You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘children’ category.


It’s impossible to miss the beauty. It was more than the three day drive up to the lake that split my head open as I looked at the lake during our first moment getting there. The colors of the lake displayed a vibrancy seldom seen in any urban center or sprawl. The  sky paled above the lake’s deepest blue waters; the green landscape never appeared so inviting. The warming earth beneath my felt felt like home.

Every day, no, every hour up at the lake shakes out a different tone as the breeze rustles the trees. Each day features an ongoing exchange of wind and water that forces waves near and far to rise and fall or, at other times, and mostly at morning or night, flattens the lake’s surface to the look of a mirror. This is when reflections take the lake’s tapestry over and commands attention to every watery detail so neatly bound to the look of the shore.

Image may contain: cloud, sky, outdoor, water and nature

Thanks to Susan  for this picture…

A crane lazily cuts across the sky; a school of nipping brown trout dot our bay’s surface water as a darkened circle that moves left to right. A hawk whistles from above and turns my head up where I see the white wispy clouds streaming from the west are gaining size. The shoreline cedars blast scent and contrast to the whitest black and grey birch. The humming bird wings by to dot the, “Oh My!”

Aptly put, Lake Bonaparte is an onslaught of beauty to behold for the jumping young, strapping aged or the resting old. The lake is always game for the viewing. The sun-twinkled waters or rain laden storms that move across the lake spark the imagination and ignite an internal yearning to be closer to the nature of our life. The peace of the place seems all so easy to attain but so far away, and all at once. Do a cannon ball on that thought. I don’t care who you are—a cannon ball into the lake will do you good; it’ll put a smile upon your face.

We’re facing the sunset…taken her down. a nightly ritual.

This shot seemed to burn the camera lens!

Sometimes, I just have to laugh. How could I be so lucky to be at Lake Bonaparte? How could all of us who abide by these shores be so fortunate? Life is a weave and there’s a spin to it, a stitch of fate that sets us where we are. I’m so glad this thread is part of my life. For almost seventy years now via my parent’s or my own footfalls I’ve made it here.  There’s so much to be thankful for, right? There’s so much to take in.

This has to be one of my favorite shots of Bonaparte…and I don’t remember if I clipped this off another’s posting or not? Forget.

I love the light in the clouds above.

From a few years back….

There are endless postcards of Lake Bonaparte to send, right? And all of them are kept safe inside—there’s a comfort to this, trust me.

cheers

Franque23

Advertisements

(As always, click the pic for a larger view…)

If it weren’t for the traffic on Rt 3 the place would be paradise—it got so bad this year I think I saw several cars pass by on a single ten mile drive to town! And, I guess I should mention the loon racket at night, especially between 10ish and midnight; will they ever shut up! Then there’s the morning crows and chickadees, the afternoon blue jays, red wing black birds, those dang soaring eagles, cooing cranes, whistling hawks and late afternoon quackin’ ducks to spoil any days nap. When will a guy ever get some sleep!

Even the view can keep a guy up!

There’s a weird speed to time at the lake no one has yet to understand. It’s like a horror show. You’d call time fast to pass at the lake but, then again, it never lets go. Nope, the memories, smiles, talks and moments fly by like the wind but sit like a immovable block in your soul as well. You can think what you like, but I’m saying there’s no surgery that can take this massive thing out once it has seeped inside you. There’s a devious kinda magic to those waters and reflective sky at Bonaparte that mirrors deep by day and night in the Mind’s eye—it’s sorta like a strangle hold on your senses you can’t sue and win.

Lake friends last forever as well. Who has time for that?

The whole experience is torturous.

You catch a good fish a few years back and spend the next 7 trying to do it again….oh brother, what a bother…

It’s been a while for me, being so busy with raising a family for oh so long, since I’ve had real time to make new friends or see old ones while up at the lake. This year was different. I got to know Kim and Steve and their ten inch high killer dog, Lola. I’ve never been afraid of dogs, but now that’s over. I’ve struggled with our fireplace pull rods for over twenty years which is why having some strange guy named, Bill-the-Beatrus I think, fix the rods with a minutes’ thought and about ten minutes time is problematic. My sense of self worth is gone forever, it’s over, doctor, and those psychiatric bills won’t be cheap.

