Hello!
I AM still alive... annnnnd blogging! You can find me HERE.... and my newest post here.
So yes. I am alive, and very well. With biiiiiiig life changes. Seriously. Check out the 'about' page to see the biggest development. ;)
Kate-
song of sixpence
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Friday, October 21, 2011
'I've just got to take a hike!'
Indian Summer. It's those few weeks in late fall that dare you to live. Those moments where you cannot stand to be indoors one more minute.
So you determine to go. Over-the-ridge-and-into-the-valley. Just to slaughter mundane.
:kate essentials: camera.bible.boots. |
Little things - in the ruins of what once must have been a landmark on the main road. And now it's gone.
Mushrooms live in the hand-hewn beams.
Cattle always are more then willing to pose - this fellow particularly so ~
Here's his timeline of popcorn-and-soda consumption, while he watched me clamber around the old barn and foundations.
i really thought he was coming to eat *me* so I bravely hid behind a tree. turns out he liked osage oranges better then eating people. ha. |
This is where Kate decided to try to improve her ability to use the timer on her camera. And because she was spending quality time with the foundation of an old house, it quickly became morbid. Her advance apologies. And she'll now come out of third-person.
'Anybody home?' |
'Nobody home' |
Even brown is eye-catching...
ironweed~ |
Here's a re-found favorite verse from my younger teen years - and one that got some serious re-thinking. To the sound of a chipmunk's chatter, who soundly disliked my presence.
'You are [Sarah's] children, if you do good and do not fear anything that is frightening.'
(1 Peter)
'Do not fear anything that is frightening' - think about that. What a goal to strive and achieve! So help me God.
[Kate-has-been-learning] Beauty comes in the littlest things. <3
Go take a Hike. Go run in the fresh air. Go live.
Labels:
Appalachians,
Barn,
Farm,
Hiking,
Indian Summer,
Photo,
Photography
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Mae'r Hapus
(Mae'r Hapus means 'The Happy' in Welsh - heritage)
|
Polka
(Words can not describe how this dance makes my heart beat)
Luke-warm tea
'Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea'
Farming
Chilling breezes and the
Loneliness
of the country.
Dancing with invisible partners.
[please tell me I'm not the only one who does this. please.]
The mad burst of energy right as you walk on stage
'Seven Brides for Seven Brothers'[please tell me I'm not the only one who does this. please.]
The mad burst of energy right as you walk on stage
[haha!]
'Don't Waste Your Life'
Sushi
Not grilled cheese. You can live a full life without.
If you steal these photos, pink unicorns will swoop down and *eat* you. In other words all rights reserved. |
Resurrection Liliesall 58 of you
Working. Hard. Truly, this is part of great happiness.
[^this is getting to be an addiction... :wink:]
Living fully.
For HIS Glory.
Sincerly,
Me ~
Link up to 'Le Happy' here - thanks to Jocelyn!
Friday, September 30, 2011
'You can see... twees...'
Oregon. The after-effects remain.
And THIS is a video that was made while in Oregon.
After a 5-hour-car-ride.
After an Americano.
And Chocolate.
So... here's the on-the-spot overview from the trip - and my bestie, Scout - and I don't always get that hyper. :wrysmile:
With amused-and-humilated-love...
Kate ~
Claimer: (Making fun of me for this video is allowed)
And THIS is a video that was made while in Oregon.
After a 5-hour-car-ride.
After an Americano.
And Chocolate.
So... here's the on-the-spot overview from the trip - and my bestie, Scout - and I don't always get that hyper. :wrysmile:
With amused-and-humilated-love...
Kate ~
Claimer: (Making fun of me for this video is allowed)
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
sticky notes
A stack of Sticky notes - from my life...
