This is my fourth year to be fortunate enough to have a real tree for Christmas.This year I dared to be different by putting my Frazer Fir in the kitchen. I have a nice size country kitchen and to my surprise the tree looks perfect standing in my favorite room of the house.So how do you make your Christmas investment last till after the new year? Here’s a couple of tips I picked up along the way:

1.) When choosing a tree make sure the branches are a bright green.
The greener the branches the fresher your tree is.

2.) You can do this simple test to check for freshness. Squeeze the branches lightly with your hand. If needles fall off the branch you can be sure that tree has been parked on the lot for more than a couple of weeks!

3.) There’s always the good ole sap test! Yes that’s right-the sap test! Smell a few branches and you’ll see what I mean. If you end up with a sticky nose then that’s a sure sign you have a great tree! If you pick up the tree and your hands get sticky that’s another sign your tree is pretty fresh!

Now that you’ve picked out a fresh tree it’s time to prepare your tree for its decorating debut! To get the most from your new tree, start by drilling a hole on the bottom of the tree trunk. Your tree will stay moist and last a lot longer! You will have to water every day because the water will soak up quickly through the trunk!

And here’s a way to keep that precious pine smelling great through the entire holiday season-snip the tips of random branches and your tree will smell just like you’ve picked it up from the lot all over again!

So now you have it-the 101 on how to keep your tree smelling and looking great well into the New Year. So what are you waiting for? Go get that perfect tree and get decorating-Christmas is only 13 days away and you’ve not a moment to lose!

~See you next time!

Each year as Christmas approaches, I watch as the excitement stirs up in my 11 year old son while he waits for Santa’s big arrival. Only this year was the year that changed everything, not only for Nick but for me!

But let’s rewind about 12 years. On December 9th nearly 12 years ago my son decided he wanted to arrive before New Years Eve(his expected due date). So he pushed until his mom’s water broke and before I knew it I was in a speeding car with Patty behind the wheel laying on the horn and shouting,”move it pregnant lady in labor”! With my contractions 4 minutes apart Patty meant business and I knew my baby did too!
Only a few hours later Nicholas made his first appearance into this crazy mixed up waiting station, A.K.A. “Earth”.He was so small weighing in at only 5 pounds and 18 inches long. But he was strong and his little legs kicked with a mighty strength indicative of who he was and was destined to be. He was named after one of the most beloved Saints to walk this planet-St. Nicholas…hence-Santa Claus. Little did he know that he had some mighty big shoes to fill. But he had plenty of time to learn that. The name Nicholas means “victory”. And he had already displayed signs of victory by arriving 3 weeks early! Now fast forward 11 years.

A mom sits on her living room couch and cries when her soon to be 12 year old son learns that the man in the red suit isn’t a real man who delivers the goods every year. Her son is growing up-he will soon become a man and she knows it will be sooner than not.

“So who rung the Christmas bells all those years mom”?

“You mean there’s no man in a red suit”?

“You’ve been doing this all by yourself”?

He slung his arm around his mom’s hunched shoulders and tried his best to comfort her as the reality of Santa’s non-existence set in. You would think that me being off the hook would be a sudden sigh of relief-but it wasn’t. The magic of Christmas was gone and there was no turning back.
For two days I pouted and dragged my feet. Then without any notice I had a word from St. Nicks father-Jesus. I called my St. Nick into the room and told him that even though that jolly old elf wasn’t real, St. Nicholas was. He was the whole reason for the creation of Santa and everything that went with it! He was as real as anyone could be and he delivered the goods and then some.

“But he isn’t around anymore mom”!

“Do you believe that Jesus Christ exists”?

“Well, yes of course I do”!

And so the conversation continued with a new Christmas message and a different image of Santa. And just like Jesus, just because we can’t see St. Nicholas it doesn’t mean that he isn’t real. Never mind the red suit-St. Nicholas was and is real! He helped many children and even saved the lives of little boys just like you! He was so much more than a man in a red suit who rode on a sleigh! He was a man of mercy who showed the love of God to millions of children and he continues to do so every year as he changes the hearts of grumpy old men and grouchy women. He continues to spread good cheer to saddened hearts and grieving widows. He roams the earth and sprinkles his love to those who have lost all hope and need one last miracle.Little did my son know that he was already filling those shoes. As his mother’s unsettled heart grew weary one evening he wasn’t thinking of himself, he was thinking of her as he spoke these words:

” It’s okay mom, I’ll play along like there is a Santa if you want me too”!

Yes, Nicholas you have some pretty big shoes to fill and you’ve already begun to wear them.

