It’s All about LIFE!

 

Now more than ever before, we need to focus on LIFE.  As a FOX NEWS follower, I pray constantly to refuse letting the news depress or stress me!  Much of the news is so horrible, that it simply must be a matter of prayer.

Much of the news is all about death:  death by ISIS; the death of our American culture due to Godless immoral laws and deluded government leaders; and the spiritual death of a self-serving, self-centered, humanistic and materialistic worldview which has pervaded every area of American life from schools and universities to churches which once glorified God but no longer honor Him or His Word.

Without the Lord Jesus Christ—who took our sin to the Cross, suffered a cruel death for us, rose to conquer death, and LIVES to share His eternal LIFE with any and all who will trust in Him—I would certainly be depressed and stressed!

But I know that God is in control.  He is fulfilling His plan from eternity past:  “Thy will be done on earth as well as in Heaven.”  In the midst of this crazy world, His LIFE prevails and He will return to reign and bring justice to earth.

In our home, Joe and I have two identical hymnbooks.  Often, especially on Sundays, I play the beloved old Gospel hymns on the piano and Joe sings along with his hymnal.  What a joy this is!

We always include the hymn “Wonderful Words of Life”, by P. P. Bliss.  Along with its upbeat, catchy melody this song takes me back many years to when I sang in a junior choir as a child.  I recall continually bugging the director by begging her for us to sing “Wonderful Words of Life.”  The director tried to explain that we couldn’t sing the same song every Sunday and there were other good hymns to share.

But I still remember the joy I experienced when my wish was granted and our little choir belted out:  “Sing them over again to me, wonderful words of life.  Let me more of their beauty see, wonderful words of life . . . .”

Yes, it is all about LIFE!

Margaret L. Been — July 31st, 2016

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Treasure the Moment!

There is no room for naivité in today’s world.  All I can do in light of the barrage of news we receive is to go on preserving and treasuring the world I’ve always known.  Indeed, my insular world may last only a moment—so I treasure each moment as a gift from God.

Beyond a series of moments on earth lies an eternity of joy for the Christian believer.  Meanwhile my precarious earth moments are filled with prayers, family, friends, a corgi, music, paintbrushes, knitting needles and yarn, spinning wheels, gardens indoors and out, poetry, books/books/books, antiques, junk, never ending batches of soap from our kitchen, and a whole lot more.

A common thread connects the moments: BEAUTY.  I know I’m not alone in determining to pursue and celebrate Beauty—and to TREASURE THE MOMENT!

Margaret Been, February 2015

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Pleasant places, pleasant times

Today we traveled just a few miles from our small lake-country community, out to the surrounding countryside—the rivers, farms, and woodlands which say “Wisconsin”.  Pictured above is the Rock River, once a part of the Sauk Indians’ Wisconsin and Illinois territory embedded in history by the leadership of Black Hawk.  From the photo you can see that we’ve had plenty of rain; that white thing apparently floating beyond the high grass slightly above center is a picnic bench.

Joe (flanked by Dylan) cast a line in this river park, which is simply a spur off a county road—one of countless natural retreats for travelers in our state.

When Dylan wasn’t fishing, he strolled with me along the water’s edge.  Suddenly, he decided to go wading—something he has never done before.  I was amazed, because it’s always a struggle to get Dylan into the bathtub.  But then, haven’t little boys always preferred wading in rivers to getting lathered up in a tub?  So it’s no wonder that Dylan went in up to his belly, which isn’t all that high off the ground.  Perhaps the presence of hundreds of teensy tadpoles darting in the water provided a lure to adventure, even when it meant my corgi had to get wet.

From the river site Joe, Dylan, and I meandered along country lanes west of the Kettle Moraine State Forest where we lived for 21 years—the longest I have ever lived in any one place for my entire life.  We visited a friend on a farm near Fort Atkinson (more historic Sauk country), and Dylan ran free of his leash—something he hasn’t done since we moved nearly 5 years ago, from our wild northern acres.  On that farm Joe and I stroked horses noses and fondled a small herd of mini-Nubian goats—all of whom Dylan approached with friendly enthusiasm.  (Dylan LOVES all living creatures, barring dogs.  He wants to KILL dogs!)

Laden with rhubarb and some of the best fresh spinach we’ve ever had, we returned home via a favorite country ice-cream shop—“Pickets” possibly named after a 1990s TV series, PICKET FENCES, hypothetically set in  Rome, Wisconsin.*

The actual village of Rome (on the Bark River) seems like something Time forgot, except for the occasional local person walking around with a cell phone.

