Tag: fredericksburg

Day 331-The Blubonnet-Wildflower Trail

Steve, Rebel, and I went for a Sunday drive through the Texas Hill Country yesterday to see the wild flowers.  We took a route from Fredericksburg north on State Highway 16, driving first through the Willow City Loop IMG_9576which was beautiful as  usual. The Willow Loop is worth the drive with or without flowers, but the flowersIMG_9592 were very nice this year.

After returning to Highway 16 we drove on to Llano, and then detoured off onto Highway 71. The Flowers along this stretch were also gorgeous, but from there we took County road 307, better known as Slab Road and traveled along it into Kingsland.IMG_9764 It’s a great drive through here as well.  It is so wonderful to see the water flowing so strongly over the granite at the slab again. IMG_9769There were plenty of people enjoying the warm day in the water and a nice array of flowers along the route as well.

We ran into some friends in Kingsland. That was an unexpected treat, so we stopped and visited a while and let our little travel companion, Rebel, IMG_9837my son’s white Heeler run around a little.

We returned along Althaus Davis Road. Unfortunately though there were some flowers, this route was relatively bare,except at the Blanco County end,IMG_9784 unlike it had been in past years. We cut back through Willow City again and then took the Eckert Road off Highway 16. There were little to no flowers through this area. It was a nice drive through the neighborhood though.

Farm to Market 965 is said to have a wonderful display off flowers this year from Enchanted Rock to Highway 16. I plan to get out there sometime this week. If you are planning to see the Bluebonnets it would be best to do so this week because we observed that they were already going to seed so they won’t be around too much longer, probably only a week of two. Of course there are and will be plenty other flower varieties  to fill in and make the drives just as beautiful. IMG_9832

Day 328-The Sun Rises (Villanelle)

The waves glisten as the crash upon the sand;
The beach shimmers in the early morning;
The sun rises with colors so grand.

Seagulls dance along the strand,
In the water’s edge they are playing;
The waves glisten as the crash upon the sand.

The surf, still cold upon my hand,
Against my skin is crashing;
The sun rises with colors so grand.

Pinks, golds, purples, oranges and blues reflect across the water and the land;
In the sky, higher and higher the sun is gliding;
The waves glisten as they crash upon the sand.

Darkness gives in to dawn at nature’s command,
As clouds take on a gold lining;
The sun rises with colors so grand.

Wonder and beauty surround me as on the beach I stand,
Captivated and watching,
The waves glisten as they crash upon the sand;
The sun rises with colors so grand.

GB

So this is my April’s Fool on myself, because this poem is about the beach. It takes place there, where I am not but would like to be. And now the irony, is that is where my son is enjoying a weekend with buddies at a State Skills USA competition.

Day 323-Mystery of Easter

Easter is a time of joy;
It is a time of true love.
When God showed the world He cared,
And came down to us from above.

He sent His Son to us all,
That we might be forgiven.
That we all might learn to forgive,
And in faith go on living.

He spared not even His life;
So that we might come to believe,
And understand His love for us.
So that loving one another, we might achieve.

For God so loved the world,
He gave His only Son to die,
So that those who believe in Him,
Should have everlasting life.

This is God’s love for us all.
This is God’s gift of grace to us each.
This is why we have faith in Him.
This is the Mystery of Easter which we teach!

Have a happy and Blessed Easter!

Day 322-Easter Season (Limerick)

Easter Season is so near,
With bunnies, eggs and cheer.
But what of the cross;
The tomb can’t go lost,
Or Easter’s message, won’t be dear!

Day 321-When I Look Upon the Sacred Cross

Each year as Easter rolls around, I find myself once again in awe of our Lord and Savior and the sacrifices He made for each of us. He created us beautiful and perfect in His sight, but we chose to turn our backs on him and follow in the path of sin. He spent centuries trying to bring us back by showing His power and wrath with floods, famine, plagues and destruction of the worst of us, but never all of us. He spared any that showed Him reverence and faithfulness at all. He continued to love us and when He realized that we were a foolish lot and these things only scared us back to Him for a little while, He chose another route.

He didn’t want to destroy us, but saw that through sin we were destroying ourselves. He took pity on us. He was and is GOD! He could have destroyed us and started over. He could have reached into our hearts and minds and changed them Himself, making us follow Him. He didn’t do that! He wanted a relationship with us. He wanted us to come to Him. He wanted to save as many of us as possible. He wanted us to want Him and love Him. He didn’t want puppets, he wanted children that came to Him in love and served Him in love.

