What is the true meaning of Christmas? That is a question that has been debated for decades. Peace on Earth, good will to men … how do you accomplish these with today’s fractured families? Families are spread from one end of the continent to another and by illness, divorce, and just plain age difference.
How do we keep the perspective of the Christ child when there is so much greed in the world? So much terrorism? Christmas has become a commercialized holiday with the slogan being, “More, more, more.” Television commercials start to bombard us well before Halloween and they continue right up until Christmas day, bypassing Thanksgiving all together.
I know it is natural for kids to think of Christmas in a material way. Heaven knows, my girls are the same way, but how to parents separate the true meaning from the commercial meaning? There is a fine line to follow between the two
First, children need to be taught when they are young that the Christmas season symbolizes the birth of Jesus. They learn this in the home and during Sunday school. My girls know all about Baby Jesus and the birth story, but does this help them forget about Santa and presents? No, but at least they know the reason for the season. Once children have become school age, their attention turns to Santa and how many toys they will receive under the Christmas tree. Public school systems are not allowed to teach the religious implications of Christmas, so it is up to parents to provide reinforcement.
Second, parents need to participate, with their children, in religious ceremonies during the holiday season. Our church has an Advent service to usher in the holiday. From the hanging of the greens, to the Advent flags, to the joyous sounds of the choir, our Christmas would seem empty without this traditional service. We also like to attend a living Nativity at a local church. There is something wonderful about visiting a living Nativity and imagining what it was like to live in the days of Jesus. Of course, on Christmas Eve we attend a quiet church service, as a family. After opening mounds of presents at Nana and Papa’s house, we go to a simple candle light service and observe the Lord’s Supper. Of course, after church we head to MaMaw’s house for more presents, but the point is, we try to incorporate the religious with the commercial so the girls don’t think Christmas is all toys and gifts.
Just before bedtime on Christmas Eve, we leave the cookies and Mountain Dew for Santa and carrots for the reindeer, but we always add a special touch. Every since my 19 year old daughter – Amber – was a baby, we have left a piece of birthday cake, complete with a birthday candle, for the Baby Jesus. This may seem like a silly thing to do, but it is a religious tradition my family counts on each year.
Another thing parents can do is help their children participate in activities that help other people. Every year, we faithfully give to the Harrodsburg Love Tree. It is interesting when you take your child shopping for a toy to be given away. O course, they always want the toy for themselves, but after explaining there may be some children who don’t get any presents for Christmas; your kids will quickly get in the spirit. There is also the opportunity of giving by participating in the Angel Tree or Toys for Tots programs. You can go as a family and pick out presents for one certain child, or an entire family. Children also love donating food to the Mountain of Love or the Christian Life Center. This makes them feel useful, and special, and it helps to show them giving can be just as fun as getting. I know my youngest daughter has become attached to an elderly lady who lives across the street from her Mamaw, and every year at Christmas, Christine wants to give her a little something. It makes a parent feel proud when their children start to care about giving to other people. Of course, this is the same child who has a Christmas list two pages long, but she is leaning that giving is important.
I know the commercialization of Christmas will never stop, but if families work together, maybe they can control the greed, just a little, and be able to teach their children a valuable lesson. And even though my youngest still wants all the latest toys under the tree, just yesterday she told me, “Mommy, Christmas is for giving”. Maybe I haven’t done such a bad job parenting after all.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, December 2006
Saturday, December 2, 2006
Sunday, July 2, 2006
Daddy - Daughter Date Night
Keith and Christine recently had a special “daddy-daughter” date night by going to Cincinniati to see a rock concert. Sugarcult—Christine’s current favorite band—was playing at a small arena and tickets were very reasonably priced. Christine was so excited, and Keith went thru pure heck to be able to take her.
Because the concert was on a Friday night, it was still a work day for Keith. Normal work days for Keith are 9 to 6 with him getting home sometime between 8 and 9, depending on the day. On this particular day, he switched shifts with a videographer from the night shift, so the day of the concert he had to get up at 2 a.m. and be to work by 4. By the time he got home it was two in the afternoon, so he only had time for a short nap before they had to leave the house again. Between the Diet Mt. Dew, caffeine pills and caffeine gum, he was determined to take Christine to the concert and they were going to have a great time.
Naturally, I was worried the entire time they were gone. I worried that Keith hadn’t had enough rest. I worried they would be in a wreck or worse. Normally, when there is a concert, I would be with Keith and Christine, but recently, my anxiety has been preventing me from being in large groups of people. I don’t know why I worry more about them when I’m not with them than I do when I’m with them. Does that make sense?
Anyway, I got a voice mail from Keith about 8:30, and they were already at the arena and they were already talking with some members of the band. It sounded like they were having a great time. I couldn’t wait until they got back home to tell me the whole story.
While they were gone, I worked in the yard. I’m totally seeing my front garden in a new light. The front yard garden should be very eye catching and contain samples of plantings from all over my yard. I learned this recently when I was admiring a new spring store display at the Shaker Village Craft Store. The wonderful display was fresh and pretty and put me in the mood to redecorate. To the average customer, this is just a pretty display set up for people to look at, but working behind the scenes, I realized, this display exhibited a wide range of the items sold in the gift shop.
This is how I see my yard—a one acre lot surrounded by native shrubbery with numerouse gardens interspersed throughout. I have a shoe garden, a rock garden, a prayer garden, a veggie garden, a treehouse garden; I could go on and on. So, my front garden should be a colleage of all the gardens on our property. I settled in for an afternoon of planning, dreaming and digging in the front garden. Little did I know that another family would greatly limite my ability to concentrate on particular areas of the front garden.
The Robin family had decided the make the English Ivy growing up the anchoring wire to a utitlity pole near out mailbox their home for the summer. I first discovered the nest when Kieth was helping me prune the ivy into shape. I want the ivy to grow all the way up the wire, but it has stopped half way up and is now growing back down to the ground. This makes a wonderful cascade of English ivy, but it needed the dead wood removed and be pruned into shape. Keith pointed out the next to me while I was up on the ladder, so I had the bird’s eye view—four baby blule Roin eggs tucked all together in the next. I immediately quite pruning the ivy; that project will just have to wait until the baby’s have flown the nest.
I remember the summer of Junie B. Jones—the mother wren that raised her young ones in the hanging basket on our front porch—and I started to get warm fuzzy thoughts about how much fun Christine and I had while watching the life span of her children. This year, Christine is too old to have much interest in the gardens, so I’m usually alone in the garden with no one to enjoy the little treasures I discover every time I am outside. But that’s okay, I still enjoy being outdoors and maybe one day, I’ll have grandkids to enjoy the gardens with. I decided that I would chronicle the lives of Ms. Robin and her family
© Bobbi Rightmyer, July 2006
Because the concert was on a Friday night, it was still a work day for Keith. Normal work days for Keith are 9 to 6 with him getting home sometime between 8 and 9, depending on the day. On this particular day, he switched shifts with a videographer from the night shift, so the day of the concert he had to get up at 2 a.m. and be to work by 4. By the time he got home it was two in the afternoon, so he only had time for a short nap before they had to leave the house again. Between the Diet Mt. Dew, caffeine pills and caffeine gum, he was determined to take Christine to the concert and they were going to have a great time.
Naturally, I was worried the entire time they were gone. I worried that Keith hadn’t had enough rest. I worried they would be in a wreck or worse. Normally, when there is a concert, I would be with Keith and Christine, but recently, my anxiety has been preventing me from being in large groups of people. I don’t know why I worry more about them when I’m not with them than I do when I’m with them. Does that make sense?
Anyway, I got a voice mail from Keith about 8:30, and they were already at the arena and they were already talking with some members of the band. It sounded like they were having a great time. I couldn’t wait until they got back home to tell me the whole story.
