Used to be a ‘new’ Jersey Girl   : now A Colorado Girl

Monday, January 18, 2016

Cattail Ice Sculptures

They only happen under the most particular of circumstances: freezing temperatures (but not enough to freeze the water surface itself), wind-whipped waves, and cattails of course. From the first time I saw them form on Green Turtle Pond I have been intrigued and inspired. They cluster against the dam, frozen in a moment of time all unto themselves. Let's look a bit closer, shall we?

The Ballerina

 

The Three Musketeers

 

The Elf's Hat

 

En Garde!

 

Pretty Parasol

They never cease to delight. They are always in a state of flux, taking whatever form nature shapes them in. Each of them unique and beautiful.

Saturday, December 26, 2015

Merry Christmas (and more importantly) Happy New Year!

Take a very good look at this wonderful cartoon that friend Rand Kruback did for us as a gift. Rand is an old HP friend from way back and has recently been doing the yearly calendars for Vision Research. Don't forget to notice the Phantom camera strapped in there!

This blog post of ours on Off the Grid inspired him. 

I think he captured us pretty well right down to Rick's curly hair! A Bernese Mountain Dog, wine, Cooking "901" and more! What do you see ? We will treasure this, thank you Rand for being so generous with your amazing talent!

In the new year, COLORADO OR BUST,  for sure.

Monday, December 21, 2015

Good-Bye Fire Truck Santa

Fire Truck Santa a few years ago.

Last night Fire Truck Santa finally came by. I had been waiting for him all day. It was dark by the time he arrived in his sleigh aboard a flat bed trailer, pulled by the local fire department's truck. Poor Santa, no snow for his sleigh. He used to come by as pictured above but he's been upgraded in the past few years to a more comfortable ride. I have to say that had I seen this sight as a child I would have been entranced and delighted. Santa! Oh heck, I'm still delighted even if the fire trucks do make a lot of noise on our quiet little cul-de-sac. Santa arrives with flashing lights and sirens you can't miss him.

I was in my "house only" slippers and thought I would be satisfied peeking through the curtains. But I wasn't. I grabbed a $20 bill from Rick, turned on our outside driveway lights and headed up to the street. He was stopped at our neighbors at the end of the cul-de-sac and I couldn't really see what was going on. I was hoping that either the Corbetts or the Murrays were also contribuitng to the Christmas cheer.

It took them a long time to finish whatever was going on, but the truck finally pulled up next to me. Santa was not in his sleigh but sitting in the passenger side of the truck. I jokingly asked him why he wasn't in the sleigh and he said "Santa's pooped out!" He had his beard and hat off by then. I guess he figured I was grown up enough not to care. But I sort of did. I told him that I'd been watching for him all day and that they were late this year. He said there were just so many kids out this year that it took longer than usual. We were their last stop before heading back to the station.

I told him that our house was sold and we were leaving so I wouldn't be seeing them next year. He said he was sorry to see me go, we'll miss you, he said. He asked a few more questions like where were we moving and the like. I told him that I had thoroughly enjoyed his visit each year and I'd miss him too.

Really, if a volunteer fire department solicits for donations, what better way than Santa in a sleigh?

Friday, October 30, 2015

The Gnome that Sold Our Home

Here he is: our Home Gnome. At least that's what I call him.

When we were trying to sell our house in Fort Collins, our realtor here in New Jersey told us we needed a St. Joseph statue to help the house sell faster. We had never heard of such a thing but she swore that they worked. She bought us one and we followed directions for planting Joe in the ground, upside down in our herb bed back in Colorado. Ater a year went by and we returned to the house to do some repairs, we exhumed Old Joe to make sure he was pointing the right direction and we hadn't botched the burial. He was just fine, albeit a little dirty, and assuming the proper position. Poor Joe. All alone standing on his head for two years and he wasn't really the least bit of help.

In similar fashion, Rick came home with this cute little gnome to help the sell the house. At least he didn't have to stand on his pointy head, but instead has graced our front porch right outside the door since he came home in late July. The people who put the contract on our house came to look at it in August. We didn't hear much from them except that they were still interested and "working on things" until they requested a second showing on Colombus Day weekend. Since then things have moved pretty fast. We couldn't be happier and hope that they don't sell their house too soon.