Time spent with Toni, the two Michelle’s, Forbes, Randy, Laura, Vicki and the Sherman’s is always fun, but who let them out of the loony bin? To boot, now there’s no cop on the lake. And now, with our Grandson making friends with our neighbors son pretty much any sense of normalcy that never existed here is entirely gone. Why keep dreaming about it?

It’s also possible to take really bad shots up at the lake..(does anyone have a flashlight)

Hear’s one of my thumb I took this year at the lake….perfect shot!

It’s great to see Bill again; meeting anyone my ancient age or older has a special zing to it. There’s like this on-going contest between the lake petrified folks to see who falls in the lake first and doesn’t get out. I can tell Bill is watching me closely as I age and our fifty-foot bluff gets closer to the house. Some may not know it, but Grady-of -the-lake(now deceased) had nine lives and he spent one of them running towards this very same bluff. There was no blue moon the night before or heralding of angels in the morning of the afternoon when Grady, Dave Morgan and I sat on our porch before this steep drop off. All of a sudden, Grady gets up and starts running full speed toward the bluff as though he might do a high dive into the lake! Only a lunging hand to his ankles stopped his forward movement and saved a grave digger the effort. Mind you, this run of Grady’s had nothing to do with beer(s), but rather the magical pull of our evil lake was at fault.

I’m telling ya, there’s more than the best pure air up at Bonaparte—it’s full of friendship forged through good time and bad. There’s nothing like building a dock, camp or boat house and have the ice take it out the next winter; there’s nothing like the bond of spending money like a drankin’ sailor on lake side repairs. There’s a saying; only buy a boat if you can afford to buy ten—maybe the Bonaparte camps are the same way.

But who cares when you’re young, free and without a care like about none of us.

Still, those losses and efforts all make for great stories shared between a laughing, here’s-to-the-lake crowd. (Beers help, too)The night sky is more than pay back for any expense. But, daytime swimming, soaking in the sun—did I fall asleep that long?—fishin’, kayaking, bird watching, boating, tubin’ ( I did see a skier), and even some sail boating also take the day to flight. The air is incredibly invigorating at the lake. Breathing there is sorta like breathing in an oxygen tent where ever you go. So, the loony’s on the loose, the evil lake stare, the crazy birds, the alluring sunsets, the mesmerizing night stars and stormy five-foot high waves that tear docks and boats apart are all worth it. Why do I think this? Well, I’m nuts like the rest of you.

Cheers from the archives of franque23 Lake Bonaparte insanity logs.

Franque23

 


(clicking pics gives larger view)

The day had no way of knowing, it started off so differently. I still sat at the breakfast table when our four grandchildren, without any prompting, opted to chill and read in the morning light.

.

After working in a library for the past twenty five years-just wow.

But I had a plan.

There’s nothing like a fishin’ trip to spark up day! We’d gathered with high spirits along with some pensive moments: what would happen; how would do; would we come home fishermen or boaters?

We headed down the steps on our way to the boat. (How about those fingers!)

We set course for  Mud Lake with broad smiling faces, multiple rods, bunches of hooks, buckets of smelly worms on board and soda’s in hand. Plus, we had Shadow who knows at five that boat rides rock up and down and all around.

We had attitude, baby.

Guard Shadow had our side covered…

What would happen? Would we have any luck? And, would Shadow dive in after the loons, ducks, beavers and or fish? No one knew?

Bingo!!! Fish up!Actually, more than 60 fish up. My right arm hurt at night from de-worming, and de-fish hooking for those a bit off on that. Hats keep most hooks out of heads, but fingers are hook magnets.

Okay, I’m not sure, but I think this is a ritual we will keep up after any successful fishing thingy.

Time to leave Mud Lake meant our sounder took position to safely lead our way.

We headed home a happy lot. We’d have fish for lunch and a bunch more books were waiting to be read. And, there was also yoga time.

