Promises, Deadlines and Prayers

I'm not exactly sure where I'm headed today with this post;  but then I'm usually not exactly sure where my writing will take me . . . or where it will take my readers. I sometimes come up with an idea and type up a skeleton of a post, let it sit a while . . . and add to it from time to time . . . while it marinates. There are quite a few drafts that I will probably never publish, just leaving them to stew. Other times I just type, proofread and post all in one sitting. I try not to get too caught up in details, but I still struggle with semi-colons, contractions, formal versus informal style, and the supposedly archaic serial comma that I do so enjoy employing . . .

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Serial_comma . . .

as well as my beloved ellipses . . .

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ellipsis . . .

Now that Thanksgiving has passed, and the last few leftovers have been consumed, tossed out or put in the freezer, I am lazer focused on getting things in order for the next several weeks so my husband and I can fulfill the promise we make to each other and to ourselves every year . . . the promise that we will have the tree up, the house decorated, the cards addressed, the presents wrapped, and the packages mailed out to distant family, so we can sit by the fire beneath the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights, watch favorite movies, and listen to wonderful choirs singing beloved hymns and carols. The promise has yet to be fulfilled; however, we are closer to accomplishing our goal this year than in years past.

Deadlines are part of life. I set them for myself every day. I know some won't be met on time when I write them on my TO DO list, but it is a habit I don't want to break. I don't mind if a few of them are moving targets. Some of them have several  moving parts. Some depend on other people meeting their deadline first before I can meet mine. Some are set for me by others and they can't be altered. That kind of deadline is what I am coping with today, and that is the primary reason for us being closer to keeping our Christmas promise to ourselves this year than in any previous year.

I will be having surgery tomorrow and will be hospitalized for three or four days. It has been on the schedule for several weeks and now that it is almost time to pack my suitcase and head to the hospital in Buffalo, I want to do ALL the things on my list. It isn't practical, but it is so me! Whenever we're preparing to go away for either a little getaway or a full-blown vacation, I suddenly want to clean all the neglected corners in the house, rearrange the canned goods in the pantry, sort the paper piles on my desk, and catch up on my knitting, sewing, and correspondence! I am not sure why, but I think it has to do with my fear of never coming home again and leaving behind messes for others to clean up and questions that can never be answered. It's kind of a fatalistic view, which surprises even me! I have faith and hope and believe God will be with me every step of the way on my life journey, but my fear of the unknown is running a little deeper as I write this.

My surgeon is one of the best at his job. He will be doing robotic and laproscopic surgery to repair weakened areas and remove scar tissue where I had abdominal surgery in 2014 and 2015. He advised me that it will be a long and complicated surgery. My beloved husband will be there waiting the whole time that I'll be in the operating room. I hope the doctor gives him good news when he is finished. It will be a long day for him as he waits for news and then waits for me to come out of recovery.

I have been praying for strength for my husband, good weather for the hour-long drives he will make to visit me at the hospital, and praying for my surgeon. I can't imagine doing the kind of work he does. It amazes me that people, like him, can do the things they do in medicine. I pray for a short hospital stay and a fast and complete recovery. I ask you to join me in praying for my doctor and the nurses who will be taking care of me...and for my husband and me as we go through this together.

This photo was taken two years ago at the Christmas tree lighting in Le Roy, New York.
It was my first outing after my second surgery.

Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my blog post. As always, your comments are welcome. And until we meet again, may the Lord hold you in the hollow of His hand.


Emmy

Half 'n Half

There's no denying it. Since coffee with half 'n' half first touched my lips, I've been a slave to this socially accepted addiction. Dairies will continue to thrive as long as I can still order coffee . . . on the very light side, please.

The adrenaline rush I experience when I push the coffee maker's "on" button is too scarily close to a junkie scoring a fix. My first hour of every morning is spent affectionately hugging my coffee cup. My TO DO list and a pencil are silent voyeurs to the romantic interlude. When we've ended our tryst, I exhale deeply while placing the cup in the sink with a trace of a knowing smile on my lips . . . and begin to make my way through the day.

It might be 4 o'clock or so when I start to get that unmistakable urge to have an afternoon cup of coffee. I always cave in. The only decision is "real" or decaf. I don't want any syrupy flavoring added. No sugar.  Just be sure the cream in my coffee is real half 'n' half.