NICHOLAS

“Victory”

Fear thou not:
For I am with thee:
Be not dismayed
For I am thy God:
I will Strengthen thee;
Yea, I will help thee

Isaiah 41:10

When I think of Thanksgiving, many thoughts come to mind. I think of a plump roast turkey full of stuffing and home made pumpkin pie. I think of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade and football. But most of all, I think of spending time with my family and friends –sharing our love and our bountiful blessings. But there’s always more to the story as they say. And the story of this national holiday is one of love, sharing, and giving between two diverse groups of people who joined together in peace and celebration. This is the story of our ancestors who called themselves “pilgrims” and a tribe of Indians named the Wampanoag’s. This is the first known recorded story of Thanksgiving.

After a 2 month long journey traveling by ship over 3,00 miles, our ancestors arrived to the new world. The trip was treacherous because of the autumn storms along the way. Not only was the ride pretty rough, but the conditions were nearly inhumane. Many of the pilgrims were living in cramped quarters and food was scarce. Many never lived to set foot upon the new land.

When they arrived in the winter of 1620, nearly half of those traveling on the ship died of illness from the severe cold and lack of food. You can only imagine the long 2 month journey; only to arrive in the bitterness of winter having to bury loved ones and still try to stay strong with very little food to go around. But the pilgrims weren’t alone. There was a strange group of people who noticed these newcomers. These Eastern Massachusetts people were an Indian tribe known as the Wampanoag’s.

If you stop and think for a minute, these people could have reacted rather defensively. After all, strangers had invaded their territory. And they could have reacted in just fear alone, but they didn’t. No one knows why or how long it took before the Indians decided to befriend our ancestors. All we know is that they did. May be they saw their tear stained faces as they buried their loved ones. Maybe they heard a mother’s cry as her baby was lowered into the ground. And maybe the reasons weren’t as significant as the gesture itself-reaching out to folks in need.

The pilgrims must have been bewildered to see the faces of these savage natives. My bet is that they were a bit hesitant of the Indians motives. They were probably surprised to learn that the Indian chief, Massasoit and his people were there to help. An Indian named Squanto- who spoke English- taught them to plant crops, fish, and hunt. The pilgrims and Indians were friends. I often think of life today. With so many prejudices among us, how many of us would be as kind to a group of strangers if they unknowingly arrived on our property? Many of us would probably call the police, or run them off with shot gun in hand. Yet, the Indians chose random acts of kindness and generosity.

When autumn arrived in 1621 the pilgrims had a bountiful harvest. I think they must have felt blessed for their new found friends. I imagine that they were all too grateful. A celebration was in order. And it only seemed right that they invite their friends the Wampanoag’s! If I close my eyes long enough I can see the hustle and bustle of men, women, and children preparing for the gala event. The men would hunt for game such as venison or goose, while the women cooked corn or cabbage. Other women were decorating tables with pine cones and running pines. The children were helping any way they could.

It probably took around 2 days for the Wampanoag’s to reach the colony. When they arrived, the first Thanksgiving took place. There was a harvest of fresh game, with corn, onions, and probably some cod and lobster. There was no stuffed turkey on this day. And as far as cranberries and mashed potatoes went…it would be a few more years before these tasty dishes would be introduced. The celebration lasted for 3 days. Can you imagine-eating for 3 days straight? I’m full after eating one thanksgiving meal! It must have been a grand celebration. Children played and the adults danced and sang.

I imagine a long table filled with food and Chief Massasoit sitting on one end, while Captain Miles Standish sat on the other. I picture Squanto having a conversation with Governor William Bradford. The feast is about to start. Heads are bowed as William Brewster (the clergyman) adds a prayer of thanks. They weren’t much different from us. They were gathered at the table with family and friends, giving thanks for the past years blessings. They were filling their bellies while enjoying each others fond company. Isn’t that what we do each Thanksgiving day? We gather with our family and friends, and we too fill our bellies with food and laughter as we look back-giving thanks!

These regular folks didn’t know that this day would be remembered in history for years to come. They probably didn’t know that some of their names would be written in history books and taught to children all over the world. I bet they weren’t aware that one simple act of kindness would change everything, including the making of a national holiday: Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving to all of my fans, friends, and family!

~See you next time!

What comes to your mind when you think of Veterans Day? Do you stop long enough to think of what it really means? Have we forgotten about those who fought so we could be free? Sometimes we get wrapped up in our own lives that we forget about the millions of men and women who wore badges of honor as they slept in dug outs and even took their last breath-leaving behind a legacy of courage and bravery.

