Industrial Ag

Strawberry field

Our Sunset Beach Campground site on the California coast was adjacent to huge fields of strawberries.

Strawberries are one of my favorite fruits. That nearby example of large-scale strawberry production had me itching to get an up-close look and take photos with my iPhone.

I could see the field just beyond the campsite across from ours. But to get close would have required Hubby helping me navigate the fairly steep and uneven terrain to get to the field's edge. 

Hubby squelched that challenging and unsafe adventure but assured me he would stop by the fields upon our departure from the campground. 

Once on the way, he volunteered to take my iPhone and get the images I wanted.

Yes! 

Before he exited our van, though, he did admonish me that we absolutely, positively would NOT indulge in any unauthorized strawberry picking. 

I'm blessed. He helps me have wonderful travel experiences and even helps me keep a clear conscience! 

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Sunday Walk

A short drive north of us is the headquarters for our community's recreation program. A playground, two baseball fields and tennis courts share space with an old live oak, pine trees and a few smaller trees.

On a Sunday afternoon it is a great place for walking with little to no traffic. 

An afternoon early in June 2021 was different. Something was going at the water tower next to the tennis courts. 

I stopped in the shade of a pine tree to take a look. (Navigating with my rollator is tricky if I shift my focus far above what is directly in front of me.) 

Someone was on the water tower, and white haze rose from the top. Vehicles and various trailers clustered at the base of the structure.

I fiddled with my iPhone and brought into focus a worker perched on the upper edge of the water tower. 

Yikes. Just seeing a human being in that position made me queasy. Sandblasting evidently was underway.

A few days later the tank was protected by what looked like a heavy canvas cocoon. We have not been back in that area since. I'm sure that when we do take another Sunday walk there the water tower will sport a new paint job.

Even with strict safety measures those workers involved had to be more at ease with heights than I have ever been.

An ordinary Sunday stroll turned into a wakeup call to be thankful for individuals who go to great lengths to keep our community's infrastructure in good shape,

Photos taken with my iPhone.

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Our Changing Environment

May 2001 we purchased three narrow lots only 71 feet wide. More than a decade later we built our current home on the southern most lot that fronts the street.

With six larger undeveloped lots adjacent to our west property line, we knew the day would come when we would see new homes sprout up next to us. 

That day has come. 

Three large homes are well on the way to completion. The photo above was taken in June. The contractor has faced delays from difficulty with securing materials and reliable workers. Even though the homes under construction are already sold, progress is slow.

The exteriors of the two adjacent to our property appear finished, but work on interiors is still in progress.

Even with the nearby changes, we still love our wooded property. The terrain and vegetation remind us of the Smoky Mountains. Hubby said early on that when we could no longer travel to the Smokies, we could feel like we were there in our own little slice of Smoky Mountain ambiance.

We have had six years in our wooded hideaway.

The photo above is our back porch at night. Now I am praying for good neighbors and that we will be good neighbors to them! 

Happy Thanksgiving!

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The Best Helpline Ever

When I don’t quite know how to pray about a specific challenge in my life or someone else's life, I just once again borrow one of Paul’s prayers. This one is from Paul's letter to the Christ followers in Philippi.

Philippians 1:9-11 NIV And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God. Philippians 1:9-11 NIV

What a comfort it is to know that I can put family and friends in the hands of One whose nail-scarred hands are infinitely more capable than mine! 

May your day be filled with blessings.

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Catching Up

Seems I am forever behind, both in things I want to do and things I MUST do. So forgive the non-Thanksgiving subject. But I can't wait until next October to share the creativity and sense of fun that residents of Pass Christian exhibited for Halloween.

Gazebo wedding 

The Happy Couple

Boney Bikers

As much as I admired the skeletal cyclists accompanied by the little dachshund, what topped everything was a skeleton holding the leashes of five little dachshund skeletons.

Happy 2022 Halloween!

A thank you to Hubby for parking and taking the photos on our way to the Cat Island Coffee Shop in Pass Christian, MS. I didn't see the five-dachshund tableau until we were on our way back home. We were ready for home and kept going. 

