Curious Acorn turns 4--Want a Prezzie?

Continuing in the hobbit tradition - it's my blog's birthday, you get the present. The things I give away are a bit random. Not unlike my blog. They represent the spirit of Curious Acorn and what you'll find when you visit here.

The package will include:

1. A yummy blank paper journal from the Brandywine Conservancy, perfect for sketching or writing
2. A sparkly-warkly glass honey bee ornament
3. A beautiful miniature painting/magnet of Portrait of Miss Mary Dupont (1906) from the Brandywine River Museum (come on, admit it, you know you've always wanted one)
4. A package of absolutely ridiculous and oh-so-pretty flowered paper drinking straws, because everyone needs a bit of nonsense in their lives (after all, "a little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men")

My most favorite thing about blogging is the friendships that I have made. My love languages are gifts and words of affirmation. You've probably guessed that by now. So this is my way of saying thank you for all that you have given.

To get your name in the hat, all you'll need to do is leave a comment. If you're a lurker who has never commented before, introduce yourself for goodness sakes! Deadline is Monday, July 22nd at 8:00PM EST. I'll mail the gift anywhere - it's a small world after all.

P.S. If you've won before, it doesn't mean you can't win again. AND, I will mail it overseas!

Almost FOUR -- Bless me!

It's that time again!  Time for this hobbit to celebrate her blog-iversary.  And, in keeping with Acorn tradition, I'll be having a giveaway.  Because, as we all know, hobbits give presents on their birthdays.  And speaking of hobbits, can you believe I took the photo of this hobbit hole?  Yes, indeedy, I actually got to visit Hobbiton in New Zealand.  Eeep!  A Tolkien-geek dream come true!  But--back to the matter at hand.  I'm running a bit late this year concerning the "party business". 

Wow, tempus does fugit, heh heh.  Four years ago, I started blogging as a creative outlet.  It really has been an adventure.  This year I have had the opportunity to pursue another dream--devoting more of my time to messing about with paint.  Hence I haven't posted as much.  But through Curious Acorn I've met such excellent and admirable hobbits, er, I mean, such fascinating people, and made some genuine friendships to boot.  So, unlike Bilbo, I'm not planning to disappear.  

In a few days time, I'll get back to you, my lovely visitors, on the details of this year's anniversary giveaway celebration.!

Polly-Acorn plays the Glad Game

 As she talked, she did not look at his face. Her rapt eyes were still on the dancing flecks of color from the prism pendants swaying in the sunlit window.

"And that's all," she sighed, when she had finished. "And now you know why I said the sun was trying to play it--that game."

For a moment there was silence. Then a low voice from the bed said unsteadily:

"Perhaps; but I'm thinking that the very finest prism of them all is yourself, Pollyanna."

"Oh, but I don't show beautiful red and green and purple when the sun shines through me, Mr. Pendleton!"

"Don't you?" smiled the man. And Pollyanna, looking into his face, wondered why there were tears in his eyes.~ Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter


Do you remember the film Pollyanna?  Heyley Mills won an award in 1960 playing a character by the same name.  She was the "glass half full" kid who went around cheering up the curmudgeons in her town, introducing them to the "Glad Game", where you find something to be glad about in every situation.  In the movie, Pollyanna transforms the life of one particularly crabby woman simply by hanging some sparkly-warklies in the old dame's window.  Ah, if it were only that easy...

I'm not exactly what you'd call a "glass half full" girl.  I can, if not careful, lean towards the curmudgeon-y, so I work at it.  I've been playing at my own "glad game" by making a ka-razy chandelier for over the dining room table.  

We put in a glass-beaded ceiling lamp from one of those home warehouse stores.  But the very next day, I regretted buying it because it was BORING.  Still the thought of returning it meant annoying my husband and son who installed it, finding the receipt which I probably threw out, and blah, blah, blah.  Til one hap-hap-happy day, I got the idea to start attaching old crystal chandelier prisms and other bits of colored glass to the beaded strands...

I've made a game of finding the sparkly bits at yard sales and what not. It's not quite long enough yet to catch sunlight from the window and shoot mini-rainbows around the room.  So, I'll keep hunting.