As you readers can probably gather, our octogenarian decade is at this moment an extremely pleasant time.  We live surrounded by pleasant places, and Home is the most pleasant of all.  Currently we have another family living with us—not inside our 4 room condo, but just outside and above our living room/patio door.

The nest contains 5 baby barn swallows.  A week ago we saw nothing but mouths lining the edge of the nest; and when they were open the mouths looked like mini-Muppets.  Now the babies are leaning out of the nest, and they are hilarious.  The middle bird is huge compared to his or her “sibs”, and also the most aggressive.  Some have learned to back over the edge to do their bird jobs; consequently we’ll soon have a piece of work to clean-up.

What we are seeing is Entitlement in action; I call it “OCCUPY NASHOTAH”.  For several days the parents have been zooming and fluttering around between feedings.  It seems that Mom and Dad realize it’s time for their nestlings to get out on their own and DO THEIR OWN WORK!  I hope to be out there when it happens!  🙂

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Pleasant places, pleasant times.  Every single day, I thank our Lord for them.  I’ve lived long enough (and through enough!) to know that “pleasant” can change in an instant—to “crisis”, “emergency”, and even “tragedy”.

Because I know and trust the Lord Jesus Christ who died to save us from our sin and rose to give us Eternal Life, and because I know that I’m in His care forever, I have no fear of the future.  As I rest in Him, He will provide the Grace to bear whatever lies ahead!  Meanwhile I’m thankful beyond expression, for God’s gift of Life—and for the pleasant places and pleasant times He’s given Joe and me today!

©Margaret L. Been, July 2014

*Never having watched PICKET FENCES, I’m not sure of the naming of the country store—or whether or not it was featured in the series.  Perhaps the store was always “Pickets”, and the show was named after it.  Who knows?  Further GOOGLE research may shed light.  🙂

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Beautiful spring, and a photo stroll . . .

Leonardo Aguilar II:  I know I posted this hombre before, but I couldn’t resist posting more.  Little Leo will be effortlessly bi-lingual.  His Dad reads to him in Spanish, and his Mom (our granddaughter, Jamie) in English.  Maybe I can pick up a word or two of Spanish from our youngest great-grandson!

More Little Leo, in Great-Grammy’s Shawl:  I made this garment for a Teddy Bear, and then thought “Hey.  It would look even better on Leonardo II!”  He’s smiling as if he likes his colorful snuggy.

A Backyard Retreat:  My friend Karen is a Master-Gardener, and she has the greenest thumbs (and fingers) of anyone I’ve ever known.  Here are some photos she took of her beautiful sanctuary in Waukesha.  Karen laid yards of winding brick pathway for an enchanting, rustic touch.  Along with the gorgeous gardens to grace her neighborhood, Karen has a Little Library where anyone passing by can exchange books.  How great is that!

       

A Memorable Outing:  My friend Liz (pictured below) treated me to a day of antiquing, etc. just across our border—in Richmond, Illinois and the surrounding area.  The day was just right:  perfect weather, delightful browsing, good food, fun acquisitions, and best of all great company!

    

                     

A Time to Be Silly:  Our daughter Debbie took some of her grandchildren (our great-grandchildren—DUH!) on a surprise train ride and a vacation at a Wisconsin Dells water-park resort.  The Amtrak speeds by our road every day at approximately 4:20 p. m.  So on the day Deb was taking the children to the Dells Joe and I walked a few yards from our door, and waited at our road beside the Fire Station, so we could wave at the children as the train roared by.

Frequently I cannot resist being utterly silly where my children (of all ages!) are involved, so I had to do what I call a “Do Do Dee Dee Dance” with my derriere aimed at the passing train windows while Joe looked on very sedately from his 4-wheeler.  (Joe doesn’t do Do Do Dee Dee Dances.)  Meanwhile Debbie caught a blurry, impressionistic shot of the vaudeville act.

And Our Private Heaven:  That long cold winter has morphed into luscious spring.  A month ago it looked like nothing was going to happen.  But now . . . !  The treasures in our patio garden are better than ever (I say that every year), and our patio is the perfect outdoor living room—with sun in the morning and shade for hot afternoons.

           

And SKY:  Those of you who have checked this site on occasion over the last five years know that I have a thing about sky.  As a child, I spent countless afternoons lying on the grass, watching clouds while searching for dragons, genies, and horses in the sky.

