Thursday, February 26, 2015

hanging my head/

I am ashamed to say I am from Kansas. It is sad to say the state is going backwards with jet speed and other states are seeing it. The big issue a few years ago was a switch of standards to be pro-creationism , then back to evolution. I am sure it was 2 or 3 times and the world said "What? Why not"Allow students to choose once they know the material.
At the moment that is still the case but for how long.

At any rate we rolled along on an even keel then we entered the weird and wacky alternative world ruled by Brownback. LLC's and many other forms of businesses were exempted from taxation as it would increase economic growth. The world knows that was a failure.Look at our revenue shortfall. Wisconsin followed the same path and had the same result. So the wise voters re-elected the man ,but no one admits to having voted for him.

We are one of twenty -two states that did not expand medicaid and so our federal tax dollars go to other states.We now have the distinction of being the ONLY state to see an increase of uninsured in 2014. So our children's state medicaid was opened to private concerns to manage. Ask doctors and hospitals and more important parents how that is working?

Now two new laws move us to the dark ages. One teachers can be prosecuted ( spell it Persecuted) for teaching if someone complains it is dangerous to the youth. Arrested, sentenced and jailed. What happened to local school boards doing this? This after huge tax refund being cut from the budgets when the courts ruled that schools were underfunded under the constitution. Hmm. SO once again the students, the future of Kansas are impacted in a negative way.

Law number 2-- any one can now carry a concealed weapon with no permit required. Makes a lot of sense doesn"t it. Yes it does considering they also reduced funding for the drugs that keep mentally troubled stable. A recipe for disasters .

Forget the tornadoes , the wild weather , the floods Kansans are used to these. We can handle them but the effects of the senseless storms our government led by the brilliant Brownback is creating. I love Kansas but I truly feel it is about to implode.



Sunday, February 22, 2015

sunday snow

Woke to snow today,but it is now ending. Woke also to warm aroma of beef in a crockpot. The first was a concern ; the was second was a delight and reminder of my blessings. I have a home, food, warm blankets agains the cold and if that means security I have it. Yes, I have worked for these things and I am happy with the life I have. But and there is always a but, my life is not perfect.

There are days when I feel isolated and alone.Yet,as only child being alone is not traumatic as it could be and these days pass quickly. I move through them with my chin up and a devil may care attitude. As a senior citizen,I wonder what I will do when I finally quit working. How will I fill my days and pay my bills? But those days do not last long and in fact are often just mere moments. Being an optimist I take the it will work out view of life. Joie de vive is the term in French, and it means loving life.

So there has to be a basis for this attitude and I do have one. It is my faith. faith that allows me to fell watched over and cared for. Long ago I rode home on a snowy night with tears in my eyes. Exhausted physically and emotionally,I gave God control over that trip without realizing it was my life going there. From that moment I face why life gives me. If is good,I rejoice and thank Him. If is troubling, I do what can and when I hit the wall, I give God control. The result I worry less than many people ,and I know His way is the best way even if contrary to my will.

A simple tenet of my faith is not to died to any particular religion. It is a basic belief that there is a God and he cares for this who believe. I am content but not perfect; my life is good but not perfect. My Faith fills the gaps in that perfection and supports me. I hope others feel this same comfort.

Saturday, February 21, 2015

update on the hanna story let me know.