There for He gave us grace.

Long ago He had established that the wages of sin was death. This was a death that would forever separate us from Him, and condemn us to an eternity of pain and suffering. He didn’t want to lose us all to this fate.

So once again He extended a hand to us in saving grace, the hand of Christ His only son. He sent him in the flesh, human like us, and able to feel and know our every pain and temptation. But yet fully divine and perfect and totally undeserving of the suffering He endures for us.

God could have done it any other way, but instead He chose to come to earth and become all that we were, except that He was sinless, in order to save us from all that we are even to this day, which is a sinful and totally undeserving people. He bled and died, was whipped, scourged, beaten and crucified that we might have everlasting life and have it abundantly. He died and rose again, conquering the grave so that our deaths might be a doorway to eternal life with him instead of eternal damnation.

He did all this out of love and a wanting and willingness to have a relationship with us. We did nothing to deserve this outpouring of love yet he freely gave it. We still do not deserve his love, grace and forgiveness, yet we have it and he continues to give it.

How sad it is that it took such drastic measures for us to realize that He wants us to turn our back on sin and follow him.

He didn’t have to die; He chose to do it for us. He chose to take our sins upon him. He could have just as easily destroyed us. Instead, He was able to “destroy the temple of God, and to build it in three days,” (Matthew 26:61) hoping that we might finally realize who He is and all we mean to Him.

When I look upon the sacred cross,
My heart is broken in my chest,
My lungs are still, my breath a loss,
My soul to Him my one bequest.

He gave Himself for me his all,
That I might live instead of die.
My tears a flood begin to fall,
His pain, my grief and so I cry.

He owes me nothing, He is my God
My sins and burdens, He freely takes.
My life He spares with just a nod,
But with shame my soul still rakes.

Upon that cross He hung for all,
A sinful undeserving lot.
It took His life for us on our knees to fall,
And find the love that sin forgot.

As I look upon that sacred cross,
And see the pain He bore for me,
So that from Him I’d not be lost,
My eyes are open, I finally see.

His hand in grace He now extends,
With faith in Him I do believe
In God whose love has shown no ends
So His service I will never leave.

Day 319-The Adult Easter Egg Hunt

Our family has its own traditions, one such, is the annual Adult Easter Egg Hunt. My mother and aunt, decided many years ago that the kids weren’t the only ones that should have this fun. Therefore, they devised a hunt for the adults.

To participate, you have to be high school age or older. There is only one egg per person. Once you have found an egg, you may watch but you may not find, or direct others to hidden eggs. At the beginning a collection is taken from the players; pretty much whatever cash you have on hand. This is divided between the eggs starting with a large amount and the getting smaller in each egg. One egg is a Booby prize and could have anything that amuses the hiders in it. All the eggs are different colors and sizes. The two top prize winners each year have to hide the eggs the following year. This hunt takes place each year in an area between 3 old barns and a field behind them. There is a mass of old implements, old natural gas tanks, old tractors, old vehicles, hay, rocks, trees, and even a small well house in this area, so hiding places are aplenty.

Several years ago, there were about 11 adults hunting. Among these, were myself and my brother, Glenn, whose mission in life is to harass me, and pretty much always has been. That being said, you have the catalyst for this particular hunt. Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to the rest of us, at least at the beginning, he was the first person to find his egg. Remember the rules, well he doesn’t follow rules well.

As the rest of us diligently hunted for an egg, taking clues from the two hiders, Glenn went around moving the eggs that he found after finding his, and distracting the other hunters so that they wouldn’t realize what he was doing.

This created a situation where certain ones of us were hunting very hard in areas that should have eggs, but no longer did. Others were finding eggs in places that shouldn’t have them, had been previously checked, and now mysteriously did. Eventually, as the hunt went on, the hiders and other hunters became aware of what was going on, especially after they were practically directed to an egg.

My poor dad became collateral damage, as dad and I searched an area with no egg for quite a long time. Glenn allowed him to hunt along because he didn’t want to make me suspicious. Once I gave up and moved on to another site, Dad miraculously found an egg in a place we had both looked dozens of times. Of course we found out later that it was because Glenn was carrying it around in his pocket the whole time so I wouldn’t find it.

By this time everyone else had found an egg, and become aware of what Glenn was doing. I was the last one. For this reason they were all watching with bated breath, to see what he had planned for me and my egg. He kept me hunting for a while longer, and others even chimed in as to where there might still be an egg, even if they knew there was not one there. Then they even all collaborated to make me believe that they really didn’t know where the last one was hidden. This was easily believable since they had all been moved around so much, and the hiders only knew what Glenn told them.

