[daisyscarlett]

[Mudboy Slim]

Howdy...MUD

[Bobibutu]

Good on ya Daisy

PING

[daisyscarlett]

Hello sistahs...

Sandy,,,hope you are better today...Hang in there, only three more workdays and then you are off to "One of the Places in Your Heart"-Fla.

Billie, since you are an almost life long resident of Texas, we certainly can surmise that "Texas is the Place in Your Heart"

Lori, missed you yesterday. Look forward to seeing you today and hearing about the Places in Your Heart.

A small town in Western New York is very dear to me. I will share more about it later.

And Molly Pitcher, thank you for sharing your heart with us today and for taking time out of your busy holiday schedule to write it all down for us...

Everyone, have a great day...Christmas is a coming....Won't be long now...

[firewalk]

Very early Good morning from NJ (-:

[Aeronaut]

Good morning Daisy.

[MeekOneGOP]

Mornin', everybody !!

Have a cup while you FReep !

For those who prefer hot chocolate.....

Eggnog, Anyone?

[Molly Pitcher]

Here I am, and for most of the day, too!

Thanks daisy so much, and Slim, thanks, but Yikes! Florence is an EX-NR writer??? Didn't know that!

[ladtx]

In memory of my fellow Vietnam helicopter pilots who were killed in that war the following were lost on DEC 18th. God bless them all.

1964 WO1 Robert R. Thruston III (USAR) -- 117 AVN, Age 24, Fairfax, Virginia
1965 WO1 George W. Rice (USAR) -- 15 MED 1 CAV, Age 27, Pensacola, Florida
1966 1LT Albert J. McAuliffe (USAR) -- C/1/9 CAV 1 CAV, Age 24, St Croix, Virgin Islands
1966 WO1 Joel W. McDonnell (USAR) -- C/1/9 CAV 1 CAV, Age 21, Minneapolis, Minnesota
1970 WO1 Gary L. Bartels (USAR) -- B/7/1 CAV, Age 19, Arlington, Minnesota
1970 CPT Floyd D. Solomon (USAR) -- B/7/1 CAV, Age 30, Houston, Texas

Salute to an Officer & Fine Young Man
Mr. McDonnell was flying as co-pilot with Lt. McAuliffe on a radio relay mission when they crashed in dense fog while trying to make an instrument landing at Hammond Field north of Phu Cat. He died instantly. Joel was an outstanding young man who was very proud of what he was doing. He left behind a wife that he adored. It was my pleasure to have known him even if it was for a very short time. It is fitting that the names of Mr. McDonnell and Lt. McAuliffe are side by side on the wall.
Jerry Berggren -- Crewchief

5 of todays 6 casualties were cavalrymen. From one old cavalryman to these brave men I offer a saber salute and a rendition of the Garry Owen and

FIDDLER'S GREEN

Halfway down the trail to Hell,
In a shady meadow green
Are the Souls of all dead troopers camped,
Near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddlers' Green.

Marching past, straight through to Hell
The Infantry are seen.
Accompanied by the Engineers,
Artillery and Marines,
For none but the shades of Cavalrymen
Dismount at Fiddlers' Green.

Though some go curving down the trail
To seek a warmer scene.
No trooper ever gets to Hell
Ere he's emptied his canteen.
And so rides back to drink again
With friends at Fiddlers' Green.

And so when man and horse go down
Beneath a saber keen,
Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee
You stop a bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp,
Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head
And go to Fiddlers' Green.

The origin and author of Fiddlers' Green is unknown. It was believed to have originated in the 1800's and was composed as a song, sung by the soldiers of the 6th and 7th Cavalry. Its first known appearance in published form was in a 1923 Cavalry Journal.

Save a place on the Green for me, guys.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE BLADE

SCOUTS OUT!

[FreeTheHostages]

My place of the heart is a place where you have a better chance of improving your lot in life by your own brains and initiative than anywhere else on earth. A place of breathtaking beauty. A place whose diversity, and diverse roots, I cherish. A place where women are allowed to have a little moxy and men are allowed to cook. I mean, of course, Vermont. LOL -- but, more broadly, I do mean the United States.

[lonestar]

Bring back the doggies and kittens! LOL...

Merry Christmas!!!!

[LadyX]

The settings of my life have been from the Florida Keys of my native Florida to above the Arctic Circle in Alaska - up and down the Eastern seaboard into Canada on that side of the continent, and in Ohio and South Dakota.
Living in countless places, large and small, in eight states, there are many I could describe from seasides to mountainsides to plains to cities to tiny Chincoteague, Virginia.

