Posts Tagged ‘rural charm’

Pyracantha ViewI like to think my garden is charmed.  Some things actually grow and flourish in spite of harsh sun, drought, flooding rains and winds, all encompassing weeds, and benign neglect.

Our  Pyracantha, alias Firethorn,  is a prime example.

There are actually two of these standing near to each other but one has never bloomed.

I am assuming the boring one is the female (who is no doubt working too hard to be bothered with beauty).

After all, only the male of any species is stunningly adorned, right?

Anyway, the Magnificent Male bush next to its unattractive female companion is sometimes striking for its rusty red berries.  Perhaps that is its only job – to look good.  But in all these years we have never seen such magnificent white blossoms in Spring.

I am convinced this is the male version of plant attraction.

What do you think?

Pretty Pyracantha 1


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This is Photo Story #4 for the Five Photos, Five Stories challenge.  The rules are to post a photo a day for five consecutive days and attach a story to the photo.  It can be fiction or non-fiction, a poem or a short paragraph.  Oh yes,  and each day nominate another blogger for the challenge.  Today I nominate Ana of Celebrating Sunshine, who has a blog that shines with a truly happy outlook on life. 

A Walk on the Wild Side - Our Forest

Beyond my home there is a forest glen

where hoof prints and purple shadows

 line a path of dappled shade and sun

deep with a woodland reverie.

Come upon a rustic bench for resting

a place where you can think unfurled.

Sit there,

where you can hear the world.

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A deck-side view holds me still and admiring

a waning Shenandoah summer.

Is it really time to take the umbrella down?

One more day.  One more day.

Fading Summer

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Cow Watcher

Who’s Watching Who? Or Whom?

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Maybe if I crouch down low enough she won’t see me!

I See You

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full service gas 2

I wonder how many people have heard of a full-service gas station.   

In the old days all stations were like that.

 Real people washed your windshield (front and back),

filled your gas tank, and you never had to leave your car.

Believe it or not, there is just such a station at my local Farmer’s Co-op.  The sign at the station says “Please Do Not Leave Your Car.  An Attendant Will Help You.”

There is a sense of relaxation there – no hurry.  Folks talk to each other.  It’s a  friendly comfortable place where everybody knows your name and includes true Customer Service in a Do-It-Yourself Age.   Why one winter I even gave homemade peanut brittle to the attendants to thank them for their dedication through a frigid weather.

“What a treat,” I thought as I enjoyed the whole luxurious full service experience for the first time and immediately decided never to buy gasoline anywhere else and became an exclusive, devoted, and happily dependent customer for 25 years!  And that momentous decision changed my life in a profound and unusual way with unexpected negative results.

Today I have only a vague idea how to gas up my own car, and I panic as I drive in unfamiliar territory.

A Relic at the Gas Pump

The result of decades of never pumping is I am probably extinct – a relic of another age after the horse and buggy but before cell phones and in the middle of Customer Service (the way “service station” service should have remained).  Do you know anyone who cannot pump their own gas?  Not likely.

True Confession

I now realize I am technologically challenged and nervously confused whenever I have to “fill ‘er up.”

fuel guage

Did you know that full-service gas stations are not available in every town in America?  Picture this:  A very nervous lady struggling to get her gas cap off, pushing all the buttons available, studying the prompts, and on the verge of tears.  Finally some extra expert gas pumper person (ranging from age 8 to 80) comes to the rescue.  People are nice.  They really are.  Most anyway, feel sympathy for pathetic mortification.

The thing is, this Last-of-the-Pampered-Few actually experiences stage fright with sweaty palms, nausea, and the urge to run, requiring deep gulping breaths to prepare for the ordeal at the pump.

Like fingerprints, every pump is different and of course

 each one presents a major problem for the inept.

As it is, when forced to face terror at the pump, I am keenly aware that everyone in the station knows! Are they all snickering as I struggle to understand what to do next?  Yes, I do understand “insert nozzle,” but that’s about all. Lift lever?  What lever? Where?  Begin pumping?  How?

I know this sounds ridiculous to you veteran gas pumpers.   I confess it was a huge mistake to enjoy the luxury of full service all these years and a serious error in judgment that spawned this embarrassing phobia.  On the “up side”, at least my struggles generate laughter among Those Who Know.  There is evidently humor in helplessness, and Now You Know Too!  Uh Oh!

But  there is a glimmer of hope since for the past five years Bill has been saying, “You can do this. Keep trying! There’s nothing to it.”

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Rural Church and Hay Bales 2

In A Country Church

Here in this little country church
Where peace has found a home
I am the only person here
Though quite happy on my own.

I am not a man to pray
Not of the religious kind
But something I have seen today
Will long live in my mind.

Rows of timber seats spotless clean
An altar gleaming white
And window glass stained blue and green
Take glare out of sunlight.

Somewhere in this World today
A new born baby cries
And somewhere in a battlefield far, far away
A wounded soldier dies.

How come we the human breed
Cannot live in peace together
Is it jealousy or greed
That makes us fight each other?

Even the longest life is brief
Short will be our stay
And death will come just like a thief
And from us take life away.

Silence and peace ‘twould seem to me
Has found a place to hide
In little church by wooded hill
In peaceful countryside.

I have found something in here
I’ve never had before
Something that may disappear
When I walk out the door.

Francis Duggan

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Barn Beauty 2

Isn’t she lovely?  Reminds me of a song!   I do love the way the owners painted this sweet little barn in white and then added contrasting blue trim.  Maybe it was a woman artist.

There is pride in evidence, but  I think this barn is no longer in use.

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