Sunday, August 31, 2008


Still gathered at the table, post candle-blowing, I noticed Son4's arm resting on the back of a chair.

"What did you do to your arm?"

"Oh. Well...I noticed I had freckles on my arm in the shape of the Little Dipper, so I decided to connect the dots. Well, actually, I cheated a little. There wasn't a freckle here (pointing), so I added that one."

He telleth the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names. Great is our Lord, and of great power: his understanding is infinite. ~Psalm 147:4, 5

Saturday, August 30, 2008


Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord.
~Psalm 127:3a

Favorite Things - White Peaches

Call us under exposed, but our family's first meeting with a white peach was in 1997, when we stopped at a roadside stand between Yakima and our home in Battle Ground, WA. Where had these gems been all our lives? White peaches have since been a tasty reminder of the happy experiences we enjoyed while we lived in the Pacific Northwest.

We moved onto our little farm in Kansas, in August, 2006, at which time the peaches on one tree were ripening. The other, quite large tree was at the edge of the woods and gasping for breath amidst a tangle of trees, so it had borne no fruit, a problem we remedied before the following spring. Last year, all fruits were lost to a hard freeze. Now peaches on both trees are ripening, and we plucked a few fruits from the large tree. What a wonderful, unexpected joy and gift -- they're white peaches! There's going to be a gaping hole in the woods before next spring, because we're giving that tree a wide berth to do it's thing.

Favorite thing - white peaches.

By him [Jesus] therefore let us offer the sacrifice of praise to God continually, that is, the fruit of our lips giving thanks to his name. ~Hebrews 13:15

Friday, August 29, 2008


by Isabella S. Stephenson

Holy Father, in Thy mercy,
Hear our anxious prayer.
Keep our loved ones, now far distant,
’Neath Thy care.

Jesus, Savior, let Thy presence
Be their light and guide;
Keep, oh, keep them, in their weakness,
At Thy side.

When in sorrow, when in danger,
When in loneliness,
In Thy love look down and comfort
Their distress.

May the joy of Thy salvation
Be their strength and stay;
May they love and may they praise Thee
Day by day.

Holy Spirit, let Thy teaching
Sanctify their life;
Send Thy grace, that they may conquer
In the strife.

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
God the One in Three,
Bless them, guide them, save them, keep them
Near to Thee.

The Lord watch between me and thee, when we are absent one from another. ~Genesis 31:49

Thursday, August 28, 2008


We sort of got stuck sitting in the van for a while this evening, so we unbuckled the Plum, and she sat on my lap, pushing every button she could reach, singing, rubbing her fingers through the dust acquired in a van which travels gravel roads, and insisting that Poppie feel the texture of a plastic dash accoutrement. In an unwiggly moment she noticed...

"It's raining!" she exclaimed, when she saw a smattering of raindrops upon the windshield.

"I know," I replied. Then I waxed all Nana-like and quasi-poetical. "I can smell it. I love the smell of rain. Can you smell the rain?"

Arms still folded and fixed on the dashboard, watching the drops hit the glass, without even turning her head, she said, "It's water, Honey. It's just water."

Later, I captured these images. I know, I know, they're clouds. They're just clouds.

The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork. ~Psalms 19:1

NanaError -- HUGE

Moon Sand. Uh-huh, Moon Sand. Don't do it. That stuff was everywhere.

This one is color-named Martian Magenta. It almost hurt to look at it.

Speaking of looking at it, the little darlin' was trying to explain to me why she absolutely must have glasses: "I have to have glasses, Nana. Otherwise, the sun will hurt my eyes." Poppie burst out laughing, and Uncle Son3 stuck his head around the corner, wide-eyed, and silently mouthed to me, "Otherwise?" No one who still has baby feet (see photo #1) and dimples for knuckles on her hands should be uttering the word otherwise. Stop it.

Serious consideration was given to sending said Moon Sand home with the child.

We had to feed cookies to the CowNots.

And dinner at a Chinese buffet was a fitting end to a lovely, long day with the SugarPlum. I never allowed my children to suspend foot-long noodles before their faces and talk loudly about big worms in a quiet restaurant. Her daddy can deal with the worm thing. I thought it was cute.

