Farewell, Aunt Beany

There's hardly anyone alive who can remember Trimble's Knob's previous owners. For nearly 80 years, its caretakers have been Robin's Aunt Beany and Uncle Frank, and for all those years there have been sheep on the Knob. I never knew Uncle Frank because he died in 1980, before I moved to Highland County. For 30 years, though, I was privileged to know and love Aunt Beany, who left us last Friday evening at the remarkable age of 100 years and six months. She'll be buried tomorrow, but today, a fitting tribute mysteriously appeared atop Trimble's Knob. Farewell, Aunt Beany. The Knob will miss you.

Mothering Magic

At church today, our pastor remarked that this holiday should be called "Mothering Day" because not every woman is a mother in the literal sense, but most of us females find ourselves mothering creatures of one kind or another. Whether they have two legs or four, whether they're covered with hair, fur, feathers or scales, we girls just can't help nurturing little living things. And that is something to celebrate! Without all this mothering going on, our world would be a heartless place indeed.

The highlight of my Mothering Day was watching this little Bantam hen with her new chicks. It was mothering at its finest!

Here's hoping you've had a Mothering Day that made you smile!

Photo Challenge: Color

I'm linking up with Donna's Personal Photo Challenge for this month's theme of COLOR. Can you imagine a world without color? Although black and white can be stunning, especially in the world of photography, color adds a whole new dimension to life. After all, Kansas was in black and white, while Oz was in living color!

I've enjoyed the beautiful flowers I've been potting for my summer beds. Here's a gorgeous peach dahlia.

I like the contrast of the peachy blooms against the rich green foliage here:

And don't forget the humble and prolific dandelion!

Food without color would be just awful, don't you think? Try to imagine these lovely peaches in shades of grey...bleeeck!

Vine-ripened tomatoes, sliced and ready to eat, just wouldn't be the same if they weren't red.

This cardinal kept attacking his reflection in our window. It was annoying, but I did get some good shots, even if they were through the glass.

A special thanks to all of you who left messages of comfort and support during my father's final days. Your kind words, thoughts, and prayers helped me through a tough time and I humbly thank you.

Morning Song

Look who was singing outside my window this morning! As I gazed at my sleepy face in the bathroom mirror, I heard a happy song close by. When I turned and looked out the window, there he was, singing his little heart out. In fact, I still hear him. He's probably singing for a female cardinal who's near, but I'd like to think he's singing for me, too. Thankfully he stayed put while I ran downstairs for the camera and attached the big zoom lens.

Thanks, Mr. Cardinal, for a sweet start to my Friday! Who knows? Maybe I'll join your happy morning song...it is bound to be good for body and soul. Have a wonderful day and a great weekend!

Waiting No More

My father died on Good Friday morning.His funeral yesterday was a wonderful celebration of a long life well lived. I was intensely proud to be one of Bill Martin's daughters. He touched many lives in one way or another and we three Martin girls aren't the only ones missing him today.

Photo Challenge: Macro Photography

I'm nearing the end of my 24-hour trip back home. I'll be returning to my family this afternoon as we wait for my father's passing. A quick check of my blog reading list revealed that this weekend is photo challenge weekend. I've dipped into my archives once again to share my attempts at macro photography. Any success I've had in this photo genre is mostly good luck! Here are a few of my best.

This is a ring my father brought back from World War II. He was indeed at Anzio in 1944.

This is my wedding ring, which first belonged to my grandmother, Edith Eskew,

who married my grandfather, Merrida Richmond, in 1917.

The winter of 2010 brought us snow measured in feet. With my Canon Powershot and

some cropping and enlarging on the computer, I was able to capture these individual snowflakes.

Last summer, I caught this rose at just the right moment as it opened up.

I'm thinking this shot is my only true macro shot, as I believe there is a difference between closeups (which most of my other photos are) and macros, which get closer than the human eye can see comfortably.

This is a crocus in my yard a few springs ago.

I'm linking up with A Personal Photo Challenge today. Due to my family's circumstances, I don't know if I'll be able to visit the other sites and leave comments, but I'll try. If you like photography and you're reading this post, please consider joining us in the photo challenge every month. It's a great way to learn and polish your skills.

We Wait

I'm typing this on the hospital's public computer in the lobby and the keyboard doesn't feel right. But as difficult as it is, being here feels right. My sisters and I are taking turns sitting with my dad as he travels toward heaven. For us, it's a slow journey. For him, who knows? He's still close enough to speak to us sometimes, if we can understand his laborious words. And sometimes, it's obvious that he's well on his way and seeing sights we can't see. When this journey is over, we'll be sad, but all right. After 94 years, Dad deserves the joyful rest of heaven, and because of that we can choose to be "happy sad." But Dad has no estimated time of arrival for this journey. And so we wait.