Catching up

Four of our six grandchildren, clockwise from top left: Walker, 4; Stella, 6; Molly Kate, 6; and Charlie, 9.

Year 2014 was extra busy for Husband Walter and me. I let happy events as well as computer woes derail my blogging for awhile. 

As I work toward getting back into a blogging routine, I will be catching up with posts about some 2014 experiences that I don’t want to forget.

One of those was a visit to Bellingrath Gardens for the opening of the Mobile, Alabama, attraction’s annual Christmas lights. It has been several years since we visited Bellingrath. This visit fulfilled my desire to experience the exceptional display once again. 

Adding to our enjoyment was having family with us—our son Jeremy and his family as well as our oldest son’s daughters. The cousins’ chance to be together and share their excitement and energy was another wish fulfilled.

A visit and photo with Santa closed our walk through the “Garden of Lights." Those faces told the story of a happy evening!

A post about one of our earlier visits is here.

Record temperature and reading fun

The thermometer showed 19 degrees Fahrenheit this morning on our screened porch. That is a record low for this date in our usually mild coastal region. 

Not cold enough for a real igloo, but chilly enough to remind me of igloo photos languishing on my laptop.The kids’ reading hideout above was featured at our local library on a warm day in October.

Milk jug building blocks

Snowflake to boost curb appeal

The igloo was something I would have loved as a child. Even as an adult I appreciate it as a tempting hideaway for reading.

Of course, gone are the summer days of childhood when I would hide to read uninterrupted. My best-remembered early morning escape was the scramble up a ladder my dad had left propped against the carport roof. 

The rough texture of the roofing shingles somehow heightened my anticipation of opening the day’s chosen library book. I would climb farther up to my perch against a gable. It created welcomed shade for reading.

Around noon hunger would call me back down, but the black shingles would have absorbed the intense heat of the South Mississippi summer sun. Their heat would send me into a frantic dance to the ladder. 

That hot-foot experience was no match, though, for my summer urge to ditch shoes and to read without spending time doing chores.

My parents did not discover that particular hideout for most of one summer. I don’t remember being punished. I do remember that Daddy moved the heavy ladder, eliminating my access to the roof.