huge, pyramid shaped radar, but in my mind it will always be the three massive golf balls that loomed on the hillside when I was a child.

Not long after Fylingdales, is the drive down into the village of Sleights.  This part of the moorland road is called Blue Bank where on a clear day, the views are unrivalled.   Truly great British countryside.

If you stop and take a moment, you can hear nothing but a stillness that calls to you — the quiet of the moors, the farmlands and fields of colour and the forests.

Then all of a sudden I see them.  The twinkling lights of homes, farms, pubs, streets and shops that seem to light the way in to Whitby.  And, the dramatic silhouette of the abbey … and my heart soars.  

I’m home.

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It’s here that I wonder if other car passengers feel the same as I do. 

Do they appreciate this drive? 

Do they ever stop to take in the absolute wild and calm beauty that envelopes them on this rural moorland road?

Do they know just how poignant it is for me?  How much I really treasure this drive?  And, how when I’m missing it most, I can just close my eyes and be transported there again.  It’s my escape — this wonderful memory that I’m steadfastly holding on to because in reality, I just never know when I’ll see it again.

See, I’m not crazy. Right?

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I am beyond thrilled to have made it as a finalist in the first ever UK mummy and daddy blog awards aka the MADS and would love, love, love it if you would please vote for me here.  Thanks!

Friendship …

Friendship.

Where on earth do I begin?

I have been so fortunate to be truly blessed with many wonderful friendships in my life.  These are my closest friends and family members who are just there for me no matter how much time passes or what storm the weather brings … they support me, laugh with me, cry with me and celebrate with me. 

I am indeed a very lucky lady.

 

 

I can’t believe it’s over …

I can’t believe it’s over.

Lost, that is.

Six amazing and dramatic, exciting and somewhat perplexing  seasons all culminating in one of the biggest television events ever.  The Lost season finale.

It truly was mesmerizing.

I cried.  I sobbed.  And, then I cried some more.

But, it didn’t quite tie up all the loose ends did it? 

I mean I get the light and all, but I think I need to go back and watch it again just to make sure I didn’t miss anything.  For example, when exactly did they all die?  If so, was everyone who was in the church at the end all on the original flight that went down?  And, what about the numbers? Did they ever get off the island?

I’m in a word … confused.

*sigh*

Oh well, I do know that I heart Jack and always did … even when it seemed every other female on the planet was gushing over Sawyer. 

*sigh*

So, I shall leave you with today’s Musical Monday post which is obviously dedicated to Lost as I contemplate what an amazing journey this show took me on. 

It’s called I Can’t Believe It’s Over by Bent.

Silly bands fever …

Be warned.  And, beware.

There is a highly contagious malady sweeping the nation’s children.  An illness I have named silly bands fever.

Chronic symptoms are basically as follows … your child will rapidly develop a fetish and a penchant for collecting, swapping and wearing brightly coloured elastic bands that come in all forms of silly shapes.

At present, I don’t think there is any part of the USA that has remained untouched by the silly bands fever … even our little neck of the woods. 

Sadly, there is no cure for this craze, but may I advise parents to be extra careful not to refer to said silly bands as whacky bands or a riot may ensue.

What about the classics?

So, my oldest son begins high school this year.  

I know. 

High school. 

Shock, gasp, horror.  

I still can’t believe it myself.  I’ve no idea where the years have gone.  It only seems like yesterday that he was placed in my arms … a beautiful, bouncing,  blue-eyed baby boy.  The hopes and dreams I’ve had for him are all coming true.  

Well, mostly, but I digress.

He will be entering the IB program at one of the local high schools in our county and during one of the initial interviews, he was told to pay attention to the school’s website as there would be a required summer reading list posted before the end of the present school year.  

Well, we just read the assignment the other day and to say I was a little disappointed is an understatement.  Why?  Because there’s not one book of classic literature on the recommended reading list.  True, the novels listed all seem like really great reads.  They are taken from YALSA’s 2009-2010 young adult recommendations, but still … I was kinda expecting some Canterbury Tales.  Maybe a little Of Mice and Men.  Just a smidgen of To Kill a Mockingbird.  Or, even some of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. 

I remember reading and studying all of these works when I was in school.  They were intriguing, thought-provoking and left some kind of lasting impression on me. 

I want that for my son. 

He reads voraciously.  I’ve easily known him to finish a book in one day or less so I’m sure, if given the chance, he will go through this entire list never mind just one. 

I did note that the student can pick a novel of their own choosing.  So, I plan on hitting up the library this summer to stock up on what I consider notable high school summer reading.   The hubby would like for me to add Tarka the Otter to the list as this is one of his all time favourite books — sadly, he can often be heard quoting it … or misquoting might be more appropriate. 

To help me out, I’m calling upon you and asking … 

Dudes, what about the classics? 

I’m interested in what you consider a must read classic for my soon-to-be high schooler.  What beloved novel do you remember reading in school?  Why is it so beloved?  Good or bad, what lasting impression did it leave and why recommend it?

The Gallery … Self Portrait

This week’s task for the Gallery was to take a self portrait. 

So, voila. 

Here I am … wife, sister, aunt, daughter, woman, friend and one exhasuted mother at the end of my day. 

Stopping to smell the wildflowers …

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again … I love spring  in Florida.  There’s a sense of renewal, the first pedicure of the year, flip-flops and all of Florida’s beautiful greenery. 

It’s been a rough winter for Florida (my grass is still struggling to come back) and I was a bit worried that we wouldn’t be treated to the gorgeous wildflowers that usually sprout up on roadsides, in fields and in our own back yards this time of year.  I am … in a word … smitten over them.  And, hate to admit that I can be a tad overbearing and annoying to anyone cruising along with me what with all my oohs and aahs when I see a field of wildflowers waving at me.

For years now, I’ve wanted to stop and photograph them, but just have never taken the time … ye know, to stop and smell the wildflowers and all.  But, no fear … the native flowers are blooming once again so this year I made it my mission to capture some photographs of them.

Thanks to my friend and her little boy who traipsed though pastures riddled with ant hills and Lord knows what to get to these lovely pink  wildflowers.

 

I’m considering this another one crossed off the bucket list.

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