While they were gone, I worked in the yard. I’m totally seeing my front garden in a new light. The front yard garden should be very eye catching and contain samples of plantings from all over my yard. I learned this recently when I was admiring a new spring store display at the Shaker Village Craft Store. The wonderful display was fresh and pretty and put me in the mood to redecorate. To the average customer, this is just a pretty display set up for people to look at, but working behind the scenes, I realized, this display exhibited a wide range of the items sold in the gift shop.
This is how I see my yard—a one acre lot surrounded by native shrubbery with numerouse gardens interspersed throughout. I have a shoe garden, a rock garden, a prayer garden, a veggie garden, a treehouse garden; I could go on and on. So, my front garden should be a colleage of all the gardens on our property. I settled in for an afternoon of planning, dreaming and digging in the front garden. Little did I know that another family would greatly limite my ability to concentrate on particular areas of the front garden.
The Robin family had decided the make the English Ivy growing up the anchoring wire to a utitlity pole near out mailbox their home for the summer. I first discovered the nest when Kieth was helping me prune the ivy into shape. I want the ivy to grow all the way up the wire, but it has stopped half way up and is now growing back down to the ground. This makes a wonderful cascade of English ivy, but it needed the dead wood removed and be pruned into shape. Keith pointed out the next to me while I was up on the ladder, so I had the bird’s eye view—four baby blule Roin eggs tucked all together in the next. I immediately quite pruning the ivy; that project will just have to wait until the baby’s have flown the nest.
I remember the summer of Junie B. Jones—the mother wren that raised her young ones in the hanging basket on our front porch—and I started to get warm fuzzy thoughts about how much fun Christine and I had while watching the life span of her children. This year, Christine is too old to have much interest in the gardens, so I’m usually alone in the garden with no one to enjoy the little treasures I discover every time I am outside. But that’s okay, I still enjoy being outdoors and maybe one day, I’ll have grandkids to enjoy the gardens with. I decided that I would chronicle the lives of Ms. Robin and her family
© Bobbi Rightmyer, July 2006
Thursday, June 8, 2006
Pippin
Our family recently added a new member to our fold and our lives have been turned upside down—literally. Pippin is the new family dog, an Australian Shepherd mix, who was eight weeks old when she came to live with us in April. It did not take long for Pippin to wiggle her way into our hearts, but we forgot how much work a puppy can actually be.
Since we lost Pebbles at the first of the year, our life has had a small void we had not been able to fill. We did not want to jump right into having another dog, so Christine had been researching dog breeds to try and find the perfect dog for our family. She had narrowed her choices down to a Chow or an Australian Shepherd; they are supposed to be excellent family dogs. Christine was adamant that she wanted a larger dog, like Pebbles was. She loves her Nana and Papa’s Yorkie—Tyler—and her cousin Ethan’s dauchsand—Ellie—Christine had her heart set on a dog that could run with her in the yard and go on long walks.
My main requirement for a dog was one that was easily house-broken and would be a great guard dog. I always felt safe at home alone with Pebbles, because she was alert to strangers and anything out of the ordinary. I think Keith’s main requirement was to have a dog that was easily trainable and would come whenever he would whistle. Even though our hearts ached for Pebbles, we wanted to take our time before jumping in with a new dog.
That is, until one weekday when I was home alone and I received a terrible scare. I had worked nine days in a row with no days off, so I was spending my only day off cleaning house. It was late afternoon on a Wednesday and I was up on the step ladder cleaning out the top cabinets in my kitchen, when the doorbell rang. Since I’m not used to having company during the week, I couldn’t imagine who could be at the door. I climbed down off the ladder and brushed my hands on my dirty house-cleaning clothes as I walked to the front door.
When I opened the door, my stomach knotted up and I had a hundred thoughts go through my head—all in the matter of two or three seconds. The person at my door was someone from my sister’s past, and definitely not the person I wanted to see at my door. I went from shock to terror to hysteria all in the matter of those few seconds. I didn’t know if this person had a gun or knife—I thought he was going to kill me. My brain could not comprehend that this person had the nerve to show up at my house. I had the screen door locked and I was screaming at this person to get away from me and my house. I was in a state of panic and all I could keep thinking was that if Pebbles were still alive, she would have torn into him. Pebbles never did like this person and she had scared him away from the house several times over the past few years.
The man did leave without causing any problems, but I was still hysterical. I ran around the house to make sure all the doors and windows were locked, and it took me two tries to finally dial Keith’s phone number. He was able to calm me down slightly on the phone—at least I was able to talk without crying when we finally hung up the phone. It was time for Christine to be getting home from school, so I drove my car to the bus stop because I was afraid for her to walk the short distance to our home. Once she was in the car safely, we went to my mom’s to spend the rest of the afternoon. When we left mom’s house, I took Christine to the Mercer Public Library and she checked out two books—one on Chows and one on Australian Shepherds.
I truly believe in Divine intervention and if God wants something to happen for a family then everything will fall into place. I think God knew how scared I was without a guard dog, so he set a series of things into motion. Number one, the books Christine checked out of the library. Number two, the next day, I got to watch the Noon News while eating lunch and WLEX always has a dog from the Humane Society at the end of the 12:30. Guess what kind of dog was featured on this particular day? An Australia Shepherd puppy. During that one moment, I realized that God was pointing out the next Rightmyer dog. I immediately called Keith at work, but as luck would have it, he was not at the TV station to see the puppy. He did call the Humane Society and found out that out of a litter of eight, they had four of the puppies ready for adoption. Even though Keith had to jump through a bunch of hoops that day, God seemed to be lending a hand because each time Keith thought the puppy adoption would not go through, another option would present itself.
So, twenty four hours after the scare of my life, our family was the proud owner of a new puppy. I know it will be a year or more before Pippin will become a guard dog, just having another dog in the house already makes me feel at ease. Christine has taken over the main duties of caring for and training up Pippin, but Keith and I still have to “baby-sit” because we all forgot how much energy a little puppy can have.
As the three of us get used to sharing our home with our new four legged friend, there are three other members of our home that are having a little more difficulty adjusting. Mudball and—Earl or Frankie, depending on if you’re talking to Keith or Christine—are our two male cats, who are brothers that turned a year old in April. They are adjusting more smoothly than our older cat, Sassy. She has been the rule of the roost and it takes her much longer to warm up to new people, or in our case, a new pet. For the first two weeks, Sassy spent most of her days in the bathroom, hiding from the world. She would only venture out after Pippin had gone to bed with Christine.
A new puppy in the house, maybe we are crazy, but I like to think that it was Divine intervention. God seemed to know that there was something missing in our lives and our home. Christine now has a new best friend and we have a guard dog in training. All is right with the world, but if you’ll excuse me, Pippin is chewing on my work shoes again.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, June 2006
Since we lost Pebbles at the first of the year, our life has had a small void we had not been able to fill. We did not want to jump right into having another dog, so Christine had been researching dog breeds to try and find the perfect dog for our family. She had narrowed her choices down to a Chow or an Australian Shepherd; they are supposed to be excellent family dogs. Christine was adamant that she wanted a larger dog, like Pebbles was. She loves her Nana and Papa’s Yorkie—Tyler—and her cousin Ethan’s dauchsand—Ellie—Christine had her heart set on a dog that could run with her in the yard and go on long walks.
My main requirement for a dog was one that was easily house-broken and would be a great guard dog. I always felt safe at home alone with Pebbles, because she was alert to strangers and anything out of the ordinary. I think Keith’s main requirement was to have a dog that was easily trainable and would come whenever he would whistle. Even though our hearts ached for Pebbles, we wanted to take our time before jumping in with a new dog.
That is, until one weekday when I was home alone and I received a terrible scare. I had worked nine days in a row with no days off, so I was spending my only day off cleaning house. It was late afternoon on a Wednesday and I was up on the step ladder cleaning out the top cabinets in my kitchen, when the doorbell rang. Since I’m not used to having company during the week, I couldn’t imagine who could be at the door. I climbed down off the ladder and brushed my hands on my dirty house-cleaning clothes as I walked to the front door.