Hanna pulled the bright yellow bug to the side of the road and checked her gps once again. This was not a road; it was two ruts running through a wood. The gps still said turn here. Shrugging her shoulders, Hanna started the car and turned.
Bumping along the trail, she kept her eyes peeled for a simple cottage that was her new home. Once again she could not believe she had inherited a cottage and an annual income from an Aunt Tabby whose existence was a secret her mother took with her to the grave. Yet, it had come at the right moment to revive her after a bitter divorce, which had also cost her job as a librarian in the small Kansas town, which had been her lifelong home. Now she was the owner of a house in New England on the Atlantic coast near the Canadian border with an income, which meant she no longer had to work, plus an account to maintain the property.
The male voice of gps indicated another left turn, which broke her thoughts, as a break in the trees widened and a house came into view. It was two stories built of stone with attic dormer windows,
Could this be the house? If so, it was not her idea of a stone cottage or the saltbox and cedar shingled home she expected. It sat near a cliff and the Atlantic could be seen and heard hitting the grey stone at the beach below. Hanna stopped the car and the gps announced ‘you are here”.
Hanna walked to the door. A brass next to the door read Seacliff cottage. Foundation laid in 1640. This was indeed her new home.
Hanna looked for the iron frog which held the house key and found it nearly hidden by the dried up sedum plantings. Lifting it she shook until the key fell into her hand and putting it in the lock opened the door to her new life. She expected cobwebs and dust as the lawyer had said Tabby had been ill for years, but the hall was pristine and furniture shone with recent polishing. Fresh flowers were in an aged crackled jug on the table and there was a note propped next to it.
Hanna,
Welcome to Sea Cliff. I am so glad that once again the house will live. My name is Mercy and I took the liberty of cleaning it and stocking the pantry and refrigerator once I knew you arrival date. Tabby taught me much about herbs and such and I feel I have repaid part of what I owe her by doing this.
I have also brought you a house cat as Seacliff always has had one and there seemed to be a mousey invasion in progress. She is a calico and oh by the way she is expecting. Seacliff kittens are always in demand in the village so relax.
The journals on the desk are the history of the house. I do hope you will read them. I will be over in a day or so to meet you.
Mercy Good. 