And without controversy great is the mystery of godliness: God was manifest in the flesh, justified in the Spirit, seen of angels, preached unto the Gentiles, believed on in the world, received up into glory. I Timothy 3:16

Sunday, August 24, 2008

GreatNot ProudNot

Last Trumpet Newsletter - August

I always try to remember to catch this monthly newsletter** and have just now read the August issue. The topics therein aligned with my recent thoughts, prompted by the phrases greatest nation on earth and proud to be an American. I realize that people who use these phrases in reference to the United States of America probably aren't thinking about the words, and they mean well. People of my generation were taught to accept and utter the phrases as unshakeable truths. The words and the concepts are such a terribly ill fit to reality -- at least for Christians.

I sorrowfully shudder over the concept of calling the USA the greatest nation on earth when she is filled with, enjoying, and promoting every evil under the sun -- a list so long and pervasive that I dare not tackle the task of enumerating, for it would be exhausting and likely depressing. The newsletter mentions a few of the evils this nation now embraces. The author is very near my own age, so he also lived in the nation this once was and mentions having watched it decay and become nearly unrecognizable. Personally, it would scare the daylights out of me, if I was of a mind or heart to call the present USA the greatest nation on earth, given her swarthy departure from both God and good and her ever-deepening plunge into evil deeds and darkness.

I'd be even less inclined to entertain pride in being an American, as if I could claim having had a hand in being born into this nation or that she's doing something today of which I could be proud...if I was of a heart to nurture pride. God clearly hates pride; oh, that He might have mercy on me and always help me to shun pride. May the Holy Spirit always remind me that all of my blessings come from the Lord and are none of my own doing or merit. I am very thankful that I was born into the USA and have enjoyed the rich, unmerited blessings which were mine in a nation that once honored and respected the One True God, even endeavoring to be ruled in accordance with His precepts.

"My soul shall make her boast in the Lord: the humble shall hear thereof, and be glad. O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together." (Psalm 34:2, 3)

** In the weeks since I published this blogpost, it has come to my attention that the author of the newsletter departs from sound doctrine on some critical issues. I do not endorse all of the author's doctrinal perspectives.

Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter! ~Isaiah 5:20

This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, without natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good, traitors, heady, highminded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God; having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away.
~II Timothy 3:1-5

Friday, August 22, 2008


Where was this weed, when I was trying to decorate the wedding biscuit cake?

These little beauties are growing in abundance in all of the fields and have been living -- at the time of this writing -- perkily and pristinely in a little glass of water for four days, with nary a sign of soon demise. Not minutes. Not hours. DAYS.


[Postscript: Now twelve days. Fresh and pretty as day one.]

And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? ~Matthew 6:28-30

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Spelling RuleNot

Listen, I've been doing this for fully a quarter of a century now, with six more years to go. When there are five of them, one sort of loses track of what's been taught to whom. So I'm sorry all over myself for the foibles.

Spying a little spelling error,...

Okay, do you know the little rhyme to aid in spelling, which begins, "'I' before 'E'?"

*eyes alight* *nodding*

"'I' before 'E' except after 'C', and 'E' before 'N' in chicken."
That was on Andy Griffith.

*eyes protruding*

Is it just, "'I' before 'E' except after 'C'?"

*jaw drops*

Oh, I guess I don't know it.

Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless his holy name. ~Psalm 103:1

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Black Star Hen

I thought black star chickens would be drab, so I included none in the original flock, even though they're wonderful layers. Since two red stars survived the predator attacks, and I was in a mood to broaden my chicken horizons, I included black stars in the second order. Have I ever been glad I did, because they're gorgeous birds, and if I had to choose a single breed (I'm glad I don't), I do believe it would be black stars. Who knew?


I didn't deliberately decapitate this chicken, but here you have a lovely example of my lame photographic talents. Since I'd captured a wispy-feathered chicken be-hind, I figured I might as well share it.

Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it: except the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain. ~Psalm 127:1

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Barred Rock Hen

When I ordered our first box of chicks, I was modestly studied in chicken breeds, and my goal was to achieve the delivery of jumbo brown eggs from prolific layers. Success. By the time I ordered the second flock, I had become a little bored with red stars, buff orpingtons, and Delawares dotting the landscape. Those big brown eggs were seeming a bit rote, too.

So I returned to my chicken studies and chose breeds based on chicken-beauty (I'm so shallow) and variety in egg colors. Our eggs would be blue or green, white, and shades of brown ranging from light to dark. *brushing hands*

I thought the barred rocks would be my favorite breed. Feathered zebras is what came to mind. Or a chicken in striped pajamas. It was a surprise to me when I came to favor them no more or less than others, yet their markings are still pleasing and intriguing to me. Perhaps they'd seem a more stand-out bird, if the entire flock was comprised of barred rocks. That would be dizzying.

Here's a barred rock hen:


This hen can really bust a move!

As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about his people from henceforth even for ever. ~Psalm 125:2

Monday, August 18, 2008


For I am the Lord, I change not;
~Malachi 3:6a

Zoomer brought to my attention a guest article by Kathi Sundeen in the June 2, 2008, newsletter of Lighthouse Trails Research Project. The article is entitled Todd Bentley and a Spirit Named "Winds of Change" and begins:

The "healing revival" started by Todd Bentley that is currently taking place in Florida began with a demonic appearance by a spirit calling itself the "Winds of Change."

The article is a well footnoted and interesting piece on change agents and change, a much heard word these days.

Fret not thyself because of evil men, neither be thou envious at the wicked; For there shall be no reward to the evil man; the candle of the wicked shall be put out. My son, fear thou the Lord and the king: and meddle not with them that are given to change: For their calamity shall rise suddenly; and who knoweth the ruin of them both? ~Proverbs 24:19-22

Buff Orpington Rooster

You've seen Midas, another survivor from the original flock, but he's back, because he just seems to be everywhere and always willing to pose. In fact, many of the chickens were playing to the camera the recent day I took several chicken shots. Not Rumpy -- as you've seen -- but if someone or something had plucked my tail feathers, I probably wouldn't be of a mind to stand still either, bless her little buhg-peckin' being.

If you're all about tail feathers, you might enjoy this view of Midas' plummage. But then, I may be the only person who would spend several moments studying a tail feathers photo. Humor me.

The Lord will perfect that which concerneth me: thy mercy, O Lord, endureth for ever: forsake not the works of thine own hands. ~Psalm 138:8

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Rumpy Red Star Hen

I'm told by the resident walking encyclopedia that manx cats can be rumpies or stumpies, and Purrle is a stumpy, possessing a blurb of a tail, which is the only small thing about the fat feline. Believing there aren't such classifications for chickens but having from our original flock a surviving red star hen who lost her tail to a predator back when we had that barrage of attacks, I'm taking the liberty of borrowing from the cat world, and I present to you our rumpy red star hen.

While we've already established I'm no photography genius (and you should see the shots I keep to myself), in my defense, the little lady wouldn't stand still. I wanted you to get to see the profile, though, of a rumpy red star, so you're stuck with a piggledy image:


I will worship toward thy holy temple, and praise thy name for thy lovingkindness and for thy truth: for thou hast magnified thy word above all thy name. ~Psalm 138:2

Saturday, August 16, 2008


Sometimes a wifemomnana is too busy for blogging. *raising hand*

With new irons in the fire (read: fire) and taking up a most stringent and longer schooling schedule this past week, I've quickly discovered there's no time carved out for blathering. As other bloggers know, though, there's a handy tool for pre-scheduling posts, and one can time-date stamp any post to suit oneself anyway (it's magical), so a sabbath rest might include meandering thoughts and availing myself of the opportunity to weekly store blogbits for later posting. You never know, I may have a burst of energy some evenings and toss in a wildcard post from time-to-time. After all, Joycie must have something to read during her lunch break. We can't be letting Joycie down. ºÜº

Let's begin with the pretty little cloud, trying ever so hard to become a thunderhead early this week.