Is that evidence of old age?

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Creepy Time

 I am appreciating the Halloween decorations at a home we pass on our way to run errands. (Photos by Hubby)

Happy Halloween!

Repetitious living?

About five years ago I started a post on what was at that time my new iPad mini, an alternative to my much heavier MacBook Pro laptop which had developed issues.

Learning to use my new techie toy was slow going; and when my attempt to post did not bear immediate fruit, I left that draft languishing. 

In a recent rare spurt of clearing out old blog drafts, I read that  rough draft from half a decade ago. It struck me that my life may have become repetitious. From that old draft:

"Less than a month is left for me to build up stamina for travel that Hubby and I have planned for May.

"Earlier this week my walking buddy Ann and I made it to the Biloxi Bay bridge for the first time in what seems like forever. My issues with toes and Bioness foot-drop system are, I hope, on the way to being resolved.

"I only made it to the .3-mile marker and back, but being outside and moving was worth the sweat and fatigue. And immersion in the sunshine, breeze, beautiful scenery and nonstop conversation with a dear friend was a dose of pure joy."

I realized I was becoming repetitious when I found a draft I started Monday April 5, of this year:

"Hubby and I walked the bridge for the first time in at least six months."

Yep, repetitious writing and repetitious habits. Once again I have been blaming weather, packed schedules and those dratted toe issues for not walking as much. 

And I only made it to the two-tenths of a mile marker that Monday morning in April. But being outside on a beautiful day with my beloved once again sparked the surge of pure joy I had described five years earlier.

Now it is six months later. I never have gotten back to walking the bridge. Even though I have yet to ramp up the purposeful walking, Hubby and I are still traveling, thanks to his determination, organization and willingness to help me cope with physical challenges.

Recently we packed up our van and joined other family and friends for the wedding of our youngest son and his intended at a ranch in Wyoming's Teton National Park. 

Afterwards we headed to Oregon's west coast and are now on our way along the California coast. We are enjoying van camping in gorgeous state campgrounds with rare stays at motels.

Hubby and me with Golden Gate Bridge in background

The Pacific coast terrain is not kind to my keeping my balance--or keeping control of my rollator. But what a joy that Hubby helps me experience the raw beauty of this environment so different from our Mississippi Gulf Coast!

Hubby's pattern of travel is him, me, the road, and intriguing environments and experiences. So this is sending best wishes to western blogging friends that I won't get to see in person and catching up on the posts of all blogging friends when WIFI is once again available. 

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Finances

One of the principles on finances that my parents drilled into me throughout my childhood was "Never, ever co-sign a loan with anyone." 

Hubby and I have followed that advice to our benefit.

In my teen years their admonitions of "Don't co-sign on loans" also included examples of the tribulations of friends and relatives who struggled financially when the individual they "helped out" couldn't make their monthly payments.

Those examples stayed with me.

But only when I was an adult did I realize that their financial principle passed down to me was from the Bible. 

Eventually two verses related to my parents' financial admonitions caught my attention.

Proverbs 11:15 NIV Whoever puts up security for a stranger will surely suffer, but whoever refuses to shake hands in pledge is safe. Proverbs 11:15 NIV 

As I started reading the Bible through each year, I found more of my parents' pithy sayings that came from the Bible.

Another verse of wisdom that has guided our decisions:

Romans 13:8 ESV Owe no one anything, except to love each other, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. Romans 13:8 ESV 

And our parents' stance on co-signing did not mean they ignored the financial or health challenges that friends and relatives faced.They found other ways of helping rather than totally assuming someone else's debt.

I am thankful for the firm foundation that our parents gave us.

 

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Creative Camping

July 4, 2019, in the Smokies was a hoot.

That summer for the first time, Hubby and I joined a coastal Mississippi contingent of more than 40 relatives and friends. 

We all booked campsites at Elkmont Campground in the Great Smoky Mountain National Park for July 4th week.

A nephew and his fellow firemen whipped up delicious breakfasts and suppers with others in the group contributing tasty sides and desserts.

The Independence Day rule that year was to join the group costumed as an American icon, whether real, fictional or non-human. 