When I opened the door, my stomach knotted up and I had a hundred thoughts go through my head—all in the matter of two or three seconds. The person at my door was someone from my sister’s past, and definitely not the person I wanted to see at my door. I went from shock to terror to hysteria all in the matter of those few seconds. I didn’t know if this person had a gun or knife—I thought he was going to kill me. My brain could not comprehend that this person had the nerve to show up at my house. I had the screen door locked and I was screaming at this person to get away from me and my house. I was in a state of panic and all I could keep thinking was that if Pebbles were still alive, she would have torn into him. Pebbles never did like this person and she had scared him away from the house several times over the past few years.
The man did leave without causing any problems, but I was still hysterical. I ran around the house to make sure all the doors and windows were locked, and it took me two tries to finally dial Keith’s phone number. He was able to calm me down slightly on the phone—at least I was able to talk without crying when we finally hung up the phone. It was time for Christine to be getting home from school, so I drove my car to the bus stop because I was afraid for her to walk the short distance to our home. Once she was in the car safely, we went to my mom’s to spend the rest of the afternoon. When we left mom’s house, I took Christine to the Mercer Public Library and she checked out two books—one on Chows and one on Australian Shepherds.
I truly believe in Divine intervention and if God wants something to happen for a family then everything will fall into place. I think God knew how scared I was without a guard dog, so he set a series of things into motion. Number one, the books Christine checked out of the library. Number two, the next day, I got to watch the Noon News while eating lunch and WLEX always has a dog from the Humane Society at the end of the 12:30. Guess what kind of dog was featured on this particular day? An Australia Shepherd puppy. During that one moment, I realized that God was pointing out the next Rightmyer dog. I immediately called Keith at work, but as luck would have it, he was not at the TV station to see the puppy. He did call the Humane Society and found out that out of a litter of eight, they had four of the puppies ready for adoption. Even though Keith had to jump through a bunch of hoops that day, God seemed to be lending a hand because each time Keith thought the puppy adoption would not go through, another option would present itself.
So, twenty four hours after the scare of my life, our family was the proud owner of a new puppy. I know it will be a year or more before Pippin will become a guard dog, just having another dog in the house already makes me feel at ease. Christine has taken over the main duties of caring for and training up Pippin, but Keith and I still have to “baby-sit” because we all forgot how much energy a little puppy can have.
As the three of us get used to sharing our home with our new four legged friend, there are three other members of our home that are having a little more difficulty adjusting. Mudball and—Earl or Frankie, depending on if you’re talking to Keith or Christine—are our two male cats, who are brothers that turned a year old in April. They are adjusting more smoothly than our older cat, Sassy. She has been the rule of the roost and it takes her much longer to warm up to new people, or in our case, a new pet. For the first two weeks, Sassy spent most of her days in the bathroom, hiding from the world. She would only venture out after Pippin had gone to bed with Christine.
A new puppy in the house, maybe we are crazy, but I like to think that it was Divine intervention. God seemed to know that there was something missing in our lives and our home. Christine now has a new best friend and we have a guard dog in training. All is right with the world, but if you’ll excuse me, Pippin is chewing on my work shoes again.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, June 2006
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Mrs. Robin Red-Breast
Keith and Christine recently had a special “daddy-daughter” date night by going to Cincinnati to see a rock concert. Sugarcult—Christine’s current favorite bands—was playing at a small college and tickets were very reasonably priced. Christine was so excited, and Keith went through pure heck to be able to take her.
Because the concert was on a Friday night, it was still a work day for Keith. Normal workdays for Keith are mornings with him getting home sometime between 8 and 9, depending on the day. On this particular day, he switched shifts with a videographer from the night shift, so the day of the concert he had to get up at 2 a.m. and be to work by 4. By the time he got home it was two in the afternoon, so he only had time for a short nap before they had to leave the house again. Between the Diet Mt. Dew, caffeine pills and caffeine gum, he was determined to take Christine to the concert and they were going to have a great time.
Naturally, I was worried the entire time they were gone. I worried that Keith hadn’t had enough rest. I worried they would be in a wreck or worse. Normally, when there is a concert, I would be with Keith and Christine, but recently, my anxiety has been preventing me from being in large groups of people. I don’t know why I worry more about them when I’m not with them than I do when I’m with them. Does that make sense?
Anyway, I got a voice mail from Keith about 8:30, and they were already at the arena and they were already talking with some members of the band. It sounded like they were having a great time. I couldn’t wait until they got back home to tell me the whole story
While they were gone, I worked in the yard. I’m totally seeing my front garden in a new light. The front yard garden should be very eye-catching and contain samples of plantings from all over my yard. I learned this recently when I was admiring a new spring store display at the Shaker Village Craft Store. The wonderful display was fresh and pretty and put me in the mood to redecorate. To the average customer, this is just a pretty display set up for people to look at, but working behind the scenes, I realized, this display exhibited a wide range of the items sold in the gift shop.
This is how I see my yard—a one acre lot surrounded by native shrubbery with numerous gardens interspersed throughout. I have a shoe garden, a rock garden, a prayer garden, a veggie garden, a treehouse garden; I could go on and on. So, my front garden should be a collage of all the gardens on our property. I settled in for an afternoon of planning, dreaming and digging in the dirt. Little did I know that another family would greatly limit my ability to concentrate on particular areas of the front garden.
The Robin family had decided to make the English Ivy growing up the anchoring wire to a utility pole near our mailbox their home for the summer. I first discovered the nest when Keith was helping me prune the ivy into shape. I want the ivy to grow all the way up the wire, but it has stopped halfway up and is now growing back down to the ground. This makes a wonderful cascade of English ivy, but I wanted the dead wood removed and it needed to be pruned into shape. Keith pointed out the nest to me while I was up on the ladder, so I had the bird’s eye view—four baby blue robin eggs tucked all together in the next. I immediately quit pruning the ivy; that project will just have to wait until the babies have flown the nest.
I remember the summer of Junie B. Jones—the mother wren that raised her young ones in the hanging basket on our front porch—and I started to get warm fuzzy thoughts about how much fun Christine and I had while watching the life span of the wren’s children. This year, Christine is too old to have much interest in the gardens, so I’m usually alone in the garden with no one to enjoy the little treasures I discover every time I am outside. But that’s okay, I still enjoy being outdoors and maybe one day, I’ll have grandkids to enjoy the gardens with. I decided that I would chronicle the lives of Ms. Robin and her family.
Two weeks after finding the robin’s nest with eggs, three of the eggs hatched. The little featherless birds were so ugly and so totally dependent on their mother and father. The good thing about robins is that the pair of them helps with the baby care. With most other birds, the male leaves the care of babies to the mother. Both mother and father would chirp noisily at me every time I would come near the nest. I had to limit my gardening to small spurts, whenever Mr. and Mrs. Robin were not feeding the little ones.
After the first week, there were only two babies left. I never did find out what happened to the third baby. There was no sign of it falling out of the nest, so I guess I’ll never know what happened. Now there are just the two babies and I can see growth in them every day. The ugly little babies from a few weeks ago have now turned into miniature versions of their parents. Their feathers have come in and every time something comes near the nest, they start to chirp and open their little beaks for food. They really are cute now.
I am sure there are more robin families in my gardens because I’ve noticed several of them chirping loudly at me when I’m working in the yard. I usually don’t go looking for the nests, but occasionally, like the one in the ivy, I will happen upon one during my work in the garden. I think they are finally getting used to me being around, because now whenever I sit down to rest, the robins will peck at the ground looking for worms or nesting materials. They are so cute when they cock their little heads and look at you.