I had a lot on my mind this morning, but it didn't keep me from my precious morning ritual. I shared a pot of coffee with my husband. He in his easy chair catching up on the news, me in my studio with my planner.

Deep in thought, I wandered out to the kitchen to get my breakfast. Corn Flakes topped off with Raisin Bran and an over-ripe banana. (It wasn't too mushy to slice!) When I had just about covered it all with milk, I realized the usual gallon jug in my hand didn't feel right. It wasn't a gallon of milk at all. It was a quart of half 'n'half, and I had just poured about a cup of it into my bowl of cereal! Now jolted out of my dazed state, my first thought was,  "oh, no . . . will there be enough for our coffee this afternoon and in the morning?" . . . followed by my second thought . . . "hmmmm . . . now what should I do?"

I'm not one to waste food. My mother did a good job of training me. If I put it on my plate, I needed to eat it. Her upbringing during The Great Depression was apparent. Waste not. Want not. Make do or do without. So without guilt, I ate that half 'n' half-laden bowl of cereal.

And now, it is almost time for some afternoon coffee . . . on the light side, of course!

Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my blog post. As always your questions and comments are welcome. And until we meet again, may the Lord hold you in the hollow of His hand.

Giving Thanks



The "Thankful" banner I made two years ago after my second surgery.
We were so very thankful that year for all the good care I had received from the doctors and nurses during my stay in the hospital and during my recovery at home.  I was and will be forever grateful for the way my husband did all of my home care, while he continued to show and sell houses, take care of our home and meals and, with a loving heart, put me first and himself last. I am thankful for the kind of person he is and amazed at his capacity for love and his concern for the greater good of humanity.
 I dedicate this post to my husband, Paul.

It is Thanksgiving Day, which, for me, rates right up there with Easter and Christmas! Why? Probably because as a child, this time of year was especially meaningful to my family. My father was a cash crop farmer and by Thanksgiving, the crops were in and my father was not out in the fields working at night to get things stored away. I knew I would see my father at home before dark from now until planting time and we could all gather around the supper table together every night. I am thankful for that memory and the promise each Thanksgiving brought to our little family.


There have been many Thanksgiving days that are memorable, but not in the warm and fuzzy way of my youth. There was the time I was sick and had no food in the house. On Thanksgiving day I lost my voice, so I couldn't even call anyone for assistance! I managed to drive to the 24-hour diner and handed the waitress a note asking for a turkey dinner. She took pity on me and packaged it up beautifully and sent me on my way with the gift of a slice of pie for dessert. I was VERY thankful on that Thanksgiving!


A few years later, when I was making Thanksgiving dinner for a friend and my mother, who came to visit me for a few weeks, the oven malfunctioned. When I tried to open the oven door, it wouldn't open. It was closed tighter than Fort Knox. Fortunately, my neighbor was home and he came over with his tool box and took the door off so I could extricate the well-done bird. Again,  I was VERY thankful!


Beyond my Thanksgiving memories of long ago, I am thankful most of all for my husband. He  loves me even when I might not be all that lovable; and when I need it, he forgives me. I am thankful for his love.


We will be home today, just the two of us,  making a nice dinner, and counting our blessings. I hope you will enjoy some good memories of other Thanksgivings while you make new ones.


God bless you. And until we meet again, may the Lord hold you in the hollow of His hand.


Emmy

November 8th . . . a memorable "first" . . .

At my age, I've had a lot of firsts. There are some I don't recall and some I'd prefer to forget. I don't remember my first steps. I've only heard about them from my parents and my cousin Virginia, who was holding my hands when I finally took a step. What I've been told is that I took my sweet time before I put one foot in front of the other. My parents wondered if I would ever walk! However, there are plenty of firsts that I do remember. The first time riding my bike without training wheels, my first swim in the deep end of the pool, my first kiss, my first car, my first apartment, my perfect little first Christmas tree, bare and without lights, in the converted barn that I called home, and so many others.

