"Come into my parlor"
said the Spider to the fly

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"It has not been long after the rain came and went, you know just enough all the dust and the world
of care have been washed from it.  There is just the last bit of glistening wetness left to kiss the
color of green that falls upon everything, everywhere.  The world is tinted a lovely scented shade of
wet world green.  I decide to walk out into this wonderland of beauty and am met upon the path by
my very best friend who comforts me when all the world does not understand me, nor I myself.  We
walk for a while hand in hand through the garden. We talk of many things. I do most of the talking.
 He does most of the listening. What wonders a garden reveals after the rain.  All God's flowers and animals and insects seem to be so much more alive with the energy of living.  Everything is so
radiant.  So Alive. So vibrant.  As we walk along amid the afterglow of the late afternoon rain I
see the gorgeous peace rose, a soft pastel yellow with electric pink edges and on one of the outer
petals is a single dewdrop glistening like a diamond, reminding me once again what my heart already
knew, "One is closer to God in a garden, than anywhere else on earth".  As I turned back toward my
friend, to indicate it was time for us to part again for a while, time to return to reality and home,
I felt sadness at the parting.  As I got closer to home and reality, I wondered, "Was that really a
dewdrop on that wonderful rose or was it a tear in my friend Jesus' eye?"

The Dream and the Awakening

Some dreams are gentle, and seem to flow around you like music. Some dreams are harsh and
pound down on you with the force of thunder, a sound that makes your heart jump. And some
dreams are in the middle with no possible explanation. I had one such dream.
I was standing in the middle of a field, with a beautiful sycamore tree right next to me. A
hard rain was falling, and the sky was a shade of deep blue.  Possiblely, it was cobolt blue,
my favorite color.  At my feet was a tiny stream that bubbled
over a ridge.   A leaf from the tree fell into the trickling water.  As I watched, lightening
slashed across the sky, stretching it's long golden fingers toward the west.  It danced above me
for a moment, before it flickered out, leaving the sky empty, almost lonely somehow.  Another
streak of lightening sprang like fire into the horizon, followed by a roll of thunder that sounded
like God was applauding his own handiwork.  That was the conclusion of the beautiful storm.
The skies cleared, and the harsh wind became just a whisper in my ear.  Water formed into little
icicles as it dripped off of the sycamore leaves onto the ground below and into the faltering
stream.  Birds sang like little bells, and soon the river was a pool of water on a ridge.  A leaf fell
into the puddle and sent ripples out from it's rigid edges.  I felt that the storm I had wanted to
last forever was gone with a gush of wind.  I fell to my knees, and lay down in the soft, wet
grass and shut my eyes.  A single teardrop fell into the grass.  I rolled over and looked up at the
diamond stars.  They winked at me.
As I watched, the sky began to change colors.  It got lighter and lighter and I thought, am I
dying?  Soon the sky was white, the grass was a dreamy fuzzy blue.  I had woken up, and I was
in my room.  I could still hear the whisper of the wind.  I got out of my recliner chair bed
and set my feet on the cold hardwood floors.
 Getting down on my hands and knees, I crawled to the window.  I raised my
face to the window's height, and set my chin on the window sill.
The chill of the window sill enveloped me. The window was slightly open and I took a deep
breath of the fresh morning air. Outside, the tiny lavender blossoms of a lilac bush sent their
fragrance to me, and I closed my eyes, inhaling the sweet, lovely smell. Outside my window,
there were grasses that waved like water in the wind, narrow streams to jump over, and hills
to climb. The rising sun sent red-yellow streaks into the morning sky. The wind changed the
clouds into swirls and I wanted to be out there. I wanted to run downstairs and frolic in all
of it.  But, here I remain by the window in God's early morning light and over there on the
other side of the room, on my pillow, left alone but, hardly forgotten, is a sycamore leaf.

Winter of '98 
                                     *                                                                    * 
                           the baby crocus bulbs in the garden that had been sleeping until 
                                           recent warm spell enticed them, to 
                          mature way to early...............and they peeked out , then bloomed 
                                        too soon into such a rich blue indigo color 
                               (my favorite)................................and they stood waving 
                             in the wind, proud and so beautiful, so far ahead of their time 
                          .....................there was nothing to fortell of the frost that came just 
                                                       two days later 
                         ...........................and overnight with a chilling wind knocked them to 
                                                  the ground 
                         .................................I see them now, just lying there, a hint of what 
                                                       they use to be 
                        .......................................and somewhere deep within my soul, it really 
                                                            saddens me 
                                                                                                      written by:  Olivija Gwynne 

