return of the nut people

Oak trees thickly line the parking lot at work. Squirrels and wind have joined forces, and the ground is strewn with acorns. I love the little hats that fit so snugly.
When I was a child, my mother made little nut people. She used a plump pine cone for a body, small peeled twigs for legs and arms, and a hazelnut for a head. She added bright woolly scarves and toques and the tiny nut people looked set for the ski slope. My friend the little boy next door, and I, happened upon these hand made treasures.
My childhood was of another era, when children were not as closely supervised. We were left to explore, and discover, and in this case, vandalize. We saw, not the nut people, but the nut. We had cracked open the heads of the whole ski party before Search and Rescue arrived with a shriek. Of course, like Humpty Dumpty, all the king's horses and all the king's men, couldn't put the nut people together again. Sorry mom. I'm gathering acorns for you this fall as penance.

how many muscles does it take to smile

My commute this morning was fraught with peril and hazard. A five minute red light, road construction, an accident, a detour, and finally, construction on the detour route itself. This is when I glanced to the right at the car waiting beside me in the next lane.
The driver was doing facial exercises.
Possibly as a stress reliever.
I know it had that effect on me.

whoosh

I stepped out of work today and was immediately enveloped in warm, moist air that smelled like...... laundry soap? Apparently, this air has swept half way around the globe, from Hawaii.
Evening traffic is rushing past, whooshing through the rain. I can almost hear the surf.

knock knock

"Knock, knock."
"Who's there," my grandson asks, his voice squeaking with joy.
"Boo," I respond. "Boo who," he asks smugly.
"Don't cry little boy," I bleat out. Laughter from the back seat follows.
"It's still your turn, grandma."
"Oh, Ok, Knock, knock."
"Who's there," he asks sweetly.
"You," I declare.
"You who," he asks happily.
"Were you calling me," I ask, my voice filled with mock surprise?
More hearty laughter.
"Go again, grandma," he urges.
"Knock, knock," I say warily.
"Who's there," he responds confidently.
"Orange," I reply, searching through my limited repertoire of dusty knock knock jokes.
"Orange who," he asks, right on cue.
"Orange you glad I didn't say......................"
" banana," my daughter helpfully supplies.
"Orange you glad I didn't say banana," I trill.
His laughter fills the car.
"Oh grandma," he declares affectionately. "You're so funny."
I won't quit my day job.

danger was on my mind

The morning sun was, as my grandson put it, "baking down," on us. Perhaps that was why he suddenly announced joyfully that he had arrived in Africa. We were on the large soccer field that stretches out behind our church. "Watch out for Lions," he cried. "Quickly, up on the elephants," I urged. As I turned to scoop up my tiny granddaughter, my eyes lifted and I glanced back toward the church building. Danger was on my mind, and danger was very suddenly on the distant horizon. A huge, muscular Rottweiler trotted out of the trees beyond the church and froze, it's powerful head swivelling, it's muzzle lifting as it sniffed the air. "Watch out for...." my grandson began again.
"You must listen carefully," I said calmly. We must walk very quickly. We must be very quiet and walk quickly until we are inside the church." I knew that a large dog on the loose could be nothing more than a friendly house pet wandering unsupervised, but it could also be a dog defending it's territory. I could feel an unreasonable fear chilling my heart. "Dear Lord," I breathed aloud. "Surround us with your angels. Protect these children." "This is like in Bambi, isn't it," whispered my grandson.
It felt so wonderful to step inside the church, a true sanctuary. My husband mentioned that as he was vacuuming, the pastor suddenly emerged from his office, concern etched on his face. "Where are the little ones, where are the kids?" he anxiously asked. He too had seen the dog and felt fear.
I haven't forgotten to say thank you.

time lapse

"I played with twins, Grandma," my grandson confided. "They had the same head." The conversation continued and the little strangers, recently met, where referred to as friends. Every child is a friend to my grandson it seems. How wonderful. Personality traits emerge very early. It's as amazing as time lapse photography to watch.

watchers from a distant shore

One hundred stories seemed a long way off when I began my blog, and now, one hundred and one is in the works. I feel a certain compressed excitement, and sentimentality, like celebrating the birthday of a dear friend. It seems fitting that an email would arrive on the very day, and contain tips on how to search my blog's stats. A simple click, my friend assured me, would reveal answers to questions I had never thought to ask, and would unlock the mystery of sort and polish. Who is reading my stories, where do they live, which one is their favorite, and how many others feel the same.
I clicked.
Sure enough. It was all there.
I happily emailed her back with this revelation.
People want to laugh.
And, they love to see you suffer, and live to tell the tale. This is not because people are unkind, but really, quite the opposite. They can empathise. They've been there, and it gives them hope to see someone else grip the surf board of life with whitened toes and ride out the waves. The Bible talks about a "great cloud of witnesses," that watch us run our race here on earth. Watchers from a distant shore. We just can't hear the cheering over the sound of the surf.