Now I recline on the berm outside our condo courtyard and watch clouds, with Baby Dylan (corgi) at my side.  That is our warmish day agenda.  On steaming summer days I flop on the patio lounge for afternoons of reading and cloud gazing, with ice tea ever handy.

Never has cloud gazing been more rewarding than it is here in the Lake Country, with the open expanse of park beyond our door.  We are surrounded by lakes, so there are nearly always clouds—ever changing, ever exciting to view.  I have years of cloud photos, enough to create a picture book.  (That’s a great idea, for next winter!)

Meanwhile, here are some recent gems, starting with a sunrise:

 

   

Yes, I’ll always have my head in the clouds.

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In closing, here is a confession of something that I never thought would happen.  (Daughter Laura, are you ready for this?)  My man is planning to get me a TABLET.  Yes, family, I’m finally taking the plunge.  Ever since tablets surfaced, I’ve said “No, I don’t want one”—and I meant it, at least I think I did.  But recently something snapped.  Now I look forward to having my very own tablet.

People with tablets appear to have thousands of pictures.  (Hyperbole intended, but perhaps it’s not hyperbole.)  Is this writer turning into an ex-writer, perhaps a “recovering” writer?  Maybe a picture is worth a thousand words.  🙂  Well, we’ll see about that.

Margaret L. Been, June 2014

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“They also serve . . . .”

A few weeks ago a kindred spirited friend, Shari—who loves many of the English poets whom I love—mentioned Milton’s sonnet On His Blindness.  I responded with a whopping “YES!”  I hadn’t read that sonnet for years, but I still recalled the poignant last line:  “They also serve who only stand and wait.”  I thanked Shari for the déjà vue, and that evening I located my beautiful antique volume of John Milton’s poems.  Here is the sonnet, followed by an explanation of why it has meant so much to me in recent weeks:

On His Blindness

When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg’d with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”

John Milton

 

As many of you know, our daughter-in-law, Rosemary, is facing a stand off with breast cancer.  The first post-op reports were encouraging, but complications have been discovered and both chemo and radiation will be needed.  For certain, 15 years ago (and perhaps as recently as 6!) I would have been on a Denver-bound plane—probably more than one time, to help Rosemary, our son, Karl, and their family during the difficult days ahead.  Sometimes physical issues ramp up so gradually, I had to mentally pinch myself to realize that NO—I probably should no longer travel “to help out”.  

 

I cannot “Hoover” (as they say in England) my own carpets, let alone someone else’s.  Fatigue often renders me useless for purposes other than reading, blogging, knitting, writing letters, or painting after 6:00 p. m.  My 82 year old husband and I are so attached to each other that leaving him alone (even in the company of a sweet Pembroke Welsh corgi) might break my heart (or his, or both)! 

 

We have an amazingly energetic daughter, Debbie, who loves to travel, loves her brother and his family (just as I do), and is incredibly deft at helping most anyone, anywhere!  Debbie has already been to Denver once since Rosemary’s surgery 2 weeks ago, and may quite possibly return!  Thus the re-reading (again and again) of On His Blindness ministered powerfully to my soul which had been considerably troubled by the realization that I’d no longer be flying to Denver, to help out. 

 

“They also serve who only stand and wait.”  And while I stand (sit or lie down) and wait, I pray!  I’m quite certain that Milton did that as well! 

 

Margaret L. Been, ©2013

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Needles and YARN!

Some may be substituting knitting needles for their wintered garden tools, but I never quit knitting over the summer—although it was a challenge in the 90 plus degree heat we had.  From grubbing in the garden, to picking up my needles, the summer was wonderful.  Now the garden has retired, and the needles are clicking overtime.

Along with a precious Pembroke Welsh Corgi named Dylan, the above photo features a fresh-off-the-needles shrug which incorporates a pattern I created with easy lace stitches and beautiful yarn which I spun from a blend of three gorgeous rovings. The fibers are shetland and mohair, dyed and combed with a touch of glitz by Laura Matthews at Psalm 23 Farm, near Kiel, Wisconsin. 

The embryo stage of the shrug and a closeup of the yarn are pictured below:

It appears (and actually is true!) that my very favorite fashion statements begin with an “S”—Shrugs, Scarves, and Shawls.  I’m currently doing a potato chip scarf for a friend who loves a combination of blues and greens.  (I also love those analogous colors—actually, most any combination of colors—analogous or complementary.) 

