Happy St. Patrick's Day

This special little day is here once again.  I realize that not everyone views it as special as I do, but to me it is a reminder of my Irish heritage that my dad was so very proud of.  He loved St. Patrick's Day, and raised us up to love it as well.  So today I am wearing my green shamrock pin, cooking a corned beef, and raising my glass to my dad.  Happy St. Patrick's Day everyone.

Over the River and Through the Woods

Thanksgiving Day brings a wealth of memories to my mind.  Some of the earliest are actually hearing my sweet dad sing "Over the River and Through the Woods" to all of us in the car as we crossed the prairie on our way to a nearby town to spend the day with my grandparents.  I can remember the wonderful aroma as we walked into their house, and the table, with all of its leaves in place, set beautifully with grama's pretty crystal glasses.  While waiting for dinner, some of my siblings and I would take turns spinning in my grandparents' chairs that actually were just meant to swivle; however, one could get them spinning around at a pretty fast clip.  And I might add, we were never once told not to do it.  It was just part of the fun of being at Gramp and Grama's house.  My grandfather would have a roaring fire in his fireplace that, compared to my small size at the time, seemed like it must have encompassed an entire wall.  After we had enjoyed an amazing feast, it was time to make my grama's glasses "sing".  The memory is still so vivid in my mind of us sitting around the table talking, when someone would dip their finger in their water goblet and begin to rub it around the edge of the glass until a tone began to play.  We would all then join in the fun of making Grama's glasses "sing".

It is kind of funny what kinds of things stick in a kid's mind, and even carry on into our grown up years.  When my kids were younger, and we would travel to my parents' house for Thanksgiving, I would sing "Over the River and Through the Woods" to them.  It just seemed like the right thing to do while traveling to their grama's house.  Nowadays we have Thanksgiving at home, my kids are older, and I just sing the song in my own mind; however, at the end of dinner when we are all sitting around talking, someone, usually my son, will dip his finger into his water goblet, and begin to make my glasses sing.  I still always join in because it just seems like the proper way to end a Thanksgiving dinner.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

My Red Tulip

I like tulips, especially red ones.  Red ones remind me of my dad because those were his favorite.  But tulips seem to come and go so quickly each year.  Depending on the weather, some years they last longer because of a cooler spring, or if hot weather arrives too soon, the tulips just don't seem to be able to take the heat, and disappear for another year.  I now have a red tulip that will last all year long thanks to my son.  He is very talented when it comes to working with metal, and he made this flower for me.  I just love it :)

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Today is the day that I celebrate my Irish heritage.  My father, bless his Irish soul, always made sure that we celebrated St. Patrick's Day.  As I have posted in the past, his father was 100% Irish, and we grew up never missing out on celebrating this day.

There has been some debate in the family about where our ancestors came from in Ireland.  My dad was very adamant about saying that we came from County Cork.  I know that I have relatives that have actually traveled to Ireland to locate some family history, and have reason to believe that we are from County Clare.  But to my knowledge, so far nothing has turned up.  Regardless of the specific Irish location that my family heralds from, today we are Irish and very proud of it.

"I met a little leprechaun down where the shamrocks grow.

I asked him why he stayed so small, and why he didn't grow.

He frowned his brow, and with his eye, he looked me through and through.

"Well, I'm as big to me he said as you are big to you."

(Author Unknown)

Candy Bar Happiness

When I was a little girl, I can remember at times waiting with anticipation for my dad to come home from work. The reason the wait would be a highlight was because sometimes he would bring me home a surprise. The surprise that stands out in my mind most prominently was a 5th Avenue candy bar. What a treat that would be! He would walk in the door and hand me my candy bar. I loved receiving this little gift from him; and after so many years, the 5th Avenue is still my favorite candy bar. I'm quite certain it is my favorite because of the fond memories attached to it. To this day I never pick one up without thinking of my dad, and his smiling face. I don't often buy one for myself, but occasionally my daughters will come home from town, greet me with their smiling faces, and pass me a surprise -- a 5th Avenue candy bar.

My Pet Lamb

When I was quite young, my dad owned some sheep on a small ranch about an hour or so from our home. He used to take me there now and then. Although I don't really have too many memories of the actual ranch, I do have a few memories of being in the car on our way there.

My dad always loved having animals. He especially enjoyed having sheep. One day after he had been away checking on the sheep, he brought a little lamb home. Apparently the ewe didn't want her after she was born. So my dad brought her home to me. We lived in town, and didn't really have a large lot for animals; but that didn't matter to him. He put up a little fence in the back yard for her, and I named her "Cocoa".

A while later we ended up moving to a small farm in a nearby town. We had quite a few sheep at this farm, and thought Cocoa could now have friends. As she grew, she was still my pet, and I can even remember going out to the pen and wrapping my arms around her wooly neck giving her hugs.

As far as I know, we don't have any pictures of me and Cocoa together. I wish we did, because I would take that picture and frame it. Actually an even more priceless picture would be one of my dad, me, and Cocoa all together.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

My dad was 50% Irish, with his father being 100%. 50% though was all my dad needed. It was as good as 100%. There was never much talk about his other 50%. As far as he was concerned, he was a true Irishman. Therefore, St. Patrick's Day was always celebrated in our household. Later on when I got married and moved out of my parents' house, a St. Patrick's Day never went by without receiving a card from my dad and mom. I still like to celebrate on this day, and as I sit at the computer with my shamrock socks on and a corned beef in the crockpot, I wish you all a very Happy St. Patrick's Day. And I would like to end this post with a little poem that my dad taught me when I was younger. I have no idea of its origins, but this is how I remember him teaching it to me:

I met a little leprechaun down where the shamrocks grow.

I asked him why he stayed so small, and why he didn't grow.

He frowned his brow, and with his eye, he looked me through and through.

"Well, I'm as big to me he said as you are big to you."

Dancing with Daddy

My dad and mom were married back in the 1940's. It was a time when dancing was a popular pastime for many people, my parents included. Not only did they dance, but both of them really enjoyed it. I can remember on holidays when we would all be gathered together, one of us would make a request asking them to please dance for us. They never hesitated. The music was turned on, and they would proceed to jitterbug to the enjoyment of us all. I wish that we would have had a movie camera, because it would certainly be fun to watch all over again.

What brings this all to mind, is a song that my youngest daughter has been listening to recently. It is "Cinderella" by Steven Curtis Chapman. The story line is basically that of a little girl wanting her daddy to dance with her at different phases of her life as she grows up. Her daddy never refuses because he knows that she will grow up all too soon. I was blessed with a daddy who used to dance with me. I can remember feeling absolutely delighted when he would hold my hands and let me stand on his shoes as he danced around the room. This happened many times, and whenever I would ask him, he never refused. I am very thankful to have such vivid memories of dancing with him. So if any of you have a little girl, talk her daddy into dancing with her. It will be a wonderful memory maker.

Sweet Peas

I love sweet peas. They are such a pretty flower. They are early to bloom, have the prettiest colors, and smell so sweet. This year I was very fortunate to enjoy sweet peas all summer long. Typically they will die out once the weather gets too hot. But this year, I guess since we had such a late spring, they lasted up until last week when we got our first hard frost. But the one very special thing for me about sweet peas is that my dad loved them too. So when I see sweet peas, I think of him. When I am planting my sweet peas each year, I think of him. And when I have beautiful bouquets of sweet peas in the house, I think of him. So now every time I pull up this page I can also think of him. That is why I entitled this blog Sweet Peas and Happy Things .... for him. I can remember him, and think of all of the happy things that I have been blessed with in my life ... of which there has been an abundance.