Our forefathers took a stand for our great nation. George Washington led our young soldiers during the Revolutionary war. My great great Uncle Ulysses S. Grant led his squadron  during the civil war which had more casualties than any other war in the history of our nation. Many men lost their lives leaving behind wives and children they would never meet. As time moved forward women would also sign up to become part of our armed forces. Keep in mind that during the 1960’s it was mandatory to fight in the Vietnam war, unless you were attending college. The women and men today have not been drafted-they willingly wear their badge of honor for our great nation.

Tomorrow is Veterans Day. It is not only a day to remember those who gave their lives for our country, but we should also remember those who have fought and lived to tell their war stories to their grandchildren. We should take a moment and think of those who are still fighting for us today. My father fought in the Korean War a few years back. As he sat down with my son to share his experiences during those years, my son couldn’t help but feel a deep respect for the weathered man looking down on him, as he spoke of the days he defended his country.My dad was 16 years old when joined the navy. He was only a kid, but he knew why he was there and was proud to take part in serving his country. He is another hero in more ways than one. My brother fought in Operation Desert Storm-another hero who fought bravely for the great U.S. of A. If my mother accumulated more wrinkles, it was during this time- her baby was fighting overseas and all she had was time and many prayers. When my brother returned home he was no longer a boy-he was a man.

Now my son talks about possibly joining the army when he turns 18.

“I know you won’t let me go mom”, he retorts as he waits for my reply.

And much to his surprise I reply with these words: “ If you want to serve our country, I will proudly support you”.

Will I worry myself to sleep each night? Most likely.Will a few more wrinkles cover the crevices of my forehead? More than likely. But tucked away in my dreams each night will be a little boy who is hiding behind his mothers back-waiting to return home; a man.

To all the soldiers who fought for me and for you-may you rise above eagles wings as you continue to carry your badge of honor. May peace be with you and your families wherever you are. For all of those unknown soldiers’ -Sweet Dreams. You have not been forgotten!

~See you next time!

We live in a world of quick fixes. The truth be told- it’s easier to cover up those old wounds with band aids. But what happens when we take a bath or a shower? The band aid falls off and we have to replace it.After some time the wound heals… or so we think. The wounds I’m referring to run deeper than those simple child hood scrapes. I’m talking about the wounds that we try and cover with our Superman band aids. Even Clark Kent had his difficulties. If you remember Kryptonite could actually kill him.

Why do we depend on fictitious super heroes to mend our wounds? Why do we keep putting band aids on those old wounds instead of facing them head on? I’ll tell you why-because it’s easier to put on that superman band aid, even it it doesn’t stick. If we looked in that mirror long enough and saw who was looking back at us, we would realize that the person looking back is still a broken vessel. All the band aids in the world won’t heal those broken wounds, unless we choose to let the real super hero save us from our own shattered spirits. There’s only one super hero that has the power to change everything in an instant-His name is Jesus.

How do I know this? Because I have been guilty of using Superman band aids for years . I came to the painful conclusion that they just don’t stick. Although you can’t see my wounds they’re still there. They hadn’t healed because I didn’t turn them over to the real super hero. Ladies and gentlemen, there are no quick fixes. Let me be the first to tell you it just doesn’t work that Way. So after many years of purchasing those darn band aids I decided to allow Jesus to be my band aid.

So here’s the latest update on my journey to healing the wounds of my past: it isn’t easy and there are days when all I can do is cry out His name because the pain runs deep in my veins. If you expect anything else then go ahead and continue to use  your Superman band aids. But one thing is  for sure; your wounds will still be there underneath the hundreds of plastic quick fixes, and that face will still be starring back at you every day. On a positive note: I am healing-one day at a time. I talk to God and some days even though I can’t feel him-I know he’s there because he said he would never forsake me. And the little girl that was hurt so long ago is starting to emerge as a happy woman who has happily thrown those band aids to the curb.

So what’s it going to be? 

Who’s your super hero?

~See you next time!

Each evening as I walk the winding country road near my house, I am lucky to be able to see mother nature wave her magic wand. As my dog and I enjoy our time together, I observe  her slow but steady magic as it unfolds before my eyes.

It is evident that summer is gone and autumn is peering behind the the ridges of her mountains majesty. Mother nature is slowly painting her fall canvas and teasing us with just a touch of color. As we anticipate her full canvas in all of its glory, all we can do is wait. After all-we wouldn’t want to rush this artist. Her fall paintings can’t be imitated or orchestrated by anyone else. She is under the direction of the divine maker Himself, and even though he created the world in six days(remember that he rested on day 7);even he knows that some things just can’t be rushed!

