We go through the passage'f time wonderin' if'n there's a legacy to leave 'hind. Some fear they'll be fergotten, their treasured stories ne'er shared. Others relish the thought'f comin' 'n goin' throughout this lifetime a distant blur. I'm purty fond'f the latter myself.
But back to the raggin', somethin' to chase 'way the blues...
Pictures which I've downloaded 'nto the puter? They're someplace, all nice 'n labeled into folders with my watermark'n 'em. Search me why the heck I can't get 'em to upload here. Heavens 'bove know I've sure been tryin'!
I open up Picassa 'n they're all there'n brilliant color. Here, there missin' 'n I gotta figure out where the heck to find 'em. Then, they're devoid'f watermarks, my stake'f claim. Some I've had the need to go huntin' - jest to find my external drive, protector'f all protectors, somehow's filled to the brim. I swear I've gremlins, yet the gremlin keeps say, "No threats found". 'n then, poof! the photos show'p, watermarks'n all. 'tis near maddenin'.
So, I've jest resigned my lil self to the sewin' machine. My step-daughter was kind 'nough to send'n S.O.S. out to the universe 'n I'll be danged if'n she didn't bring me out 2 big ol' boxes 'f my most favorite thingy to sew with - WORN OUT DENIM BRITCHES!!
Yepperz, pay dirt's what I call such magic. Set to task purty danged quick't whittlin' down that stash. Found out that i can whip one'f these rag quilts out'n short time when the body cooperates. Thank the stars fer a sewin' machine! Aint a huge quilt, mind'ja. But a nice size fer wrappin' yerself from the cold 'r takin' a spin 'round the ground while eatin' some picnic fares. 'r, layin' out'n the pasture 'n gazin' up to read the stars. Somethin' to daydream 'pon...
My dear daughter's gonna be the recipient'f this latest raggin' quilt with the blues. She's already great plans fer it, so she says. I hope she recalls her momma when she runs her fingers 'cross its gentle softness. Wraps herself snug 'nside when she's troubled, imaginin' those're my arms envelopin' her'n a big ol' hug 'f comfort.
Spring's comin' 'round the horizon
Tiny lil yellow rays'f sunshine 'gainst otherwise barren beds. I giggled with plum delight'f the sight.
Funny how schtuff occurs, 's if'n there's a master plan we aint privy to, aint it?
I've a maple tree that's put'n flowers 4 times thus far. Like millions'f lil sunflowers engulfin' e'ery limb. Each time its efforts thwarted by cold 'n blustery winds. Those delicate lil flowers ripped from the limbs 'n scattered to the ground. Whilst watchin' this fer several months, such reminded me that despite the odds, we all find our way. Perhaps down a diff'rent windin' path, most oft with potholes. We jest gotta keep puttin' our best ferward 'n eventually, all the rest'll fall into place.
Not always where we want such, but where't belongs. Somethin' we'll see'n understand further down the road.