Weekend Walkabout

So my wonderful husband noticed in some pictures that his mother posted that they had a hole in their roof. Not a patch-it hole, a huge gaping 8 foot square hole. So, as any son would do, he called to find out what was happening. Well, they had decided to put in a dormer in that upstairs room and Dad D had just started the project. So, like any loving son who lives across the state rather than three states away, he told us to pack up for the weekend, we were going to go help. Well, that wasn't really a problem since we had nothing to do but clean this weekend, I didn't really care about procrastinating about that! So we packed the car and left after lunch on Friday. Upon our arrival at their house we were greeted by the sight of both of my in-laws struggling with a huge tarp to get this gaping hole covered before the storm broke. Well, the storm didn't break until nightfall, so they had a few hours to spare. But Handsome got up there and helped out too, making the job go a little faster with three sets of hands controlling a flyaway tarp. Once that was secure we went inside for dinner and games, talking for hours and laughing good naturedly with each other. It was good. Waking up the next morning, the boys ate quickly so they could get going on the project for the day while the rest of us cleaned up the meal and played. Oh it was a glorious day! Beautiful sunshine, small fleecy clouds hanging on the horizon, and a breeze to take the edge off the heat. It didn't get too hot, thankfully, but the sun sure did seem to beat down on that section of roof. Handsome and Dad D went to work quickly, taking off the tarp and gathering necessary equipment. Mom D and Sis went to work cleaning up the mess from the day before when they stripped all the shingles off and dumped them on a tarp in the yard. Once the trailer was full to bursting with the stuff, the boys took it to the transfer station. Then it was time to really get to work. Loading the 2x4s through the window, going over the plan, and measuring. Then came a beautiful sound: the BZZZZZZ! of the first cut! Yay! They were off! After a couple hours they had a frame put together and ready to go up. I actually got to help! I stood there and held it while Handsome cut the hole slightly bigger so that it would fit properly. It looked very good. They then secured it with a single 8 foot-2x4 and went back to the plan to be sure that they got it all right. Yup, they did! So on with the rest of the anchors! Up went 6 more to finish the "ceiling" of the dormer. Now came the fun part. The dormer needed to attach to the roof at an angle. The question was: what angle? Handsome climbed up and after a few minutes of measuring and mumbling he came down and buzzed through the end of a 12 foot-2x4. Dad D handed it up, and it almost fit! Back down for a final cut, and it was good! Cheers! Handsome then proceeded to sit up on the rafters and watch as Dad D cut the remaining boards. Putting them on, tightening the last screw and hammering the last nail for the day. It looked good. The nearly complete frame was up! Yay!! Now, for showers and games...Fun times!

Glorious

This morning I got the opportunity to do something that is quite often under appreciated. I was able to watch the sun rise. The morning looked just like most other mornings. There was dew on the grass, a slight mist in the air, and the sleepy calls of birds just waking could be heard. The clouds seem to beckon to the sun, asking it to bathe them in light. They turned from grey to purple. Each color fading imperceptibly into the next. You couldn't really see it as you watched, but glancing away and back, there was a difference. Purple gave way to pink which slowly faded completely away leaving the fluffy clouds white. Untouched by color. Pure. Then, true to form, the sun came bursting over the horizon. Vivacious, alive, beautifully bright. The mountains seemed to rejoice at its presence that lifted the shroud of fog from their shoulders. The birds sang jubilant songs. Suddenly it was day!

Somebody bet on the Bay...

