Stars and Stripes Forever !

Spring Cleaning 101

Once again I have allowed my blog to take a backseat to all that has been going on in my life. And that's okay. I realized that I get uncomfortable when my blog begins to take on a life of its own and starts to control me. No, no, no, dear nourish your soul blog.  I am the boss of my destiny and I will write when I feel the desire, the need, the urge.  Now don't get me wrong, dear blogging friends. I do care about what you have to say. I do love to read your words and check out your photos and find out how life is treating you. I do care. And of course, I want people to read my blog ~ after all, isn't that why we create blogs in the first place ? But my menopausal  personalities  personality has decided that it is time to get this house in order. And I mean a top to bottom, attic to basement, corner to corner, clean sweep. I mean the deep thorough cleaning which does not allow for sweeping things under the rug. And so it began... innocently enough.

I started pulling items out of the kitchen cabinets. My 11 month old granddaughter Olive actually inspired the cleaning of the kitchen cabinets since that is her favorite place to explore. She recently came across this ~

 and stared at me with bewilderment. I tried to explain to her that there is a logical reason for having a gazillion pepper shakers in the cabinet. I won't name any names but someone has a salt addiction and since I don't want the title of nagging mother-in-law I keep my mouth closed about the dangers of too much sodium in one's diet ...and now I must apologize to my mom for mocking her when I was younger for collecting dozens of empty peanut butter containers and allowing them to clutter up her cabinets. In the midst of all this cleaning I realized I had become my mother. I took a break from my cleaning so I could process this realization.

I also tackled the ever growing piles and piles and more piles of books in my house. I love to read. I love to read the old-fashioned way by holding a real book in my hands ~ no automatic high tech book machine for me ~ I love to smell the book and feel the pages between my fingers. But my book collection is a wee bit out of control so I weeded through so I could take some to our local library. These are the books I decided to give away...                                                   

   ...notice any  particular theme among them ?

I couldn't bring myself to give any of the others away. I know what you are thinking...hoarder ! No, I'm not. I just love my books. And there is a logical explanation why I have all of those pepper shakers. I took a break from my cleaning so I could read 'School of Essential Ingredients'. It is a great read for the beach or if you are trying to escape from cleaning.

I decided to tackle the pantry which can be a scary proposition since there is often a forgotten potato lurking somewhere...there are few things that smell worse than a rotten potato. I wore my protective cleaning gear to protect myself from the overgrown dust bunnies and entered with caution. I tried to organize the canned goods alphabetically but lost interest with that by the time I was up to the letter 'C'. I realized that I could probably make enough pasta to feed our entire town...does spaghetti get stale ? On the very top shelves in the pantry I found these...

                                                                                  

My husband found these in the basement of an old house he bought years ago ~ a true fixer upper. I don't know quite what to do with these gems but one thing is certain ~ I am not going to sample any of them. So back to the top of the pantry shelf they went ~ to sit until the next time I get into a cleaning frenzy.

The desk and its drawers are one of my favorite items to clean out. It is like taking a walk down memory lane...and I sit down to read old birthday cards, love letters, and pictures.  I laugh, I smile, and sometimes I even cry. This whole spring cleaning routine is exhausting...physically and mentally. I open one last drawer in the desk to find ~

and I decide that I have done enough cleaning for one year day and I sit down to color my world and nourish my soul.

Let me tell you...

about the birds...

and the bees....

and the flowers...

and the trees...

and the moon up above...

and a thing called LOVE...

Life is busy. Life is full. Life is good.

Zero Tolerance

In January, our family celebrated the birthday of my grandtwins. They turned one year old. We had balloons, cake, gifts and the house was filled with laughter and the sounds of celebration.

In January, Phoebe Prince made the decision to end her life. She was fifteen years old. Her younger sister found her hanging in the stairwell of their apartment. Phoebe was the victim of bullying at South Hadley High School in Massachusetts. Her family had moved to America in the autumn of 2009 from Ireland. Phoebe was the new kid in town. And she was not met by the Welcome Wagon.

