Jonnies Comments & Stories
• Making a post with my son painting graffiti on a graffiti wall. It's a bit of a deviation but my typical herbal voice. But it's still a repeating message that I often say.
•We matter and be heard in whatever manner that you use to express. I thought it would be a cool poster.
Be well, jonnie dee #tsht
My grandson has brought a smile to my face, 2 days in a row, with his offering of a fist filled bouquet of dandelions.
Isn't our Maker wonderful? He made it so that our produce is fresh, constantly restocking. Nature never fails to amaze me. Most will see weeds. Not me, I see the forgotten ancient gifts that offer food, vitamins, minerals, antioxidants, protein, medicine, beauty products, decorations, potpourri, salves, syrups, vinegars, salts, scrubs, flower arrangements and smiles.
Be well and touch someone's heart today, jonnie dee#tsht
This story is a little deep so please forgive me if it offends you. ~When I was a child and just over my fence~
We grew up on the farm and helping was just a part of our lives. It was a hot July day and Daddy was working the fields. Myself, my brother, my sister, and Momma loved to ride together on Daddy's tractor, the cool mist would flow above us before it landed on the crops. It was so refreshing, making us giggle in appreciation because it cooled us from the sun's hot rays. We loved bouncing around the fields on the tractor. They are good memories. It was a family tradition.
A friend and I recently had a conversation. She didn't mean to offend nor challenge me as she mentions her belief that the weeds in the field that my daddy sprayed to kill just may have more nutritional value than the plants we protected the weeds from. Stating that the chemicals used to protect the plants harm us.
I listened to her talk about how the chemicals are cheating people. "How," I ask.
"They are shortening our lives, giving us cancers and diseases," she answers.
I stop talking for a minute, getting very quiet. "Who would have known," I said.
Softly, I continue to tell her that I have cancer and that my mother and sister died from the same cancer. "How odd for all three of us to get that same cancer."
My friend mentions that she wants the world to understand that it doesn't have to be this way.
We sat in silence.
The above story, Just Over My Fence, is a modified story with truth woven in with facts. I shared my views on the common weeds and their health benefits to a friend recently. She then shared her story about her youth and the tractor rides while her father sprayed pesticide chemicals on the field. Sharing about her family and the cancers.
Tonight, just over my fence, I hear the roar of an airplane. As a youngster, I would have been so excited to watch the magic of the picturesque airplane, fly, twirl, and dip so low to the ground. But I am an adult now, and as I take these pictures, I can taste the chemicals in my mouth. I see the mist as it ventures near my foraged fence line herbs, my wild grapes, and mulberries. I know that everyone does not share my opinion. However, things will change as it touches your lives.
I have another friend who has cancer and one of her doctors mentioned pesticides. No joke. I mean no offense to the hardworking farmers who feed us. I just feel it is time for us to take our health back, grow some of our own food, educate ourselves. Show the hardworking farmer that we are willing to pay more for good food and that good food can be grown without all of the toxic chemicals.
Just my thoughts for today. I wrote this fast, so forgive me if it doesn't have the flow. Be well.
Dad has been gone almost ten years now. It is amazing how fast a memory can transport us back in time. This day, I was about 16 or 17 again. Our house exploding at it's walls with 8 children, a dog and my parents in a tiny little duplex on the south end of Toledo. My siblings so young, as I. I stare and stand transfixed, lovingly touching the piece of furniture that my father had handcrafted at least 40 years ago, finding it's way to a barn full of antiques and vintage wonderments. I ponder about how many homes this piece may have been.
Dad had emphysema and hadn't made furniture in several years. The style and the nature of dad's emphysema, date this piece. My brothers carried on the art of creating furniture from wood and using the talents my father taught them.
I see the extra detail and his signature wooden hinges with square nails, and of course, the stress marks. Dad would have the kids pull the wood or part of the furniture down the alley over the stones to achieve a stressed or aged look. We worked out of a small garage at that time and sold at local craft shows and flea markets. I am immersed in the memories, smelling the fresh wood, stains, paints and feeling the love I have for my family. It's JoyJul. Thank you David for purchasing the piece. My funds were low and it broke my heart to walk away from this "piece of our father" in hopes that it would be there when I could buy it. I am happy that you were able to purchase it and it is now has a home with one of our family.
"Da momma" was so cute and misty eyed as she shared with the owner history about my father and the piece. I think she stood a little taller that day as we walked out the door. She was proud of her husband's work. :)
I often stop, take a deep breath and say to everyone "it's doesn't get much better than this". Memory making moments of simplicity that we store in our mind's heart and will be cherished tomorrow or in 40 years as in this day. This is one of those moments. Thank you for listening. Cherish, joyful, gratitude, family, honesty, love, grace and faith are some of my favorite words. Be well, and "thst", love, Jonnie Dee