Fiddlesticks and Indoor Picnics

She had peeked out the window before he could stop her. Letting the curtain drop, she turned in disgust. “Fiddlesticks!” she said as thunder rumbled outside.

It had been raining since before dawn and showed no sign of stopping. Creek knew his mom had planned for the 4^th of July picnic for over a month. She was happy when she planned things and he liked her that way best. 

“I’m going back to bed. “ 

“No! Wait, “Creek tried to think of something fast “Someone still might come!” he knew they all would come, but he wanted to surprise her when they did. 

“No one will come in the rain, Creek,”

“It’s the 4^th of July, mama. Someone still might come,” he took a large bowl of potato salad from the fridge and walked toward the grand old dining room they never seemed to use anymore. 

“Where are you going with that?” she followed Creek into the next room and gasped.

While she’d been getting ready, Creek had put every leaf in the table and dragged in as many small tables and chairs from outside as time allowed before Mama had gone and peeked out the window. For a moment he was afraid she would turn and go upstairs, but as he lit a candle in her favorite centerpiece, Creek saw his mama’s eyes light up as well. When she smiled at him his heart soared.

“I guess you and I could still celebrate,” mama said softly

“Oh yessum! A little rain won’t take away our pride or joy for our country and our freedom, right mama?”

“Right,” mama chewed her bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

Creek could tell she was thinking she didn’t want to celebrate without his dad. But his dad had left a year ago and loyal little Creek was still here. He was wondering what to say when the doorbell rang.

Mama raised an eyebrow “Are you expecting someone?”

“Yes Ma’am! We both are!” Creek raced to the door

Soon, people were pouring through the front door faster than rain on the roof! They brought steaming bowls and brimming baskets, hugs and beaming smiles – and best, oh best of all, was that mama wore one all day!

dee Kay

National Independence Day – July 4^th

We all know what this celebration is for, right?

The 4^th of July is a yearly celebration of the 1776 signing; by all thirteen colonies, of the Declaration of Independence from Great Britain rule.  We came to build or own country – and that’s exactly what we did!

One California fifth-grader says “The fourth of July is simple: We are free.” 

But have you heard of this one?

National Work Without your Hands Day – July 5^th

It’s a tough one.

Could you push a long broom with the point of your nose?

Or pick up your socks using only your toes?

Could you rake up the leaves in the yard with your tongue?

Hold a leash in your mouth when the dog wants to run?

How would you work without your hands?

USA Angel Food Cake

Ingredients:

• 1 (21 oz.) can of blueberry pie filling
• 1/2 C of maraschino cherries, drained and cut in half
• 2 firm bananas, sliced
• 1 prepared Angel food cake

Preparation:

1. Place the pie filling into a large mixing bowl.
2. Gently fold the cherries and bananas into the pie filling.
3. Carefully spread the mixture over the cake.

Makes 8 servings

Preparation Time: approximately 15 minutes
Total Time: approximately 15 minutes

  apples4theteacher.com

Knots in the Dark

Half a dozen bats exploded from saguaro nests, providing opportune shelter for weary sparrows at sunset. Haphazardly balancing warm dishes as she hurried across the yard, Tara needed no reminding that she was late with her grandpa’s evening meal. It had not been a star-spangled day.

Beginning with overheard whispers of “the chubby girl” by someone she thought was a friend, to the almond-eyed boy avoiding her gaze, her rotten day continued with an embarrassing C- on the US history test; which she hadn’t yet told her grandma about because they’d been busy arguing about why she, Tara was not permitted to wear make-up like the other girls at school.

She’d stuffed a pocket full of chocolate for grandpa Hawk and would have popped another one in her mouth, had her hands been free to reach for one. She wondered if maybe she’d been having too many of those as she dove coo-ed at the heavy wooden door.

The door creaked open immediately, reminding her that she was late and Hawk was probably starving by now. Oh, great, another failure. But the darkness of her mood was somewhat lifted by the familiar heady scent of sandalwood, wafting from within the hut.

Dressed in his usual attire of moccasins, jeans, and an old western shirt, her grandpa still looked much like the brave Apache leader he’d been in his youth, though his hair was now silver and trailed halfway down his back. He didn’t smile, but his black eyes danced with delight as he nodded and stepped aside.

 “The day grows dark, Tara.” He said without malice.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Hawk. I was um, talking to grandma.” She busily set the table where a single candle glowed softly in the waning light and tried to change the subject. “Only a month till summer break, I can’t wait.”

“You disagree with the old woman’s experience?” his eyes never left her face as he seated himself at the table. He stabbed his fork pointedly at her side of the table, where she hadn’t set another plate of food for herself.

Smiling at his ‘old woman’ term for her grandma, she shrugged. “I’m not really hungry tonight.”