But maybe showing off our catch to our new neighbor friends was the best of it all!

Then again, we’re all neighbors at the Lake! Thanks for enjoying  a dream come true: fishin’ time with the kids and doggie…Ya gotta love it!

Cheers from the lake with more to come!

Franque23

 


Concentration camp, internment center for political prisoners and members of national or minority groups who are confined for reasons of state security, exploitation, or punishment, usually by executive decree or military order.”*

I’d like the word play discussions so often frequenting social media about what is or isn’t a concentration camp to end. This discussion, after all, is just a diversion from truth and a means to dilute the meaning of what is happening in America under Trump.

America IS running concentration camps at our southern boarder.

The camps holding immigrants on our southern broader are concentration camps, in fact the buildings being used are WW II camps designed to ‘concentrate’ America’s Japanese population into one area. Thing is, if you look the word up there are often references to Hitler’s camps, but the gassing of people is not inherently held within the definition of concentration camps. But let’s be ‘frank’—the abuse happening right now on America’s southern boarder qualifies as concentration camps: over two thousand children have been,’ lost!’ Where did they go? Some have actually died in these camps! Hundreds are kept in places designed to hold up to twenty. Now, children and adults are being punished by being denied outside exercise-it isn’t enough that we have penned them in mass….

A recent article pointed out that thousand of the incarcerated claim to have been sexually assault while in our concentration camps!** This brings to mind that Texas recently passed a LAW stating that police officers weren’t allowed to have sex with, or rape, those who are held in custody in the back seat of their patrol car. I’m like….WTHECK? We needed this law?  Thing is, many states do not disallow this behavior but deem it a misconduct issue….***

I’m thinking a low can always get lower.

We, as Americans, as citizens of the world, have to do better than running concentration camps in America. I’ve got a great idea! Vote out this bastard administration in 2020… that should do it, or at least be a giant step back in the right direction for America and the world!

You don’t think we should vote Trump and his cronies out in 2020? Well, there’s this:

You can turn a blind eye as Germans did in the time of Hitler and for the same reason: they loved Hitler,  you love the GOP and Trump, no matter how abhorrent the party or man is. But, if you do, you are no better than the people who allowed the mass killing of 6 million during Hitler’s reign of cruelty: you’re no better; you’re no different—you are the same, a mindless, heartless mass of people who should know better but don’t. Concentrate on this.

Franque23

*https://www.britannica.com/topic/concentration-camp

** https://www.nytimes.com/2019/02/27/us/immigrant-children-sexual-abuse.html

***https://truthout.org/articles/in-35-states-cops-can-legally-have-sex-with-someone-in-custody/


I don’t know what’s with me when it comes to photographs of  people and places from times gone by. I’m certainly fascinated by the viewing. Maybe, these pictures put a softer edge on my seventy-year-old mirrored image? That reflection is a far cry from my thirty- year-old look I remember being so well!

Or, it could be that having a Grandma whose first cousin was, Edward Curtis, put a special interest in my heart.  He was famous photographer of history. He took it upon himself to capture by lens the last images of many Native American tribes before their way of life was forever changed by the hordes of white settlers moving west.  Early prints of his work, some hand signed, hung about our home as I grew up. I’d stare into the faces of those Native Americans and speak to their eyes in private. Did they answer? I think so.

I hope you enjoy looking this over as I have; the images are from all around the world and many from 1880 or so.

June is the month for fun! Schools out! Though, lets hope not forever:-)

Cheers, Franque23 (disregard the ads run by CNN after this link–they just can’t be dumped…..from the link.)

https://www.cnn.com/style/article/louvre-album-of-the-world/index.html


A day like any other.

Anyone might agree, it’s a dull day. The rain came early and it seems to have no intention of leaving. Hedging all bets, the weather men say there’s a good 100% Chance of rain…not sure, but does this mean it may not rain at all? Nah, they got it right today. Rain drips from every flower petal, the deck railings and the roofs tops. You gotta know the earth is loving the drenching. And I’m not sure why birds would enter the bird bath in the rain but they do, maybe some sort of double your pleasure.