A freshman at So. Hadley High, Phoebe probably...maybe... dreamt of attending football games, semi-formals, giggling with girlfriends, getting her driver's license, going to concerts and finding Mr. Right. I don't know for sure. I never met Phoebe Prince but I wish I had. I wish I could have put a protective cloak around her and protected her from the bullies ~ the seven girls and two boys who saw it as their right to ridicule Phoebe constantly with verbal abuse. Nonstop. Throwing cans at her as they drove by. Drawing obscene pictures of Phoebe and hanging them for all to see. Emailing her, texting her, Facebook bullying, calling her obscenities as she entered the classroom. 24-7. I have a heavy feeling in my gut as I think about how Phoebe felt every day when she entered hell school.

I have been having flashbacks to my days in junior high school. The new kid in town, I was bullied by three girls. Three mean girls.  Nancy, Valerie and Maureen verbally teased me and physically pushed me around ~ I avoided the stairwells and empty hallways. I feared being locked in a locker - yes, I was quite skinny back in those days and easily could have fit into a locker. They told me they were going to shove me in there and that no one would find me for days. Looking back, I now realize that I probably would have been found alive but at the age of 13, it was a threat that I took seriously. They pulled my hair. They elbowed me hard. I went home and cried. Mom told me to ignore them. I tried. Fortunately, after a year of this abuse, someone new moved into town and they moved onto their next victim. Phew.

So I am now obsessed with Phoebe Prince. There has been a fair amount of finger pointing as to who is at fault. The school, the bullies, the parents of the nine bullies, society at large...you and me. Have you ever looked the other way when you have witnessed a bullying situation ? Would you step in and get involved ? We must. Our society must take a stand against the bullies of the world. And I mean that wholeheartedly and sincerely.

When my husband and I were in Washington, DC recently, we stood in many lines throughout our visit. Musuem lines, restaurant lines, White House lines...but we were patient and chatted quietly while waiting our turn. One day we were in a long line while in the Smithsonian. There were fifty people behind us in line. I know because I counted them while waiting patiently. I noticed two teen-age girls quietly walking up the aisle, cutting everyone in line. I thought to myself, 'No. They wouldn't dare cut fifty people. They must know someone in line.' Well. Apparently they thought they knew me because they cut right in front of me. Out of all those people they picked the wrong lady to cut.
"Excuse me. You don't really think you are going to cut in front of me, do you?"
They turned and just glared at me.
"I am in line. I have been in line and you are not going to cut in front of all of these fifty people. The line forms at the rear, girls." I smiled, sort of.
They realized that I am teacher material. They realized that I am uncuttable.
"Oh. We didn't know there was a line." And they turned themselves around and went to the end of the line.
People around me thanked me, stating that they were glad I spoke up. They wanted to but they didn't dare. They didn't want to get involved.

Well, I am going to get involved. I am a protector of the underdog. I will take on the bullies of the world. I  want to get into my car and drive down to South Hadley and have dicussions with the nine bullies who took Phoebe's life. I wonder if they were bullied at some point in their life. I read with sadness that one of the girls wrote 'Accomplished' on their Facebook wall the day after Phoebe ended her life. I want to talk to the parents of all involved. I want to help.

This is not the world I want my grandchildren to grow up in. I want their world to be one full of love, rainbows, four leaf clovers, peace, daisies, balloons and nonstop laughter ~ a life of celebration. I will don my supergrandma cape and protect them from the bullies, remembering Phoebe Prince and the life that was stolen from her.

Stale Jelly Beans

She stood on her front steps, soaking up the darkness. She felt almost giddy since she couldn't remember ever being up and dressed at this hour of the day. She couldn't ever remember seeing the sun rise before. Her fifteen year old body was filled with anticipation. She was going to attend her first sunrise service at a local church. Her parents were not church going people so her religious background was a blank page. Her knowledge of Easter centered around rabbits, candy, and new dresses. She knew that there had to be more to Easter than boiled eggs and baskets filled with plastic grass. She was grateful that her best friend had invited her to attend the sunrise service with her family.

She bounced around on the front steps waiting for them to arrive. She had an all-over good feeling about the day. The night before, her mom had made a cake shaped like an Easter Bunny. This was a huge accomplishment for her mom since cooking/baking were not her areas of expertise. The bunny cake had come out perfect and it was now the centerpiece on the kitchen table. Covered in coconut with jelly bean eyes and nose, it appeared to welcome all who entered this house. Her mouth watered just thinking about the huge piece of cake she would enjoy later in the day.

The sky was still dark when she hopped into her friend's car. She was a bit nervous since she had no knowledge of church services or ceremonies. She didn't know how to behave or what to expect. Her mother had given her a one dollar bill to give at church. She checked to make sure it was inside her pocket. She wondered who she had to pay or when. She decided that she would just follow the lead of her friend.