Lady Liberty, Hollywood stars, fast-food items and well-known TV characters were among costumed campers gathered for breakfast, photos and a morning parade through the campground. 

Son Walt as the wrestler Rick Flair

Marilyn Monroe, AKA daughter-in-law Sarah, works on

our grandaughter Stella's braid for her Wizard of Oz character Dorothy. 

Nephew Ryan (right), as exercise guru Richard Simmons, leads the parade of campers.

Sister-in-law Anita with her husband and offspring

Anita came as a Brownie complete with the authentic beanie. Her costume choice triggered memories of days in the second grade when my mother and other moms volunteered to lead me and my friends in crafts and adventures. 

Eagle Scout and Rosie the Riveter

That's me as Rosie the Riveter next to my Eagle Scout. Never did get Rosie's polka dot head gear tied right!

Hubby joined his sister in the Scouting theme. He actually is an Eagle Scout. He earned all those merit badges on his sash during his youthful scouting years. 

When 2020 rolled around, everyone congregated in Elkmont again. With COVID uncertainties, plans were fluid. That held for the 2021 Smoky's gathering, too.

Several things didn't change, though--good food, good fellowship and good fun!

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Post Surgery

It has been a week since I had what had been discussed as  "minor" surgery with assurances that after a morning surgery and an overnight hospital stay I would likely be up and about.

Today is exactly one week post surgery. I am just now beginning to get past my zombie state. The hour drive home from the hospital was a clue that I was not likely to be up and about as quickly as I had anticipated. 

When I partially surfaced from a drugged sleep upon our arrival home, Hubby was faced with a wife with the strength of a cooked spaghetti noodle. I do recall him getting me into my transporter and into our house then into bed.

I am finally mostly off of pain pills. I am back to using my rollater to walk a little more each day. And my trusty iPhone has recorded my mileage from 0.11 mile Thursday to today's count of one mile.

Hubby has been a wonderful caregiver, helping me meet personal needs, safely move about a bit and tempting my mostly nonexistent appetite.

And finally the brain fog has mostly lifted! 

I'm thinking my surgeon had rarely, if ever, operated on a patient with disabilities from stroke similar to mine. But through it all, every individual we encountered was great--helpful, friendly, caring. That held true whether they were medical or clerical or the guy who pushed me in the wheelchair out to our vehicle.

And before I went into surgery, my surgeon asked if he could pray. Of course I said yes. I had already been praying for him, his team, Hubby and me.

That was a welcomed first for me. I would love to know if others have had that experience with a doctor!

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Honey Island Swamp

Having a retired editor for a husband comes in extra handy for this blogger.

 

After reading my earlier post, he pointed out that I had failed to offer a clear description of where Honey Island Swamp is located in Louisiana. An attempt to craft a clearer description of its location smacked me with the realization I had no idea. I had just ASSUMED I knew! (To the uninitiated, it is about 35 miles north-northeast of New Orleans just east of Slidell.)

A visit to Wikipedia provided specifics:

The Honey Island Swamp (French: Marais de l'Île-de-Miel) is a marshland located in the eastern portion of the U.S. state of Louisiana in St. Tammany Parish. Honey Island earned its name due to the abundance of honey bees once seen on a nearby isle.

The swamp is bordered on the north by U.S. 11, on the south by Lake Borgne, on the east by the Pearl River and the west by the West Pearl River. The swamp is located within the Pearl River wildlife management area and managed by the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries.

It is one of the least-altered river swamps in the United States. Considered by many to be one of the most pristine swampland habitats in the United States, the Honey Island Swamp covers an area that is over 20 miles (30 km) long and nearly 7 miles (10 km) across, with 35,619 of its 70,000 acres (280 km²) government sanctioned as permanently protected wildlife area.

My family's Friday afternoon departures to the houseboat years ago took us down U.S. 11 from Hattiesburg. When we crossed what we called East Pearl River my excitement ratcheted up. I knew at that point we had crossed from Mississippi to Louisiana and we were getting close to our destination. 