When you are planning a new garden, think about planting for the birds. Bird watching is a wonderful way to pass a quiet evening. It is calming and relaxing to just sit and listen to the different songs each bird makes, to watch them splashing around in a birdbath, or even flitting through the sprinklers. Now if you will excuse me, I think I’ll go do some bird watching.
[PS: since this article was written at the end of May, I have had four other Robin families give birth. Watching these babies was as much fun as watching the first ones!}
© Bobbi Rightmyer, May 2006
Because the concert was on a Friday night, it was still a work day for Keith. Normal workdays for Keith are mornings with him getting home sometime between 8 and 9, depending on the day. On this particular day, he switched shifts with a videographer from the night shift, so the day of the concert he had to get up at 2 a.m. and be to work by 4. By the time he got home it was two in the afternoon, so he only had time for a short nap before they had to leave the house again. Between the Diet Mt. Dew, caffeine pills and caffeine gum, he was determined to take Christine to the concert and they were going to have a great time.
Naturally, I was worried the entire time they were gone. I worried that Keith hadn’t had enough rest. I worried they would be in a wreck or worse. Normally, when there is a concert, I would be with Keith and Christine, but recently, my anxiety has been preventing me from being in large groups of people. I don’t know why I worry more about them when I’m not with them than I do when I’m with them. Does that make sense?
Anyway, I got a voice mail from Keith about 8:30, and they were already at the arena and they were already talking with some members of the band. It sounded like they were having a great time. I couldn’t wait until they got back home to tell me the whole story
While they were gone, I worked in the yard. I’m totally seeing my front garden in a new light. The front yard garden should be very eye-catching and contain samples of plantings from all over my yard. I learned this recently when I was admiring a new spring store display at the Shaker Village Craft Store. The wonderful display was fresh and pretty and put me in the mood to redecorate. To the average customer, this is just a pretty display set up for people to look at, but working behind the scenes, I realized, this display exhibited a wide range of the items sold in the gift shop.
This is how I see my yard—a one acre lot surrounded by native shrubbery with numerous gardens interspersed throughout. I have a shoe garden, a rock garden, a prayer garden, a veggie garden, a treehouse garden; I could go on and on. So, my front garden should be a collage of all the gardens on our property. I settled in for an afternoon of planning, dreaming and digging in the dirt. Little did I know that another family would greatly limit my ability to concentrate on particular areas of the front garden.
The Robin family had decided to make the English Ivy growing up the anchoring wire to a utility pole near our mailbox their home for the summer. I first discovered the nest when Keith was helping me prune the ivy into shape. I want the ivy to grow all the way up the wire, but it has stopped halfway up and is now growing back down to the ground. This makes a wonderful cascade of English ivy, but I wanted the dead wood removed and it needed to be pruned into shape. Keith pointed out the nest to me while I was up on the ladder, so I had the bird’s eye view—four baby blue robin eggs tucked all together in the next. I immediately quit pruning the ivy; that project will just have to wait until the babies have flown the nest.
I remember the summer of Junie B. Jones—the mother wren that raised her young ones in the hanging basket on our front porch—and I started to get warm fuzzy thoughts about how much fun Christine and I had while watching the life span of the wren’s children. This year, Christine is too old to have much interest in the gardens, so I’m usually alone in the garden with no one to enjoy the little treasures I discover every time I am outside. But that’s okay, I still enjoy being outdoors and maybe one day, I’ll have grandkids to enjoy the gardens with. I decided that I would chronicle the lives of Ms. Robin and her family.
Two weeks after finding the robin’s nest with eggs, three of the eggs hatched. The little featherless birds were so ugly and so totally dependent on their mother and father. The good thing about robins is that the pair of them helps with the baby care. With most other birds, the male leaves the care of babies to the mother. Both mother and father would chirp noisily at me every time I would come near the nest. I had to limit my gardening to small spurts, whenever Mr. and Mrs. Robin were not feeding the little ones.
After the first week, there were only two babies left. I never did find out what happened to the third baby. There was no sign of it falling out of the nest, so I guess I’ll never know what happened. Now there are just the two babies and I can see growth in them every day. The ugly little babies from a few weeks ago have now turned into miniature versions of their parents. Their feathers have come in and every time something comes near the nest, they start to chirp and open their little beaks for food. They really are cute now.
I am sure there are more robin families in my gardens because I’ve noticed several of them chirping loudly at me when I’m working in the yard. I usually don’t go looking for the nests, but occasionally, like the one in the ivy, I will happen upon one during my work in the garden. I think they are finally getting used to me being around, because now whenever I sit down to rest, the robins will peck at the ground looking for worms or nesting materials. They are so cute when they cock their little heads and look at you.
When you are planning a new garden, think about planting for the birds. Bird watching is a wonderful way to pass a quiet evening. It is calming and relaxing to just sit and listen to the different songs each bird makes, to watch them splashing around in a birdbath, or even flitting through the sprinklers. Now if you will excuse me, I think I’ll go do some bird watching.
[PS: since this article was written at the end of May, I have had four other Robin families give birth. Watching these babies was as much fun as watching the first ones!}
© Bobbi Rightmyer, May 2006
Friday, April 28, 2006
Pebbles
The loss of a family pet can have a major impact on the entire family. It is like losing a member of the family. Recently, our family experienced the death of our beloved dog, Pebbles. Although we have lost many pets over the years—mice, hamsters, fish, gerbils, iguana, cats—losing Pebbles was the first dog Christine had ever lost and she was taking it very hard.
Pebbles was adopted from the Mercer County Humane Society over ten years ago—Christine was about three at the time, so the two of them have grown up together. Pebbles was a Sheltie-mix and she was approximately one year old when she came to live with us. Keith had seen a picture of this cute dog in the Harrodsburg Herald and the next day he and Christine went to check it out. It was love at first sight and they adopted her on the spot. He took a picture of Pebbles to bring home and show the rest of the family because it would be two days before she was ready to come home.
Christine picked out the name Pebbles after the Flintstone’s Pebbles and Bam-Bam. Amber and Marie were also excited about the new addition to the family; they had been wanting a dog and we just kept putting it off because we had an indoor cat. Pogo was Keith’s cat and she didn’t warm up to new people or animals easily. After Keith and I got married, it took a long time before Amber and Marie were able to even get near Pogo to pet her, much less pick her up. We were afraid a dog would throw her into shock. We lost Pogo over four years ago—she was over 18-years-old.
It didn’t take Pebbles long to become one of the family. She was most attracted to Marie, although she loved to be around all of us. After the first few weeks, Pebbles was not the same skinny dog we had originally brought home. She was happy and healthy and had put on some weight. Apparently, Pebbles had come from an abusive situation, because she had a tendency to “cow down” whenever anyone raised their voice.
I could never get Pebbles to come to me when I would call for her—she always seemed to run in the opposite direction when I would call her. But she would always come to Keith’s call or whistle. Pebbles would do almost anything Keith would tell her to do, with the exception of getting her to stay down at meal time.
Pebbles loved table scraps and she was not above begging everyone for a bite. We knew table scraps were probably not good for her, but she loved them so much. We also had a hard time keeping her out of the cat food, even though she always had food in her dish—she would always sneak back and finish up whatever the cats had not eaten.
Even though she would not come to me when I called her, Pebbles would follow me around the house like a shadow. Whenever I was home she would slept at my feet or follow me from room to room—even the bathroom. Pebbles could be a nuisance at times, but we all loved her and we could tell that she loved us.
Pebbles would get so excited when it was time to go outside. She would jump and prance around the door waiting for someone to open it. Then she would charge out the door like the Calvary coming to the rescue. She would run several laps around the front yard just as fast as her legs would let her. She would sometimes bark and root her nose into the ground. We still have a few bare spots in the yard from where Pebbles got so excited.