I hope I can add enough pieces so it gets really long and dangles and clinks and tinkles eccentrically and just skims the tips of the flames at a candlelight dinner -

Like something you'd find at a Wonderland-esque tea party.

Ooh, Pollyanna meets the Mad Hatter! I'm feeling less curmudgeon-y already. 

Dry Bones

"Alas, poor Yorick" is headed to an art show today.  Someone paid me a very nice compliment, saying "It has life even though it's bone!"  Yes, I read somewhere that can happen.

Study in grisaille, oil on paper

Where I belong

"I know you doubt me and I know you always have. And you're right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books and my armchair and my garden. You see, that's where I belong. That's home. And that's why I came back, because you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you, but I will help you take it back if I can." --Bilbo Baggins (The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey)   



Counting blessings

 504. Found this painting in a second-hand shop circa 1959. I adore its quirky elegance, and love what the artist was trying to achieve with the light filtering through the trees. *Sigh* Maybe someday, decades from now, someone will buy one of my quirky, paintings in a second-hand shop.

   

505. First blooms of the garden. 

506. An armchair and a good book.

507. Painting everyday - Practicing values.

508. Just because it's pretty.

509. Farm Boy.

510. Thriving herb garden.

511. Blue.

512. Enjoying the view.

513. Bee yard. 

514. The scent, the look, and the name of marigolds. 

"Whatssamatta ya scared?"

Barbara Stanwyck. I love her old black-and-white films (Lady Eve, hi-larious!) She has a line in a movie that I can't remember the title of (arrgh!), but she said, "Whatsamatta, ya scared?"In a real sassy tough girl way.I always wanted to use that line, but never had a good reason to up 'til now. Eeep! Introducing my bird of prey scarecrow. To all those garden-nibbling rabbits and groundhogs out there: "Whatsamatta, ya scared?" Muahahaha!

BOOM!

Miss Brown

She worked in the city, and would travel home via the train. I used to watch her walk down the street to her house, which was next door to mine.
"Hello, Mrs. Brown!" I shouted.
"Miss Brown!" she would firmly reply. I couldn't get it to stick in my juvenile head that the elderly man she lived with and cared for was her father, not her husband. Miss Brown had a dignified beauty, neat as a pin. I never saw her in anything except dresses, and her red hair was always worn up in a French twist. I don't believe she stood over 5'0 tall, if even that; yet for a brief time, she was a giant in my life.

I once sat on the steps outside our house, crying. Inside, my parents were screaming at each other, loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. Miss Brown came over and took me by the hand, and, without a word, lead me into her parlor. Handing me a small piece of cloth, some thread, and a needle, she sat beside me and taught me how to do a running stitch. I'll never forget the deep, steady tick of the grandfather clock in that room. To this day, that sound gives me a feeling of calm.

Then there was the sunny afternoon that had suddenly turned to rain. Miss Brown's sun-dried wash was still hanging on the line. I quickly got to work and slipped the full basket through her cellar door (back in the day when a person could leave the door unlocked.) Later that afternoon, there was a knock on my door.
"Did you rescue my laundry?" She asked.
"Yes," I nodded. She smiled and handed me a china figurine. "I've had him ever since I was a child," she said, "he used to have a mate, but she broke years ago. I believe he would like to live with you now. Take care of him."

We were shuffled around a lot as kids, but everywhere I went, he went with me. With every move he was carefully wrapped in newspaper. However, on one journey when I was a teen, his head broke off. I glued it back on with clear nail polish. Hey, it worked. I'm amazed he survived after 48 years. I'm still taking care of him, Miss Brown.

There are many more stories I could tell you about her. When I get to Heaven, I'm going to give that little lady a big kiss, and thank her for being a life-raft when things were horribly stormy. I do believe there is a God Who cares, and Who places the willing in our path throughout our lives. I guess the best thank-you I can give Marion Brown is to live by the example she set.  

I bet all of us, if we tried, could look back on our pasts and remember those who stood like guide posts to Heaven, even when we were yet far off. I don't remember Miss Brown talking much, but her loving actions spoke volumes. She truly did love her neighbor.