Of Dandelions and Sunshine ... : and now, the rest of the story ...

March roared in with winter winds and rain. A sore throat turned into a sinus infection and into a bronchial infection. I waved a white flag of surrender finally after a week and a half and went to the doctor.

Bipan, the sweet soul that he is, made me a mug of hot ginger tea with honey and black pepper one night after hearing me try to hack up a lobe of my lung. I'm really going to miss having him around.

Not one to sit idle while choking, I pulled this cracked lamp base out of the garage. I had saved it from the trash where my landlord had put it last summer.

I had found a set of paper napkins in a shop, and knew exactly what I wanted to do with them!

Voila! Not perfect, but quirky and wrinkly like me, a new lamp base was created. I'm now looking at shades and will rewire the bulb socket with a new kit since I respect electricity and distrust old rusty works and wiring.

I probably will save it for my forever home since there really isn't a place here for it. It may become the focal point around which a room is decorated.

Today's fun art activity was learning about succulents, putting some in a beautiful colander planter, making a bling wand, and cute signs to decorate with. [Three of those signs found homes in other planters I had at home.]

These ornaments are for my June = West Virginia tree. The round raven hex sign and mini barn quilt were painted by my friend, Jane, who owns and teaches at Wren's Nest here in town.

It is her studio where I take my frequent art classes. Eventually, when I have my own forever home later this year, I will create and paint a hex sign that I can hang in my home. And probably another two to hang outside on the front and back just because I can.

This adorable hillbilly was carved and painted by a friend, Parrish, [Gnomes in the Garden], and will also adorn my June tree. I must think of a name for him.

I keep remembering a man I once met some 40+ years ago whose name was Erkless Peoples. He was a born and raised in the south kind of man, tho I won't say redneck, he was a country boy. I could not find a definition for the word erkless, or even erk [other than a man of the lowest rank in the RAF], but I imagine a Southern conversation that might have gone something like this:

Gran'daddy: June-Bug, I wish you'd stop messing with that there Peoples boy. He ain't no good for you, and he jus' erks me to no end to see him treating you like just another one of those city floozy girls.

June-Bug: Pop-Pop, you know he means good and well by me and this here boy ah his. There ain't an erkless bone in his body.