Pebbles was a wonderful guard dog because she would bark at any noise she would hear outside. Once she became used to friends or relatives coming to visit, she would become excited to she them—running to the person or trying to jump up on them. The jumping up on people was something we were still working on with Pebbles, but we weren’t having much success.
Over the past few years, Christine and Pebbles became the best of friends and you could tell they loved being with each other. Sometimes Christine would but the leash on Pebbles’ collar and take her for a walk, other times they would just run and romp in the backyard or the back field. I can still see Christine rolling around on the lawn with Pebbles jumping on her, trying to lick her face.
Although we still have three indoor cats, Christine misses Pebbles and she has started to talk about finding a replacement dog. Although there is no substitute for Pebbles, it would be nice to have another guard dog. We are trying to put Christine off—we want her to get over the initial shock of losing her first dog before we try and become attached to another one.
Pebbles is buried in our pet cemetery, along with Pogo the cat, Tully the bird and Snowball the rabbit. I will occasionally see Christine near the pet cemetery and my heart aches for her sadness. Although we all miss Pebbles and I know one day we will have another dog, there will never be a replacement for Pebbles. She will always remain in our hearts.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, April 2006
Pebbles was adopted from the Mercer County Humane Society over ten years ago—Christine was about three at the time, so the two of them have grown up together. Pebbles was a Sheltie-mix and she was approximately one year old when she came to live with us. Keith had seen a picture of this cute dog in the Harrodsburg Herald and the next day he and Christine went to check it out. It was love at first sight and they adopted her on the spot. He took a picture of Pebbles to bring home and show the rest of the family because it would be two days before she was ready to come home.
Christine picked out the name Pebbles after the Flintstone’s Pebbles and Bam-Bam. Amber and Marie were also excited about the new addition to the family; they had been wanting a dog and we just kept putting it off because we had an indoor cat. Pogo was Keith’s cat and she didn’t warm up to new people or animals easily. After Keith and I got married, it took a long time before Amber and Marie were able to even get near Pogo to pet her, much less pick her up. We were afraid a dog would throw her into shock. We lost Pogo over four years ago—she was over 18-years-old.
It didn’t take Pebbles long to become one of the family. She was most attracted to Marie, although she loved to be around all of us. After the first few weeks, Pebbles was not the same skinny dog we had originally brought home. She was happy and healthy and had put on some weight. Apparently, Pebbles had come from an abusive situation, because she had a tendency to “cow down” whenever anyone raised their voice.
I could never get Pebbles to come to me when I would call for her—she always seemed to run in the opposite direction when I would call her. But she would always come to Keith’s call or whistle. Pebbles would do almost anything Keith would tell her to do, with the exception of getting her to stay down at meal time.
Pebbles loved table scraps and she was not above begging everyone for a bite. We knew table scraps were probably not good for her, but she loved them so much. We also had a hard time keeping her out of the cat food, even though she always had food in her dish—she would always sneak back and finish up whatever the cats had not eaten.
Even though she would not come to me when I called her, Pebbles would follow me around the house like a shadow. Whenever I was home she would slept at my feet or follow me from room to room—even the bathroom. Pebbles could be a nuisance at times, but we all loved her and we could tell that she loved us.
Pebbles would get so excited when it was time to go outside. She would jump and prance around the door waiting for someone to open it. Then she would charge out the door like the Calvary coming to the rescue. She would run several laps around the front yard just as fast as her legs would let her. She would sometimes bark and root her nose into the ground. We still have a few bare spots in the yard from where Pebbles got so excited.
Pebbles was a wonderful guard dog because she would bark at any noise she would hear outside. Once she became used to friends or relatives coming to visit, she would become excited to she them—running to the person or trying to jump up on them. The jumping up on people was something we were still working on with Pebbles, but we weren’t having much success.
Over the past few years, Christine and Pebbles became the best of friends and you could tell they loved being with each other. Sometimes Christine would but the leash on Pebbles’ collar and take her for a walk, other times they would just run and romp in the backyard or the back field. I can still see Christine rolling around on the lawn with Pebbles jumping on her, trying to lick her face.
Although we still have three indoor cats, Christine misses Pebbles and she has started to talk about finding a replacement dog. Although there is no substitute for Pebbles, it would be nice to have another guard dog. We are trying to put Christine off—we want her to get over the initial shock of losing her first dog before we try and become attached to another one.
Pebbles is buried in our pet cemetery, along with Pogo the cat, Tully the bird and Snowball the rabbit. I will occasionally see Christine near the pet cemetery and my heart aches for her sadness. Although we all miss Pebbles and I know one day we will have another dog, there will never be a replacement for Pebbles. She will always remain in our hearts.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, April 2006
Monday, April 3, 2006
April Showers Bring May Flowers
After a mild winter and a stormy spring, flora is springing to life all over my gardens. Since I normally leave flower heads and seed stalks un-pruned during the winter to help the birds survive, spring chores are never ending.
As I prune off the thick stems of my Autumn Joy sedum, I have been rewarded with the new growth emerging from the heavily composted soil. These wonderful plants are a staple in my gardens, mainly because they are so maintenance free. Sedum requires very little attention during the growing season and it is very drought tolerant. There is lovely foliage all year long and then the flower heads start to form in late July—starting out green then turning to pink before finally reaching the deep red color that I love.
Asters are one of my favorite “wildflowers”, but they have a tendency to leave tall airy stems that need to be removed before you can appreciate the new greenery. Through experimentation I have learned that if I keep the new growth pruned back until the first of July, then the stems will not be so tall. I have some that I prune and some that I leave natural. There is just something about those tall graceful white flowers floating above all the over the flowers that makes September a spectacular month in my back gardens.
Of course the daylilies and Irises are growing inches every day and it won’t be long before they will burst into bloom. After the daffodils and tulips fade away, the daylilies and Irises will be ready to replace the garden with new colors of orange, yellow, purple and pink. I am attempting to have some type of flowers blooming all through the seasons, so when one flower have past bloom, another type is ready to take over.
The redbud trees are absolutely beautiful this year. Our first redbud tree is the most extraordinary—the tall airy branches are just hanging full of pink blossoms. We also have about eight other redbuds which are much younger than our first, and they are all blooming this year. I was lucky I didn’t lose any because of the drought last summer.
However, I wasn’t so lucky with one of my river birch trees. Even with watering during the long hot summer last year, a newly planted river birch has died. I also lost my large weeping cherry tree in the front yard. I actually cried when I realized the cherry tree did not survive the drought or winter. We plan to remove the tree and replace it with a redbud.
The hostas in the Rabbit Hole garden are up about six to eight inches, each clump looking much bigger than last year’s plantings. All my ferns seem to be reemerging after a short winter’s rest. My anticipation for this garden is very high this year; this will be the fourth year of really hard work and I’m hoping it will reward me with a spectacular display. I still have lots of bare spots in this garden, but I must wait for my plants to mature so I can divide and transplant some more. I will eventually have this type of garden surrounding three sides of my yard; even if it takes my twenty more years to get there.
I already have the lettuce bed and potatoes planted and my rhubarb and asparagus are coming on strong. This will be the first year that I will be able to harvest any asparagus; I have been patiently waiting three years for it to mature enough to used. It is very exciting when a vegetable or plant becomes “of age” under all the care you have given it. I have started some other seeds in the house, but it will be a few more weeks before I can transplant them into the garden—tomatoes, squash, cucumbers, and pumpkins. Gourds also can’t go into the ground until the soil temperature is a constant 78 degrees—hard to obtain in Kentucky’s finicky weather.
I am expanding our front garden this year. With a one acre lot, it takes a long time to finally get enough plants, time and energy to completely fill the property. My goal is to only have to do maintenance on my gardens during my retirement years. I enjoy maintaining, pruning, trimming and shaping plants into unique forms and shapes. I want the formal lawn to be completely removed and be replaced with native wildlife and flowers.
