Patchwork Thursday

Categorized as  fall,  Patchwork Thursday,  rainy days,  ramble,  Taco Thursday,  Tea Party, candles

The sound of the rain is welcome here.  All summer, the yard was green.  The marigolds grew bushy and tall as they marched along the edge of the garden.  My impatiens blazed with color just there along the chicken coop. 

I didn’t realize how dry it was getting until just the other day.  Stepping outside for a bit, I noted that the grass was browning, and the brilliant flowers were thirsty.  And then the rain.

Little and I slipped outside for a bit this morning, nestling in beneath the lean-to on the side of the garage, me with my coffee and him with his juice.  After some general squirming around and restlessness on his part, I finally gave in and offered him the umbrella.  Delighted, he scooted out onto the grass, looking for all the world like Christopher Robin as he hunkered in his small, dry cocoon.

“Hear the funder?” he asked, listening to the raindrops on the fabric.  “Hear that funder?”

Actually, it’s not just Patchwork Thursday, it’s Taco Thursday, too.  Only there’s not a pound of burger in the house.  Our very local Tea Partiers have revolted over far less.  This means that today, I will have to find a moment to slip over to my favorite butcher shop, Martin’s, which is three miles from my front door.  Otherwise, there will be an ugly scene in the front lawn with ravenous kids waving empty taco holders. 

The first Candle of Fall is burning as I write.  I love candles.  The flickering flame and the scent that permeates my office is – restful, somehow.

For a number of years, the Schrocks officially ushered in fall with the purchase of a three-wick cinnamon candle.  It’s unwrapping and inaugural lighting were an annual ritual.  The boys loved it.  Then for a few years, the tradition was discarded.  Now it’s back. 

For today, a votive will do.  But in a month or so, The Big Candle will come out and it will well and truly be fall here.

One last warm, fuzzy ramble.  “Dear Jesus, thank You for my wunch.  Thank You for my cheese pups.”  This was a small, blue-eyed boy’s noontime prayer yesterday.  I had to smile.  I have a hunch that God did, too.

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