We went to the races not to long ago. No, not the four legged kind, the motocross kind. You know, the two-stroke and dust, revving engines and fast food. Oh it was fun!! Peaches had gone with me in years past to watch my friend race, but this was the first time that the whole family went. We had a blast! There are so many races. Some of the kids that are out there start at age 3 or 4. Their bikes are tiny itty-bitty things and you don't see much of the "race," you see more of the parents running after their kid to restart the bike so they can keep going. Then as the evening goes on it graduate to older kids. They are separated into classes (mostly) by skill, but somewhat by age. Watching the kids race around the track was really cool. There are corners that test your ability to turn sharp, your balancing ability, and/or being able to adjust quickly to a new situation. There are several jumps. Catching a rider in an air-born photo is really quite easy here. The largest, which is a table-top jump, is affectionately called Cody. Cody is fun. Cody is at a spot that tests a rider. Right after the "whoops." Whoops (as we call them) are a series of small jumps set fairly close together. Usually they are roughly a bike's length apart and about 3 feet high. Riders really have to be physically fit to succeed at the whoops because the bike is shifting so quickly under you, forward and back. Your hand cannot get off of the throttle or you'll get bogged down. It really takes skill to ride a dirt bike like that.

To Improve my Outlook on my Life

Just recently we were able to go to the local zoo (not the one I live in) with our cousins who live close and some neighbor kids. We were there for just over 5 hours and still didn't see everything. When we first walked in there was the carousel. That was fun to watch! We rode it on our way out of the zoo. Walking down the trail we saw penguins! Those funny little birds that waddle with their flippers out, dive like pros, and look almost like ducks if seen from above when they are floating. They were fun to see through the windows. They dove and swam, taking forever to run out of breath. As they dove the bubbles would string after them like a disappearing trail. They are such fun loving birds! They always seem like practical jokers, wearing a tuxedo to go fishing. After leaving them to their diving and swimming, we moved on towards the tropical birds. These ones, with bright plumage and eager beaks, were fed most of their daily meals by those who visited them. A stick with a drop of hot glue and seed pressed onto it was handed to you, and then you were off to find a bird willing to land on the stick and eat. All the kids were fairly successful, the tall ones convincing birds a bit easier than the shorter kids. Each one had a bird sitting next to their fingers for at least a short time, picking away at the seeds. I was amazed that the birds could still fly after consuming so much seed, but they did. Once the seeds were all gone, they would fly away. Some would look back down as if to say "Ok, now where's dessert?" On to some bigger animals. Ok, the biggest animals that we can see at the zoo: elephants. Those huge, grey, amazingly strong and smart animals. The trunks swinging down to sample the grass and hay at their feet, swirling it around to get a mouthful, then bringing it up to their mouths. Really so much like our thumb and forefinger that it is fascinating to watch. After eating for a while they began giving themselves dust baths. Getting a trunkful of dirt and slinging it over their backs, using the dust for a measure of protection against the sunshine. Finishing out the Savannah with the rest of the Savannah creatures: lions, gazelles, ostriches, zebras, hippos, and monkeys (not all in the same pen). The hippos were bathing, or more like, keeping in the water to avoid the hot sun. The just laid their like huge mostly submerged logs. The only thing that moved was an ear occasionally twitching to ward off a fly. Then we did something that I've been wanting to do since I was a child: feed the giraffes. We walked up a short trail, got handed a small branch with lots of leaves from a keeper, and got to hand feed a giraffe! Their heads are nearly as tall as Peaches from head to foot. They have one of the largest eyes for mammals, and they have the same number of vertebrate in their neck as humans: 8. When they stuck out their tongues to eat, the underside was purple, and the upper side a light pink. They would stick their heads over the railing (built for this purpose) and gently nibble at the outstretched leaves. For a carrot they would stick their tongue out and curl it around the carrot to get it into their mouth (not like horses who use their lips). Really quite fascinating! Once we were done there, it was time to call it a day and head home. Oh it was a good day! Tired feet and tired kids, but TONS of fun!!

Where's the Remote?

Life has this habit of not slowing down, even when we really really need the break. It has been busy, hence the slightly longer breaks between postings lately. The kiddos and I took a road trip for a couple days. Upon our arrival home, we were greeted by a van full of cousins very happy to see us. We had a nice visit with them for a day, then they had to head homeward. The morning before they left we had a big breakfast with the six of them, plus five more who were camping. We had a house full for a few hours! It was good to see everyone though. But too short. The grandparents stayed on for a few days, picking blackberries with me and the kids their last day here so that they could put up jam too. They took off and I had 11 loads of laundry to catch up on. That's what I get for paying attention to the people that visit. It was so good to see them! I caught up on the house, and then went berry picking again. 24 pints of jam later...I had a messy kitchen again, but a shelf full of blackberry jam! Why can't life slow down?

