About Me
My name is Rachel, I live in California, I'm 40, married for 15 years to Sean and have two dogs. My hobbies are my dogs Leo & Ferny, hiking, exploring, enjoying life.

Rob Follett

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Mojave National Preserve
JTNP - Geology Tour
Children's Forest
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Holcomb Valley
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Currently Reading
These Canyons are Full of Ghosts ~ Emmett C. Harder
Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood ~ Rebecca Wells
The Field ~ Lynne McTaggart
Unfinished Tales ~ J.R.R. Tolkien
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance ~Robert M. Pirsig

The Re-Enchantment of Everyday Life ~ Thomas Moore, April 29, 2005
Nine Princes in Amber ~ Roger Zelazny, April 18, 2005
Battlefield Earth ~ L. Ron Hubbard, March 31, 2005
Quilter's Apprentice ~ Jennifer Chiaverini, March 21, 2005
Contact ~ Carl Sagan, March 19, 2005
Eye of the World ~ Robert Jordan, March 14, 2005


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Khiori's Solitude

"Climb the mountains and get their good tidings; Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine into flowers..."
~John Muir

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« October 2005 | Main | January 2006 »

November 23, 2005

It's that time of year again!!

Sung to "Carol of the Bells"

Dog ecstasy
Ride in the car
It can be near
It can be far

Now in the front
Now in the back
Jumping about
Trampling the pack

Barking out of the window at other doggies who haven't got a car
We are very, very happy doggies
We are very, very happy doggies

Nose on window
Paw on the wheel
Lick the car seats
See how they feel

Tongue in the ear
Feel the car sway
Dogs fall off seats
Dogs still OK

We feel so very special to be included in all this lovely fun
We are very, very happy doggies
We are very, very happy doggies

Ride in the car
We don't care where
We leave the seats
Covered with hair

Ride in the car
Ride in the car
Ride in the car
Ride in the car...

November 14, 2005

Bar Code

And back to the petroglyphs. Here was one we found a bit away from the main group of petroglyphs. I'm not sure what to think about it. It's funny. But it's wrong. Anyway, here it is:

I assume it means April 20, 2001

November 11, 2005

Veteran's Day

Taken from elsewhere on the internet:

In Flanders the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place, and in the sky,
The Larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce hear amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up the quarrel with the foe;
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In flanders' fields.

One of the most asked questions is: why poppies? The answer is simple: poppies only flower in rooted up soil. Their seeds can lie on the ground for years and years, and only when someone roots up the ground, they will sprout. There was enough rooted up soil on the battlefield of the Western Front; in fact the whole front consisted of churned up soil. So in May 1915, when McCrae wrote his poem, around him poppies blossomed like no one had ever seen before.

Poppies are the perfect symbol for Remberance Day, which as always November 11. From time immorial they have been regarded traditionally as flowers of slumber and forgetfulness, but now they have become a national emblem of Remberance.

Many thousands of years ago the ancient Greeks forged a legend regarding poppies and sleep. In this legend they likened the heads of dying warriors to the drooping poppies of the field. They even made crowns of poppies to be placed on the heads of those who had died - a symbol of perfect sleep.

However, it was the publication of these three simple verses which have been called "the greatest poem of Britain occasioned by the First World War" which firmly established the poppy as the international flower of respect and pride to be worn each year on Armistice Day.

The poem was called "In Flanders Fields" and was written by a doctor who was also a soldier and poet. He witnessed much of the trench warfare of the time and wrote his immortal poem on a page torn from a dispatch book which lay near him.

DR John McCrae was born of Scottish parents who emigrated to Canada . . . . His medical career was interrupted when he enlisted as a doctor with the Canadian troops so that by September 1914 he had been posted to France to care for wounded soldiers.

After writing his poem, he sent his verses to "Punch" magazine were they appeared on December 8th 1915. However, the poem was not to remain unknown for long as it was recognised it was born in the heat of the battle and that it had an enduring quality.

DR John McCrae was not to see the end of the War. He was wounded in May 1918 becoming a patient in his own hospital near the French coast where, suffering from pneumonia, he died three days later.

(Article courtesy of "Wavelength" July 2001)

Another web site concerning the Mountain Communities of the San Bernardino mountains. Thank you for visiting :o)

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