 

My best and most memorable first was 15 years ago. I was single . . . still . . . and worried that I might never meet Mr. Right. When I was in my 40's the news and women's magazines were full of reports on studies about the reduced chances of women over 40 ever getting married. The reasons why were as diverse as the women on whom they were reporting. Some women did not want to be married. Some women had been married, but chose not to repeat the experience; and then, there were the women who, like me, had not been, but would like to be married. I was somewhat discouraged, but I tried to keep my eye on the prize, so to speak, and continued to look in all the logical places for a man who would be, as the saying goes, good husband material. The relationships I had up until then had not ended up with the kind of commitment I needed and wanted. I didn't let the well-meant remarks from friends and relatives influence me and keep me from pursuing my dream. Plenty of times, I heard that I should be happy just the way I was and accept the fact that perhaps it just might not be in the cards for me to find a husband, and so forth and so on. I always trusted that God had a plan for me and I believed it included marriage. I just wanted Him to put His plan into motion and, if possible, sometime soon!

 

I had other help, too. My hairdresser knew my desire to be married and he made sure that I had a good look when I left his shop. We joked about me heading down to the supermarket immediately after my appointment to look for a husband. I told him I really did follow his advice and that I went directly to the store each time and while I shopped, I looked over the fresh produce for Mr. Right. He laughed at me and said, "That's not where to look!"  He advised me to change my course and head over to the aisle with all the instant and ready-made foods. So, I broadened my search to include those aisles. It was a wash, but while I was scoping out the men selecting their instant dinners, I discovered a few new grocery items for my cart.

 

My minister knew, too. She listened to my stories. We became friends and visited and had lunches together. She prayed for me. I used to meet another single lady friend after church for brunch and we would compare notes on our searches and dating experiences. Then, there was my dentist and her assistant. My dentist was a pretty young newlywed and her assistant was about my age, which at the time was my mid 40's. While I was in the chair, we would chat about all kinds of things. I had never had a female dentist before and it was refreshing to talk to her about "normal" things. I needed a series of appointments, so we all became well acquainted. Being very nervous about having dental work, I was probably very chatty . . . even more than usual . . . which can be a lot at times. The subject of my search for Mr. Right came up and I filled them in on my activities at every appointment. They were amused by some of my stories and also wanted to help. They began talking to each other over my head, while they were working on my teeth, and saying things like, "Oh, we should book so and so at the same time as her." I could tell they were half-joking and half-serious.

 

Internet dating was in its infancy in the early part of the new century; but after some consideration of my options, I dipped my toe in the water of the online scene. At first, I used a free site, but found it was not for me. The criteria were vague and the matches that came up in my search were all over the board. I chalked it up to a learning experience as I navigated the waters of talking online to men from all over the country and the world. I swam into deeper waters to a site that was more reputable and had a fee. Friends and family were worried about me using the Internet to find Mr. Right. They warned me to be careful and about the dangers lurking behind the computer screen. My reply was that I had already read all the "do's and dont's" of Internet dating. I was careful. I met some men who interested me and I dated a bit. Some dates were disasters, and some were fun and led to successive dates. But, there was just never that spark that I was looking for. I didn't want to settle. I was hopeful, not desperate. However, there were those dark and lonesome times in between the bright spots. I had a list. It was the kind of list I make when I need to make a big decision. It was my "what I want in a husband" list. It had three columns with the headings, Requirement, Plus, Deal Breaker. I wrote it around the year 2,000, I think; or maybe a few years before. I can't recall. I prayed over it and kept it in my desk. I fine-tuned it when necessary. It was what I referred to when I wrote my online profile for the Internet dating service I subscribed to. I had been on my search for more than two years when I hit bottom and started to wonder if my friends were right . . . that I should just accept my lot in life to be single forever and grow old alone.

 

On Labor Day weekend, I was at home and, as usual, by myself. I was mad, disappointed and scared. I felt cheated and abandoned. In tears, I went to my desk and took the list out of the drawer. As I tore it into shreds, I sobbed and said to God, "Please God, show me why I am here or just take me now. I am done." I cried myself to sleep. Three hours later, I awoke. I felt completely different than I had just three hours before. I felt new. I felt soothed. I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from me and I felt hurts and fears melt away and my body felt strong and shielded. It is hard to explain all that I felt. Nothing that I felt was sad, scary or negative. When I went to work on Tuesday, I told a woman I worked with about my experience and she said the Grace of God had washed over me. She was a former nun and she shared with me a similar experience she had in her life and also said that the duration of three hours was significant . . . the same number of hours that Jesus was on the cross. Little did I know that those three hours not only helped erase the hurts from my burdened soul, but more importantly, they prepared me for the most memorable first in my entire life.