Flies Time

Where has my baby boy gone? Just yesterday he was army crawling around our apartment. Then it was on to running (and me chasing). Suddenly there were two to keep track of, and a puppy that Mr O tried to take care of. The 30 minutes that lasted a lifetime out on the vineyard when Mr O and tail wagger disappeared, and were found at the neighbors about a half mile away. Several moves later we are in our new house, and Mr O is proudly riding his bike without the training wheels! Yes! Finally! But...Oh where is the cute little boy that snuggled for hours on end? The boy who drew pictures for my recipe box? Where did he go?

Toot! Toot!

While we were visiting, we got to ride the train! It was fast, electric (quiet), and lots of fun. Mr O tried to lean out over the tracks to see when it was coming, and Peaches stood far back so that the wind wouldn't blow her. Cute kids! They did very well, considering it was only the second time that they have been on public transport for any length of time. The ride took about 20 minutes from Aunty's house all the way to the zoo. We saw lots of stuff going by the windows: people walking, people riding bikes, lots of cars, trees, a few horses, and two tunnels. Lots of fun! We also got to ride the train at the zoo. It only went about 5 miles an hour and took about 30 minutes for the whole loop. It was a nice chance to sit down for a bit of a break. We got to pass the other train from the botanical gardens on the loop, and that was fun waving to all the people. The kids especially enjoyed looking over the edge and seeing how far up we were. It sure was pretty!

A Visit

So we had a very busy weekend. The kiddos and I took off on the road to visit with some family. We spent a glorious two days visiting, hugging, laughing, playing, and enjoying being together. On Thursday we went to the zoo. We saw all kinds of animals, but the true highlight was spending time with our "Alaska cousin" and his daddy. In true kid fashion, we were dragged from place to place, not really even getting the chance to read the signs before it was time to move on. The bald eagles were a favorite, as were the penguins. Four hours later, it was time for a break, at least for us adults. So we discussed matters and decided to meet up at the local Chucky Cheeses. Once there, it was a free for all! The kids went in all different directions, coming back only for handfuls of tokens to run the montage of games. They went crazy! It was fun. Three hours there, and we were finally out of tokens, and it was time for bed. Each kid picked out their prizes and we hit the road for Aunty's house and bed. Waking up the next morning we were accosted by two kids "when are we going to OMSI?" Over and over and over again. OMSI (for those who aren't familiar) is like a combination of a children's museum where everything is hands on, and a science fair with lots of cool facts and things to learn. Oh that was fun! We learned about sound waves, ocean waves, air currents, dinosaurs, bugs, and much much more. Everything had several examples so that we could touch and learn about that subject in different ways. Really really cool! The Alaska cousin chose me to wander with for a while and we talked about everything. "How does it work? Can I do that? Come over here! There's something way cool!!" We raced the air rockets, tried our hand at a water rocket launch, and talked so much that I got hoarse. He was tons of fun to chatter with. He's a very smart kid, and knew about a lot of what was on display. He taught me a few things. Once we were there for a few hours Mr O and Peaches had reached their limit of endurance, and we hit the road for home.