Speaking of wildlife, I think we have a fox that lives in the field behind our home. I saw the red bushy tail a few times, always late in the evening. I believe it may be one from the litter that was found near McRay Feed; McRay’s is just behind our house. I have not intentions of bothering this fox; unless he bothers me first.
I haven’t seen any snakes yet, but the bees are working overtime and I have seen an occasional butterfly. There are now so many pairs of Robins in our garden that I have lost count of them. When I was trimming the English ivy from the front garden, I found a nest way up high in the tangle of vines that is growing up the guide line for our utility post. There are four bright blue Robin nests happily resting in the nest. Through out the day, Mommy and Daddy Robin can be seen taking turns watching the nest and sitting on the eggs. There is also another nest in the jungle of English ivy that has grown up the rod iron post near our front door. It too, has four bright blue eggs.
The mourning doves are nesting in the large pine trees on the north side of our house, although I have not seen any eggs yet. Doves have a tendency to make flat nests on the branches of the trees, and they appear very fragile. However, with the population of doves in our yard, I’m not complaining.
The rabbit population has exploded, but I’m not complaining. There is enough native vegetation in our yard that the rabbits don’t tend to bother my vegetable garden. Nothing is more calming than sitting in the backyard near twilight and watching all the rabbits venturing out. Old Mr. Groundhog is still living under my old shed, but as long as he stays out of my veggies, I’m not going to complain. But the first time I catch him destroying some beloved plant, he will be history in my garden. We had to get rid of one about ten years ago because it was eating the veggies; so far this one is leaving things alone.
Spring as finally sprung for 2006—I am just praying that 2006 turns out to be a better year than 2005. Go outdoors and enjoy the scenery—after a long winter’s rest, there are some new friends waiting for you in the garden.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, April 2006
As I prune off the thick stems of my Autumn Joy sedum, I have been rewarded with the new growth emerging from the heavily composted soil. These wonderful plants are a staple in my gardens, mainly because they are so maintenance free. Sedum requires very little attention during the growing season and it is very drought tolerant. There is lovely foliage all year long and then the flower heads start to form in late July—starting out green then turning to pink before finally reaching the deep red color that I love.
Asters are one of my favorite “wildflowers”, but they have a tendency to leave tall airy stems that need to be removed before you can appreciate the new greenery. Through experimentation I have learned that if I keep the new growth pruned back until the first of July, then the stems will not be so tall. I have some that I prune and some that I leave natural. There is just something about those tall graceful white flowers floating above all the over the flowers that makes September a spectacular month in my back gardens.
Of course the daylilies and Irises are growing inches every day and it won’t be long before they will burst into bloom. After the daffodils and tulips fade away, the daylilies and Irises will be ready to replace the garden with new colors of orange, yellow, purple and pink. I am attempting to have some type of flowers blooming all through the seasons, so when one flower have past bloom, another type is ready to take over.
The redbud trees are absolutely beautiful this year. Our first redbud tree is the most extraordinary—the tall airy branches are just hanging full of pink blossoms. We also have about eight other redbuds which are much younger than our first, and they are all blooming this year. I was lucky I didn’t lose any because of the drought last summer.
However, I wasn’t so lucky with one of my river birch trees. Even with watering during the long hot summer last year, a newly planted river birch has died. I also lost my large weeping cherry tree in the front yard. I actually cried when I realized the cherry tree did not survive the drought or winter. We plan to remove the tree and replace it with a redbud.
The hostas in the Rabbit Hole garden are up about six to eight inches, each clump looking much bigger than last year’s plantings. All my ferns seem to be reemerging after a short winter’s rest. My anticipation for this garden is very high this year; this will be the fourth year of really hard work and I’m hoping it will reward me with a spectacular display. I still have lots of bare spots in this garden, but I must wait for my plants to mature so I can divide and transplant some more. I will eventually have this type of garden surrounding three sides of my yard; even if it takes my twenty more years to get there.
I already have the lettuce bed and potatoes planted and my rhubarb and asparagus are coming on strong. This will be the first year that I will be able to harvest any asparagus; I have been patiently waiting three years for it to mature enough to used. It is very exciting when a vegetable or plant becomes “of age” under all the care you have given it. I have started some other seeds in the house, but it will be a few more weeks before I can transplant them into the garden—tomatoes, squash, cucumbers, and pumpkins. Gourds also can’t go into the ground until the soil temperature is a constant 78 degrees—hard to obtain in Kentucky’s finicky weather.
I am expanding our front garden this year. With a one acre lot, it takes a long time to finally get enough plants, time and energy to completely fill the property. My goal is to only have to do maintenance on my gardens during my retirement years. I enjoy maintaining, pruning, trimming and shaping plants into unique forms and shapes. I want the formal lawn to be completely removed and be replaced with native wildlife and flowers.
Speaking of wildlife, I think we have a fox that lives in the field behind our home. I saw the red bushy tail a few times, always late in the evening. I believe it may be one from the litter that was found near McRay Feed; McRay’s is just behind our house. I have not intentions of bothering this fox; unless he bothers me first.
I haven’t seen any snakes yet, but the bees are working overtime and I have seen an occasional butterfly. There are now so many pairs of Robins in our garden that I have lost count of them. When I was trimming the English ivy from the front garden, I found a nest way up high in the tangle of vines that is growing up the guide line for our utility post. There are four bright blue Robin nests happily resting in the nest. Through out the day, Mommy and Daddy Robin can be seen taking turns watching the nest and sitting on the eggs. There is also another nest in the jungle of English ivy that has grown up the rod iron post near our front door. It too, has four bright blue eggs.
The mourning doves are nesting in the large pine trees on the north side of our house, although I have not seen any eggs yet. Doves have a tendency to make flat nests on the branches of the trees, and they appear very fragile. However, with the population of doves in our yard, I’m not complaining.
The rabbit population has exploded, but I’m not complaining. There is enough native vegetation in our yard that the rabbits don’t tend to bother my vegetable garden. Nothing is more calming than sitting in the backyard near twilight and watching all the rabbits venturing out. Old Mr. Groundhog is still living under my old shed, but as long as he stays out of my veggies, I’m not going to complain. But the first time I catch him destroying some beloved plant, he will be history in my garden. We had to get rid of one about ten years ago because it was eating the veggies; so far this one is leaving things alone.
Spring as finally sprung for 2006—I am just praying that 2006 turns out to be a better year than 2005. Go outdoors and enjoy the scenery—after a long winter’s rest, there are some new friends waiting for you in the garden.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, April 2006
Wednesday, February 8, 2006
Kentucky Weather ... Friend or Foe?
Kentucky weather…you’ve got to love it. Everyone who lives in our beautiful state will understand when I talk about my love-hate relationship with our weather. On the one hand, over two-thirds of the time, the weather is perfect—just the way I like it. It is that last third of the time that I begin to wonder if waiting out the nasty weather in favor of those special times I enjoy is really worth it. You be the judge.
As I sit writing this, we are two weeks into the New Year—one the night of the full moon. Right now it is snowing on our wonderful neighborhood. The snow falling is huge wet flakes and the ground is covered by a blanket of fluff about three inches deep. It is the soggy type of snow that makes good snowmen and snowballs, but it quickly melts as the temperature rises. It seemed strange to see our quiet lawn bathed in snowy flakes, when just yesterday the sun was shining and the temperature was near 70.
Yesterday I drove to town to run some errands. I had dressed in jeans and a long sleeve shirt and I felt overdressed as I was locking the front door and stepping into the sunshine. As I pulled out on the road I could feel my spirit improving. By the time I rolled into town, I had my window down and was singing at the top of my voice to Green Day’s American Idiot, blaring from my car speakers. It was just like the perfect spring afternoon. This is the kind of day that makes me want to get out in the garden and start digging in the dirt. I can’t wait to get started on my spring gardening chores. I’ve started amassing quite a collection of garden and nursery catalogs, so plans to expand my gardens are growing in my head.