The service was held in a field on a hillside. She followed the people up the hill to where there was a huge wooden cross standing. She prayed, she sang, she clasped the hand of her friend. And as the sun rose over the hill, she felt her eyes fill with tears and her heart filled with a feeling she could not describe. A sense of hope and joy filled her entire being.

On the ride back to her home, the excitement and anticipation of the day which lie ahead made it difficult to sit still. She couldn't wait to tell her parents about her experience. Maybe her family could start going to church together each Sunday. Couldn't hurt to ask them one more time. Her belly rumbled and she realized how hungry she was. Maybe Mom would let her have a tiny piece of the Easter Bunny cake for her breakfast. It couldn't hurt to ask.

She bounded out of the car, the sun filling the sky. She ran into the house, singing one of the hymns she had just learned. She hoped her younger sister was awake so they could attack their Easter baskets. She entered the kitchen and stopped skipping. She stopped singing. The sun stopped shining.

Her mother stood in the middle of the room, hair disheveled, bathrobe pulled tight around her thin body. The dark circles under her eyes seemed darker then ever. "Mom, what's wrong?"
"Your father didn't come home last night."
"What do you mean? Where is he?"
"He went to the neighbor's house to play cards lat night and he never came home. Go get him."
Tears filled the young girl's eyes. She headed out across the lawn, a path she knew all too well. Before long, she looked up to see her father headed her way, his head down. She turned back to the house and stomped inside. He entered, head still down. His wife greeted him with an icy glare, her cheeks hollow, her face full of anger. She turned on her heel, and slammed her bedroom door behind her.

The fifteen year old turned to her father, and she waited while she slowly transformed into the role of parent. The smell of alcohol poured out of his entire being.
"What were you thinking?"
No response.
"Do you know what day this is?"
No response.
"Today is Easter, A day of new beginnings, a fresh start. What kind of day do you think we are going to have?"
He attempted to make eye contact. "I need to sit down."
"Fine. You go sit down and I will try to figure out how to make Mom happy. I will try to save the day. One more time."
She resisted the urge to slap him across the face. He soon passed out in 'his' chair and was snoring. She stood staring at him, not knowing where to turn. She looked at the door of her mother's bedroom, shut tight as her mother tried to protect herself from any more hurt. She tried to take herself back to the hill where she had felt safe.

As she walked past the Easter Bunny cake, she thought about how stale and dried out it looked. It no longer looked appealing or appetizing. She laughed at how naive she had been...new beginnings, fresh start...not this time.

Cherry Blossom Special

We just arrived back home after spending six fantabulous days in Washington, D.C. ! We were there at the beginning of the Cherry Blossom Festival which was an event I have always wanted to attend. Over three thousand cherry trees surround the Tidal Basin area. The trees were given to the U.S.A. in 1912 from the city of Tokyo to celebrate the friendship between Japan and the United States. In 1915, the United States gave Japan flowering dogwood trees as a gift. The trees weren't quite at peak when we were there but it didn't matter. They were beautiful and I truly appreciated being able to soak up all of this beauty. Enjoy.

I am not a shooter of bunnies !

My first grade students gathered around me for story time. They all got comfortable on the rug as I made myself comfortable in the old, dilapidated chair which held the honor of being known as our reader's chair. I waited until everyone had settled down and then began reading. All eyes were on the pictures as I read with expression and a variety of voices. You could have heard a pin drop as all eyes and ears followed the story. And then out of nowhere a little voice spoke up and said, "Mrs. Kelley, what do you say?!"

I looked at the owner of the voice, six year old little Emily. Sweet, precocious Emily with her matching hair ribbons and frilly pouffy dresses sitting in front of me, staring right through me with her huge eyes.

"What do I say about what, Emily?"

"You know. You just shot a bunny."

I was totally confused at this point. The picture book had no bunnies featured in it. I wasn't wearing a bunny or gun jewelry. What in the world was Emily talking about? I looked over at the paraprofessional in my class who was doubled over in laughter. What the heck ?!

"Emily, I am confused. I don't know what you are talking about. I didn't shoot any bunnies."

"Yes, you did. You did so shoot a bunny." She glared at me.

The other students watched the exchange. Being thoroughly confused I didn't know which way to turn. Maybe Emily had bumped her head out at recess? I asked her to come up to see me, hoping to clear up my confusion.