All In a Days Work

Growing up we went blackberry picking every year. Mother would gather all the buckets that she could find, we would get our grubbiest jeans on, grab long sleeved old cotton work shirts of Dad's and away we would go. A half hour later we would be parked in some out of the way location, in the back of someones field. Our cousins and us would pile out of the vans, grab a bucket, and start picking. Our picking never lasted long, I think I may have contributed a half of a bucket one year, and then we would play. Hide and seek, lots of pretend, and tag were among the favorites. We would be there until every bucket was full of berries. Then we would pile our sweaty, tired, selves back into the vans for the trip home. Mom would put the berries in the fridge, and start making jam the next day. I never really understood how much work that really was for my sweet mother until just recently. Peaches and I don't really care that much for strawberry jam, so since blackberries are plentiful in this area, we took our buckets and went picking. It seemed to take forever to just get one bucket full! We picked for (what seemed like) hours. Getting scratched, poked, and asked every few minutes if we were done yet. We managed to come home with two brimful buckets of berries. Immediately putting some into a crisp for Handsome, the rest went into the fridge for jam. Oh. My. Word. Jam is hot, sweaty, and very fulfilling work! I got three batches out of those first two buckets, and then an additional four batches out of the next picking (another two buckets full). I had twenty four pints of blackberry jam adorning my counter for a short time. Oh, it looked good! It honestly isn't a ton of work to put up jam, just hot. You have to stir and stir and stir until it is done, otherwise you get scorched jam, which is garbage. So I did it, and we ate fresh jam on our sandwiches today. MmmmmmHmmmmm! I really can cook, at least occasionally (if I have a very specific recipe to follow). Good stuff!

With a Cluck Cluck here

There is just something about fresh eggs. I'm not sure if it is the taste, the color, or simply the joy of collecting them. But they sure are good! Miss A has been kind enough to share with us the fruits of her farm. Mr O and Peaches love the chickens. Especially Mr O. The business of the chickens matches his own business levels, and they get along great. We have been privaleged enough to feed the animals a couple times now, and the chickens are Mr O's job. I scoop the food, and he goes about the pen, scattering food for the birds and they come running. They follow him until he is out of food, scattering with the grains of food to eat their breakfast. After the feeding, comes the watering. That is Peaches job. I lift the lid and she holds the hose inside the watering bucket. The chickens gather for this as well, and she is immediatly surrounded by excitedly clucking chickens gulping down water as if we're in the middle of a drout. In reality they are never really out of water, I have yet to ever see their can empty. I guess they just really like the fresh cold water right as it is coming out of the hose. I can't fault them for that, I like it too. Once their water bucket is full, we turn off the hose and look for eggs. It isn't much of a hunt. They have four nesting boxes inside the coop where they lay. Peaches and Mr O gather the eggs like they are made of gold. Shouting out each find, bringing it to me to show me, and then going back for more. On a typical day the hens will lay between eight and a dozen eggs. The eggs differ in shape, size and color. Some are dark brown with speckles, light blue, green, white, and even light brown with white speckles. There are lots of chickens. Each of them a different color like the eggs that they lay. Some are the same breed, but differ slightly in color, so that there is a veritable pallet of different shades of browns, blacks, whites, and a couple blondes. The roosters are so much fun. They crow and crow and crow, trying to sound all tough, but really sounding quite cute. The cook-a-doodle-doos get answering crows from the neighboring chickens. They converse back and forth for quite some time before they will stop, apparently hoarse or just tired of talking. As we move toward the gate, there are always a couple chickens that follow. It is almost as if they are sorry to see us go. Either that or they want more food...

Come on in for some Free Fun!

We took a trip down to the mall. We parked next to a store with lawnmowers outside.

Lots of lawnmowers.

The kind of lawnmowers that beg to be tested.

So we sat in each one, made the required bbbrrrrrrrmmmmmmm bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb noises that lawnmowers make, and mowed yards.

I think we must have mowed every yard in the neighborhood before we were done.