Have you ever noticed how we all love to see light? Holiday lights come to mind, and the lights of a huge city as seen from a distance remain fascinating to behold.

Dale and me are caught in a glass reflection as we look over the lights of Nagasaki.(Thanks to our daughter’s sharp eye.)

There are so many moments when the vision of light moves us—  disco lights, fired up logs on a dark night…

We keep the fireplace going most nights up at the lake.

There are fireflies to chase and flashlights to make faces over. Have you ever watched the snow as it drifts through a street light’s glow? There is the first morning’s light…

And the silent last glimpse of the sun as it goes down.

We gathered to say goodbye to David Morgan in passing as the sun slipped down.

Our lives are about light.

The rain means we won’t see the sky here as we seek it, so full of light, but only as it is—a mass of low hung grey to darker clouds, twisted as multicolored taffy that appears as fluff balls that float above. Yes, when we seek the sky we seek the light.

Lake Bonaparte East Shore cloud says hello.

Lake Bonaparte dazzles sunlight in so many ways.

We want to see that burning globe above us turning on the earth’s light switch so shadows abound as birds sing and butterflies flutter in the wind.

Always, it’s the light; the light in the sky, or as it reflects on the sea foam or clouds above.

Thing is, today, this wet, drizzly moment, brings other thoughts to mind. Who doesn’t sleep in better on a rainy morning not meant for having to go to work?  And, maybe, a rainy day is good for offering a glimpse of a new prospective, a new way to count those clock hours often so busily rushed by task and obligation during a day like any other.

An early morning mist hugged Lake Bonaparte as the morning sun touched several tree tops.

I’m thinking about the sky; the one we long to see and the one we often don’t.

The beautiful daylight with it’s streaking wisps of clouds, meandering white billowed clouds or crisp clear blue without a cloud in sight hides so much in plain view. It’s odd to think, but the daytime that lights our way is also a veil. That sparkling luster above reflects our hopes when we look to it but that light is the bottom of the truth above. The truth lies in the stars above our daylight sky, in the darker canopy that lingers beyond what our eyes can ever see.

Looking up to Lake Bonaparte’s night sky.

This is Mud Lake, Bonaparte. And, it’s time to hurry home.

The universe’s light is shielded from our view by the daylight. Those bazillion stars shine overhead whether it be day or night but that vision is often swept past our sleeping heads as we dream of better days. We nestle to sleep beneath the ever present reality of our place in the universe, beneath the map stars create that speaks to our existence.

Both taken from Bull Rush bay, Lake Bonaparte. Credit I believe goes to, Ross Franquemont, our retired U-2 pilot in our family. Check out another of his….from the U-2.

So we hurry in the daylight and sleep at night. Oddly, it’s the night time stars that show a greater light. If we could just wake up each day and take a moment to understand how small and yet interrelated our place is in the universe. There’s the thought that people should take time to envision what they hope for the day before it kicks off in order to have some sense of control over their day’s purpose. Perhaps, if each of us were to think of ourselves as no better than the ants that march by but also no less than the stars over head we’d come to an understanding that might yeild a peace to our lives and the world. I’m not sure.

I’m not sure why we love to see the light that shields the panoramic spectacle of our universe from our eyes. What if we saw both during every waking hour?

From Bull Rush bay, Bonaparte sundown.

So, as the rain falls and thunder rumbles, I’ve dreamed of the starlight, of cooler nights warmed by the light of a campfire. I’ve thought about us, and how we all wish life was better but none of us seem to see a way to make it happen. There’s so much to see each day. Maybe, if there was less to see. Maybe, if we at least saw the stars every night things might get straight. Call me a dreamer, but I’ll wish upon a star any time—they’re always there.

It’s just a day like any other? I don’t think so, not ever.

Franque23

 


It started about five months ago when the decision was made to re-do our puppet show production of Rumpelstiltskin. It had been about six years since we last performed this adaptation I was happy to write, direct and play a part in. This time frame means the audience has turned over and a new set of children are mostly not using walking feet in our department.  It’s all good!