Dear Exhaustion: You are hardly welcome. I never realized how tired until I nearly fell asleep - listening to rap. Loudly. Yes, you read that right, Mr. E. On the couch at someone else's house, too. You may go away. xoxo
Dear Autumn: I'm beginning to fall in love with you. Not for your chilly temperatures and chapped hands, but for what else you bring - a reenactment dance by candlelight. A kindly captain who let me captain his sternwheeler. O_o A bike ride with my sister on Blennerhassett Island. The county fair. A gospel meeting and a jovial preacher. (Who is staying with us right now, in my vacated room.)
Dear Uglyful Princess: You were the most disgustingly horrible character I have ever played, but I have to thank you. For teaching me that true humility isn't hiding behind other's talents, but being willing to be ridiculed, if it's for the right cause. (And I fail at this. Seriously.) Because it's not about me. And remember - things aren't always what they seem. :laughing: And of course, for giving me a chance to wear stage makeup that involves warts.
Dear Exhaustion: You are hardly welcome. I never realized how tired until I nearly fell asleep - listening to rap. Loudly. Yes, you read that right, Mr. E. On the couch at someone else's house, too. You may go away. xoxo
This is un-related to anything, except that it's cute. Which is really enough reason, no? |
Dear Figment: You are loved. Because of you, I won my first writing contest! And much as I love my offspring, it didn't deserve it. O_o (You can read it here - 'Flight to Candyland') But anyway. You're sweet.
Dancing Lassie Photography - Carousel |
Dear Autumn: I'm beginning to fall in love with you. Not for your chilly temperatures and chapped hands, but for what else you bring - a reenactment dance by candlelight. A kindly captain who let me captain his sternwheeler. O_o A bike ride with my sister on Blennerhassett Island. The county fair. A gospel meeting and a jovial preacher. (Who is staying with us right now, in my vacated room.)
Dear Uglyful Princess: You were the most disgustingly horrible character I have ever played, but I have to thank you. For teaching me that true humility isn't hiding behind other's talents, but being willing to be ridiculed, if it's for the right cause. (And I fail at this. Seriously.) Because it's not about me. And remember - things aren't always what they seem. :laughing: And of course, for giving me a chance to wear stage makeup that involves warts.
(Dear everybody else - if you aren't familiar with the skit 'the Uglyful Princess', it is on Youtube. :woundedvanity: A huge round of applause for my fellow crew - we only had two weeks to put this together, and they deserve much credit for what they did - cheers!'No, Mom! I don't want home-made warts! I need store-bought ones!'
^ The discussions in this house remain verynormal.
Dear Scheherazade: You were a dream of two 16-year-old girls who loved costume design and fantastic characters and... caffeine. Your costume was the most delightful costume I have ever attempted to make, even if it did cause the most be-moaning, seam-ripping, and weeping. :wryface: And you looked very unusual dancing with an Amish-man-costume, by the way. Just though I'd point that out. Anyhow. Now, to find every opportunity to to become Arabian.
Dear You: That's enough about me - and my life - and etc. How are you? What is your current project - be it sewing, reenactments, music, or just mucking out the barn. :wink:
Sincerly,
Me ~
Dear Michaela: I stole this idea from you. Thank you for being an inspiration - and hope you don't mind! O_o
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Friday, September 2, 2011
~Oregon~
Oregon. A land that has captured my heart, and refuses to release it. It's been hard to write this. Not because there's so little to say, but because there is so much.
Let me explain. No, that will take too long.
Let me sum up.
Summing up. Two penpals. A fallen-through plan to meet. Sadness. Girlish chatter. An idea. A mention in passing. A stunning father's blessing and approval. Packing. 4 o'clock in the morning. Flying. Best Friends. Living. On my Own. Loving it.
On My Own There's something about traveling alone that makes you realize who you really are. What you're willing to accept and what you're simply not going too. This was a week away from my family, away from everything I've ever known. There was no one to be directly accountable too, and that was tough. It was even tougher because several of the people I respect strongly disapproved of this venture. But hard things are good.
And I loved it.
