When a grandmother dies

My grandmother, Rubimae Torrance, born March 5, 1911, passed yesterday February 24, 2008. These pictures are of her and my Mom, Lyn. It's weird, when a grandmother dies, you feel like a kid all over again. Remembering those special moments spent as a grandaughter, and then watching her be the same fun-loving great-grandmother to your own son. I am gathering photos and memories and stories all around me as I prepare to journey back to my hometown Fort Worth, Texas to pay final respects and say goodbye one more time.

every picture tells a story, don't it?

Map of the World, for Matt

A Map of the World, by TedKooser One of the ancient maps of the world is heart-shaped, carefully drawn and once washed with bright colors, though the colors have faded as you might expect feelings to fade from a fragile old heart, the brown map of a life. But feeling is indelible, and longing infinite, a starburst compass pointing in all the directions two lovers might go, a fresh breeze swelling their sails, the future uncharted, still far from the edge where the sea pours into the stars.

Listen: Ted Kooser Reads 'A Map of the World'

from my heart to yours

After the sun came up this morning I took a walk-about thru my house and art studio with my camera to capture hearts of all shapes, sizes, colors,and texture.Just like our very own emotional heart, there are so many heart-kinds...soft, hard, black, red, rough, broken, open, closed, small, old, new, big... vessels and images of L-O-V-E.

love is nearby

LOVE can be right under your nose. look. listen. OPEN. receive. BELIEVE.

unwritten

"Unwritten" lyrics by Natasha Bedingfield I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned Staring at the blank page before you Open up the dirty window Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find Reaching for something in the distance So close you can almost taste it Release your inhibitions Feel the rain on your skin No one else can feel it for you Only you can let it in No one else, no one else Can speak the words on your lips Drench yourself in words unspoken Live your life with arms wide open Today is where your book begins The rest is still unwritten

Missing Mexico

 
February is a month I am usually suntanned, sandy and swimming near my home in Isla Mujeres, Mexico. Now that I have chosen a life that landlocks me in Central Texas, all I have is memories and photos. Have a look at "Debs Photo Collections" to see more shots of this magical place full of vivid color, toothy smiles and salty Caribbean breezes in the folders called "Faces of Isla", "Cemetary", and yes, "Mi Casa For Sale".

“Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore." ~ Andre Gide~

a walk down memory lane

John Denver album...50 cents turntable...$69.00 Australian Merlot...$7.99 cellphone-call to brother...weekends free PRICELESS. On a Saturday night in Carmine, Texas, I just took a long walk back to 1971 Fort Worth, Texas. John Denver album spinning on Matts turntable, myself 2/3rds into a bottle of wine, and a cellphone available to dial while drinking, I call my brother Mike to share this nostalgic moment with him. Of course I painted a similar picture for him only the names changed to Larry Gatlin and a 6-pack beer...or was it 12? No matter, we both laughed and I think cried at the memory. We both know how music can transcend us to a time. a place. a lover. my first. yes, it was always a three way, since John was playing somewhere in the background. and I must admit, that tonight I was feeling so damn young again as I sang with John to each and every song remembering how I was certain to marry him one day. Oh it was a serious crush. Yes, of course I would kick Annie's ass and become the new Mountain Momma in his life. We would climb mountains, pick daisies all day and sing songs all night around campfires. But he had to go and crash that airplane on his way to find me. Oh well, now all I have is vinyl, my own memories and oh that plaid flannel shirt. ~sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy~ john denver

Imbolc

Wheel of the Year. Something new to me, yet seems so familiar. It is the order of nature, my personal temple of worship. Simple. Spring is around our corner.. Moons. Tulips. Newborn calves. Fresh paint. Tadpoles. Sounds of weedeaters and treefrogs again. Out with the old, in with the new. How appropriate as I prepare for the second half of my life! Have a read here Imbolc (Candlemas) February 1 (beginning at sundown) Purification; Initiation; Feast of Lights; Preparation for Spring

Imbolc celebrates the earliest signs of Spring ... the blossoming of the earliest flowers (in some climates snowdrops and crocus appear around this time), the first signs of thawing. At this time the sap begins to rise in the trees. The seeds which slumbered at Yule begin to germinate. It is the “quickening” of the Year.

Imbolc is a time of purification. A time to clear away any last dregs which may still be holding us back as we move toward the growth and brightness of Spring. This holiday is a traditional time for initiations and dedications of oneself to new levels of spiritual exploration & commitment. Through the preparation for and process of initiation, one is purified and focused for the tasks and growth ahead. This is an ideal time to do a thorough Cleansing & Blessing for your home.

Imbolc is a sacred feast of the great Celtic Goddess Brighid. In honor of the growing light (and in honor of the Brighid’s perpetual flame) it is traditional to burn candles to celebrate this feast, particularly silver and white candles. It is customary to make and/ or bless candles to be used for the coming year. On this night, people ask the for Divine favors, blessings and insight for the coming year. The insight received may shape the challenges and blessings of the year.