After organizing the scripts, some remaining props and some pieces of the set, it was time to begin planning the bulletin board that would advertise the puppet show. Building this bulletin board had a time frame that slipped in between two twenty foot long displays I was to do for our story hour room and the puppet show itself that will take place two weeks from now. In all, the displays and show will cap-off 5 months of planning on my part. The board is up tonight but for a front runner frame at its base so tomorrow starts the work on the puppet set and props.

Flat out, I love design work, crafts, art, writing, directing and playing puppet show parts and working puppets. So, I’ve been busy, yes, but it has also been rewarding to this date.

Here’s the bulletin board…what fun….In all this board took about 14 hours of work.

Maybe a better view of my mascot, the squirrel….

I have a work order in for a bigger idea on this board but don’t know if it will get done. I wanted a slow turning motor attached to back of spinning wheel so it might rotate around about once per minute…..we’ll see.  I’ll have to deconstruct some of the board if I get the motor… but it’s all fun…rumpling paper and supplies together is a big part of the effort and enjoyment.

In case you missed last week’s glob, here’s a shot of one twenty foot board finished last week.

I hope you days are full of happy times, fun times and full of meaningful events.

cheers!

If only I had his spinning wheel!

Franque23

 


(Click for larger view)

You know I’m loving life in Florida. This fall, winter and spring have reverted to mostly weather patterns we used to always have in the past years. This has brought about a few oddities to the growing  garden.

This shot is about two weeks old, the lettuce and green beans are done, this accounts for the large places of only mulch.

Here you can clearly see a collard greens and several kale plants. Thing is, these have been growing since last August and have yielded since Oct, 1st! The relatively mild winter allowed them to keep on trucking leafy veggies to our kitchen through the winter and spring. We had, collards, lettuce, kale, too much eggplants(they too have been growing since last year) herbs-thyme,rosemary, sage(huge plant) basil,dill- green beans, yellow squash, zucchini,, potatoes, yellow peppers, green peppers, cherry and full size tomatoes. For the tomatoes only, I do use a green light organic spray to discourage the stink bug stings…

The pineapples have a hard time taking any weather below 40 degrees,,, but with occasional coverings, they made it thru  the winter months and I’ve four coming on strong with fruit. The other 26 pineapples all look great and several others will bear this summer as well.

This gardenia and plumbago make a good side-by-side match for our house front. The gardenia is about seven feet tall and around ten feet wide. More than 300 blooms hang this year, and all about within two weeks of one another. We cut many for house use…fun stuff.

On the other side of the walk from the gardenia is our bird bath. I like this shot, full of shrimp plant blooms, four o’clocks and an odd bloom like an iris….thing is, the bird bath reflects the light coming through the Old Man’s Beard tree that stands high above….

Out back in the pineapple garden stands a potted indigenous rose.

The pool walking steps divides the rose from our Mexican tulip hedge.

I’m busy at work putting up two, twenty foot long displays about medieval days and Summer Reading at our Library. We all had fun in our department selecting pieces to color or design as we liked… Then, I set the Background up and placed the pieces…The boarder isn’t done at the time of this shot, and the other board not up yet… both are finished now….

Here’s the full view…

So yes, my wife and I are loving the greens, the tomatoes, the birds, flowers and wild doggie, Shadow,  who follows us everywhere!

I hope your seasons have been excellent this past year! And, get ready—we’re gonna melt down here this summer. This week we have 99 at least for 5 days in a row during late May.. Wow.

Of course, this plant gets to have the last word: peace.

Cheers

Franque23


( Click the pics for larger view)

I hate to think about those gone, but love to do it just the same.

The old pictures come out and there they are, mother’s eyes shining above knowing smiles and all so comforting over a distance too great to fathom. The memories of people flood a mind and it’s easy to wish they might come back as the ocean tide so we could talk with them again, if just for a minute—some would say, if just for a second.

Thanks Mom, for holding me on my first day home. You did a great job.