"Emily, I didn't shoot any bunnies. I would never shoot a bunny. I like bunnies.'

Emily shook her little head. She then whispered in my ear, "Mrs. Kelley, shooting bunnies means you farted."

"WHAT!! Emily, I absolutely did not shoot any bunnies !"

"Yes, you did. I heard you."

The paraprofessional leaves the room, tears streaming down her face.

"Emily, it was the chair squeaking. I did not shoot any bunnies. Now let's finish the story."

Emily folded her arms and continued to stare at me with a 'yes, you did' look.

I tried to regain my composure. I tried to get everyone focused on the story again. But the words bunny shooter just kept running through my head. Hopefully the other students were oblivious to the exchange between Emily and myself. I certainly didn't want to be labeled as a bunny shooter.

The day continued and soon we were all involved with making cheerio necklaces to celebrate the 100th day of school. Stringing 100 cheerios requires one to focus so the bunny shooting episode soon was forgotten.

Parent/teacher conferences were that evening. Conferences can be stressful because you never know what to expect. The first parents walked in, sat down at the round table with me and smiled as they asked, "Shoot any bunnies lately?"

My name is Debbie and I am a hooker.

In my spare time...I hook rugs. Traditional rug hooking. I started hooking almost four years ago and I am totally hooked. This hobby began innocently enough ~ I wanted to spend more time with my oldest daughter so the two of us took a rug hooking class at a local high school as part of their adult education courses. One thing quickly led to another. I love the colors of the wool. At times hooking can be relaxing, at other times frustrating. I love figuring out what colors to use in my rug, I enjoy the friendships I have made, I love being creative. My brain unwinds as I hook. The picture above is of my second rug which was designed by my instructor. The two pictures below are of wool being dyed for my current project.

These are the piles of wool at the studio where I take classes. Sometimes I forget to hook and just get lost in all of the colors, dreaming about future hooking projects.

Books, books and more books in the studio to help inspire us or guide us. I rely on these books lots as I work on my latest rug.

On a recent Saturday I went to a hooking workshop which was like hooking heaven. Just sit and hook and talk with people who have a common hobby as you ~ the perfect way to spend a Saturday. The photo below shows a work in progress. I love the colors and the paisley print the artist chose.

This zebra almost looks like an oil painting. My goal is to someday be able to hook like this!

Another work in progress by one of my hooking friends~ I just want to touch this sheep. His coat looks so realistic.

The next three photos are of a huge wall hanging of our Solar System. The pictures do not do it justice. This piece truly is a work of art and is just one of many rugs created by a hooking artist.

I LOVE this sunflower rug. The artist has only been hooking for a short amount of time but her talent shines through !! This is blue ribbon work !

This rug is titled Mini-Fantasy ~ and the artist chose the perfect colors. Perfect hooking!

And here is my current project ~ Queen of the Sea. I really need to finish her since I have ideas for my next ten projects. So when I am not blogging or caring for grandbabies or working or gardening or reading or exercising this is where you will find me ~ playing with wool and colors and letting my creative side be nourished !

I’m not bowling alone.

I hate it when I suffer from a blogging block. For the past week I have been looking for some raw, clever, creative blogging material. Nothing too exciting happening in my corner of the world though. And I am feeling the pressure. My daughter, April, has hit the blogging jackpot this week…she has had over 25,000 visitors to her blog, Eclectic Effervescence, THIS week alone. Granted, she is one talented writer and she has taken on the mega-giant known as Facebook but her cause is valid and important on so many levels ~ freedom of speech, women’s rights, and right of babies to be nourished without having to suffocate under a blanket while eating. I am more than a little proud of April and her writing success but now…I have hit the writing wall…hard. I did consider the fact that April’s success came in part because she is writing about breasts and our societies’ confusion over the true purpose of breasts. So for a nano second I considered writing about vaginas. Maybe if I wrote about the saga of a menopausal vagina I would become an overnight blogging success but there were a couple of problems with that idea. One…my husband and children would be mortified and probably disown me. Two…what would I actually write about my menopausal vagina? I don’t think anyone really wants those type of details. So back to the blogging think tank I go.