Awhile back, I posted the next photo to illustrate how I now put a button hole and funky button in all scarves and shawls—so they don’t slide off shoulders and onto the floor (which I’ve always found to be very annoying):

Since anything to do with knitting produces a lot of hits on this blog, I have the audacity to post fiber photos again!  I think there are three re-runs on this entry!

Finally, here’s a sample of a button hole/plus button in a shawl.  The button hole discovery (so easy to do!) is turning shawls and scarves into comfortable, practical, and wearable delights—at least one for every color chord in my closet!

Margaret L. Been, ©2012

NOTE:  Here is the potato chip pattern, courtesy of Ravelry’s free downloads:

Any size needles and any size yarn.  Any number of cast on stitches.  I’ll give the minimun, although I tend to include extra stitches at the ends, and decrease around the neck as the flare is becoming to most of us.  I like #7 or #8 (US) needles. My handspun tends to be quite fine, between sock and DK.  (Worsted is way too bulky for my taste, and I only use it for children’s outdoor wraps.)

I knit the Potato Chip in garter stitch, but that can be varied.  Some prefer the look of stockinette in this case.  Patterns would not show up very well, but they could fly if so desired.

Cast on 20.  Knit across row before beginning the curls, to stabilize the work.

Row 1:  Knit 8, Turn; Knit Back to Beginning;  Knit 6/Turn/Knit Back; Knit 4/Turn/Knit Back; Knit across entire row.

Row 2:  Same as Row 1, only from other side.

Knit the two rows (each one containing 3 short rows and 1 full row) back and forth, for as long as you like. 

End with 1 row of straight knitting to stabilize the other end.

For a button-hole and button scarf, I position the button hole a few inches from the bottom edge on what will be the right side of the scarf.  It’s fun and funky to make the left side longer than the right. 

Decrease however many stitches needed for the size button you have selected, and increase those stitches back on the needle on your return trip.  To employ a couple of silly clichés, a button hole is easier than falling off a log and the greatest thing since sliced bread!!!  🙂

Things to remember: 

1)  The curl doesn’t appear immediately; it takes from 15 to 20-ish rows to begin to discern a potato chip, as that many increases on the edges are needed for the waves to set in. 

2)  There will be tiny holes in your work, due to your turns and knitbacks.  At first this nearly drove me nuts, until I realized that the holes are uniform in their repeating sequences of 8/6/4—consequently a pattern is created by them.  So I got over it!

Enjoy your potato chips.  I guarantee you won’t be able to stop at only one scarf!

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More indoor gardens, a paparazzi success, and other resident creatures!

Just inside the door from our snowy patio, more gardens thrive:  one on a vintage trunk which I decoupaged with wild west art and cattle brand-type symbols, and the other on a pie crust table.  Both trunk and table were unearthed at rummage sales in Price County, Wisconsin.

The trunk features beloved African violets, overseen by a fake barrel cactus on a stool with a deer skull from our land up north.  Our friends, Mary and Bernie, found the skull so it’s theoretically theirs (finders/keepers!) but they said it didn’t fit in with their decor.  Fortunately, skulls look great anywhere we choose to put them!  (I still have a couple of cattle skulls in our northern home, for that classic Georgia O’Keeffe look.  You pay big bucks for skulls out west!)

The pie crust table provides a mini-museum for artifacts, as well as room for more indoor gardening.  Leaning against the watering can on the left, with it’s rose intact, you will notice a rather bizarre piece of work.  This gem was a Christmas gift from our grandson, Jason, and his wife, Sandy.  They “won” it at a white elephant party.  Jason and Sandy didn’t really want or need the pot, but they knew exactly what to do with their acquisition:  Give it to Grandma!  (This grandma welcomes elephants of any color!)

Resting in the shade of the spider plant, is a slab of petrified wood from (of course!) Arizona.  The white pottery mushroom behind the Native American vase was a gift from its creator, my friend Barbara.  In front of the vase, chestnuts sit in a toile box.  The nuts are part of my ever growing chestnut collection, begun years ago and replenished each autumn by the horse chestnut tree just a few yards outside our front door.  The toile box came in a nesting set, from T. J. MAX. 

The plant on the right side as you face the pie crust table is called “Candelabra”, for obvious reasons.  It’s a new kid on the plant block here.  I was attracted to it’s shape.  The plant looks like it popped off the pages of a Dr. Seuss book. 