Intrigued by the note and how this Mercy knew about her, Hanna was relieved not to have to hunt a grocer this first day. Another blessing was the house came fully furnished so no shopping until she wanted change and knew what it would be. Before she brought in her baggage, she decided to walk through her new home. The lower rooms were large and lit by windows and showed their older roots as each held a large fireplace and broad planked floors of yellow pine. The staircase to the upper floors was wider than normal in an older home so it had to been added later as had the upper story. Each of the bedchambers again had a fireplace, but the windows were larger and the glass no longer had blowers’ marks. Hanna felt she had to read the journals to know the history of the house. Finally approaching the attic door, which she attempted to open, but it was locked. She made a mental note to ask this Mercy person for a key.
Dusk was falling when she went downstairs and went to the kitchen. The stainless steel appliances looked odd in a room that still had a spitted fireplace and a brick oven, but somehow the result was pleasant. A huge red ware bowl on the counter held apples of all colors, and the refrigerator was stocked with milk, water, sliced meat and cheese. Cupboards held cereals, spices, and other staples. Mercy had been efficient and Hanna was happy with the welcome the woman had prepared.
Leaning back against the counter Hanna relaxed as she ate a quick sandwich and waited for coffee to brew, she once again wondered how an unknown aunt had found her and provided for her. Life had not been easy the past year. Patrick her love of her life partner had not shared the idea of eternal faithfulness as she found out when she caught him on top of his married assistant principal who was on top of his wide administrator ‘s desk, and he was bitter, mean and resentful of her decision not to be satisfied with the status quo. Popular in their small Kansas town where he was a homegrown leader, she became an outcast and a school board did not renew her teaching contract whose head was Patrick’s uncle? She had managed to keep the bug and half the money from the house sale but six months later the money was low and no job was in sight. Facing an unknown future, the telephone call from her Aunt’s lawyer three weeks ago had been a ray of sunshine breaking the gloom on her life. Now she was here and ready to move on.
The sound of footfalls above her broke the reverie just as something jumped on her shoulder. A meow announced the arrival of the house cat that proceeded to wrap her warm body around Hanna’s neck for a few minutes before she flew to the floor to pace in front of Hanna. Mewling as she walked the cat went from Hanna to the door and back again.
“What is it kitty? What do you want? Is something at the door?”
The mewling went higher in pitch and louder. Hanna went to the door and opened it, and a huge silver tabby waited there. Walking in the tabby called to the smaller calico and the cats began a dance of sorts rubbing an entwining tails while purring loudly. Hanna had to laugh at their antics until tabby sat in front of her as if to assess her.
“Okay, you are welcome here.” Hanna announced and the two cats took off in a game of tag me that seemed fated to cover the entire house. Still smiling Hanna went to get her baggage from her car. She stepped outside and was stopped by a large man at the door with her bags in hand. He walked into the house and turned.” You will be in the east room.” He announced and then went up the stairs. Hanna followed confused at this incident.
“Who are you? Why the east room? I rather like the one with the windows to the south,”
“Owners always stay it the east room. It is the biggest.”
“That makes sense, but just who are you?”
“Barid. I live in the guesthouse in the rear. Did they not tell you about me?”
“No. There was no mention of you or a woman called Mercy in the information given to me.”
“Just as well. Too much is as dangerous as too little.” He offered as he turned, left the room, went down the stairs and out the door. Hanna followed asking questions, which were ignored. When the door closed, she shrugged and decided it could all wait until tomorrow, but she shot the lock on both doors. 
 . . .. 
The east room was large but dominated by a bed that looked as if it was from the earliest era of the house, but the sheets were clean an scented with lavender as indeed the entire room was. She walked to the deep welled window and knelt on the window seat to look at the night sky. The clouds were moving rapidly dark fluffs against the silver lit sky behind them. The trees stretched their barren limbs to scratch the air though there was no breeze. There was a golden light from the only guesthouse window she could see. Turning from the view she went to the bed and climbed under the down filled quilt, but sleep was not quick to come.
Hanna awoke with a start. Something had touched her hair in a caress. She felt no threat but the sense of being touched filled her with curiosity. Looking around the room she noticed both cats curled on the bed near her feet. Perhaps it had been one of them as they settled in, but she doubted it, as the touch seemed made by long fingers gently stroking her hair. Shaking her head she laid down dismissing it as a dream—a too real dream. This time sleep was quick and deep.
The morning light and soft pawing of the cats woke her. At her stirring the cats jumped off the bed, and tails in the air walked to the door. Stopping there they turned and yowled at her. Hanna smiled at their plea for her to follow. ”Alright, I get the message. Breakfast for you; coffee for me”
Pulling on a robe, Hanna became aware of someone in the house. Soft singing and dishes clattering were coming from the kitchen. Now what Hanna thought as she went downstairs and went to the kitchen where a plump redhead was stirring something on the stove. Both cats were weaving between her feet. She leaned forward to pat them.
“Imp so you have decided. You will stay here. Well, it is the nature of you blacks. You choose your domain not us. Callie, you will be happy with him here, will you?”
“Imp? Callie? They are named already? And who the heck are you?”
“Mercy Good. And the cats are not named; they choose their own names. It has been ever so, Hanna Proctor.”
“Cats name themselves?” Hanna sat with a surprised thump on a stool near the table.
“Oh yes. Have you not noticed they refuse to come until you say the right one? I have coddled eggs here and toast. Coffee is done. “
Thanks, I think. Sorry, but why is you here making breakfast?”
“It is what I do. Oh, they did not tell about me then. I was a woman of all things for your Aunt. She asked me to stay on until you adjusted. “
“Adjusted?”
“To life at Sea cliff.”
“What?”
Mercy stopped stirring and looked at Hanna for a few moments and changed the subject as she plopped a plate of eggs, ham and toast. “You have met Braid then?”
“Barid, well, he carried my bags up to the east room though I wanted the south. Then he gave me his name and not much more.”
“That is our Barid. He is private but Miss Tabby liked him well enough?”
“Enough for what? She was well over eighty and he is what? Early forties?”
Mercy laughed. ”No not like you might think, but he is a local lad home from that Afghani war. It worked a bad magic on him; it did. Then he got home to find his Mother passed on while he traveled to get here. Not that they were close but still. Anyway he was in a bad way, and your aunt offered him the guesthouse. It has peace, quiet and no demands. She hoped it might heal what she knew was a wounded soul. Miss Tabby had a healing touch among other talents.”
“So he pays rent?”
“Of course not. Did you not hear me say no demands? He does do the odd chore or so.”
Mercy turned to load a dishwasher ending the questions. Hanna attacked the plate of food lost in thought. Carrying her dish to Mercy, she ventures one more question.” You said my aunt had talents. Did she paint, write or what?”
“None of those. She, she. To tell the truth she made me promise to let the house teach you the truth of her life and of your family.” Whipping off her apron Mercy walked to the door. ”I will be back after I go to the market for supper. Listen to the house. It is longing to bloom again.”
Listen to the house now what does that mean Hanna wondered? How could a house talk? Why would Mercy not share what she knew? Hanna went to the stack of journals.
Determined to begin at the beginning Hanna searched through the stack looking for a journal from 1640 the earliest date of the house but the earliest journal found began in 1693. Taking it to a window for light she sat and began to decipher the faded ink’s feather y script.
Sept 30 1693
On this several relatives and friends moved to house I should call Seacliff, which has become my home.
The original hose is gone but some ten years ago longing for solitude and peace from misguided neighbors, my Uncle Endeavor bought the land and erected this house to which I have add a second story ad a smaller outbuilding of one story called the cottage. When he died some two years ago childless, my husband was his heir. Matthew was a Bishop from Salem but not of the more known Bishops still tis not a good name to have at this time. Never strong the recent happenings in Salem drained his strength, and he now lies in the parlor awaiting tomorrow’s burial. Jacob Proctor, Anne Good and her brother Timothy sit with his remains as I record the story of our exodus.
Last spring the word witchcraft became a scourge in Salem and it has recently been proven that many false accusations were made. Wrongs were done. Jacob had a brother John by his father’s second wife who was hung; Anne and timothy lost the aunt that had mothered them until her mind snapped with age. And even more. My family was spared but I do think had they looked closer at my practice of herbal cures and midwifery, I like my great aunt Rebecca Nurse who taught me was executed during the fire of the moment would have been called out. Matthew sensing the passion of the silly girls began plans to move us to this house in the woods he had had from his uncle.
We removed ourselves here in early June of this year. But selling his tannery, packing our goods and planning the move to this place while telling no one of its exact location sapped the savor of the man and never was he strong to begin with. He sickened in July and naught that I brewed could revive his body or his spirit. He passed late last night and this this morning those that now sit with him knocked on our door. They asked asylum as he had promised them.
So we will bide here away from the turmoil of the world and by the goddess we will prosper, as we must for I am with child. So mote it is. Mary Nurse Bishop, widow of Matthew.
Mercy appeared at the door interrupting Hanna’s reading. She began to bustle around the room dusting things that need to be dusted. Finally she stopped beside Hanna waiting. Hanna recognized a busybody when she saw one and was tempted to leave the room but she did have questions.
“Mercy, I could read these journals for a spotty history of the house as there gaps of years here. But I feel you can tell me what I should know about the house and the families that lived here.”
“I can but I promised Tabby I’d not say a thing unless asked a direct question and there will be some things you need to learn by living here,”
“Ok here is a direct question. Your name and my name and the people in the book are all tied to the Salem witchcraft trials, am I right?”
“Yes, they were refugees from the trials. Those trials were so wrong and many innocents were put to death. You and I are descended from these families as is Braid.”
“You are a Good, I am a Proctor and Barid is a”
“Bishop.”
“So what can you tell me now that I have asked a question? Do not break your promise as that seems important.”
“Yes an oath made to a ...to Tabby is not given lightly and should be kept. You read the first entry or two rights? So I feel I can tell you about your new home.”