I am fortunate that today is a Friday which means I can once again participate in ‘Only the Good Friday’, a meme created by my blogging friend who lives at This Eclectic Life . Maybe given a little structure and organization I would be able to focus. So I reflected on the week to try and determine my best thing. And after a couple of cups of my Yogi Egyptian Licorice tea which always calms me I had that ‘AHA’ moment. That moment when the Universe lines everything up perfectly. A feel good, let’s get writing moment.

I just finished reading ‘The Geography of Bliss’ by Eric Weiner. A definite worthwhile read about Eric’s travels to find the happiest place on earth. He states that 70% of our happiness comes from our relationships with other people. I knew that being around my family and friends always usually makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. He mentions the book ‘Bowling Alone’ by Robert Putnam which states that our sense of connection is fraying. We lead fragmented lives and spend less time socializing in person. Social networking on the Internet cannot replace the ‘up close and personal’ interaction between humans. When I am with my family and friends I can physically feel my soul being nourished. Sappy, I know, but it is the truth and the story behind my blog title.

So as I was considering what my best thing for this week was, Weiner’s words were buzzing around inside my head. I then realized what an incredibly full week I had lived surrounded by my family, friends, delicious food, bowling, rug hooking, laughter, shopping, romancing…lots of bliss. So many good things.

And as I organized my pictures of the past week to see if there were any which would tie in with this post, the little hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when I found this shot. My husband and I went to the beach on Sunday to enjoy the warm air which had moved into our area. This sign was in a gift shop window.

It IS in the shelter of each other that the People live…and may you never bowl alone.

What's your best thing ?

There are many things I miss about having my children grown and gone. I miss the sounds of their voices and the laughter. I don't miss the dirty laundry mountain. I miss the hikes through the woods as we sang 'The ants go marching one by one...' I miss their hugs and kisses. I don't miss the 'clean your bedroom' routine. I miss the fact that I can't blame my messy house on them. I miss the creativity and energy that was contagious. I don't miss the waiting up until they returned home ~ safe and sound. I miss the conversations. I don't miss the squabbling. One tradition that I miss is 'What's your best thing'? At dinner time in order to keep everyone focused and positive we would each have to say the best thing that happened to us that day. Sometimes the answer might be 'I woke up' but that was okay. No one could pass - you had to say something. It actually was a wonderful conversation starter plus it allowed me to have insight into their lives that might have been missed.

So the other day I was out wandering through Blogland when I came across a new place to visit ~ This Eclectic Life. I felt very comfortable, sat right down and read for awhile. One of the features of this blog is 'Only the Good Friday' and it caught my attention. It is a meme and I don't usually participate in memes because I don't like any blogging restrictions. I like to blog when I want to blog or when I have the time to blog BUT I totally feel the need to focus on the positive in my life which is the intent of 'Only the Good Friday'. You just have to focus on something good that has happened in your life recently. No negativity allowed. It is simple ~ it can be a picture, a recipe, a thought ~ just keep it positive. So I signed on to help spread the good news because we certainly need it.

So what is my best thing? The obvious would be the fact that after three days without electricity we regained our power. I got to take a hot shower. Life was wicked good then. Plus three of my four kids were home for part of the outage adventure so we played Scrabble and other games during the outage which was fun. No television was heavenly. All good but not my best thing.

After the power came back I went with my husband to get our generator serviced. I thought this was a quick mission. Nope. I sat in the truck waiting, waiting and finally stomped into the generator garage to remind my husband that I was alive. He was talking to the technician. Surprise. I was standing, tapping my toes loudly when I noticed a jar on the counter FULL of Fireballs ~ one of my favorite candies which I have not had the pleasure of sucking on in a long time! I walked right over to the counter, stuck my hand in and pulled one out. I wanted to pop it in my mouth right then but what if it was one of the wicked hot ones and I couldn't hold it in my mouth until the hotness dissolved? I didn't want this technician to see me as a wimp. So I shoved it in my coat pocket for later. Minutes go by, generator talk still droning on so to the counter I go and grab another Fireball, giggling as I pull my hand out. I looked for a sign that said 'one per customer' but none was anywhere to be seen so now two Fireballs sat in my pocket. I walked around the generator showroom trying to figure out what in the world two grown men could find so interesting about this piece of metal when the urge came over me to grab just one more Fireball. Now I am feeling a little bit naughty at this point. I know I shouldn't grab the third Fireball but I did. It was done rather sneakily but I did notice the technician watching me. Oops. Time for me to go sit in the truck. So off I went ... three brilliant red Fireballs in my pocket... which I am saving for the perfect moment when I can just sit back, eyes closed, enjoying each molecule of hotness. That was a good day.