On the floor, in a basket crafted by yours truly, you will see something very funky:  raffia paper vegies, purchased for a few cents last summer at a garage sale.  I look at the vegies and smile—not from wanting to eat them, but rather from recalling the joys of past rummages and anticipating a whole new garage season soon to begin.  (Two months, or certainly three!)

Moving from still life to live life, I finally got some snap shots of Baby Dylan, the shy one.  The sleeping beauty photo was fairly easy to procure because Dylan was zonked out on the floor.  (Like Joe and me, Dylan takes his naps seriously.)  The other picture was more fleeting.  Dylan normally hides when he sees the camera, and here I sneaked up on him; it didn’t take him long to sense the “danger” of having his picture taken and a moment later he had split!

Finally, here are some indoor friends who do not have to be watered, and do not have any paparazzi phobias.  They just sort of take life as it comes!

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

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A Changed Life!

Everyone loves a success story!  And judging from past comments on this blog, many of you enjoy reading about our Pembroke Welsh corgi, Dylan.  Now we have great news concerning our little guy!  He is truly a reformed character, relishing his new lifestyle.

Because his first five plus years were spent with us on fourteen wild acres up north, where he saw more wild animals than humans, Dylan had an adjustment to make when we moved in the middle of a community.  At first he would run and hide in his bed when visitors came.  Walks in the park were tenuous, strenuous, and challenging as Dylan went wild with barking and tugging whenever he saw another dog—or anything with wheels, be it a bike or a baby stroller.

Dylan would sit by our patio door and “guard” the path around the park, going crazy over the slightest activity out there.  Especially odious to him were the landscape workers with their noisy mowers, choppers, blowers, etc.  We wondered if our baby would ever settle down to condo living.

Well, over the winter he got more courageous with visitors, and far better toward the outside distractions.  He got so he could watch a snow blower machine, and even allow the workers to shovel our front walk without going ballistic.  Still Dylan had this habit of barking every time people came to our door—which is quite often!  We think the door barking was simply a kind of greeting—a loud “Hail fellow, well met”!

Then in April, the president of our condo association mentioned that someone had complained about Dylan’s barking.  I was very concerned, wondering what would happen next.  Just at that point, our son Eric and his wife Cheri had bought a barking collar at Walmart, for their YorkiePoo—and they reported good results.  So we got a “Barkie” for Dylan, and it calmed him down in a matter of days.

This collar is perfectly humane.  It kicks in with a bit of a jolt when the dog barks loudly, but ignores quiet throat rumbles.  I detonated the collar in my hand one day, and found it to be no more of a jolt than that thingy that zaps us at OLIVE GARDEN when our table is ready. 

Dylan sits happily when we put Barkie on him, and obviously has no dread or concern over it.  Often we simply forget to put Barkie on.  And now he barks rarely, and very sedately.  His barks are no louder than my sneezes.  We have a reformed doggie!

At this “Golden Pond” stage of life, Joe and I have perfected the art of just sitting!  How we love to sit—in our home, on our patio (pictured above), or in the nearby park pavillion.  Now, with Dylan’s “changed life”, we can enjoy another sitting spot:  a shaded bench beside the lovely pond and fountain in the center of our condo community. 

Today we relaxed there under a honey locust tree, with our Baby Dylan.  He sat like a little gentleman on the grass, never reacting to the landscapers working in the area with their equipment.  People walked by, cars drove past, and Dylan simply smiled.  I felt like the three of us could be in a Renoir!

Soon I hope to have a progress report on Dylan’s reformed attitude toward other dogs.  Several times a week, we take him to a neighborhood dog park.  We sit outside the fence, and Dylan watches the “big guys” playing in the park.  Sometimes a dog will come up to him, and Dylan’s hushed growls are growing far more benevolent.  Sometimes he doesn’t even growl, but rather just sniffs!

And CATS!  That’s a whole additional story!  Dylan LOVES cats.  Go figure!  I LOVE cats too.  If we didn’t have a one-pet rule here, we would certainly add a kitty to our family scene.  But since we are instructed to “Render onto Ceasar that which is Ceaser’s”, we’ll continue complying to the rule.  We are thoroughly contented with Dylan and his changed life!  🙂

Margaret L. Been, ©2010

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Empty a mug for the slugs!