Finally I was directed to a spot around the little well house. I had scoured this area earlier and knew at that time there was no egg. Glenn was all too interested in me finding this egg, so I knew something wasn’t right. Sure enough on top of the roof under some wood and trash was a small blue egg.

Now I am told that this egg originally held pennies as the booby prize, but by the time I found it, those had become part of another party’s egg. Mine held a small square piece of paper with a hand written note, which left no doubt as to whom was responsible. It was covered in my brother’s clever little wit, and read:……………………………..?

Well I know it had something to do with winning and/or being the Booby prize myself, but I no longer remember how he worded it. Regardless, he was extremely proud of himself, and I vowed revenge, which I am still waiting to collect. And so there you have it, the hunt goes on!

P.S. I am still waiting for my revenge. That being said, we actually haven’t had this hunt in a few years because due to weather, time, and other factors it just got missed. But my oldest daughter and I have had some new prize ideas. Most of the players are over 21 now, so we were thinking of mixing it up with travel liquor bottles in some of the eggs. Of course Glenn’s booby prize is still a work in progress……:)

Day 314-The Written Page

I live my life through ink and quill;
Each thing that happens a story still.
Sometimes events are very sad,
While others make me very mad.

Some have lessons in them to learn;
While others in my soul still burn.
Still others are very happy;
But sometimes words for them get sappy.

My life lies on the written page,
For others to read and gauge.
But for me it’s just how I deal;
And get past each notch in life’s spinning wheel.

Day 222-Christmas Magic

When I was very young, my parents celebrated Christmas with us, steeped in German traditions that brought life and magic to the holiday. They went over and above in order to make the magic of Christmas real.

In our home the big celebration was an open house at my mom’s on Christmas Eve. On the 24th the house came alive with family and friends. There were decorations, a huge tree, tons of food, drink sweets, music, gifts and fun.

For us, the kids, all the wonderment began on Christmas Eve morning, but for my dedicated parents, the work began late on the 23rd. You see, my parents sent us to bed around nine o’clock on the 23rd in a house with not one decoration or obvious sign of Christmas, no tree, nothing.

When we awoke on Christmas Eve morning, the excitement and magic of Christmas had arrived at our house while we had slept. We came down the stairs to air-filled with the wonderful aromas of food cooking for Christmas Eve dinner. The house was decorated, and in the living room, was a Christmas tree that stood from floor to ceiling tall and almost as big around. It was fully adorned with decorations. In those days, the decorations consisted of beautiful glass balls and birds, golden garland, silver tinsel, and old-fashioned bubble lights, along with hundreds of colored twinkle lights which were ringed in little plastic star bursts. It was gorgeous, like a Christmas card in our living room. And best of all there were gifts of all sizes under the tree.

We were allowed to peak at the tree, but then the doors were closed and we weren’t allowed in again until time for gifts and guests. When we were older, we could help set the dining room table which was next to the tree, but we were not allowed to snoop around the gifts. Of course we couldn’t help but try to see names on the gifts as we worked, in such a way as to not get caught snooping. That was a tedious endeavor, I assure you. As soon as our work was done the door was closed again, and we were back to waiting.

The best part of this whole thing was the knowledge that Santa Claus had done it all, the tree, the gifts, decorated the house. He and his elves had been here while we slept. I know what you are thinking, “But Santa doesn’t start delivering until Christmas Eve.”

Well that’s right, but Christmas Eve starts at midnight, and it takes him all day since there are so many children in the world. And since he knew we had our Christmas that day, my parents had a standing agreement that he would come by our house before daylight on Christmas Eve.

I think the must have given him fresh turkeys for his Christmas table from my dad’s turkey farm each year to seal the deal because they quite often, got him to do special favors like this.

I remember quite well one of those favors he did for them. I was very young, perhaps 5 or 6 that particular Christmas. The day had transpired as I described previously. The extended family was there. We had read the Christmas story from the Bible and opened all our gifts.

I had wanted a bicycle that year, but there wasn’t one under the tree. We had begun to entertain guests and eat food. General merriment was being made all through the house; there was laughing and stirring but thankfully no mouse.
About half way through the evening, the door bell rang, as it had been doing all evening to announce more guests. I was told to open the door and so I did.