As each evening passes I notice small changes that mark the obvious ending of summer. Fireflies that once danced to an orchestrated symphony have  gone into hiding underneath the ground for the winter. Every now and then I will see a blinking light of one who chooses to dance this one out alone.

Leaves are falling and I have opened my windows. The air is cool and crisp. I grab my hoodie as I head for the door. Soon I will have to leave the house long before five because it will be dark much earlier. I can smell creamy caramel apples and taste hot apple cider as it warms my tongue. Corn fields are drying up and  it’s time to fill propane tanks for the upcoming  winter season. A whippoorwill can be heard in the distance. His goodbye call can be heard from miles around. Soon he’ll be vacationing in Florida or some warmer climate. We aren’t the only animals preparing for the colder weather that lies ahead. Cozy quilts are brought out of the closet and jackets are hung up on coat racks once again. This year I grew my own pumpkins! Believe it or not-I have already begun to decorate for autumn.

There’s no doubt that fall is near. It’s nearly time for apple picking and trick or treating. You can feel the energy in the air . This year brought us a scorching summer, even in the Blue Ridge mountains. For most folks, the cooler air is more than welcoming. I will miss the dance of the fireflies and the early morning crop tending. But as life would have it-the seasons have a way of re-appearing each and every year. As for this queen, let’s just say I am embracing the canvas that’s unfolding and look forward to apple picking and home made apple pies.

~See you next time!

Autumn is just around the corner and its harvest time. While some of my crops were destroyed by the summer’s extreme heat wave, others didn’t pay any mind to mother natures temper tantrum. My pumpkins kept growing and my cantaloupes and watermelon turned their noses up at the heat and did their thing too! I ended up harvesting 40 pumpkins and have already enjoyed a couple of juicy cantaloupe. I tried growing watermelon last year down by the creek and didn’t have any luck. But this year was quite a different story! With a little TLC I had some luck this year. To my surprise all it took was some weed maintenance and placing some straw underneath the melons to prevent them from rotting.

The other evening I went for my usual walk and when I returned a surprise was waiting for me. My 11 year old son had harvested our first 16 pound water melon. It was cut and ready to eat when I walked in the door. After a 2 mile walk that was a great surprise! The watermelon tasted sweet and fresh-less than one hour old by the time we sunk out teeth into it! They were so juicy that we actually took some straws and sucked the juice straight from the middle of the melons! I never imagined in a million years that I could grow my favorite fruit right in my front yard. I even went organic this time. I sprinkled Diatomaceous Earth on my crops and watched them grow and stay protected from worms and harmful insects. For more information on this wonderful natural product you can click here: http://www.earthworkshealth.com/

When I walk the winding country roads each evening, I can feel the cool crisp air as it lightly kisses my skin and soothes my weary bones. The air is getting cooler and I know that autumn is approaching. The deer are playing in the meadows and grazing in nearby fields. You can see the remnants of neighboring crops with corn stalks swaying in the breeze. And while the heat wave scorched most of my corn and green beans, this years harvest took another turn. This was my year for harvesting fruit! By the time my watermelon are finished growing I will have harvested over one dozen of these lip smacking treats. I was able to harvest some strawberries and my pumpkin harvest wasn’t too shabby either. All in all it’s been an interesting harvest. I would have to agree that this years harvest was a wonderful blessing to enjoy and to give away. What, did you think I was going to eat all those watermelon by myself? And God knows-what will I do with 40 pumpkins? To my friend Stormy who works at the Dollar General in Mineral Bluff: haven’t forgotten you girl-I have a watermelon on reserve!

~See you next time!

After our wonderful day at the blueberry farm, we woke up the next morning with these gigantic bites. My son kept scratching his legs at church and told me the bites were pretty itchy. It was not until Monday when all heck broke loose. I had a phone call from Nick pleading with me to pick him up. He said he had bites in the worst possible area and it itched really bad. By that time I noticed a few bites on me in those similar areas, only mine looked more like welts! Thinking they were bed bugs, I proceeded to do what any other mom would do-wash all the bedding in hot water of course and treat the surrounding areas for bed bugs.

I arrived at the school to pick up my son and in a matter of five minutes I learned what was ailing us-chiggers! I learned that after picking blueberries, we picked up a few hitchhikers along the way. The ladies who worked in the school office knew all about these arachnids all too well. And it was unfortunate for me and my son that we had become the next victims of these microscopic red bugs that decided to ingest us with their saliva, while they had their last meal . By this time my bites were becoming extremely uncomfortable as well. It was off to the nearest CVS pharmacy for a product called Chiggerid. After applying this solution to some rather sensitive areas we proceeded to do the “chigger dance”. This stuff burned so bad ,you may as well have lit a match to our infected areas. OUCH!