 

I continued talking to men on the Internet dating site and dated a few after that weekend. But in November, everything changed. There was a man who appeared as a match in my search. I looked at his profile and saw that he was a widower (Plus column, right there!), was looking for someone 5'10" or over (Deal Breaker column, since I am 5' 3 3/4" tall!), and Christian (Requirement column, because I am a Christian, too). I didn't contact him, but since he appeared in my matches, the same thing happened on his screen and I appeared in his. He reached out to me and we started to chat. I liked him right away. He was kind, funny and thoughtful. He warned me to be careful of the men "out there". After a few weeks of chatting online, we eventually took our conversations a step further and agreed to talk on the phone. I gave him my phone number and he called me that evening at 10:30 P.M. We talked and talked and talked . .  . until 7:30 A.M. the next day! That date will be forever etched in my mind. It was 15 years ago today . . . November 8th, 2002.

 

People have asked me how on earth we talked for 9 hours. I don't have a pat answer. We just did! After all, there was a lot of ground to cover with our two histories that spanned many decades! A week later we made a plan to meet and even though I felt secure in meeting my new Internet friend, I followed the rules I had established for myself and arranged for him to pick me up at my cousin's house about a half hour away from his home. He took me to dinner at a local restaurant and we both wished the night would not end. The next day was even more magical. He knew how much I like Impressionist art, so he picked me up in the morning and took me to the Albright-Knox Art Gallery in Buffalo. I was in heaven! Being with such a wonderful companion and walking the halls of the museum was an extraordinary experience. I thought to myself, "this guy knows how to impress a girl"! After we left the museum, he took me to the Anchor Bar, which is the home of the Buffalo chicken wing. He was amused when I ate only 4 wings. I liked them, but they were kind of messy to eat on a date!

 

The weekend had to end, of course; and even though we had really just met, it was hard to say good-bye. I had a different kind of feeling about this man. He had many of the requirements and some of the plusses I had on my list and many others I had never even dreamed to include on it. I wondered if I had really found someone to spend the rest of my life with.

 

That winter was especially snowy; but we travelled the 100 miles between us just about every weekend and continued getting to know each other. We both thought the same thing . . . that we had found love. If felt so natural to be together. Our pasts were quite different, but there were many similarities too. Even something as simple as how he talked made a difference. He was from Western New York and because I had grown up there, I could hear it in his voice the first time he called me. It was comforting to hear that familiar regional dialect.





Souvenirs from our first year of dating.

We had fun getting acquainted and doing so many ordinary and special things . . .

from coffee dates, to seeing plays at Shea's Theater in Buffalo.

In the spring, he introduced me to his sons’ families and to his mother. This was a big step for him because he believed in only including someone in their lives if there was a reason to believe it would be a permanent relationship. I finally allowed myself to seriously think that this romance was going to lead to marriage. I wondered when he might pop the question and tried to be as ready as possible for something as unknown to me as a proposal.

 

But on August 7th, just short by one day of our nine-months-ago first phone call, he proposed to me. Excited and nervous, he got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife. As much as I had been hoping and anticipating a proposal, I was surprised and even a little rattled. I looked down at my folded hands and had to ask myself if I was really hearing those precious words. My pause gave him concern. He wondered if my answer was going to be something he hadn't anticipated. For me, time seemed to stand still while I tried to soak it in and believe this was really happening. I slowly raised my head and looked at him and erased the worried look on his brow when I said yes.

 

Fifteen years is a long time. We never could have imagined when we started chatting on the Internet that we had each found true love. But we did. It all began for me when I pleaded for a sign from God. I wasn't challenging Him, but asking Him to intercede. He answered my prayers and led me down the path I had always hoped for. We were married on the first day of Spring the following year and our marriage has been a wonderful journey. There have been plenty of ups and downs, as there are in any marriage; but I always try to keep in mind how we got here. It was truly by the Grace of God and I am ever-grateful for the blessings He has shown me and us.

Happy November 8th, Paul . . . dear husband of mine!

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog. As always, your comments are welcome. And until we meet again, may the Lord hold you in the hollow of His hand.

Emmy

Hooray for Rainy Days!