Outside on the step, there stood a brand new, red bicycle with training wheels. No one was there with it. Everyone I knew was in the room behind me watching. I heard jingle bells in the distance, and I searched the sky but never saw him, only heard the sleigh bells. Santa had made a special delivery, and was quick to be on his way so that I never saw him. I was excited and disappointed all at once.
I’m still not sure how my parents and “Santa” pulled that one, off and to this day, those who know aren’t talking. I do know it was probably the most exciting and memorable Christmas ever. The magic couldn’t have been more real that year. It was wonderful and fun.

After my special delivery had been safely ushered through the house to the utility room, where it couldn’t break anything if it fell over, the party continued as before. I looked out the window and up at the sky often that evening, never quite sure how Santa could get away so fast, and secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of his sleigh somewhere in the sky. I never saw it, but then that’s what made it magic.

Day 187-Focus Challenge 2-Writing Scenario to Story Premise

Fiction Writing Exercises for Stimulating Creativity Writing #365daynovel

From a simple scenarios form the basis for a story. Your job is to come up with three story premises for the scenario. Be creative and try to avoid the most obvious premises.

Chosen scenario:

  • A man and a woman are sitting across from each other at a small table in a dimly lit restaurant.

Premise 1:

A young, attractive couple sits together in the same dimly lit restaurant night after night. She has long auburn hair and bright green eyes, he had crystal blue eyes and thick dark brown hair. They are the picture of health and beauty. They are always deeply engaged in conversation. Just simple things that seem so very day-to-day, yet they exude excitement and wonder as they talk. They seem to never notice anyone around them, they are totally in a world all their own.

Young lovers, most would assume, happy and engaged in each other’s interests.
They talk only to each other, and look only at each other. The locals are used to them. no one ever talks to them or approaches them. They are allowed to carry on alone, uninterrupted, and almost unnoticed. Rarely is anyone ever seated close to them, so they continue in their own way. It is best this way.

Then strangers come in. Some don’t give them more than a passing glance. Some notice that something is different about this striking couple, others are attracted to them wanting to engage them in conversation. Their excitement for life seems to bubble over needing to be shared. It is like an energy that flows from them in quiet waves that invigorate the senses of anyone close by. They draw others in without even a glance or word to them directly. They have a unexplainable attraction to those who don’t know.

Locals watch, pitying those that fall under their spell. Those that join them at their table appear to have a wonderful evening with them, but when the restaurant closes, this beautiful couple is the last to leave, and somehow they always leave alone. Their new friends, what of them? The rumors  among the townsfolk speak of untold horrors, and these new friends are never seen again.

Premise 2:

A young couple in their teens sits together in a dimly lit restaurant trying to blend into the atmosphere of romantic lovers. The environment around them is strained as they practically will themselves to appear as completely enthralled young lovers, hoping that no one will notice them from anyone else in the place.

They hide in the darkest booth in the far back of the restaurant, praying that creature that killed their parents won’t look for them here. They don’t know what it is or where it came from, only that it is after something that their parents knew and now it seeks them since it did  not find what it was looking for in their house or glean the information from their parents.

They are hunted by the  police as well because they neighbors reported the murders and only saw them running from the house. They have no money, no car, and no  place to go, and it is only a matter of time before they are found. Somehow they must escape the creature and the  police until they can figure out the truth about what has happened and find the only person they can trust to help, and old friend of their father’s. But even this man is shrouded in mystery and they must walk in shadows until they can be sure if he will be their salvation, or more of their doom.

Premise 3:

An innocent couple is tucked away in the far corner of a romantic restaurant enjoying their meal, talking of an upcoming vacation when an explosion rocks the neighborhood sending the high-rise hotel next door crashing into the restaurant. They manage to flee the bay window table they are in, just as the building dissolves around them and they are trapped beneath the rubble. A section of the building remains where they are all trapped, but many are injured and the structure that is left won’t last long. Now they are in a race against time to get help and to find a way out, helping as many others as they can.

Roger is an EMT and Miranda a nurse, and they must use all their skills to survive, even as warning on Roger’s radio warn of another impending attack in more buildings in their area.

Ok, this was my writing exercise for the #365daynovell course I joined yesterday. This is day 2 of my challenge. Let me know what you think of my story premises from this exercise. The exercise was supplied by Writing Forward.

