Skip to main content

Franklin, Andrew, and Betty Lee

 Here is the February Story Card featuring a Japanese Cedar tree.



Chapter One

Franklin reached down and picked up a tiny pinecone from the snow-covered ground. It was still attached to a short, green branch.

Andrew said, “Let’s collect them all into a pile.” Franklin laughed and said, “Yes, a big pile of teeny, tiny pinecones.” The children began their work.

The Japanese Cedar tree stood taller than the house. Betty Lee said, “I can jump as high as this tree!” But when she tried, her boots stayed stuck in the snow. She stumbled and fell down. Her socks got wet right away.

The boys held her hands and together they walked to the back door of the house. Andrew said, “You will feel better soon, little sister. The house is warm and dry.”

They quickly took off their coats and boots, except for Betty Lee, whose boots were still outside in the snow. Mommy helped her to take off her coat because she was too young to do it herself.

Franklin said, “Betty Lee had a problem with her boots.”



Franklin, Andrew, and Betty Lee
Chapter Two

In the morning, Daddy said the family would be taking an adventure to the mountains. It was a long, long drive, but when they arrived, everyone was ready to explore.

They saw crowds of people enjoying the winter day, skiing and sledding. Andrew spied a small, frozen pond. He said, “I know how to ice skate! Let’s go!”

A skiing teacher showed the family how to use the equipment. The children learned the word slope.

Later, inside the chalet, the family stopped at the gift shoppe and bought sweet, little Valentine cards and postcards to take home.

They all drank mugs of hot chocolate; it was Betty Lee’s first time. She asked, “May I have more whipped cream?”

A little later Mommy said, “It’s time to go home now.” One by one they climbed into the car.

The boys fell asleep right away. Then Betty Lee yelled “Uh-oh! No boots.” And sure enough, they were left behind in the snow.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Lost Spirits ~ Found Souls

I’ve been hanging around with artists lately. This is not something new. I’ve always enjoyed the company of creative people -- writers, crafters, gardeners, painters ... They’re not exactly normal, which is how I like it. One thing an artist does is write an “artist statement.” It’s a proclamation, really, and it takes considerable thought. It’s kind of sickening to be so self-focused. But you know what? Without pausing to think through these questions, there is no clear artist behind the artwork. If I don’t know what I’m trying to express, who does? And so, I ponder... What’s my purpose? Why do I make my art? What does it represent? What is special about how I make it? What does it mean to me? Here’s my first-ever artist’s statement; see what you think. Artist Statement Creativity has always been very highly valued in our family. When it came to play, my brother, sister, and I were allowed to go anywhere and do whatever we wanted. So we danced outside in the pou...

Genealogy: it’s about connection

Each one of us has two parents, four grandparents, and eight great-grandparents. For every generation you go back, the number of people who procreated, to eventually make you, doubles. When I first started out on my genealogy journey, these numbers astounded me, and still do. I love to think about my DNA stew. It feeds my soul. Playing with numbers Let’s assume each generation makes a baby at age thirty. Perhaps the age should be 16, 18, 20, or 25, but whatever, I picked 30 for this exercise. After all, in the past, people started having children earlier than today, but they also bore many more children and did so over a period of 10, or even 20, years. Stick with me for this simplified and fictional example: For a child born in 1960, there were two parents who were born about 1930. The baby’s four grandparents were born about 1900. The baby’s eight great-grandparents were born in 1870. (You see, I'm doubling the number of grandparents and going back 30 years at the same time....

A time of beginnings

Perhaps 15 years ago or so, we created a Moon Garden at our Coventryville house and it turned out pretty cool. The structure of the garden was native black granite boulders surrounded by white gravel paths.   We planted it with annuals and perennials with gray, silver, or pale green foliage and fragrant white flowers. Here and there we allowed some purple. A Moon Garden is designed to be enjoyed in the evening and on moonlit nights. It was a labor of love. Over several years, our family had suffered much loss: our nephews Michael and Matt, Steve’s mother, my stepfather Will, and my Mom. Chairs at our holiday tables went from a bustling many to a quiet few.   The Moon Garden felt perfect for that time of our lives -- a quiet spot to reflect, heal heavy losses, and soothe jangled nerves. At night the garden glowed. But now doesn’t feel like a time of endings. Steve and I are settled in our retirement routines. It’s been three years since we left the corporate world....