Timeless Quotes II

Good morning. About a year ago at this time...much like this day, I could not bring much of an interesting concept to mind here, so I posted some favorite quotes. I'm kind of a collector of thoughtful, timeless quotes.

So let it be known that this will be the Second Official Quote Post. (And should you find nothing more interesting to do with this January day either then please- post at will, your own favorite sayings.)

I don't want to get to the end of my life and find that I lived just the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well.
Diane Ackerman

To generous souls every task is noble.
Euripides


In the end what matters most is
How well did you live
How well did you love
How well did you learn to let go.
(thanks Jayne...)

Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds you plant.

Robert Louis Stevenson

A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write,
if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself.
What one can be, one must be.
-- Abraham Maslow

Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.

- Emerson

Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out.

--John Wooden

Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing the attempt.

--Shakespeare

Believe those who are seeking the truth; doubt those who find it.

--Andre Gide

I had a rose named after me and I was very flattered. But I was not pleased to read the description in the catalog:

"No good in a bed, but fine against a wall."

-- Eleanor Roosevelt

I no longer seek to be understood, but to understand. I do not seek to be loved, but to love.

--St. Francis of Assisi

Cherish your visions. Cherish your ideals. Cherish the music that stirs in your heart, the beauty that forms in your mind, the loveliness that drapes your purest thoughts, for out of them will grow all delightful conditions, all heavenly environment; of these, if you but remain true to them, your world will at last be built.

James Allen

"Why, I did not know we had quarreled."

Henry David Thoreau on his deathbed, when asked by his aunt if he had made his peace with God.

A Mess

Good morning to you all...it has been a while since I wrote. My head and heart can't always decide on what is important to share here, so...let's talk about those wonderful morels a bit again, ok? OK!
I have had a cold, or hay fever or whatever- enough that allows me just enough energy to work but then rest after work, no mushroom hunting(which requires a loooonnngggg walk, hiding behind trees, etc. until I get to THE place). Uh-hummmm, sorry- had to clear my throat- so yesterday, Sunday to be exact- I still should have rested, done paper work, watched movies...but of course, I had to hunt. As I was walking to said patch, this song came into my congested, hazed head:

Where the shrooms are-
some morel waits for me
where the shrooms are, where the shrooms are
Where the shrooms are, some morel waits for me....

You know that song, if you're beyond 30- Connie Francis I think. Anyway...these are the things that float through my head sometimes. Mushroom hunting is a dreamy-like situation...like falling in love. You do stupid things, say weird stuff, change the lyrics of songs to fit your fantasy, speak in tongues kind of- to other shroom hunters. I've created a terminology of sorts, some examples I've heard over the years:

A Mess: Enough mushrooms for you and your family if you can't convince them that there is a really good movie on somewhere, or that all mushrooms are poisonous. Use it in a sentence like this: "Yep, got a mess yesterday- family is going out to a show so I'll just have 'em for supper so as not to poison the family, in case one of those mushrooms is a pecker head*(see below)."

*Pecker Head: Well, yes there's that...but! A false morel, or a mushroom that resembles, well, yes that...the children love to hunt for mushrooms if only to find one of these and say it over and over, loudly squealing with laughter and also to share it with hard hearing grandma later so they can go through the exercise all over again, even louder till grandma gets it. (And then she gives the mom, always the mom- the evil eye in allowing the children to say such things...when it has been grandpa all along who taught them such crudeness and encourages this behavior with other "curse" words as well. Such as when mom leaves the children with grandpa, thinking he'll impart the wisdom of the ages, instead he teaches "hold your tongue between your fingers and say ship.")

A Fairy Ring: A mystical circle of mushrooms...when one finds this, one stands back in reverence, calls to all the other hunters in the area- heads are bowed, and someone says, "Don't that beat all...amen."

"If that was a snake it would have bit ya.": A statement you don't ever want to hear in the woods when you're mushroom hunting with your nearly blind grandmother of 90, the shame associated with realizing your standing atop a mess and didn't see it till grandma pointed it out will haunt you for years.

Spores: Something to do with leaving the root of the mushroom where you found it and using gathering bags with holes in it so as you can spread the spores throughout the woods for more mushrooms next year.

Tourist: Bloodsuckers,biters,chiggers, ticks...Use it in a sentence like this: "Make sure you use plenty of that dope or you'll have every little tourist in the woods comin' home with ya."

Dope: A toxic spray, gel or powder that is applied all over the body and clothing to prevent ticks, chiggers a/k/a tourists- from traveling up your pant leg to suck your blood and/or give you the nastiest little itch you've ever experienced.

A Good Patch: A location that is never disclosed, and rarely shared with another unless they are blindfolded, spun around ten times till they're darn good and dizzy and sworn to secrecy by making them share an unholy secret that you will post in the morning paper should you ever find them in your good patch. Used in a sentence like this: "So you got yourself a good patch, where is it?" "In the county." "In this county?" "Maybe."

Take care.

Chainsaw reaction

Good morning,

Who knew I, the most un-technical savvy person, would attempt a blog?! Why not. I have searched forums for info pertaining to solar energy to the other edge of the spectrum of sprouting seed potatoes, darn it-I'm just plain tired of wasting time searching! Perhaps the info will come to me if I can but appear the least bit interesting and, well...interested.
I will try to the best of my ability to rant and rave, inform and be informed. And perhaps, just like the Big Lebowski (my hero), I will abide.
As per my title, chainsaws are on my mind today-particularly the one in my shed. The one I visited for many moons at the farm store, waiting, wishful, wondering if the darn thing would ever go on sale. I befriended the counter guys, the super heros of power tools. They took a shine to me, really! On their inside information I found out if I waited until the day after Thanksgiving, Black Friday-I could find in the local paper a coupon for 20% off one item in the store. A gold coupon! Just like in Willie Wonka I anticipated wonderous things happening, you know-with a chainsaw. So, as I worked that glorious day, hoping for enormous tips so that I might apply those as well to the purchase price of my new 16" Stihl Farmhand chainsaw-I dreamed of spending my Sunday chopping, oh wait-that's right no more chopping! Buzzing through my miscellaneous wood lot with the zeal of a woman possessed by a bargain and the full function of a handy dandy most needed tool. Fast forward to old green 72 Ford flying down the blacktop, wind in my hair, coupon in hand, gas in the tank...wait a minute! Gas in the tank? Well, sure there was fuel in it last time I checked, but didn't the truck appear to be parked at a different angle than I had left it that moring? Teen stuck at home, Thanksgiving break-of course I wouldn't mind if he used the truck, if he supported the drive with gas money, his own. Long story short-of course I ran out of gas not 6 miles from my target,( fuel gage broken). Of course, not 4 miles from my own home would anyone stop and give me a lift to nearest pump?! Nope. Aren't people wonderful? And that goes for teens as well, because the boy left me stranded and ticked off on top of it all, because I needed to get the chainsaw, and the delay and voluntary blindness of passer bys just made my ire grow. Yes I cussed. And I am not a cusser usually, only when dealing with tractors, fishing and teenagers(and then only under my breath)-ooooh, I was seething. Good friend Audrey rescued me via the help of my electronic leash, fed me a beer, told me to breathe and eventually got me in to said farm store. So-there you have it! Must use chainsaw today, (must get dressed first), but then-off to the wild wonder of dead wood and dropped Hackberry branches by last winter's cruel ice storm. Good to meet you, take care-