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Duck, Duck, Where’s the Goose? (Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge)



Sitting Ducks

Sitting Ducks

On the Move

On the Move

These two Mallard ducks were hanging around a creek when I spotted them. I didn’t mean to bother them, but they got up and walked back toward the water when I got closer than they liked. There was no goose in sight.

I remember playing the childhood game called duck, duck, goose. We sat in a circle and someone walked around the outside of the circle tapping us on the head as they said “duck, duck, goose.” The person tapped as goose had to chase the tapper around the circle, trying to catch them before they took over the empty spot. Seems like it would be hard to jump up and actually catch the tapper but I guess we sometimes did or the game wouldn’t have been fun to play. Is this how you remember the game?

I am posting this for Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge this week with the theme of Duck Duck Goose!

Numbers Game



Walking around the park, it made me smile to see this game of hopscotch drawn on the park walkway. When I was a kid, we searched to find “chalk rocks” in our yard to draw squares on the sidewalk in front of the house! Searching and drawing was as much fun as tossing and hopping!

*posted for the daily post weekly photo challenge: Numbers
and the daily prompt: Childhood

Childhood-Gone But Not Forgotten



Happy childhood memories cross my mind. Those days are gone but not forgotten.

I find myself becoming cynical and I long to regain the hopeful spirit I had as a child.
I want to recapture the spirit of play and feeling of wonder with each new morsel of knowledge. I want to color and daydream and skip and laugh everyday.

It can be hard to squeeze the nature of a child into the responsible adult, but I am trying.
Taking photos has been one way to re-examine the world around me and see things in a new light.

There is wonder all around me just waiting to be discovered.

Posted in response to the Weekly Photo Challenge

Home Sweet Childhood Home

I live about ten minutes from my childhood home. As a child, I lived with my mother, father and younger brother. I grew up in a brick ranch house. Let me take you on a tour down memory lane.

Purple phlox covered the sloping banks near the steps that led from our driveway to our sidewalk. The concrete sidewalk was long enough for marking hopscotch squares in chalk or practicing standing broad jumps. The walkway took a sharp turn to the left, meeting the front porch steps of our house. No one else had ever lived there. Only us!

Just inside the front door was our living room. Hardwood floors, swept free of dust, were cool under my bare feet. A gold framed mirror hung on the white wall above my couch. If I jumped high enough, I saw my reflection in the glass as I practiced cheer jumps. Facing the couch was our TV, complete with rabbit ears. A yellow rotary phone sat on a shelf of a divider, built by my father, which was placed in the space between the living room and kitchen.

Three bedrooms and a bathroom were down the hallway. My brother and I would run and slide down the long hall in our socks over and over again for fun. In our rooms, we sat on the floor, playing games retrieved from basement storage. We read books. We listened to songs on our transistor radios or on our shared record turntable. The walls contained our laughter!

Called into the kitchen for meals by our mother, we raced to the wooden table and took our usual seats. As we ate, lingering daylight beckoned to us through the large kitchen window, urging us to rush outside to play in the backyard.

The yard was large and flat. There were flowering bushes all along the sides. The hydrangeas were a vibrant blue. The peonies, a bold pink. Honeysuckle grew along the fence line, filling the air with a sweet smell. A redbud tree stood beside our swing set. The yard was perfect for riding our bikes, running races and playing games like kickball, badminton and tag! We rested in the cool grass and looked for four leaf clovers.

At dusk, we propped our bikes against our chain link fence. We ran up the back porch steps and went back inside our home sweet home.

Happy TV Dinner Night!

Beans and franks. Baked apples. Corn muffin.

Simple food. It was the perfect combination. I cut the franks so I could have a hotdog bite with each scoop of the tangy beans. The corn muffin was soft and sweet. I saved the warm cinnamon apples for last. They seemed like a dessert. I thought it tasted great!

What made the meal special was the shiny metal tray with three compartments holding the food. All three items on one tray! None of them touched! And, they all cooked in the oven together! And, everyone could choose something different! This seemed fantastic to me as a child.

It wasn’t fast food; it still took a while in the oven. But, it did save my mom time in the kitchen on some nights.

I remember pulling the tin foil back to reveal the contents, hot steam rising from the tray. We let it cool a bit so we could carry it to the table and eat straight out of the tray. Even though it was a TV dinner, we didn’t sit in front of the TV. Our family sat at the kitchen table like we always did. My brother and I hurried to finish so we could go back outside to play with the other neighborhood kids before it got too dark.

It was a happy time with days and nights filled with family togetherness, joyful play and wonderment of dinner in a tin tray.

Tourmaline .

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