Dedicated to BG
Growing old isn't an easy thing to do or even to watch someone do.  It definitely is not a sport for the faint of heart.   Especially when the one growing older is someone you love very dearly and they are a member of your family.
It's hard to watch a friend and a  loved one loosing ground.  Recently I really became more aware of just
how extreme this growing old and falling apart has become.  I watch her as she walks from room to room, as she comes and goes when she leaves the house. She had been favoring one leg more when she walks,  never really putting full weight on that leg when she takes a step.  I could have sworn on several
occasions that I also have seen pain in her eyes.  But, she isn't the kind to speak of her pain or to even give anyone a hint of a clue that there was a touch of pain in her body, anywhere.  She still tries to
fool the world into thinking that she is young and frisky.  Although I have been meaning to talk to her about all the naps she seems to be taking lately, and she is leaving her things spread out all over the house these days. And there are some of her favorite things that she keeps close to her.  In fact she keeps them right by the side of her bed.  She still is capable of understanding all I have to say to her,
though she just doesn't seem to be as interested in previous pursuits of hers, as she use to be.  This saddens me as I know it is because her real thoughts have turned inward and are concentrated on her pain.  She finely had a specialist look at her leg and we all learned old age had produced a floating knee cap.  There doesn't seem to be anything they really can do for that.  She does not like to be touched in that area and I have seen her accidentally bump against something and moan in pain, when she thought
we had not noticed. Oh, how I ache for her and my heart goes out to her. She can't even rest for long
in the same position.  I hear her moan often and change positions when she is trying to sleep or nap.
There are no words to tell you how sad I get, to hear ms. Boo cry in pain in her sleep.  Yes, it is Ms.
Boo Gwynne, my constant companion for 14 years, my nurse, my friend, my giver of unconditional love
and attention that I write about here.  Boo's doctor did tell me that the pain would get worse with 
time. That there was nothing much that they could do for her except they could "put her down" if the
"pain got too severe."
Well now this brings up another question. Do you think if the "pain got too severe for me", that I
could go visit Boo's doctor, and no one would have a problem when they "put me down?"
Just a random dark shadow that crossed my thought processes as I watch my friend hobble to her
water bowl.


Dog Angel named Boo

 High up in the courts of heaven today
A little dog angel waits;
With the other angels she will not play,
But she sits alone at the gates.
For I know my mistress will come,"says she,
"And when she comes she will call for me."

 The other angels pass her by
As they hurry towards the throne,
And she watches them with a wistful eye
As she sits at the gates alone.
"But I know if I just wait patiently
That someday my mistress will call for me."

And her mistress, down on the earth below,
As she sits at her computer chair,
Forgets sometimes, and whispers low
To the dogfriend, who is not there.
And the little dog angel cocks her ears,
And dreams that her mistress's voice she hears.

And when at last her mistress waits
Outside in the dark and cold,
For the hand of death to open the door,
That leads to those courts of gold,
She will hear a sound through the gathering dark,

A long-awaited sound of a litlle dog angel's bark.

Dog Haiku

I love my master;
Thus I perfume myself with
This long-rotten squirrel.

I lie belly-up
In the sunshine, happier than
You will ever be

Today I sniffed
Many dog butts-I celebrate
By kissing your face.

I sound the alarm!
Paperboy--come to kill us all--
Look! Look! Look! Look! Look!

I sound the alarm!
Mailman Fiend--come to kill us all--
Look! Look! Look! Look! Look!

I sound the alarm!
Meter reader--come to kill all--
Look! Look! Look! Look! Look!

I sound the alarm!
Garbage man--come to kill us all--
Look! Look! Look! Look! Look!

I sound the alarm!
Neighbor's cat--come to kill us all!
Look! Look! Look! Look! Look!

I lift my leg and
Wiz on each bush. Hello, Spot --
Sniff this and weep

How do I love thee?
The ways are numberless as
My hairs on the rug.

My human is home!
I am so ecstatic I have
Made a puddle

I hate my choke chain --
Look, dad, it strangle me! Ack
Ack Ack Ack Ack Ack!

Sleeping here, my chin
On your arm -- no greater bliss -- well,
Maybe chasing chippers

Look in my eyes and
Deny it. No human could
                          Love you as much I do

Dig under fence--why?
Because it's there. Because it's
There. Because it's there.

I am your best friend,
Now, always, and especially
When you are eating.

You may call them fleas,
But they are far more --I call
Them a vocation

My owners' mood is
Romantic--I lie near their
Feet. I fart a big bad one.

My life is meaningful
I am the great sponge.
absorbing their devotion to me.



Edited on 11-6-2001

Olivija (Watson) Gwynne <>
Cecil & John Ed Farris <>
Olivia (Crafton) Zimmerman <>
Don Gambill  <>
Wayne Jackson <>
Lloyd Smith <>
Randy Jones <>
Eileen Walker <>
Betty Joyce (Tate) Mittan <>
Loretta Prater <>
Durrell.Dallas <>
"Fran Shipp" <>