So here we sit four days later and has our condition improved? We stopped using Chiggerid and found that clear nail polish did not burn as bad. After doing my research and talking to friends who have suffered through this, I was not thrilled to find out it would be at least two weeks for the healing process to occur. Now I’ve had poison oak, poison Ivy, and I’ve been bit by yellow jackets and I must say that this wins hands down when it comes to long term suffering!

In the mean time, I baked a lovely blueberry pie that tasted divine enough to forget about these nasty arachnids-at least for a few moments. Was the experience of picking fresh blueberries worth all discomfort? That’s a tough question, for as much as I love blueberries I would have to answer with-probably not. Will I go blueberry picking again? Of course! Only this time I will go heavily sprayed with insect repellent from head to toe-now that I know chiggers are looking to hitch a ride on the first leg they see!

~See you next time!

There’s nothing like the taste of fresh picked blueberries! Today we drove about 15 minutes into another small mountain town called Morganton to pick blueberries for the first time. We arrived at a quaint little farm that sported an adorable white country house to match. A cute older lady came out of the house to greet us and hand us our gallon containers. We hooked them to our belt loops with a belt and off we went to pick berries.

There were many rows of large blueberry bushes that resembled small trees. There were only a handful of folks there when we arrived, so the blueberries were plentiful and ripe for the picking!

These blueberries were irresistible! We couldn’t help eat a few along the way, especially the larger ones!

The Collins farm had been around for quite some time. As a matter of fact Wanda Collins was the sister of Nick’s old school assistant principal . She was very friendly which added to the small town appeal. After 2 hours of berry picking it was starting to get hot! Not to mention the fact that our gallon jugs were feeling a bit hefty. We knocked on Wanda’s front door so we could pay her. The total cost of $9.00 didn’t burn a whole in my pocket which was another benefit of  picking yourself.After 10 minutes of friendly chatting and a small history lesson of the farm, Nick and I meandered our way bucket in hand to the car. It was a great way to spend 2 hours together and we left with plenty of blueberries to freeze or bake in a pie!

And given that we live in an interesting county, there are always interesting signs to read! This one was nailed to a tree in the Collins Farm front yard.

Here’s the final picture I took of these spectacular anti-aging free radical fighting power house berries. Now this is one sight to behold. I guess living in the country certainly has its benefits! And a day  on an organic blueberry farm sure beats those overpriced chemically treated berries in the market any day!

~See you next time!

It only seems like yesterday that long hair was the rage! By the time my family and I arrived to Florida from New Jersey in 1974 my two younger brothers had hair past their shoulders, and it was still growing. The 60’s weren’t far behind us and long hair seemed to be cool-until we moved to Polk County, Florida that is. Let’s just say that the little town we moved to was a bit behind the times and the cowboys thought my brothers looked more like Jersey shore girls. But that didn’t bother my brothers. As far as they were concerned they were going to let their freak flags fly as long as they could. They took great pride in their streaming long hair and it wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

When school started I soon realized that those cowboys were only a select few that didn’t care for long hair hippie freaks!  There were plenty of hippies to go around and I’m sure my brothers felt right at home. As for me, I scoped out the long hairs and made friends very quickly. Soon we were bonding in nearby cow pastures and rock and roll concerts. I remember bringing one of my boyfriends home to trim his long black hair. He was a Cherokee Indian and I still can’t believe he let me cut 6 inches of his gorgeous, shiny black hair.

I don’t know why parents back then thought if a boy had long hair he was a druggie.After all, Samson had long hair and he was a respected person from biblical times. I’m sure he wasn’t sporting a bong or snorting cocaine. But I guess the truth be told, if we were hanging in cow pastures. perhaps my parents and others knew more than we thought they did. Or maybe it was our odd behavior that tipped them off. Still, all in all I love long hair! Heck-I had long hair! All the boys I dated in high school also had long hair. I could easily say it was because it was the style, but I would be wrong! Every time I see a man in long hair(unless he’s a homeless drunk) my toes still curl. Steve Perry from Journey is a good example of hair gone wild. I always find room in my dreams for this man!

Years later my 11 year old son wanted to grow his hair out. Did I approve? Of course I  did! He happens to have have thick beautiful hair and it looked great! If he hadn’t been accepted into a private school I would have allowed his hair to just keep growing!

But as fate would have it, his hair would have to come off!

Okay so maybe he won’t have that chance to get his freak flag on.

But hey…there’s always next summer right?

And now I’ll leave you with this -

~See you next time!