As much as I have enjoyed the many sunny days of late, I have secretly wished for a few rainy days so I could spend time inside without yearning to be outdoors. When it is nice out, I just can't stay in side! I would much rather be in the yard trimming overgrown bushes, dead-heading flowers, edging the flowerbeds, watering the gardens, and now that it is fall . . . raking leaves. There is enough to do outside to keep me pretty busy, but the house also needs my attention. There is fall décor to take care of, cleaning (of course), and putting all things summer away and getting the fall and winter clothes, blankets and other things out. I might even cook more hot meals and bake a pie. Oh . . . on second thought, don't let me get too carried away! ;-)


The mornings are definitely a tad cooler now and I sense that my forays into the perennial garden will be fewer and shorter. It is funny how this new garden has changed my perspective. I have always loved fall the most of the four seasons, and even though I do still love fall; I am sad to see summer end. My husband remarked that he never realized how much I loved to garden until this year. If he could not find me in the house, he usually could find me out in my garden or on a bench contemplating where to put the next new plant. Having warmer-than-usual temperatures right now is a blessing. The flowers are continuing to grow and bloom, but soon it will be time to put the garden to bed. I saved all the tags that came with the plants, so I know what they need for the winter as far as trimming and mulching and can learn more from the wonderful information highway of the Internet. That work is yet to come . . . after the leaves are raked and mulched.


So, on this rainy day, I will finish this post, run some errands in the rain, put the fall and Halloween décor inside and out, make some soup and continue to organize my sewing room. I lucked out when I found photo boxes on sale at Michaels a few weeks ago. I used them to store all the old photos I had stashed in totes and for quilting and sewing patterns. My shelves look great, and I actually know what is inside the boxes! As cooler weather sets in, I will be more inclined to sew and work in my studio. I have lots of projects to finish this coming winter! Being organized should help me stay on task.

Always striving to find the right organizational tool . . . perhaps this will be it!

The changes that have occurred in the perennial garden are quite remarkable. The area where the pool used to be was filled in last year and we began turning it into a garden by first installing landscape cloth. Ugh. That was not fun in the dry summer heat we had last summer. By springtime, it had wintered over with leaves on top and some torn corners. But now, it has become my favorite place to be. It will be interesting to watch what happens in the garden over the winter . . . most likely nothing; except perhaps some great photo ops for snowy landscape photos . . . and come spring, I hope all the plants will have survived and will thrive just as they have this year. :-)

Early April 2017.
The garden was just an idea . . .



Early October 2017.
The garden has become a reality.

The second blossoming of one of my delphiniums.
I had never grown them before, but they are really fun to have in the garden.



It is a little late in the season to see Rose of Sharon in flower.
This bush is a survivor, after being run over by the mower last  year.

There are still Monarch butterflies visiting my garden.
This one is on a butterfly bush.
I think they are passing through on their migration to Mexico.

My garden is protected by an angel. In my last blog post, I asked for suggestions for a name for her. I put all the names in a hat and pulled out the winner this morning. "Blossom" is her name and seems quite appropriate! Thank you to everyone who participated. And congratulations, Nancy E. for suggesting the winning name!

"Blossom"



Now that the day is coming to an end, and the soup needs yet to be made, I will close here. With it getting dark so much earlier now, I tend to think it is later than it is at night and after dinner I really need to get into my studio and work on projects for a few hours. That should help me make the transition from summer to fall and give me the satisfaction of creating something, since the beauty of the summer garden will soon be just a memory.


Thank you for taking the time to read my blog. As always, your questions and comments are welcome. If you are unable to comment here, please comment on Facebook. Blogger is sometimes confusing and difficult to post on. And until we meet again, may the Lord hold you in the hollow of His hand.


Emmy

2017 Buffalo Sabres Kick-Off Luncheon

This is not my typical post with photos of butterflies, flowers, or things I created in my studio. Instead it is about the fun day we had this past Tuesday at the KeyBank Center in Buffalo. My husband and I were given an early Christmas gift of tickets to the luncheon, which featured a round table discussion with General Manager Jason Botterill, Head Coach Phil Housley, Assistant General Manger Randy Sexton, and team members Jack Eichel and Ryan O'Reilly. We were seated at our table with a really nice group of fans. One group at our table was a grandfather from North Tonawanda, along with his son and son in law, and his 3 young grandsons. All three boys had come down with the same mysterious illness and were missing school for the day, but were healthy enough to make the overnight trip from Virginia to New York to attend the banquet. Uh huh! ;-) Attending an event like this can be once in a lifetime experience and the memories made for a family that loves the Sabres will last all their lives, so their little white lie is safe with us. The Buffalo Sabres is "our" team and our entire family loves them, too. Like the rest of the Sabres' fans, we want to experience them winning the Stanley Cup. This year. Yes, that would be nice.


