TBT – Model A

This is REALLY a throwback Thursday for me. When Daisy and I were out walking the other day, I noticed this vintage (some would say antique) Model A  Ford tucked away in a driveway.

I wanted to talk to the owner of this wonderful old car but no one was around. So I photographed it with my phone camera. After I did that, I simply stood there and remembered the times my Grandpa would come driving home after a hard day’s work at the Union Pacific Railroad in his Model A. I would hear him coming and as he turned the corner to come down our street, he would slow way down so I could hop on the running board and hitch a ride to the house.

Such sweet memories of those wonderful childhood years I had with him – a wise and loving man, indeed. I will track down the owner of this Model A and find out more about it’s history.

This one’s for you, Grandpa, with love.

oldcar Be good to yourself and each other. Namaste’



Paper Flowers Don’t Die

You all probably know by now that I love to photograph flowers.  Well ……….. I came across a video the other day which showed how to make paper flowers.  I used to do this when I was a kid, only instead of tissue paper, I used facial tissue, i.e., Kleenex, when it used to come in those pretty pastel colors.

Finding this video and making these flowers took me right back to Marysville, Kansas, with my best friend, Gail, sitting on the porch at Grandma’s making Kleenex flowers.  I have to say I like using tissue paper a lot more than Kleenex.  So here they are.  My paper flowers … and they don’t die … and no limits to imagination.  Ha!  It was a fun Friday.  Namaste’


Storm Clouds and Me

I’ve always had my head in the clouds.  Ever since I was a kid growing up in Kansas, I would watch the sky in the summertime and loved to see the big storm clouds roll in.  My Grandpa and I would sit on the front porch swing and name the things we saw in the clouds.  We had such a good time doing that.

Then one summer in 1959 a tornado came through our lovely little town and tore my grandparents’ house all to pieces.  They were so lucky to make it to the basement before the roof was torn off and the rain came in and ruined anything that was left.  The porch swing Grandpa and I would swing on was found two blocks away on top of the Liberty Theater. I remember my grandmother being totally terrorized by that storm.  So now I watch the clouds and when I see dark ones like this, I remember that time.  I’m still grateful that no lives were lost.  I was lucky to have both of my grandparents well into their 80’s.

These clouds gathered around here and looked rather menacing but didn’t  product much rain at all.  At this point though, we’ll take every drop we can get.  Namaste’

Ye Olde Bicycle Rack

This is a bicycle rack in front of a restaurant that I’ve been to often and never even noticed it.  Normally I park in a different spot but today there it was … right in front of me.  The designer made it look somewhat old and yet new because the handlebars look like a 10-speed.  Photographing this made me think of my first bicycle when I was about eight years old.  It was the classic Pee Wee Herman style with fenders, fat tires and all, and I absolutely loved that bike!  Me and my bike spent many happy days riding the brick streets of Marysville, Kansas (yes, that’s where I hail from originally).

My best friend and I would play chicken and unfortunately for me, no one chickened out so my front fender got rather crinkled a few times.  I would take it to my Grandpa; he would scold me, but then pound out the dents.  (I, to this very day, think I had the best Grandpa in the entire cosmos).  We had an arrangement … he wouldn’t tell my Mom if I promised to stop playing chicken.  Uh, that didn’t work out so well, but that’s a story for another day – lol!

I wish I still had the bike but if I close my eyes, I can see it plain as day, feel my feet on the pedals and the vibration of riding on those brick streets.  I knew where every crack in the bricks was and how to swerve around them.  Wow!  What a feeling!  Namaste’