“ It was built around 1622 by a recluse who left the Bay colony as it was not to his taste .He lived here alone, but in following years it became as you have been reading a refuge of those whom the witch trials sought or whose families had been touched by the tragedy of the times. Since then the house has passed down in your family but not everyone who held title to the house and land could live here. It was if the house rejected some people and welcomed others who once welcomed lived extraordinary long
Lives”
“ The house chooses who lives here?” Hanna broke in. “just how does one know if the house has chosen them?”
After a moment of thought, Mercy replied.” I really do not know how the house let its will be known, but Tabby was accepted before I was born so I have not seen it reject an owner. Nor before you ask, I do not know how long a person has to wait to know. I just know that the house chooses and those it chooses have powers.”
“Powers, Mercy?”
“Tabby was brilliant with herbs--- growing and using them. Her mother had the sight. I believe, but perhaps I am wrong, that it is those who have no power or who do not accept those they have, they are the ones, which are rejected. None who have lived here as you will read have been without power of some sort.”
“And me?” Hanna said “ power? Do I have Power?”
Mercy stopped on her way out f the room and turned to Hanna. “ The house will know.”
CHAPTER 2

During next few days, Mercy bustled in and out without taking much time to chat, and Barid just did not chat. So exploring the house and gardens filled Hanna’s days an the nights were devoted to the journals which not long after the first few entries become a listing of income and out go with no hints of power, acceptance or rejection. The house had rooms and the rooms had crannies and nooks. Hanna wondered through them marveling at furnishings still intact from its beginning until present day. An antique dealer would have a heyday here she thought touching an armoire in the east room as she hung her clothes in , but she knew nothing would leave the house as long as she owned it.