It doesn’t feel exactly right to have Mom gone, not living here anymore, not anywhere to be found, and not like that missing shoe worn so well, but like an eternity of holding, helping, a loving so unique that she had no business to leave. Where’s that lap, that knee, the one who tied my shoes while assuring me I was doing fine. The smell of hot apple pies, cakes, and always the lemon cookies and the music that filled our household I’d mistakenly imagined was found in any home, where did it all go? How could so much have vanished as I grew?

Sometimes, I think I fished Lake Bonaparte to see the joy in my Mother’s eyes over the catch. It’s hard to give enough back to a mom for all she has done.

The day I cried over a sink, sobbing without defense and Mom pat my back, “She broke your heart…” It was good to know Mom understood. In an instant, I was not alone, but on a journey with my closest companion, the one who first helped me see, to first understand and think that another day would be so much better. The heart is such an easy target, but mom’s know how to repair them; always.  Mom’s own the master’s touch. Mom’s bring forth and retain the spiritual essence of their children. A good mom paints by word and deed a portrait of Life their child is able to enter and understand.

Mom’s are the garden of life.

There are very few things in life a person can gain that can’t be taken away. Educational degrees are one of them. Jobs, lovers, spouses, homes, money, social standing, friends, ideas, opinions, looks and health, all of these can be taken in an instant. Mom’s words, her leadership, her advice and love never leave a child no matter if they were good or bad; right or wrong. No, everything about a mom stays inside each of us who have experienced theirs.

We were so happy to give Mom a Granddaughter.

Mom’s own a lock box in the heart; the child has the only key to it. So, Motherhood is the hardest and most meaningful of all jobs and the most enduring. There is no end to a mother’s love. Death can not claim to own that love. Maybe, this is why pictures of moms means so much to us.

You’d seen and done so much before I was ever born, Mom. Now, I wish I’d asked one million questions, no, more.

An old, worn out picture of mother catches it all in a single view. She has passed, but there she is in the picture to see in full view.

The experience of seeing mom again in pictures is just like her love, that endless gift of the heart from mother to each of us never lets go. The picture you can see, the love you feel forever.

Have you ever touched a picture to see if you could feel mom touching you back? I have.

Happy Mother’s day

Franque23

 


Image result for picture of reports talking to empty podium

One of the first things you learn in library service is to ask good questions—this can save so much time when it comes to helping patrons. So, in the spirit of helping America, here’s 30 questions I wish someone would ask before the press core is drummed out of the White House.

Trump golfs so much, why is he fat?

If Trump has nothing to hide, why does he hide everything?

Why does Trump lie so much?

Will Trump be arrested before or after he is out of Office?

Why didn’t Trump want to have fun at making money rather than losing it?

Why has Trump gone bankrupt so many times?

What is Trump’s waist size?

Did Trump get a STD from sleeping with a porn star without using a rubber?

Has Trump stopped grabbing women by the pussy?

Why Is Trump in love with Putin?

Is Trump really bisexual?

Why did Trump tell his first medical physician what to write in his health exam medical report?

Why is Trump a bad speller?

Is Trump stupid like people say?

What were Trump’s real grades in college and why does he keep them secret?

Why has Trump and his businesses been sued over 3500 times?

Did Trump really kiss a man?

Is it true that Trump was caught in a bathroom stall with another man?

Why did Trump make-up fake news?

Why did Trump call radio shows and pretend to be someone else?

Why doesn’t Trump believe in God?

Why does Trump live in fear?

Why does Trump hire so many foreigners?

Why is Trump so over weight?

Trump gives athletes fast food hamburgers; is this what he likes to suck down his pie hole?

Why does Trump cry so often?

How much money has Trump stolen from his 2016 campaign funds?

Why was Trump afraid to fight in our military?

Does anyone know why Trump hasn’t been arrested?

Why hasn’t Trump been arrested?

 

Just asking to help clear the air…

Franque23

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

why is a cheap SOB to sport athletes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

August 2019
M T W T F S S
« Jul    
 1234
567891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
262728293031  

Categories

Advertisements