You gotta get up in the morning!

I was on my way to the Fall Fairy's house.  The moon was huge and bright with a star or planet right next to it. It was dark and cold. I had the radio tuned in to Moody. I heard their weather guy say that the moon was a "Beaver Moon". The first full moon in November when supposedly the waters are frozen and long ago the men would set traps for the beaver. Shortly after, I heard a Christmas song..."That sounds like Rich Mullins...it has to be Rich Mullins...but he has been home with the Lord for quite a few years...and I have never heard that song before". Well the announcer said yes it was Rich Mullins...so today, I searched Youtube and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but this video. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

You gotta get up!

Rich Mullins a most talented musician, songwriter, and lover of our Lord. You are missed.

Happy Thanksgiving

It has seemed to me fit and proper that God should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People.
Abraham Lincoln

It is a time of deep Thanksgiving to the Lord . . .
it shall be a time of great joy.
Deuteronomy 16:15/LB

Thank you for not taking Handsome home . . .

Injun Summer

One of my favorite memories

INJUN SUMMER
John T. McCutcheon
Chicago Tribune
September 30, 1907

Yep, sonny this is sure enough Injun summer. Don't know what that is, I reckon, do you? Well, that's when all the homesick Injuns come back to play; You know, a long time ago, long afore yer granddaddy was born even, there used to be heaps of Injuns around here—thousands—millions, I reckon, far as that's concerned. Reg'lar sure 'nough Injuns—none o' yer cigar store Injuns, not much. They wuz all around here—right here where you're standin'. Don't be skeered—hain't none around here now, leastways no live ones. They been gone this many a year. They all went away and died, so they ain't no more left. But every year, 'long about now, they all come back, leastways their sperrits do. They're here now. You can see 'em off across the fields. Look real hard. See that kind o' hazy misty look out yonder? Well, them's Injuns—Injun sperrits marchin' along an' dancin' in the sunlight. That's what makes that kind o' haze that's everywhere—it's jest the sperrits of the Injuns all come back. They're all around us now. See off yonder; see them tepees? They kind o' look like corn shocks from here, but them's Injun tents, sure as you're a foot high. See 'em now? Sure, I knowed you could. Smell that smoky sort o' smell in the air? That's the campfires a-burnin' and their pipes a-goin'. Lots o' people say it's just leaves burnin', but it ain't. It's the campfires, an' th' Injuns are hoppin' 'round 'em t'beat the old Harry. You jest come out here tonight when the moon is hangin' over the hill off yonder an' the harvest fields is all swimmin' in the moonlight, an' you can see the Injuns and the tepees jest as plain as kin be. You can, eh? I knowed you would after a little while. Jever notice how the leaves turn red 'bout this time o' year? That's jest another sign o' redskins. That's when an old Injun sperrit gits tired dancin' an' goes up an' squats on a leaf t'rest. Why I kin hear 'em rustlin' an' whisper in' an' creepin' 'round among the leaves all the time; an' ever' once'n a while a leaf gives way under some fat old Injun ghost and comes floatin' down to the ground. See—here's one now. See how red it is? That's the war paint rubbed off'n an Injun ghost, sure's you're born. Purty soon all the Injuns'll go marchin' away agin, back to the happy huntin' ground, but next year you'll see 'em troopin' back—th' sky jest hazy with 'em and their campfires smolderin' away jest like they are now.

Source Image

Chicago Tribune Store

John T. McCutcheon

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From his pipe the smoke ascending Filled the sky with haze and vapor, Filled the air with dreamy softness, Gave a twinkle to the water, Touched the rugged hills with smoothness, Brought the tender Indian Summer To the melancholy north-land, In the dreary Moon of Snow-shoes. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Hiawatha 1855

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Happy Belated Halloween Birthday to two of my favorite boys!

Finchy who has the best smile and the best wiggle butt dance!
He is always happy to see me.
Such a cool and interesting face.
Very handsome.
Best snuggler ever!

And Burley Butt the baby of the group.
He is so innocent.
So gentle.
He thinks he is a little dog.
He looks sad but he is a happy boy.
Watch out when he comes scampering down the hall.
He carries his big bone.
If it falls on your toe...ouch!
Happy Birthday to two of the best boys EVER!