But I never realized from East Pearl River to West Pearl River everything on our south side was Honey Island Swamp.

There are so many gaps in specifics from my younger years. I just accepted everything the adults in my life told me about the world around me and the lives of my parents and older relatives. I rarely pursued the details. Now I would love to know more. Those details I do remember of their life experiences are treasures.

Blogging is one way I am attempting to save memories both ordinary and special. What are your strategies?

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Thanks for the Memories!

"Another Bee Adventure" at Linda's Life Journal was an intriguing post that brought memories of a dear elderly but active family friend. 

Mr. Ford kept bees in Louisiana's Honey Island Swamp near where his three-room houseboat and my family's single room houseboat were tied up on west Pearl River. 

He never used protective gear. He said the occasional stings helped his arthritis. 

I was a curious five-year-old, and he was extra patient with my dogging his steps and pelting him with questions. He never agreed to take me to his bee hives, but he did give me just about free rein with all his many other projects. 

A favorite memory was of when he hatched a bunch of quail eggs and hen eggs. He had the baby quails in one huge cardboard box and the chicken biddies in another. He let me cuddle them and play with them.

He graciously accepted my dubbing the fluffy little quails as cowboys and the biddies as Indians. it was a time of innocence before political correctness changed the nomenclature. And it was before I was aware of his struggles with alcohol that drove him away from his home and family.

I was much older and he had passed on before that knowledge came my way, bringing both sorrow for his losses and admiration of his building a life that included friendship and  generosity toward a shy youngster.

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3rd Annual Group Smoky Mountain Camping

Family and friends at Elkmont Campground

Hubby and I joined relatives and friends for a week of camping and EATING at Elkmont Campground in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park last week.

We are the red-shirted couple in the photo, obviously the oldest campers there. With more than 30 in the group, we weren't the only ones who were joining the fun in spite of health challenges, though. 

But Hubby's compression sock mandated by a circulation issue and the obvious effects of my 2011 hemorrhagic stroke that affected my left side, the "youngsters" of all ages were ever alert and eager to help us oldsters. 

That helpfulness ratcheted up to an even more intensive level when Hubby came down with an intestinal bug. Tammy, a nurse in the group, sent over some medicine. 

Amy, another camper picked up some Pedialyte during an outing. Our niece contributed Pepto Bismol chewable tablets. 

Hubby's sister delivered all those helpful items. Hubby's brother and wife checked on us regularly.

And without their parents' knowledge, Miles and Cooper, the two youngest campers in the group, rode their bikes over to our campsite to check on us. Hubby was zonked out, but I was awake and charmed.

We are latecomers to this group of campers, but it is clear that Miles and Cooper have absorbed the example of awareness and caring for others that is characteristic of the adults in this group. 

P.S. The white tent behind us was "ground zero" for lots of great food and laughter. 

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Blessings?

Lately I find myself forgetting what item or items I’m going after when I navigate my rollator from our all-purpose room to another room. 

There is an upside, though, to the aggravation of repeated trips. Each trip adds to the mileage recorded on my iPhone. That helps me meet my goal of walking more than a mile a day. And that's a blessing.

The day I started this post was a 1.2 mile day. Not great but not bad for a stormy day with heavy rain and lots of thunder and lightening that limited me to walking circuits inside our two-bedroom home. 

 When Hubby and I make it to a walking track or another outdoor space that has easy-to-navigate surfaces, I can usually make it well beyond that 1.2 mile total for the day.

A side effect of this walking activity has also created an urge I can't seem to resist--to check my iPhone throughout the day for my latest mileage.

At least that iPhone addiction keeps me moving. That's another blessing.

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Flashback

One of Mad Snapper's posts wowed me once again at her facility and enjoyment of discovering and mastering new ways to enhance her blog posts. 

Her visual experiments make me laugh, see unexpected beauty, call forth a tear or see fascinating facets of what would otherwise be considered ordinary.

My admiration and--I confess, envy--stirred up memories of a time in my life when I was in awe of my female in-laws and cousins and quite envious of their outstanding skills in all categories culinary, crafting, home decorating and creating designer worthy apparel.