Yeah, and I'm the Crazy One

We went out for a playdate with a dear friend of mine and her son recently. Every two weeks we get together alternating between a few indoor places that have good toys for them to be wild on. Turbo is very similar to Mr O in that they both have a hard time focusing on given tasks and tend to go a bit wild when presented with too much fun all at once. Turbo and Mr O went nuts at the play place. Not wild, not even crazy, just nuts. The controlled kind of "woohoo! We're free to be nuts-o" kind of nuts. There were a lot of additional kids at this place, since it is still summer vacation, but even with that both boys did remarkably well. Peaches and Turbo teamed up and went screaming down the black slide more times then I could count. And Mr O found a patient older child (probably about 10) that allowed him to tag along. They played for hours, stopping occationally for food and drink, but mostly running nonstop. By the time we gave them the 5 minute warning, they were about ready to call it a day by themselves. Straggling out to the cars we said our goodbyes. And we're already counting down the days until next time!!

Farm Frenzy

This morning we had an adventure. The kind of adventure that you want to repeat over and over and over again. Just around the block from us is a small farm. It is owned by a wonderful woman who has been very generous and allowed us to invade, ride, help, and get in the way. Her sweetness is something that cannot be measured, because there is always more. She has taken Mr O under her wing and has helped him to focus better. She has spread her love for animals, all animals, to Peaches. If Peaches sees an animal in need, or just an animal in any situation, she has to stop and say hi. Sometimes we get a little behind in our things to do, but that is an important something, and I will not stand in her way. Miss A (who runs this farm) may be blushing now from all this praise, but it is all true. She has really helped me and my children learn to appriciate the little things all over again. So, back to this morning. We were in charge of feeding everyone for the first time ever. We had helped feed once before, and Miss A left a very detailed list, yet it is quite a resposibility. There were 3 horses, 4 ponies, 4 pigs, 2 donkeys, 3 turkeys, 2 geese, and lots and lots of chickens. All in all it takes about 30 minutes, start to finish. Feeding starts with the horses. We spread the hay out in the field in several small piles, so everyone has a spot to eat, then we let them out of their stalls. One by one they go trotting by, eager to get their tummies filled with yummy hay. Next are the ponies. One goes in with the horses, two are in their own pen and get hay in there, and one gets let into the back yard. On to the pigs. They oink good naturedly as the horses trot by, snort as the ponies get fed, and begin to get beligerant as we get their food. Oinking and squealing they crowd each other. They all want some right now! After putting their food into several piles around their yard, we move on to the donkeys. The donkeys are newer, and LOVE the kids. Jesus (Hay-suse) and Daisy will nudge me out of the way so that they can love on the kids and so that the kids can scratch their ears. Softly snuffling and kissing. Such gentle animals! Putting their hay in two piles and after recieving their love, they begin to dine and we move on to the birds. Here is where something funny happens. We got through the gate into the turkey/goose pen, lift up the lid to their food, and Daisy comes running over to the fence, braying for all she was worth. She thinks that she really does need chicken feed, and brays for a little while until Jesus comes over and calms her down. The turkeys and geese surround us, each begging to get fed first. They are all quite friendly, and we can pet them, stroking their soft feathers. The chickens are last, and by now are running up and down the fence, clucking like crazy. They also gather around us, crowding, and clucking until we throw handfuls of food to them. There are all kinds of chickens. I don't know all the different kinds, but they all lay different colored eggs. There is white, blue, green, light brown, and brown. We call them Easter eggs, cause it is like hunting for Easter eggs everyday. Once everyone has food, we head back to the horses to talk and pet them as they finish their breakfast. What a wonderful beginning to the day!

A Special Day

Watching Mr O and Peaches the other day, I was reminded of something. A saying that a wise older man said to me once (many of you I'm sure have heard this saying) "everyday is a special day, don't save your dress-ups for tomorrow." I've tried to take that to heart. So often between kids and house and this and that, time runs away from me and it's not such a special day anymore, but a rather mundane one. But, then there is the revealing moment. That blink in time when you know that right now is the time to make that change. For myself, the opportunity to change the ordinary into extraordinary happens many times throughout the day. Getting bogged down with laundry Peaches will come lend a helping hand, singing and insisting that I sing too. Soon we are both smiling, laughing, and having fun doing a hum-drum chore. Dishes are usually quite similar with Mr O. He'll come pelting down the hall to take control of the silverware. He will then procede to imagine that they are all some sort of pretend being and he has been sent to organize them, or some such. Tons of fun to listen to. And then there are the dress-ups. Those fun little costumes that we've collected over time. A poofy skirt, couple of shawls, maroon dragon, green wings, and several more. With these things, and a wonderful imagination, the house gets transformed! We're no longer living in a green and white house, oh no. We live in a palace with turrets and gaurds and those shooting things. Then in the blink of an eye we're farmers plowing a field for wheat. Suddenly there is a fire! Here come the firemen! Wee-OOOO Wee-OOOO.