The day before this wonderful afternoon, the skies had been grey—overcast, with periodic rain showers. These are the kinds of days when I enjoy reading or writing. I like to let my imagination roam free and not have to worry about the ordinary stresses of the day. These are the days I seek comfort food and familiarities— snuggled under a furry blanket or quillow with a bowl of popcorn or a sandwich of graham crackers and marshmallow fluff and an ice cold glass of Coke. I can let my mind follow down the path of another author’s imagination, or I can explore the out-reaches of my own mind's eye and capture it in words.
The problem with our changing Kentucky weather is that the changes in temperature seem to correlate to the temperaments of family and friends. I’m usually more out-going and friendly on a bright sunny day, but on a dark overcast day, I’m usually lost in my own head and I don’t notice anyone or anything around me. This can sometimes make me appear cold and stand-offish—which is far from the case. I’m actually quiet shy and I don’t like to put myself out there. I’m the type of person who loves to help you do the work, but I don’t like to take the credit for it. I would rather stand back and let people admire something I’ve done, than have them stop and say something to me. I like to admire my handy work from afar.
Actually our Kentucky weather sometimes helps me, because if it were not for the rapid changes in weather, I might not get anything done. I’m more active in the yard when the sun is shining bright and the temperature is about 70. I get a wide range of days like that and these times are when I get my gardening done. Problem is, I get tired of doing the same thing for long periods of time. When I change my activities with the changes in the weather, I have a wide range view of my life.
The problem is, that this past week—Kentucky saw all three of the weather conditions that influence my behavior. Like my Granny Devine always told me, “If you don’t like the weather in Kentucky, then just wait a while—it will change”, I just wasn’t expecting to have the changes occur over a three day period. We went from 50 degree weather and overcast with occasional rain showers to bright, sunny almost 70 degree weather to snow blanketing the ground and the temperature hovering at the freezing point. The weather changes have been good for my activity level, but it has been horrible on my sinuses—my body doesn’t know what condition to take care of.
Christine enjoyed the brief snowstorm by taking picture of the fluffy flakes that fell from the sky. Being the lask parent that I normally am, I had allowed Christine to be up way past her bedtime, so she had thrown on her clothes and was standing in our front yard at two o’clock in the morning taking pictures with our digital camera. She has such an eye for photography and she loves to get interesting, unusual camera angles. She can see art in everyday items or activities, turning even ugly ordinary trash into fascinating designs for the sight.
This past week, on the bright sunny day, as I was giving thanks for the wonderful weather, I realized I was getting my hopes up prematurely. I know we aren’t even half way through winter yet; so we will have plenty more cold frosty nights to go before spring actually arrives. I shouldn’t go counting my blossoms until the color starts showing up in my gardens.
All the photographs accompanying this story were taken by Christine Nicole Rightmyer, age 13, of Mercer County. She is the daughter of Bobbi and Keith Rightmyer and the granddaughter of Bobby Gene and Brenda Sallee and Christine Holtzclaw Rightmyer, the late Dr. HD Rightmyer. She is in the 8th grade at King Middle School and a member of the Harrodsburg Baptist Church. She enjoys a wide range of music, photography, working with animals and helping others.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, February 2006
As I sit writing this, we are two weeks into the New Year—one the night of the full moon. Right now it is snowing on our wonderful neighborhood. The snow falling is huge wet flakes and the ground is covered by a blanket of fluff about three inches deep. It is the soggy type of snow that makes good snowmen and snowballs, but it quickly melts as the temperature rises. It seemed strange to see our quiet lawn bathed in snowy flakes, when just yesterday the sun was shining and the temperature was near 70.
Yesterday I drove to town to run some errands. I had dressed in jeans and a long sleeve shirt and I felt overdressed as I was locking the front door and stepping into the sunshine. As I pulled out on the road I could feel my spirit improving. By the time I rolled into town, I had my window down and was singing at the top of my voice to Green Day’s American Idiot, blaring from my car speakers. It was just like the perfect spring afternoon. This is the kind of day that makes me want to get out in the garden and start digging in the dirt. I can’t wait to get started on my spring gardening chores. I’ve started amassing quite a collection of garden and nursery catalogs, so plans to expand my gardens are growing in my head.
The day before this wonderful afternoon, the skies had been grey—overcast, with periodic rain showers. These are the kinds of days when I enjoy reading or writing. I like to let my imagination roam free and not have to worry about the ordinary stresses of the day. These are the days I seek comfort food and familiarities— snuggled under a furry blanket or quillow with a bowl of popcorn or a sandwich of graham crackers and marshmallow fluff and an ice cold glass of Coke. I can let my mind follow down the path of another author’s imagination, or I can explore the out-reaches of my own mind's eye and capture it in words.
The problem with our changing Kentucky weather is that the changes in temperature seem to correlate to the temperaments of family and friends. I’m usually more out-going and friendly on a bright sunny day, but on a dark overcast day, I’m usually lost in my own head and I don’t notice anyone or anything around me. This can sometimes make me appear cold and stand-offish—which is far from the case. I’m actually quiet shy and I don’t like to put myself out there. I’m the type of person who loves to help you do the work, but I don’t like to take the credit for it. I would rather stand back and let people admire something I’ve done, than have them stop and say something to me. I like to admire my handy work from afar.
Actually our Kentucky weather sometimes helps me, because if it were not for the rapid changes in weather, I might not get anything done. I’m more active in the yard when the sun is shining bright and the temperature is about 70. I get a wide range of days like that and these times are when I get my gardening done. Problem is, I get tired of doing the same thing for long periods of time. When I change my activities with the changes in the weather, I have a wide range view of my life.
The problem is, that this past week—Kentucky saw all three of the weather conditions that influence my behavior. Like my Granny Devine always told me, “If you don’t like the weather in Kentucky, then just wait a while—it will change”, I just wasn’t expecting to have the changes occur over a three day period. We went from 50 degree weather and overcast with occasional rain showers to bright, sunny almost 70 degree weather to snow blanketing the ground and the temperature hovering at the freezing point. The weather changes have been good for my activity level, but it has been horrible on my sinuses—my body doesn’t know what condition to take care of.
Christine enjoyed the brief snowstorm by taking picture of the fluffy flakes that fell from the sky. Being the lask parent that I normally am, I had allowed Christine to be up way past her bedtime, so she had thrown on her clothes and was standing in our front yard at two o’clock in the morning taking pictures with our digital camera. She has such an eye for photography and she loves to get interesting, unusual camera angles. She can see art in everyday items or activities, turning even ugly ordinary trash into fascinating designs for the sight.
This past week, on the bright sunny day, as I was giving thanks for the wonderful weather, I realized I was getting my hopes up prematurely. I know we aren’t even half way through winter yet; so we will have plenty more cold frosty nights to go before spring actually arrives. I shouldn’t go counting my blossoms until the color starts showing up in my gardens.
All the photographs accompanying this story were taken by Christine Nicole Rightmyer, age 13, of Mercer County. She is the daughter of Bobbi and Keith Rightmyer and the granddaughter of Bobby Gene and Brenda Sallee and Christine Holtzclaw Rightmyer, the late Dr. HD Rightmyer. She is in the 8th grade at King Middle School and a member of the Harrodsburg Baptist Church. She enjoys a wide range of music, photography, working with animals and helping others.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, February 2006
Tuesday, January 3, 2006
A Wrinkle in time, Narnia & Oz ... Oh, My
It is really hard for me to believe that a new year has started. The year 2006 will bring many first — Keith and I will celebrate 20 years together; Christine will begin her first year of high school and my niece—Ashley—will graduate high school; and Marie and Amber will turn 22 and 24, respectively. In addition to these wonderful family events, 2006 will bring some long awaited books and movies. The long-awaited seventh book in the Harry Potter series will certainly cause a commotion when it is finally released, not to mention the millions of dollars that Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix will make when it hits the silver screen. Some of the biggest news I’ve heard for 2006 is the talk of turning all seven books of The Chronicles of Narnia into motion pictures. I spent many months of 2005 awaiting The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe to arrive on the silver screen. Narnia was my favorite place to visit as a child, competing with only the Land of Oz and the Tesseract — or a Wrinkle in Time — as a desired reading series.
