Hey all ..... i have officially moved to another blog site....click on the link:

http://www.dancingaspen.wordpress.com/

sorry for the hassle! Please keep reading....it encourages me to write!

Musings on the Weather.....

Ahhhh, the weather. There’s a subject for you. Everyone, everywhere talks about the weather. We will talk about the weather with complete strangers who ask really idiotic things, such as, “Is it hot enough for you?” To which we all think silently in reply, “No way, I am hoping it gets hotter so I can experience heat stroke first hand.”

Because I grew up on a farm, I find the weather to be vastly interesting. It was more than just a topic to fill up the empty awkward silence in a conversation, it was a topic into itself. When I moved to college, my roommate was baffled with my daily curiosity regarding weather conditions. My thought was that SHE was an odd-duck….who doesn’t like to consider the climate and all the predictions that can be made about it? All of creation depends on it!

The weather man we watched growing up looked like a turtle wearing a suit. He still reports the weather, but now he just looks like an ancient turtle….his neck is all stretched out and long, and his chin has the makings of a lovely turtle specimen. He even blinks his eye in turtle fashion.

I always imagined him sitting out in the rain, as a weatherman, his head barely peeking out from his wet shell as he peered upward formulating his weather predictions very slowly and precisely.

A quintessential weather resource we used religiously on our Texas farm was the all-knowing barometer. Taking prominence on our wall, it was if it were a fine piece of art that we stopped to gaze at and discuss. My daddy taught me how to read it, and I became quite the crackerjack at consulting it.

Weather.com did not exist. And for my grandpa, who lived next door, all weathermen were just suits making wild-haired guesses. He made his own forecast pretty much dead-on every time. He observed all the signs…the weathercock, the skies, the moon, the cloud formations, the humidity, the barometer, the birds and chickens, the cattle, and even his own bones. I trusted his forecasting more than the turtleman’s.

I miss my Grandpa immeasurably. He would talk of the weather with me in true earnestness. I can hear his voice, slow and intentional with a slight drawl, speaking wisely….his big hands moving to punctuate his words, pointing to the clouds in the far distance. Me, listening intently, suspended by the lore of reading creation to foretell a thunderstorm or a drought. Such discussions always took place on the porch with a glass bottle of Dr. Pepper in one hand and a bag of salted peanuts in the other. Sweet memories. Ahhh, how I miss those times… and not a soul I know can discuss the readings of a barometer with me.

Life is just a tire-swing

Zooming through the air, up into the blue and back again. I love swinging. We swing as children, but forget the feel of it as adults…the sheer freedom felt. Hair blowing back from my face, the race upward and then halt mid-air…lifted off the seat for the briefest second, and then down, down, down arching back up again. The creak of the chain is heard as I pull harder and harder to lift higher and higher.

I swing barefoot – always – and point my toes to the skies as I lean all the way back. I think being barefoot makes me feel more free – unencumbered. Smiling should accompany swing time, along with some singing.

As a little girl, I used a tire swing. I was instructed to sit within the tire hole, but discovered that sitting on the top-side of the tire while holding onto the rope afforded the best swing action. Our tire swing was situated in a big elm tree that I dubbed as my own hideout. Hours were spent climbing, talking, scheming, hiding, and swinging in that tree. My favorite was to climb to the big fork in the elm and have my sister lift up the tire-swing to me. Tottering on the tree branch, I would throw myself in free-fall fashion as my hands held tightly to the rope. As I fell, I would wrap my legs around the top edge of the tire and sit down – all the while gleeful with the swooping feel I had underneath the green umbrella of the elm. It never lasted long enough, so it was repeated throughout a summer day, until I heard my mom calling my name from the back door to come inside as the sun dipped low in the sky.

Now, I swing about three times a week. My routine walk leads to a park with a swing-set. So far, I am the only adult I have ever seen on it. Kids watch me wide-eyed, with understanding reflected in their faces, as I swing with unbridled passion. Note: my profile picture is me harnessed into the Giant Swing at Cross Bar X Youth Ranch....the best ride ever!!!

FRIDAY

Friday is freedom. Today is Friday….a long-time favorite with the masses of people in America. Casual Day. Date day. Free-Dress Code Day. Schools out, schools out, teachers let the fools out!!! Movie night. Pizza night. Game night. Worship night. Last day of the workweek. Leave for vacation day. Friday night football games. Freaky Friday. Yay it’s Friday.

It whispers a promise of fun after a long week of dullness….like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow….or dessert after eating your greens and meatloaf. There is even an acronym and restaurant stating praise for it: TGIF.

As a kid, I delighted in staying up late on Fridays and watching Wolfman Jack on the Midnight Special….the star of a gillion rock’n’roll fans like me. Soooo cool! But he is dead now. Wonder if he died on a Friday?

Robinson Crusoe had everything done by Friday…which is something I wish I could boast.

Loquacity

Loquacity: the quality of being wordy and talkative

Ever since I started speaking as a child, I have had the urge to talk. Taciturn has never been a word used to describe me. My earliest memories consist of playing with the ultimate tool of talk....a phone! At age three, I gabbed on a plastic baby-blue princess-style phone for hours and at age five graduated to a bigger electronic red-plastic phone.

Ironic that I loathe talking on the phone now - except with a few individuals who bring out my garrulity in full force!! I mostly talk in my head .... or to my old beagle....or whatever is nearby that appears to be listening. I find that I would rather not talk when I detect non-listening cues given off by whoever I speak to. I have also found that most people don't care to hear all the thoughts that whirl constantly through my head, so I revert to talking in my head!

Through the years the best listeners I had the honor to discourse with on a regular basis was a herd of black Angus cows. As a kid, I would scamper up the haystack with delight, knowing an audience would gather upon seeing my arrival. Sure enough, the cows would meander over to the base of the haystack in a haphazard semicircle and gaze up at me adoringly as I began my daily diatribe. They would stand still, with ears cocked forward, and listen. There were always a few that became distracted easily and started chewing their cud and looking around the herd - these were the A.D.D. cows. A quick clap of my hands, and they would swing their heads back around as if surprised I was still there talking and begin to listen again.

I spoke of everything and anything. Sometimes my speech was peppered with anger and I would go on a terrible harangue about the injustices of being the younger sibling...of being required to fill the days with chores and homework. Other times, my speech was salted with sweet songs and sad stories and their big, brown luminous eyes would glisten with tears.

The flock of chickens, on the other hand, were complete failures at listening...they were the mascots for an A.D.D. poster!! Nervous Nellies. I would have to bombast them with gesticulations and jargon filled with tourettes-type tics to win them over...and even then their eyes betrayed them. I have had such discourses with humans....their beady eyes glancing nervously to and from my face as I talk, looking as if they are ready to peck out my eyes.

Listening is an aquired skill that most people do not embody. Thus...the blog craze blazes!! We blog because we teem with thoughts longing to be spoken. And maybe, just maybe, someone....somewhere.... is listening.