Things of Unnecessary Importance

There are very few things that I truly love. Things, not people. I love many many people (most people that I meet I love in some way). But, on to the topic; the things that I love. My barn. No, we don't have one here at the house. But the one on the farm of my childhood. It was a big barn, built seemingly eons ago, though it was only about 80-100 years old. There was a loft holding a few left-over bales of musty smelling hay that we would play in. We occasionally found nests of chicken eggs there and collected the eggs to eat. There was a certain smell about the barn that made it seem as if it could talk. Those old walls could have woven many a yarn about what went on within its once sturdy walls. The cows that were milked, horses kept, dogs wagging and barking, cats and kittens mewing and stealing cream. The romance and sadness that all old buildings seem to carry. Oh the stories it could tell! The hard years of work that the old barn put in holding animals, hay, wood, and a machine shop. The sun slanting through the hay dust was so beautiful. Going to the barn was like escaping from the world for a short time. There you could hear the rain drumming upon the tin roof, swing on the rope swing hung from the rafters, sit and listen to the wind causing the beams to sing, or watch a sunset from the window of the haymow. Those were sunsets. Since that time, I have never seen a more beautiful sunset. Perhaps it was that I was alone, perhaps it was the old barn working its magic, but those sunsets were the best. Like God taking a huge paintbrush to the sky. Large sweeping strokes. Bright bold colors. Subtle changes into softer tones. Finally fading into night with the brightest stars. Sometimes I would sit for hours just watching. Not going inside until the last color was finally gone and the first stars were blooming in the sky. Climbing down the ladder, breathing deeply of the barn's smell one more time, and heading inside. A few years ago, my old barn was accidentally burned to the ground. I have not gone out to the farm since then. I'm not sure I want to. The memory is forever clear in my mind, and that is all that I need.