Before lunch, each team member found the table to which they were assigned. We were delighted that Evan Rodrigues sat with us. He was so pleasant to talk to. He was genuine and quite funny. The conversation at our table was open and animated.


We snapped a few photos at the event. . .

The Lexus Club at KeyBank Center before everyone was seated.

The 2017 Buffalo Sabres team members were introduced in order of their jersey number!
As they waited to be introduced, they stood right behind us.
They had just finished a morning practice.

Jack Eichel is on the far right.
He had signed an 8-year $80 million contract extension with the team, but had not yet announced it.

Paul and our table mate, Buffalo Sabre Evan Rodrigues.



Of course, I had to get a photo with Evan, too!
He is just the nicest guy.



We always enjoy these luncheons, and this one was no exception. We have met some really nice people over the years and look forward to the opening game of the season tonight! Go Sabres!


Thank you for taking the time to read my blog today. Your questions and comments are always welcome.


And until we meet again, may the Lord hold you in the hollow of His hand.


Emmy

My Garden Angel Needs a Name . . .

Over the years, we have decorated our front porch and yard with the scarecrows you can buy at Michael's and JoAnn's. They usually last three or four years, through rain, wind, and sometimes even snow. Eventually they actually begin to look scary as their straw legs and arms limply hang down and their hair falls off. But, being a saver, I keep patching them up with scraps of fabric, hot glue and staples, until it is time for them to go to scarecrow heaven. When my husband dragged our scarecrows upstairs from the basement this year, I knew the time had come for one of them to go. She was bedraggled, had lost her hat and hair to the wind last fall, and most of the straw was gone from her legs. I hated to see her go into the trash bin, so I put her aside and started to think about how she could get a second chance at life.


I had been toying with the idea of making a garden angel and have pinned several ideas to a board in Pinterest. Most are quite elaborate and require materials and tools I don't have . . . yet! ;-) However, I knew I had on hand some of the elements I needed to turn my scarecrow into a garden angel. I just needed to add a few things. So, over the past couple weeks, I shopped in the Halloween costume aisles at the usual haunts. I found a couple things that I thought would work and then one morning this week, when my husband was out for the day, I hauled the weary old scarecrow up to my studio.  I inserted a light-weight garden stake into her raggedy sleeves and across her back so her arms wouldn't droop lifelessly at her sides. I pulled out some of the tulle and organza I had used for my dress form ensembles over the past few years ( http://studioemmy.blogspot.com/2016/01/princesse-des-neiges.html ) and quickly . . . and I mean quickly . . . wrapped her, draped her, and tied tulle to her torso and arms. I just wanted to play a little and see if my idea would even work. I pulled a blue organza skirt with silver sparkles up to her "waist", and secured it with long quilting pins . . . because I couldn't get the staple gun to work. I crowned her head with a wig from Dollar General and pinned on the wings I purchased on sale at Michael's.


It was a sunny day, so I took her outside and planned to secure her to one of our shorter shepherd's hooks, but I had forgotten we took them out of the garden last week. So I grabbed the garden spade, plunged it into the dirt, and attached her to the handle. All the while, a Monarch butterfly was flying around and for a moment, I thought it was going to land on my garden angel! I think she turned out cute and maybe she will make it through the fall season. I don't have a name for her yet, but perhaps you can help me find one. If you have a suggestion for a name, please leave it below in a comment.


For now, she will stand guard over my garden and protect it from undesirable critters, like the big fat  woodchuck who I catch every now and again approaching my garden. At least I hope she will make them think twice before venturing inside.

She looks happy out in the garden, doesn't she?




I love her angelic platinum blonde hair and her pretty wings.



Just like most ladies, garden angels probably don't like it when someone takes a photo of their backside!
However, until I can get some help installing a shepherd's hook into the soil, the spade will suffice.
I should have covered the handle with the skirt, but I was happy just to get her to stand up long enough for her photo shoot!

There was a heavy dew this morning.
She looked kind of ethereal.

My hubby helped me attach her to a shepherd's hook, so she doesn't need to rely on the garden spade for support!
Her wings sparkle in the sun!

Thank you for stopping by to read my blog. Please remember your comments and questions and name suggestions are welcome. And until we meet again, may the Lord hold you in the hollow of His hand.
Emmy