We were here sitting out by the pool with the dogs when they visited the house the first time. They seemed like a really nice young couple and we could tell they were interested in the house. They asked a lot of good questions, and best of all, they noticed the artwork in the house and that all the canvases were signed by the same person — my Dad. Were were amazed that they had noticed. You have to be pretty observant to find his signature on all the paintings. Our estimation of them when up 100-fold right then and there!

So, Mr. Home Gnome I hope you bring this contract to a sale!

Did he really help? Who knows, but we like to think he did.

Sidenote: I can't see or hear the word gnome without thinking of my dear Mom. She always pronounced it "ga-nomee." Makes me smile even today. I'm not sure if she really thought that was how you pronounced it or if she was just being funny. Bless you, Mom wherever you are. We miss you so.

P.S. Follow the link to the St. Joseph statue above for the full story.

Saturday, September 19, 2015

Lost; then Found

I have just spent an agonizing two days. It all started on Thursday morning as I was getting dressed and I was about to do the last part of my "toilette," which was putting on my rings for the day. I take my rings off at night because my fingers swell so much in the New Jersey humidity that they get uncomfortable. I usually put them on a tray beside my sink in the bathroom. Excpet that on Thursday morning, they were not there. Huh. Not too worried because sometimes I sleepily take them off after reading in bed and put them on my nightside table.

Nope, not there either. Double huh.

Bathrobe pocket? Nope.

And the list of places I searched high and low just went on and on. 

Missing where three rings: my diamond princess-cut solitaire, my ruby and diamond wedding band (which we bought at Tiffany's for our 30-year-marriage vow renewal), and my grandmother's diamond. No costume jewelry here.

I racked my brain trying to come up with something, anything, that would jog my memory as to when I had last seen them. I was pretty sure they must be in the house somewhere, but I had gone to the grocery and the library the day before. Still, I had a vague recollection of having taken the off and putting them somewhere "safe." Apparently it was too safe because not even I could find them.

I spent hours looking in drawers, my knitting, on shelves, under the bed: you name the place and I probably looked there. Bella was wondering what the heck I was doing and the poor thing followed me around room by room as I opened, closed, rifled and banged around.

I was feeling pretty sick by Thursday night.

On Friday, I checked at the ShopRite at the Lost and Found. She pulled out a tray of crappy bits and pieces of jewelry that people had lost along the way. No diamonds there. Not even diamonds-in-the-rough. I had similar luck at the library. Sorry, they said. Sorry indeed.

I came home and donned a pair of garden gloves, slit open a new, big trash bag on the garage floor and dumped two days' worth of garbage from the kitchen and laundry room out on the bag. I went through the trash piece by piece. No rings. Just a bunch of garbage. I also emptied the vacuum bag and went through that. No rings, just a bunch of dirt and dog hair and two kitty toys.

I even went so far as to inspect all the dog poop in the yard from the past two days, thinking that maybe they had eaten them. I took paper towels outside with me and squished every turd I could find. The only thing I found was the fact that my dogs both have great, solid stools.

I was at my wit's end. Although by now I was convinced that my wits were truly addled if I could not remember where I put them. Was it the whiskey nightcap from that night?

Rick also joined in the search from the moment they went missing. He tried to calm me by telling me that after all, they were just rings. Yes, just rings, but pretty expensive ones and also meaningful.

By last night I had pretty much given up. I had to -- I was driving myself (and Rick) crazy. I figured they would turn up when they were good and ready. Several things I knew for sure: they were not eaten by a dog; they were not in the trash; they were not lost since they could not have fallen off my swollen fingers. So, they had to be here somewhere. Ah, that was the question: WHERE?

I was headed to bed last night when I looked down at the rug beside my bed, and lo and behold there was my grandmother's ring! I yelled to Rick that I had found a ring. He said he had taken Bella's dog bed, turned it upside down and shook it out but didn't hear anything hit the floor. We lifted the rug and there were both of the other rings! HURRAH! I started crying and bouncing around, all the while kissing my rings. Happy dance! They must have been knocked off my nightstand by a dog's tail since Bella's bed is right on my side of the bed. From this day forward I will putting them in a ring box when I take them off.

What was once lost was found. 

About

Welcome, I'm Lynne. You know me better as a 'new' Jersey Girl. But now I've moved back to my 'home' state and I am living in NoCo (Northern Colorado).This blog will be about my thoughts, good food, and of course, dogs.

© 2006-2018 Lynne Robinson All photography and text on this blog is copyright. For use or reproduction please ask me first.

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