The gardens were however her happy place. Ancient roses and patterned herb plots lived happily next to wild profusions of country garden staples such as hollyhocks, foxglove, daisies and lavender which was also an herb. There was even a stone circle in the eastern near the cliff edge, which caught the light of the rising sun, but she was continually drawn to the small stone cottage near Braid’s guesthouse. Its rafters were hand hewn and hung with drying herbs. Jars held dried raised petals, lavender buds, and various seeds all carefully labeled. Mortars and pestles stood ready to be used on a long worktable under the window. The aromas and the snugness of the cottage called to Hanna, and once she discovered it, she found herself spending hours there memorizing the contents then spending the evenings researching the history and uses of the herbs it contained. She had nothing to do but what she wanted to do and for now that contented her though she knew that it would not last.

Monday of her third week she wondered down to the kitchen in search of wakeup coffee and one of Mercy’s bran muffins to find Mercy in serious conversation with the cats. She stood at the doorway and eavesdropped in plain sight.
“ Yes, I know you two approve, but the house is not speaking yet, How will we know when it does accept or reject? I took us two years to find Hanna. What if she is not the one?” Low meows answered Mercy’s questions. Hanna was about to break into the conversation when Barid burst in.
“ So Mercy, have the familiars weighed in and,” he stopped when he saw Hanna in the doorway.
“Familiars? Like witches have?” Hanna asked stepping into the kitchen. Barid and Mercy exchanged glances.
“ Yes, the house always has two cats ,and they need to accept the owners or they leave. These two have been here longer than most with some new owners. Tabby once told me that there somewhere in the journals there is a list of cats and owners both the accepted and rejected. The cats of those rejected by the house always left.”
“ So were these here with Aunt Tabby?”
“No.”
“ She did not have familiars---er cats.”
“Oh, she had cats,” Mercy broke in. “ But they … they”
Barid broke in. “Tell her Mercy.”
“ They left when she passed.” Mercy finished. “They were here with her; in fact never far from her. Then were gone –almost in the same moment.”

Hanna reached for a muffin before asking her next question. “ So these two came because I am here? “
Barid answered her. “ Cats only come when there is an owner present. We who live here know that and have heard tales of the owners and cats since childhood.”
“So, because Callie and Imp have accepted me and they have stayed. Am I accepted by the house?”
Mercy and Barid glanced at each other. After a pause Barid answered, “ If you do not know, we don’t. Tabby told us she knew when the house allowed her to work with things. Have you tried working with anything? She tried to make a love potion and failed, but herb work welcomed her. I think you need to try things.”
“Like potions. Enchantments? Really are you actually serious?”
“ Yes, I am. We are all descendants of true witches. But today many do not believe that we exist and so many deny their power. You do not seem in a hurry to deny yours. You are still here so perhaps you need to find yours.” Barid offered.
“You are serious. I…. I have powers. I am a witch. Mercy, is he really serious.”
“ Yes, he is. I am a witch as well but my powers are not strong enough to own the house ,only to serve it. My gift is in the domestic arts. I can do things well the normal way but also can do it with magic.”
Hanna let that statement from Mercy sink in before turning to Barid.
“Ok, your powers?”
“ My powers allow me to be good with animals. Before my stint in Afghanistan ,I could shape shift. But my “were” genes are not now within reach. I hope to heal and use them again.”
“ Were like Werewolf?” Hanna gasped.
“ Well, not a wolf. Oh ,what does it matter if I cannot shift? Besides you need to find your power or powers and accept them. Do not be afraid as we are not of a dark witch line.”
“Witches, familiars, powers. It is a lot to take in.” Hanna turned to leave the room but Mercy called out as she left. “Have you found the grimoire?”
“ What?” Hanna asked from the doorway.
“ The book of magic that goes with the house.” Mercy explained as Hanna walked out the door. “ Do you think she heard me ,Barid?”
“She heard Mercy but the question is will she accept it?”