He munched appreciatively on green corn tamales while she fidgeted; swinging a foot, drumming her fingers on the table. By the time she cleared the table, the sun had long since dipped behind Cat’s back Mountain. “Ready to lose another Skystone?” she challenged.

Reaching into a worn leather bag, Hawk shook his head. “Knots,” He said.

“Knots?”

“Tonight, we play Knots. Sit.”

Once she was seated, Hawk handed her a two-foot length of rope, knotted at one-inch intervals. Tara gave him a quizzical look and he explained

“Untie each knot.” He held up his own length of rope and blew out the candle, immersing the room in total darkness.

“But,” she stammered “in the dark? Where do I start?”

“At the beginning. Solutions are better when found in thoughts not distorted by sight.”

For a time the only sound was the serenade of crickets as the two worked their knots in the dark. Tara found herself thinking about her gloomy day as her fingers felt and tugged and finally loosened the first knot.

“Got one!” she exclaimed proudly.

“Just one?”

Under cover of darkness, Tara rolled her eyes at Hawk’s remark. “Hey, I’m just getting started!” she continued “I didn’t do well on my history test.”

“Distractions.”

“No. Well, I guess so. I was anxious to finish the test and be in time to meet up with friends between classes. Funny, I remembered the right answers on that last knot I untied.”

“Ah.”

“Done! Last one, Hawk. I’m done!”

He struck a match and relit the candle, beside which lay his unknotted rope. A victorious grin on is sun-leathered face, he thrust out a hand; palm up.

“I win. Candy is prize!”

Smiling, she filled his waiting palm with all the chocolates in her pocket “I concede,” She said, “you win.”

She gathered up dishes and was at the door when he spoke again.

“There is one candy missing.”

She tugged on her pocket to show it was empty and shook her head as Hawk pulled the heavy door open. “Don’t know where it could be.” She said.

“On your breath.” He gave her a knowing grin.

“Oh!” averting her eyes sheepishly “Well, thanks for the game!”

“Goodnight, Tara.” He closed the door behind her.

Lit by a nearly full moon, the carefully tended yard lent a feeling of peacefulness she hadn’t realized she’d been missing as she made her way with a skip in her step to her grandma’s back door.

dee Kay

Lands End ©2012

A Thimble Solution

Patchwork –Where tiny humanlike beings called threads are roughly the size of buttersticks and seeking to survive in a world where little things must bring big results.

“Welcome to the medley!”

           A new spool had begun with an old problem. Rig couldn’t remember when it had been so dry. When rain did fall it quickly disappeared into the thirsty dirt, leaving no puddles to speak of. And puddles were important to the threads, not just for nourishment and cleanliness, but for travel and playtime as well. Rig raked a hand through his rainbow colored hair and wondered what to do. The threads were becoming positively stinky! And they were getting grumpier by the day. Rig had to come up with an idea of how to help. The threads of Patchwork needed a solution—fast!

           For many spools, the threads had used Rig’s idea of Eucalyptus leaves and bark to navigate the once plentiful puddles. It was a means of fast transportation for threads – as well as for carrying needed supplies.  A trip to the Aloe Vera field was long over due and it had been months since they’d had any cactus fruit. But without rain puddles, they would have to walk and it would take a week or more on threadfoot. And how would they manage to bring the supplies back to Patchwork?

           A slight tremor on the ground brought Rig out of his pondering and he quickly took cover under a broccoli head as Lark came thundering past on the back of a spry Desert Spiny. No one knew just how Lark ever tamed the lizard enough to ride on, but he had. He named the lizard Zipper.

         “YaHoo!”  Lark hollered gleefully, his black hair streaming behind like a victory banner.

          Rig shook his head. That kid should be a thimble instead of showing off all the time. But Lark seemed to be the only thread smiling these days. Maybe he was on to something, Rig thought.

          Bubbles was weaving soft, thin mesquite leaves into what would be used as new hammocks for the threads. She waved as Rig approached.

        “Hi, Rig” she smiled, “How’s your day?” she asked.

Though, still as pleasant as always, Rig noticed her yellow hair was dirty and there were bits of twigs entwined, but her emerald eyes were as bright as ever.

         “I’m working on a solution.” Rig told her.

         “Solution?” She said, puzzled. “You mean, like a promise?”

         “More like a resolution. I simply must solve our problem somehow.”

         “Any ideas on how? We can’t just make it rain. ” Bubbles set her weaving aside.

Shrugging, Rig gazed off in the distance to where Lark and his reptile friend were doing burn-outs and kicking up small tufts of dust.

           “Yes! I just now got an idea!” he answered, “All I need is a plan –and I know exactly who can be my thimble!” Rig exclaimed with delight and ran off to speak with Lark.

            “Good luck” Bubbles called after him.

Until next time, think big!