Hanging clumsily sideways but clinging to the saddle,

Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, to the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen. ~Jude 1:24, 25

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Yo Zeus

by Berit Kjos

Thus saith the Lord, Learn not the way of the heathen. ~Jeremiah 10:2a

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Weeding Cake

Son2 and his bride were hosting a cookout in celebration of their recent marriage. Wanting Cousin Annie to know what time I thought we'd arrive at the event, I'd mentioned needing to make a travel stop for fresh flowers, which I would use to decorate my piggledy little stab at creating a pineapple upside-down kindasorta wedding cake. "Aren't any of your flowers still alive?" she'd asked.

Brilliant! But Cousin Annie is like that.

So mid-morning on the day of the cookout (because I'm always running behind on everything), I plucked a leaning-ugly black-eyed Susan and set it in a dry ramiken to see how quickly it might or might not wilt. I didn't dare choose a nice one, because a quick survey of God's flowers that He tends revealed that not so very many were looking small, perky, and bug free. When my specimen still looked like a flower an hour later, and I hadn't even showered and dressed, and we still had a two-hour drive ahead of us, I decided these weeds flowers would serve my purpose. I could mark off one travel stop.

Son3 and Son4 helped me choose and fist a modest number of the blooms, while I whined incessantly: "I dunno. These kinda look like weeds. Do these look like weeds? This is awful. I'm putting weeds on their wedding cake. I don't know about this. Are there any more? We don't have very many. Keep looking. Oh man, I'm putting weeds on a wedding cake. Is this bad?"

I did it. With lots of love, good intent, and trepidation I poked straws, then weeds, into the wedding cake. It wasn't the sumptuous offering I'd envisioned when I hatched the flowery plan, but we were out of pristine weeds, and I still needed to powder and puff self before we left, so it would have to do.


*brushing sticky hands*
Kinda looks like a stack of biscuits in the photo.
It's a cake; if'n' it was a biscuit, I'd own up to it.

As if to taunt me, when we exited the freeway onto the street which would take us to the newlyweds' home, we were surrounded by islands planted with weeds black-eyed Susans. "Look at that! Look! All that time we spent hunting for perfect specimens and worrying about whether or not they would wilt before we got here, and we could have just pulled over and gotten basketsful, a few blocks from their house." Of course, we might have been arrested. At least someone thought they looked enough like flowers to purposely adorn the city with them. Whew!

Prove all things; hold fast that which is good. ~I Thessalonians 5:21

Friday, August 1, 2008


Something like that. It was loud, and it was scary, so I lay paralyzed on my floaty for about the 4 seconds it took me to decide I did want to know if a dinosaur was standing beside the pool. I threw myself off the floaty and into the water in what I hoped would be a big and frightening maneuver to behold, and I spun in the direction from whence had come the awful noise. There sat perched on the edge of the pool a red winged blackbird. I think. Or a crow. I'm not all about knowing which bird is what, but I'm just sure I saw a patch of red on that bird. None to be seen in the photos, though, so call it what you will, and if you're all about birds, you'll call it what it actually is.

I'd taken the camera and Diana Waring to the pool with me. Diana was in my CD player, talking about the canon of Scripture and Attila the Hun. Olympus was still in the bag. And I was in the water, sad to be parted from the camera when there was a bird standing on the edge of the pool, staring at me.

I watched as it hopped and flew from one point on the edge to another. Clearly, it wasn't thinking about leaving. Just as clearly, it kept turning its back on me, at which points in time I was hoping I wasn't about to get a birdseye view of it making a deposit in the pool. And it was just that thought which prompted me to climb out of the pool to get the camera: A) Just stand here and watch that bird make a deposit; B) Risk scaring it off by getting out of the pool. I chose B.

Of course, by the time I got the camera from the bag, the bird had flown into the neighbor's cornfield. Since I could see it, I decided to zoom my point-and-shoot, on the chance I'd have a reasonable focus. Sort of reasonable:

Here's a close crop.

I discovered a dragonfly when I cropped.

While pointing, shooting, and not having a clue whether or not I was actually capturing a photo of the bird, I noticed a barred rock hen beneath one of the halfapple trees.
Well, I'll just take a picture of her.

Hello henny...and August.

Goodbye July.

The Lord is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in him. ~Nahum 1:7