Chapter 3

Hanna avoided Mercy and Barid for several days. Even tried to avoid the two cats , but that impossible. Even when she thought she had left them , they would suddenly appear to wrap themselves around her feet. She knew she avoiding facing the truth she felt in what Mercy and Barid had said in the kitchen that morning. Mercy sensed her need to be alone and meal trays arrived wherever she was with a small popping sound. That alone gave some reality to the magic powers .

On the fifth day since they had hinted at her powers, it rained. The grey, soft, cold New England rain shrouded the house in a veil of mist. Hanna wanted to go to the herb hut but the rain seemed designed to keep her inside. Pulling the curtains of the parlor’s bay window, she stared at the rain wishing it away.
“ Go ahead . Go out to the herbs. They need you. You will not get wet. I promise.” A soft voice spoke to Hanna and an unseen hand, turned her way from the window towards the hallway. Hanna turned but no one was there. She paused at the doorway shaking her head. Then again she heard “Go on.”
Without thinking hanna went down the all and out the door. The mizzle fel all round her but not a drop fell on her hair or body. She walked to the herb house as if protected by a large umbrella while wondering why the word mizzle had sprung into her thoughts. Then she was there and once in the door, she felt welcomed and comforted.
Without thinking about it she reached for the mortar and pestle ready make some tea. Her mother had made herb teas, and now Hanna wanted a cup of the comfort tea her mother had blended when things seemed unsettled.. what her mother used?
“ Chamomile” The word seemed to come from nowhere. Hanna glanced around the room. No one was there. She reached for the jar labeled chamomile. ‘’ Lavender calms.” The voice suggested and this time Hanna did not survey the room as she added lavender to the mortar and began to blend the dried blossoms.
Putting the water to boil on the electric burner, Hanna felt the cats winding around her ankles. She was sure she had shut the door against the rain. She glanced toward it. It was closed. How had the furry companions come in? Had the door swung open with the wind gusts and then shut once again? Surely it would have banged and she would have heard it.

The whistling of the kettle broke into her thoughts. Lifting a cup from the shelf to make tea , the voice stopped her. “ Not that one. I used it for toxic brews. The yellow color was the reminder.” Hanna replaced the cup on another shelf to avoid selecting it again and reached for a bright blue one as the voice whispered, “ That was my favorite.” Without pausing she set the tea to brew and began for the first time to look more closely at what she thought of her haven in her new life. Two cats tail swishing followed her as she walked around the room until suddenly both felines walked in front of her and sat. Hanna stopped and was about to go around the living roadblock when Callie jumped up on the counter followed by Imp meowing loudly.















love month's view of love

Love was the topic and love month is almost over. Better put down some thoughts. Trying to describe what love means is like pinning Jell-O to a tree or raising a child.

Love is a feeling of security that enhances your self-image. Yep, that sounds fairly close, but it takes some explanation. So here it goes.

In child hood love is the emotion that should be shared between a child and his family. It is from the interactions with his elder the child begins to form and inner self. If these are positive, he will be positive and grow well. If not, as a teacher I have seen the results of negativity too often to dwell on it here. It is not a good thing and hard to repair,

In our youth love and lust intertwine and this can lead to happiness and pain. The happiness may be brief and the pain deep, but each is a lesson. We learn from these experiences that we are, what we want and how to make good or better choices.

In our middle years love supports us. We become secure in family and mates; offspring and ourselves give us reasons to feel secure. It is the warmth on cold winter nights, the hand holding ours during a crisis, the reassurance that we are worthy of being loved.

As we age love allows us to know we mattered. Some one lets us know that we have etched memories in their souls. The are there to help as we begin to fail without being asked because they love and that they will stay with as until the end

Love is never truly feeling alone not matter the separating miles. Love is the smile at a joke told too often. Love is shared laughter or tears at a memory. Love is the greatest human need at all stages of life. I have had and still have love. May you be so blessed.