The Coast Was. One word simply isn't enough. It was white waves and great silent rocks and hidden rip-tides. {much to my great interest - and yes, I really did almost drown. It was great fun!} It was skipping down the beach singing 'What do you do with a Drunken Sailor' at the top of our lungs. It was reenacting the Phantom of the Opera in an echoing cave. It was climbing to the top of every rock in sight. It was walking miles, deep in discussion, with the water kissing our feet. It was lying flat on your back on a dune, listening to the silence that is never still.
Singing Horse Ranch was golden in the sunset and smelled of sagebrush and wet pines. It is the home of the well-acclaimed author, Lynn Miller, his wife, daughter, cattle, and draft horses. I slept in the rustic-ly adorable sheep-herder's wagon, and it seemed like home. Heading to the wagon, the stars were brilliant over-head, and they were the same as in Ohio - only a million times more brilliant. Several of the draft horses woke me early in the morning - they have hooves the size of dinner plates, and one can hear tale. :wink: I wish I could have spent more time on the ranch - but I know one thing. I can't forget ranch life, and someday - Lord help me, someday, I'm going back.
Time ~ with Scout was marvelous. Time to sit on the steps of 'my' wagon and wink tears away, looking at the snow-covered mountains, and discuss the future. Time to sing every 50's song - Mrs. Miller has the patience of a Saint. :wink: Giggling over Basil Rathbone, trying on every hat in her gigantic collection - 'girly' time I never get to have at home. Americanos - more then one- dancing the 60's 'Twist' on the beach - it was unforgettable. Oh, and photo shoots. Maybe the most important part. :laughing:
He will cover you with his pinions,
Let me explain. No, that will take too long.
Let me sum up.
Summing up. Two penpals. A fallen-through plan to meet. Sadness. Girlish chatter. An idea. A mention in passing. A stunning father's blessing and approval. Packing. 4 o'clock in the morning. Flying. Best Friends. Living. On my Own. Loving it.
On My Own There's something about traveling alone that makes you realize who you really are. What you're willing to accept and what you're simply not going too. This was a week away from my family, away from everything I've ever known. There was no one to be directly accountable too, and that was tough. It was even tougher because several of the people I respect strongly disapproved of this venture. But hard things are good.
And I loved it.
The Coast Was. One word simply isn't enough. It was white waves and great silent rocks and hidden rip-tides. {much to my great interest - and yes, I really did almost drown. It was great fun!} It was skipping down the beach singing 'What do you do with a Drunken Sailor' at the top of our lungs. It was reenacting the Phantom of the Opera in an echoing cave. It was climbing to the top of every rock in sight. It was walking miles, deep in discussion, with the water kissing our feet. It was lying flat on your back on a dune, listening to the silence that is never still.
Singing Horse Ranch was golden in the sunset and smelled of sagebrush and wet pines. It is the home of the well-acclaimed author, Lynn Miller, his wife, daughter, cattle, and draft horses. I slept in the rustic-ly adorable sheep-herder's wagon, and it seemed like home. Heading to the wagon, the stars were brilliant over-head, and they were the same as in Ohio - only a million times more brilliant. Several of the draft horses woke me early in the morning - they have hooves the size of dinner plates, and one can hear tale. :wink: I wish I could have spent more time on the ranch - but I know one thing. I can't forget ranch life, and someday - Lord help me, someday, I'm going back.
Time ~ with Scout was marvelous. Time to sit on the steps of 'my' wagon and wink tears away, looking at the snow-covered mountains, and discuss the future. Time to sing every 50's song - Mrs. Miller has the patience of a Saint. :wink: Giggling over Basil Rathbone, trying on every hat in her gigantic collection - 'girly' time I never get to have at home. Americanos - more then one- dancing the 60's 'Twist' on the beach - it was unforgettable. Oh, and photo shoots. Maybe the most important part. :laughing:
He will cover you with his pinions,
You will not fear the terror of the night.
And now I'm home ~ and a dream's been lived.
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