The Hourglass

There are certain smells and sounds that each of us as individuals associate with certain things. The smell of vanilla: baking cookies. Sawdust: refinishing furniture. Roses: my sister's photography. Clean laundry: the farm of my childhood. Mint: enjoying fresh iced mint tea with family. Flour dust: wheat harvest on the farm. Rain: dancing in the puddles with my purple converse. Classical music: playing in Europe. Humming: my mother singing over dishes. Pine trees "singing:" visiting Grandma and Grandpa on the farm. Stories (any story): my mother reading to us sisters every evening. Bells: playing hand bells with my sisters. There is a memory or a thing that each of us associate to nearly every smell and sound that we encounter. I find it fascinating how one little thing can trigger emotions and thoughts and memories that we didn't even know were there. Take, for instance, my music box. Peaches and Mr O love me to wind it up for them to listen to, and each time I am flooded with memories. My grandfather Rossi (passed away some years ago now) gave me a music box for my birthday years ago (I think I was 15 or 16). It was the music box that had for years graced the end table in their living room. It was an ugly end table, bronze with rather odd patterned leaves painted on it. The couches were ugly too. Pink. Huge flowers. Bright. But very comfortable. And I can still hear Grandpa telling me "knees don't belong on the couch, just your little bottom." And then there was the carpet. It was the really weird mustard yellow color that was so popular, but so...mustard looking. The colors are vivid in my mind, even after so many years.
Every year we visited Grandma and Grandpa Rossi in late July or early August. It was a huge family trip. Daddy would take a week (or more) off of work, and we would frantically scrub the trailer and van the week before (and the week after). Packing was an art form with seven girls and usually a cousin or two coming along for the ride, we could each bring one bag for clothes. The drive seemed like it took forever, from Walla Walla down to Sacramento. Mother (ingenious woman) made "pockets" that fit over the seats in the van, with the "pocket" hanging on the back of the seat. There were nine "pockets" in all, insuring that each girl got one for the games, books, and other entertainment stuff that we each had to bring. Mother also read to us; Cheaper by the Dozen, Anne of Green Gables, Little House in the Big Woods, and many many more. She would read until she was to hoarse to continue, and then take it up again an hour later when her voice recovered. Daddy drove. I have no idea how he stayed sane in a van full of 7 or more girls for 2 days straight. We would all talk at once, there was never silence, unless mom was reading. He either had a lot of patience or tuned us out (I think it was a combination of the two). I'm still amazed that he was able (on two trips that I remember), drive almost the complete trip down, only stopping for gas and with one maybe two short spell-offs from mom, straight.
But then we would ARRIVE at Grandpa and Grandma's house! We struck the house with a vengeance, all of us piling out, running inside, hugging, hollering, making sure the crackers were stocked up, and making sure Grandpa's garden was still there. Our poor grandparents. They probably aged an entire year in the the first few hours of our visit. Grandpa would take walks in his garden, I would often tag along. Listening to him naming the plants, talking to them, watering them, and enjoying them was so good. I (someday) want to have a greenhouse so that I can grow plants like grandpa.
The path ways through the garden was the medium round river rocks, larger than gravel, but small enough for a pathway. The lizards and birds ran away at the sound of us running across the patio. Grandpa would sit with me and watch for the lizards to come back. And they would, slowly, creeping back over the rocks to sun themselves on the larger rocks bordering some of the flowerbeds. There was a fountain of two children under an umbrella, looking down into the pool below. The water would run over the umbrella, and fall off the sides in drops, making them look like they stood in the rain all by themselves. Grandpa loved to tell stories. The look on his face when he recounted things about his family and Italian heritage is unforgettable. His was the story of the American dream coming true. Holding my hand in his work hardened one and telling me that it was all worth it, still brings tears to my eyes. I can still feel the calluses.
Grandma fed the quail. Everyday we would help her rip up the day-old bread that she bought and then we would scatter it beneath the "bird tree." The quail would come, bobbing their little heads, the blue birds would swoop down taking one piece at a time, the robins argued over who got what, and the sparrows were happy with the crumbs. She also loved the raccoons. There was a "raccoon plate" that she would gather leftovers on through out the day and at night (about 8) would put it out on the patio. We would turn the lights off and wait in anticipation, staying back from the sliding glass door so we wouldn't frighten them. And then they were suddenly there! With their eyes peeking through the mask that they wore, bandits. Clean bandits though. Taking the food and washing it in the birdbath before eating. Grandpa refilled the birdbath every morning, grumbling good naturedly about the soggy crumbs. I can still hear grandma clucking at us that the bread was in too big of pieces for the birds. Taking it in her hands and demonstrating how small the pieces needed to be. Holding her frail hand for a walk about the garden to smell the "four o'clocks" is still vivid.
At night, Mother would read us a chapter from whatever book we were reading together as a family and then Father would lead us in family prayer. Grandpa and Grandma would both join, each always saying how thankful they were that we could come. A lesson in gratitude for a young heart.
Grandpa would open the drapes in the front window, waking those of us that slept on the living room floor. Then after breakfast, we would disperse to do whatever it is that kids do. Grandpa would wind the music box and I would sit and listen to it, seemingly for hours. We would sit on that ugly pink flowered couch and listen to that beautiful music box. Grandpa would be transported back to Italy, I would be dancing in meadows of flowers. He would tell me stories of himself as a little boy, tales of Italy, then a far-off place. About the clothes lines strung between the houses, trees growing in the street, and his little shoes that he didn't like to keep on.
Amazing what a little song from a music box can do.