I recognized and secretly bemoaned the fact that my homemaking skills fell far, far short of those of my cousins and in-laws.  

I tried, Oh, did I ever try. It was a matter of emotional survival at the time. 

But my culinary skills were barely at the survival level. Our young sons did love the "not-from-a-can Sloppy Joes" I fed them on Saturday nights when Hubby was shepherding a Sunday morning newspaper edition to publication. 

But organizing and getting meals on the table in a timely fashion was definitely not one of my strengths. 

My successes sewing my own clothes disappeared in the early years of marriage after I realized my spouse had a better handle on what looked best on me than I did. 

So I only approached my sewing machine for minor garment repairs. It languished while Hubby and I shopped the ready-made offerings at department stores and dress shops.

And I would much rather read than continue lame attempts at creating the crafted items similar to those that graced the homes of my relatives.

I was just the odd duckling among all my skilled relatives.

Finally, though, it dawned on me that I was in a unique position with an attribute that not one of my talented and skillful relatives and in-laws was exhibiting. 

They were all so accomplished that they usually accepted each other's accomplishments with interest but little fanfare.

I, however, was always looking forward to seeing--or tasting--what they would create next, whether delicious meals and desserts, designer-worthy clothing, handcrafted jewelry, or other amazing handcrafts. 

My enthusiasm for their talents was spontaneous. I couldn't contain it. 

Eventually my contribution to the family talent pool became clear to me: The Appreciator. And I was really good at it!

Decades have passed. Appreciating is still my role, and I relish it. 

No need to measure up. Just do my job and keep enjoying the fruits of their talents!

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July 2020: In Spite of COVID

Traditional photo with son Walt and his family before they head for home

Hubby and I gathered with a coastal Mississippi group of campers in July 2020 for a wonderful time of family, friends, food and fun in the Smoky Mountains.

Our oldest son and family joined us for three days of the 11 days we were camping in the national park's campgrounds.

Selfies may be our new tradition.

After breakfast at the Log Cabin Pancake House in Gatlinburg, we went to the sign at the  entrance of the Great Smoky Mountain National Park to document our Smokies experience.

Then son and family left for home. Hubby and I returned to a campsite we had reserved for several more days. 

But age had caught up with us. Hubby announced he was tired and about ready to head home. 

I concurred. We left a note for Hubby's sister and brother so they wouldn't think we were abducted by aliens.

We pulled out and hit the road accompanied by great memories and an equally great pleasure anticipating the comforts of home.

UPDATE: We are planning another Smoky Mountains camping trip. I think Hubby and I are now the elders of the Mississippi Gulf Coast camping group. 

Here's hoping my energy doesn't fail me!

But just in case, I'm loading my iPad mini with reading material in addition to the digital versions of my various Bible translations.

Give me something to read and I'm a happy camper, regardless of circumstances. Well, except that night several years ago when a severe storm tore through the campground.

There was a sizable crowd gathered in the campground's outdoor theater for a ranger program. Since keeping my balance in low-light conditions is a challenge, Hubby had driven our van and parked across from the ranger station. 

We hiked across the bridge over Little River, made it up the paved path to the amphitheater and chose a spot down close to better see and hear.

The ranger arrived and started the program. Suddenly we heard a roar in the tops of the trees. A cyclonic wind hit. We joined the crowd scurrying out of the amphitheater.

We made it to our van. Hubby drove it close to the ranger station and parked. He had chosen the space farthest from trees for waiting out the weather front. 

I don't recall any injuries or major damage in the campground, but our van was thoroughly rocked.

 

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A Good Dilemma

When someone asks what my favorite Bible verse is, I am at a loss. First of all, my memorization skills have diminished. But the real challenge is that wherever I am in my yearly read-through of the Bible, there are just too many verses to pick just one as THE FAVORITE.

It is rare that I fail to encounter verses that speak to me and fill me with awe, encouragement, peace or some new perception about God’s plan and continuing grace for me through the death and resurrection of Jesus my Savior. 