In the center of the above-pictured garden I had a couple of healthy-appearing rose bushes, until a couple of weeks ago.  Suddenly the foliage disappeared.  Now the plants are denuded except for thorns and a few wimpy blooms.

A garden expert confirmed the presence of SLUGS in our midst, characterized by slimy trails which we had seen earlier but couldn’t identify.  SLUGS!  Not welcome, and what should I do?  Chemical pellets are out in my vocabulary because I love my “pet” chipmunk who eats, drinks, plays, and sleeps in my garden. 

Nearly forever, I’ve heard of beer for slug treatment—and that seemed like the least invasive way to go.  Better an inebriated chipmunk than a dead one!  So I forayed through the firewater department of our supermarket, perusing the cans of beer while looking for the cheapest brand. 

But wait a minute!  It’s been so long since Joe and I had beer and pretzels, that I’d forgotten an integral fact of beer-ology.  Every can of beer in the store is attached to 5 other cans!  And I’d hoped that the contents of a single can would do in my slugs.

Someone told me that I could get a single can of beer at most convenience stores.  So I raced into a local gas station mart, stopping en route to an appointment.

“I need a can of beer,” I announced hurriedly.  The store attendant gave me a strange look, and said they didn’t stock beer.

Wanting to clarify my odd request I commented, “I need the beer for my slugs.” 

As I left the store, the attendant looked even more puzzled.  Maybe he thought “my slugs” were relatives and friends.

Later back at the supermarket, I relented and purchased a 6-pack of a St. Louis brew—foregoing Milwaukee’s famous product in order to economize.  My slugs don’t have to have the most expensive beer. 

At the check-out counter, I had to show my driver’s license.  This pleased me immensely, as I fantasized that the check-out man thought maybe I was under age.  Ha!  I needn’t have flattered myself.  It’s simply a state law, to show one’s ID when purchasing beer, etc.

Still feeling the need to explain my worldly purchase, I told the check out man, “I need the beer for my slugs.”

He answered, “Tell your slugs, the next time they want beer they have to bring their ID.”

Now several servings of beer have been placed in our gardens, in plastic containers left over from Marie Callender’s delicious cuisine. (Yes, Joe and I sometimes have frozen dinners.  You can gasp all you want, but we’ll continue to enjoy them on occasion—thank you very much!)

This afternoon when I walked Dylan, I noticed that he kept trying to get into my gardens.  Finally I let Dylan lead, and he went straight for the beer.  He tugged on his leash, and obviously wanted a slurp.  This I would not permit.  I’ll leave the beer for the slugs—and the chipmunk, if he decides to be silly. 

Margaret L. Been, ©2010

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A case for the Papparazi . . .

Nearly every week, I run into people who read this blog.  From the feedback, I get the idea that Baby Dylan is a popular character.  Dog people tend to flock with other dog people.  And it seems that Dylan’s hilarious adjustment to condo living has become legendary.

Because Dylan has fans, I thought a current photo of him might be fun to post.  I have photos from past years, but nothing fresh.  Ha!  Little did I know, that Dylan has added camera-phobia to his list of silly quirks.

Each morning when Dylan wakes up, he goes for a walk with Joe.  (I would happily be the dog walker, but back issues prevent that at present.)  When the guys come in from their walk, Dylan gets a dog cookie which he proceeds to hide hither and thither around our home. 

He starts with burying the cookie in the blankets on our bed, then changes his mind and carries his cookie to other stashing sites.  His cookie appears, disappears, and re-appears many times in a day before Dylan decides to eat it. 

Yesterday I got out my camera and tried to capture the cookie’s first burial, among the bed dressing.  But Dylan, with his new found phobia, was too quick for me.  He saw the camera and split, leaving me with a shot of his butt descending from the bed.  Then I discovered that I had the camera on the wrong setting.  Instead of a snapshot, I had a video of Dylan’s butt descending from the bed.

I didn’t give up immediately.  I followed Dylan all over the condo with my camera–and he simply would not let me anywhere near him as long as I had that thing in my hand.  Finally I put the camera back in its case, and Dylan came to me immediately for kisses and hugs.

Today I got a bit smarter.  When Dylan made his bee line to the bed with his cookie, I was waiting for him with the camera tucked behind my back.  Voila.  I surprised him with the cookie in his mouth, and got the above shot before he flew off the bed.  This was a split second maneuver, but it paid off.   

Now you can see Baby Dylan in all his glory–with his cookie.

Margaret L. Been–All Rights Reserved

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