The Wizard of Oz, of course, was turned into a magnificent motion picture over 50 years ago and remains a beloved movie for children and adults of all ages. There have been several animated versions of Oz, as well as motion picture sequel. The Return to Oz was a favorite of Amber and Marie when they were growing up, and Christine has seen it numerous times as well. We used to have a home-recorded VHS tape of the movie, and we watched it until we literally wore it out. I haven’t been able to find this movie in DVD form, but I will continue to search the internet until I find one to add to our collection.
What many people don’t realize is that The Wizard of Oz is only the first book a 16 book series on Oz. Although the original Oz will always remain my favorite version, I have read the other books in the series several times each. Frank Baum had such a vivid imagination and I could picture his beautiful scenes in my head with each word I read. Now that Hollywood has had such great successes with the Harry Potter series, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and The Chronicles of Narnia, I hope some wonderful motion picture studio will re-do The Wizard of Oz. Just thinking about what types of special FX could be used to breath new life into this story—it sends tingles down my imagination.
Believe it or not, A Wrinkle in Time was my favorite book as a child, mainly because it was the first fantasy book I ever read. I discovered Charles Wallace and the “Tesseract”—a made-up word meaning a wrinkle in time—while I was still in elementary school. I used to work as a library aide at Mercer County Elementary School and I became wonderful friends with Joy Gash, who was the current librarian during my early years. She is the one responsible for turning me onto the world of fantasy books—I’ll never begin to repay her for her suggestions. The books I read as a child have stayed with me through adulthood. The same books I read as a child are the same books I read to my children growing up. Amber and Marie were not readers the way I was, so I can remember reading to them about the wonderful lands of Oz, Narnia, the Tesseract, as well as other fantasies we found along the way. Christine is an avid reader like me—she loves the Harry Potter series, she has read several books in the Oz series and she is currently reading The Chronicles of Narnia. Christine has also introduced me to several new fantasy lands — Earagon, the Dragon Riders, and A Series of Unfortunate Events.
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was first introduced to visual media as an animated feature. Although sections of the cartoon are faithful to the book, it left so much out that I was actually disappointed the first time I saw it. C. S. Lewis had such an imagination and he established the land of Narnia with his words and phrases, not to mention the Biblical references and his interest in good versus evil. It is not often that a children’s book can offer morals and parables just like the Bible. It was these references that drew me to the rest of The Chronicles of Narnia after reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe for the first time. I can vividly remember reading this series of books to Amber and Marie when they were little. As a matter of fact, when Amber was 9 years old, she was in a play at the Old Fort Harrod summer workshop based on The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I love to go back and look at the photographs from this wonderful play.
A Wrinkle in Time is another series of books that I would love to see on the big screen. Although this book was turned into a television movie in 2005, it left a lot to be desired and it found me craving to see it on the big screen. With the advancements in special FX, this book deserves a chance to be presented to children around the world in the same way as I envisioned it in my head. Just as sells of the books, The Wizard of Oz and The Chronicles of Narnia have increased after their motion picture debut, a blockbuster movie could spur the increase of book sells for A Wrinkle in Time.
So, this winter when your children are complaining, “There’s nothing to do”, go to the Mercer Public Library and check out a good book. Reading to younger children not only encourages their imagination, but sets a good example in choosing classical books from the past. The Christian Book store — on the south side of the Harrodsburg Wal-Mart — carries The Chronicles of Narnia as well as several reference books discussing the series. What a wonderful lesson to teach your children — reading about Narnia and talking about the Biblical references it contains. Keep reading as a family and when the time arrives, enjoy the motion pictures versions of your favorite books—it’s a great way to stay connected to your family in our fast paced world.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, August 2006
The Wizard of Oz, of course, was turned into a magnificent motion picture over 50 years ago and remains a beloved movie for children and adults of all ages. There have been several animated versions of Oz, as well as motion picture sequel. The Return to Oz was a favorite of Amber and Marie when they were growing up, and Christine has seen it numerous times as well. We used to have a home-recorded VHS tape of the movie, and we watched it until we literally wore it out. I haven’t been able to find this movie in DVD form, but I will continue to search the internet until I find one to add to our collection.
What many people don’t realize is that The Wizard of Oz is only the first book a 16 book series on Oz. Although the original Oz will always remain my favorite version, I have read the other books in the series several times each. Frank Baum had such a vivid imagination and I could picture his beautiful scenes in my head with each word I read. Now that Hollywood has had such great successes with the Harry Potter series, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and The Chronicles of Narnia, I hope some wonderful motion picture studio will re-do The Wizard of Oz. Just thinking about what types of special FX could be used to breath new life into this story—it sends tingles down my imagination.
Believe it or not, A Wrinkle in Time was my favorite book as a child, mainly because it was the first fantasy book I ever read. I discovered Charles Wallace and the “Tesseract”—a made-up word meaning a wrinkle in time—while I was still in elementary school. I used to work as a library aide at Mercer County Elementary School and I became wonderful friends with Joy Gash, who was the current librarian during my early years. She is the one responsible for turning me onto the world of fantasy books—I’ll never begin to repay her for her suggestions. The books I read as a child have stayed with me through adulthood. The same books I read as a child are the same books I read to my children growing up. Amber and Marie were not readers the way I was, so I can remember reading to them about the wonderful lands of Oz, Narnia, the Tesseract, as well as other fantasies we found along the way. Christine is an avid reader like me—she loves the Harry Potter series, she has read several books in the Oz series and she is currently reading The Chronicles of Narnia. Christine has also introduced me to several new fantasy lands — Earagon, the Dragon Riders, and A Series of Unfortunate Events.
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was first introduced to visual media as an animated feature. Although sections of the cartoon are faithful to the book, it left so much out that I was actually disappointed the first time I saw it. C. S. Lewis had such an imagination and he established the land of Narnia with his words and phrases, not to mention the Biblical references and his interest in good versus evil. It is not often that a children’s book can offer morals and parables just like the Bible. It was these references that drew me to the rest of The Chronicles of Narnia after reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe for the first time. I can vividly remember reading this series of books to Amber and Marie when they were little. As a matter of fact, when Amber was 9 years old, she was in a play at the Old Fort Harrod summer workshop based on The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I love to go back and look at the photographs from this wonderful play.
A Wrinkle in Time is another series of books that I would love to see on the big screen. Although this book was turned into a television movie in 2005, it left a lot to be desired and it found me craving to see it on the big screen. With the advancements in special FX, this book deserves a chance to be presented to children around the world in the same way as I envisioned it in my head. Just as sells of the books, The Wizard of Oz and The Chronicles of Narnia have increased after their motion picture debut, a blockbuster movie could spur the increase of book sells for A Wrinkle in Time.
So, this winter when your children are complaining, “There’s nothing to do”, go to the Mercer Public Library and check out a good book. Reading to younger children not only encourages their imagination, but sets a good example in choosing classical books from the past. The Christian Book store — on the south side of the Harrodsburg Wal-Mart — carries The Chronicles of Narnia as well as several reference books discussing the series. What a wonderful lesson to teach your children — reading about Narnia and talking about the Biblical references it contains. Keep reading as a family and when the time arrives, enjoy the motion pictures versions of your favorite books—it’s a great way to stay connected to your family in our fast paced world.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, August 2006
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