What stands out are all the places of God's glory.

One of the last was in North Carolina south of Greensboro near (don't laugh here) Liberty, where my home was nestled on a lovely wooded lot in the country.

From there to one small town was a seven-mile stretch of rolling terrain that was identified in my mind with All Things Lovely from a lifetime.
That drive connected me in a powerful way with appreciation and peace of mind.

Here, I give you my Back Road ~ ~ ~

There is a back road that is my haven when I am in need of a lift of spirit and feast for eyes and soul. This one winds from my home toward a tiny town named Ramseur through an especially beautiful section of country dotted with farmlands and woods and sweeping valleys and foothills.

In all seasons it provides exhilaration and a special joy, but autumn is surely my favorite for viewing. I identify strongly with this season, although the others draw me, too.

Spring is hope and expectation - summer is the gathering and tasting of knowledge and experience - and autumn is the blend of all that, culminating with maturation and true richness.
Winter? Time to rest and reflect and look forward to a new beginning.

I am keenly aware of God's handiwork, appreciating every minute detail, drinking in light and shadow and shape. There is not just the October blue sky strewn with woolly clouds and colored leaves whose splendor takes your breath away.... there is the slope that draws your gaze from its emerald gown to the adjacent freshly turned field.... red soil with 'stubbled beard,' remnants of last month's corn crop.... a pond with unexpectedly vivid green algaed crust, dinner host to a white heron.... among the riotous golds and bronzes and yellows and red, God whimsically scatters a 25-yard stretch of lavender wildflowers beside the road.... just to see if anyone will notice?

Fence posts march like weary, resolute sentries, keeping order between hayfields and roadsides, sagging here and there. Trees which were the first to yield their raiments to autumn stretch their bare arms upward in worshipful gestures.... they are content in their barrennnes knowing that in Spring theirs will be the first burst of leaf to herald new life!

Obscured in a clutch of overgrown brush and trees is an abandoned old shed. I see not the grayed timber and lack of purpose, but how it was when first fashioned by a farmer who gloried in its creation, board by board. (Another case of identity, most assuredly.... my framework no longer functioning so well as 30 years ago, nor is as comely - but the imprint of better days and usefulness is there, and I hope observers notice that.)

Around the next bend is a new home being woven into the tapestry. My mind veers from the farmer (how did he look and act and feel?), long gone, to the next generation building memories on a foundation of hope.... another layer of life upon the land.

I feel them all.... there is something wonderfully profound and comforting in that particular drive, and I return as often as the need is there to find peace and joy and a sense of being closer to Him... and to offer Thanks.

Such places are in your heart wherever you go - wherever you are.

[jwfiv]

An excellent idea for today's thread, a wonderful thread of memories you share with us, Molly Pitcher, thank you.

Thank you, Hostesses...)

The place that is first and deepest in my heart is my Grandpa's 80 acres of cotton farm in West Texas, outside a dusty little town called Maple. It is sacred to me, my Jerusalem. Hot summer days, snowy Christamases...yellow watermelon...exploring Grandpa's sheds and junkpiles...walking the furrows, a treasure of dirt clods, dark and rich soil, little puffs of white in the rows of green. The sight of Grandpa out on his John Deere, far off on the flat horizon. Grandma's voice, and her kitchen.

I dream about it once in awhile, being there...it is always changed a little, but still feels the same, like home.

[Billie]

Daisy and Molly,

Thank you both for this beautiful thread. When I read your words, Molly, I pictured in my mind how this thread should look, and when Daisy's plans for being gone this week changed and she could help with this week's presentations after all, she took your words, and created this, one of the most elegant and beautiful Christmas threads I've ever seen.

[ST.LOUIE1]

Hi, Daisy! Cute Babe graphic.

Angels, eh? Well, ok, I agree. : )

[Diver Dave]

I've only been able to glance through the opening and a small portion of the thread so far, but just wanted to let y'all know it's a keeper and when time permits, I'll finish reading the whole thread.

Actually gives me a chance to reflect some more on memories.

Thanks for the great thread.

[SheLion]

Beautiful site, daisyscarlett!! I sure love the work you all do!

[RadioAstronomer]

I love Wyoming. :-) I grew up in Casper and graduated from the same high school as Vice President Dick Cheney. :-)

Thanks for the ping.