What's your best thing?

What's in your gutter?

I first noticed this house while driving through a nearby city. I found myself driving by on a regular basis just so I could see if the grass was still growing out of the gutters. Finally, just had to take a picture. I think the grass gives the house a little more personality and for whatever odd reason, it always makes me smile. Hope the homeowner feels the same.

Jump Right In with Eyes Wide Open !

As we approached the camp, I had no idea what to expect, but what's new? The entire experience up to this point had been full of unknowns, new experiences and trepidation over what lie ahead. The view all around me was a sea of pink. Pink bubbles as far as the eye could see. I assessed the situation and tried to figure out where my pink bubble was located. I found a man walking around with an official looking name tag on and asked him where my pink bubble was set up.

"All the tents are laying over there. Just grab one and set it up."

He had to be kidding. There is no way they expected us to set up our own tent after just completing a twenty mile walk in weather that was so hot my armpits were stuck to my body. I had sticky Popsicle goop all down the front of my shirt and Gatorade stains made me look like my whole body had been dipped in tie dye. If I thought too long and hard about it I could feel a blister working hard to develop on the back of my left heel. If I thought at all, I could feel every muscle in my body screaming at me to go take a hot shower and get a massage.

And then I stopped.

I thought about the women and men who had undergone weeks and months of chemotherapy, radiation, invasive surgeries. I thought about the pain, the fear, the side effects they live with every day as they fight to survive. I thought about the friends I have lost to this dread disease. I thought about how hard so many of my friends had fought to survive. I thought about my mom and her battle with breast cancer 24 years ago and how thankful I am that she survived. I gave myself a good bitch slap, ended my pity party, walked over and grabbed my pink bubble tent. I proudly set it up in the field with all of the thousands of other Susan G. Komen participants who were walking with me in the 3 Day, 60 mile walk.

That was in 2007. I had the privilege of walking in the Susan G Komen 3 Day for the Cure walk with five wonderful friends. Our team name was 'Melons with Moxie'. We raised over $15,000. for the cause. I was Major Melon and the other teammates were Senior Melon, Math Melon, Ellen Melon, Motivating Melon and Stylin' Melon. We walked, laughed, sang, cried, danced and were dedicated to this life changing event. I don't type that lightly. It was a life changing event for each of us in very personal ways. Have you ever had the privilege to participate in something that is so much bigger than yourself? A chance to make a positive difference in someone's life? For three intense days we were surrounded by powerfully positive attitudes, mind boggling motivation and lots of love. These weren't just invisible concepts. These were tangible, 'you could feel it in the air' actions that were happening all around us. We never felt that we were walking on concrete or cement. We felt that we were walking on clouds and sunshine for sixty miles over three days.

Don't get me wrong. We all had our moments. Blisters, nasty blisters like I had never seen before developed on many heels and toes. Moments of missing our loved ones sometimes overwhelmed us. Many emotions surged through our bodies as we walked, hoping and praying that the cure for this disease be found and no one would ever need to walk for this cause again.

And now I have made the decision to walk again. On October 8, 9 and 10th I will be walking in the Susan G. Komen 3 Day Walk for the Cure in Washington, DC. I will walk hard and steady, knowing that I am making a difference, knowing that I am part of something so much bigger than myself. I am once again putting together a team of Melons who have Moxie. Not sure who will be my side, but no worries. I know that I will not be alone because I am walking for so many and I will carry them in my heart and soul.

If you have an extra moment and are able to make a donation I invite you to visit my web page by clicking on the 3 Day button on my sidebar. Interested in walking with our 'Melons with Moxie' team, please email me. Aren't able to walk with us or make a donation? Then please send positive energy and hold us in your thoughts and prayers as we train over the next few months. And know that by doing so, you are also part of something so much bigger than yourself. Thank you.

Oh, Deer !

This was the view out of my window late yesterday afternoon during the snowstorm. At first I saw just one deer and I ran to get my camera. Then I noticed that there was a second deer in the distance and then deer number three made himself/herself visible and I tried to get all three together for a family portrait but they wouldn't cooperate for me. Imagine my surprise when a fourth deer meandered into view. I was wishing I had a wider lens but with or without the pictures, I am quite sure I won't forget any time soon the view outside of my window.