365daynovel.com/gigijb

 

Day 176-Halloween-The Harpist’s Wife

Happy Halloween! Today I am sharing another one of my ghost stories with you. I wrote this one some years ago as well, but it is all my own.  It was inspired by years of playing in the local cemetery behind my grandmother’s house, with my cousins while I was growing up.  It was published about 3 years ago on  Yahoo Contributor when I was writing for them, before they closed down the site, so there is some chance you may have seen it before. If you have, enjoy it again, if you haven’t, than welcome to the world of:

The Harpist’s Wife

It was a cold, dark, rainy, windy, night with lightning flashing and thunder rumbling loudly, and yet we were still there. We were stupid, foolish teenagers. We knew we shouldn’t be there; it was crazy and dangerous. We knew the stories were true, but we just had to see for ourselves. The legend said that if anyone went out to the cemetery on a night like this, one of them would not return from the Harpist’s grave, yet we still went. We had to know for ourselves. Call it dumb, invincible; know it all teen age pride and morbid, curiosity. We were six, when we went there that night.
Legend was that if anyone ventured into the cemetery on a night just like this one, you would see the Harper, hear him play, and watch as once again, he murders his wife, who smashes his harp in a jealous rage. Because the harp truly was his first love, in his will he left his full estate to the harp’s protection. It was to be enshrined atop his grave, in the most shatter proof glass, held together with thick steel, plated with solid gold. Lights shone upon it from either side, that it might shine like a god of the music world, he perceived it to be. He wanted it there, where he was sure, even in death; he could reach up and play it. And many say he plays it often. Many have heard it, and tell stories of reliving the night he murdered his wife with one of its broken strings, severing her throat. But each time there have been new witnesses to this crime, there has also been a new victim. His wife still tries to escape him, but for this there must be a trade, a soul for a soul. She must possess a mortal in order to flee from him.
So there the six of us were, standing in the stormy, dark night with only the light from the harp and the lightning waiting like lambs to the slaughter at the foot of the Harpist’s grave.
The thing about legends is that sometimes there are parts of them that people know, but are too afraid to speak of, so they only tell what they think will scare others away.
At precisely, 2:13 a.m., the harp began to play, and the harpist appeared at its side, an ordinary looking man, slender with shoulder length dark hair. Soon his lovely wife appeared, a vision of beauty with long flowing red hair, which surprised us, because every recounting of this story described her different, but always beautiful. They both were dressed in the finery of the late 1800’s. We watched as they began to fight. The real harp never moved from its shrine, and its music continued to play, as a vision of it fell to the ground. The Harpist scrambled to protect it, as she chopped it with an ax. Several times he narrowly escaped harm himself, crying in anguish as his precious harp broke into pieces.
She stood back weary and exhausted, dropping the ax to the ground, smiling. The Harpist plucked a long thin, sharp string from among the wreckage, and rose to face her. His hands wound tightly around the ends of the string until they began to bleed. Her smile faded, and she began looking for a place to flee for safety, it was then, they became aware of us watching.
She ran toward us wildly begging for protection, for a place of refuge. We scattered in different directions trying to get out of their path. I ran, my heart pounding, I could hear her footfalls behind me and her voice beseeching me to save her. I screamed that I could not help her because she was already dead. I stumbled over a low headstone, and fell and she fell upon me, and then we were one.
I felt her fear and my own, as she urged me to run, but I had broken my ankle in the fall and could only hobble. I cried for help from the others, but they would not come near because they had seen us become one, and they were afraid, but watched from the shadows.
I stumbled away as quickly as I could, but the Harpist overtook me, and I felt the bite of the string around my neck, cutting into my flesh. I could neither scream nor fend him off, though I tried. He over powered me. I felt my blood flowing down my neck, and my life slipping away.
In my head I heard her voice, “Thank you for setting me free, I am so sorry it had to be you.” Then I felt her fade away, and my world went dark.
When I awoke, the Harpist was once more playing his harp as though nothing had happened. My friends and the traveler were crying and screaming as they ran from the cemetery, leaving me behind. I called to them to wait, but they didn’t seem to hear me. As I started to follow after them, my foot caught on something on the ground. It was then that I knew what she had meant. Below me lay the body that once was mine, on the ground.
As I looked up, the Harpist beckoned to me. “Come my dear wife; let the music of the harp bring you peace, at least for a while.” I tried to walk away, but I found I could not leave the cemetery.
This was the part of the legend, no one would pass along. This was why no one described her the same way twice. Because each time she succeeded in freeing herself, she passed on her legacy to the one who took her place. This I now know, because for now until the next legend seekers came to the cemetery, on a stormy night, I am the Harpist’s wife.