This is what I wrote after reading Romans 5:1-5 on June 8, 2016, almost five years and two months post-stroke:

"Peace with God through faith. I have read through this chapter dozens of times. I cherished it in an abstract way. But today as I started reading, it is designed for me--immediate, overwhelming, personal, concrete. I stopped at verse 5 to write. Verse 1 reaffirmed my salvation. Verses 2-5 detailed what I have experienced following my hemorrhagic stroke on Good Friday, April 20, 2011.

"Take Romans 5:2 as an example: Through Him we have also obtained this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God."

When I wrote that I was so thankful for being able to stand physically as well as spiritually through His grace. I’m still giving thanks for that every day. 

ROMANS 5:1-5 ESV Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

Yes!

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Reading Adventure

Last year when the Corona virus situation developed, I had reached John 17 on my New Testament reading list. That chapter included Jesus’ prayer before his arrest and crucifixion. 

He prayed for his disciples who had been with him in his earthly ministry and then prayed for those who would become Jesus followers without ever having seen him.

I guess I had just been reading that passage as I would read a story but had never before really grasped that those Jesus followers he mentioned after the "but also" referred to me personally and all others who believe but have never seen Jesus physically.

John 17:20-21New International Version reads “I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. John 17:20-21NIV

It was especially comforting as COVID-19 sparked mandated changes that swept through our lives.That experience confirms for me once again the absolute necessity for my reading through God's Word each year.

I am amazed at and thankful for how each year different Bible passages pop out for me. They flood my being with fresh and powerful perspectives just when I need help--for meeting current challenges, dealing with unexpected change or recognizing and eliminating bad habits and attitudes!

Reading the Bible through every year has become an adventure that I treasure.

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Exploring?

The turtle below is not the first box turtle to come up the ramp that leads to our entry door. It is the first, however, to detour onto the ledge adjacent to our screened porch.

When Hubby spotted this traveler, it was stalled. The ledge wasn't wide enough for a U-turn. And I don't think box turtles are equipped with a reverse gear. 

Hubby rescued the visitor after fulfilling my request for a few pictures with my iPhone. 

Wildlife around our home is really, really wild. Wild and sometimes weird.

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My Bad

In a May 17 post about my botox treatments, I attributed the absence of a photo of the actual injection to Hubby's squeamishness about needles.

I was wrong, wrong, wrong! In spite of his needle aversion, he did record the first of the injections on my left arm and hand before he escaped. About three days ago I saw the photo below on my iPhone.

Life enriching injection

When I saw it I apologized to Hubby for my erroneous post. I also realized that I, too, have an aversion to watching the actual administration of the Botox shots. 

That photo gives me the creeps!

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Childhood Influences

My elementary school years were filled with wonderful teachers who were a positive influence on my life.

Mrs. Collins, my fourth grade teacher, was one of my favorites. Looking back, I don’t think phonics was ever on the official curriculum at my school. 

That didn't stop Mrs. Collins. She taught phonics anyway with enthusiasm and a creative flair that often resulted in boisterous sessions filled with laughter and fun.

She introduced me to all sorts of mental tricks for spelling accurately. Her mnemonics helped me navigate the English language. 

Her enthusiasm nurtured my budding fascination with expression through the written word, and I soaked up her every word as gospel.

One afternoon she asked another girl and me to stay and help with some after-school tasks. We worked hard, thrilled to be asked. When we were finished we happily basked in our teacher’s praise and appreciation.

In those days I was an extremely skinny, shy, conscientious rule follower. Somewhere along the way that year, I had gotten the impression that at the end of the school day, we were supposed to take every single one of our textbooks home and study. 

For weeks my school day ended with me packing my book bag and lugging all my textbooks the five or six blocks home. That day, though, I blurted “Could I leave some of my textbooks in my desk?”

“Oh, honey, you don’t need to take all your books home,” Mrs. Collins said, and gave me a hug. I listened, stunned, as she explained that she had been encouraging those students who NEVER took a book home and regularly failed to complete homework assignments. 

I went home happy that day with no textbooks, just a couple of books I was reading for fun. Those for-fun books were nearly as hefty as some of our textbooks. 

But they didn’t seem to weigh anything at all!

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