"The Boy Who Drew Cats" (Japanese: 猫を描いた少年 Hepburn: Neko wo egaita shōnen) is a Japanese fairy tale translated by Lafcadio Hearn, published in 1898, as number 23 of Hasegawa Takejirō's Japanese Fairy Tale Series. It was later included in Hearn's Japanese Fairy Tales.
The original title in Hearn's manuscript was "The Artist of Cats". Printing it on plain paper as in the rest of the series did not meet with Hearn's approval, and this book became the first of a five-volume set by Hearn printed on crepe paper. Illustrations were by artist Suzuki Kason
And he passed away. We took good care of him, It was the end of an era when he passed, only in our memory. Good-bye DUS and thank you
Cat Memorials
"We who choose to surround ourselves with lives, even more temporary than our own live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached. Unable to accept its awful gaps, we still would live no other way. We cherish memory as the only certain immortality, never fully understanding the necessary plan..."
- The Once Again Prince by Irving Townsend
"The Boy Who Drew Cats" (Japanese: 猫を描いた少年 Hepburn: Neko wo egaita shōnen) is a Japanese fairy tale translated by Lafcadio Hearn, published in 1898, as number 23 of Hasegawa Takejirō's Japanese Fairy Tale Series. It was later included in Hearn's Japanese Fairy Tales.
The original title in Hearn's manuscript was "The Artist of Cats". Printing it on plain paper as in the rest of the series did not meet with Hearn's approval, and this book became the first of a five-volume set by Hearn printed on crepe paper. Illustrations were by artist Suzuki Kason
And he passed away. We took good care of him, It was the end of an era when he passed, only in our memory. Good-bye DUS and thank you
Cat Memorials
"We who choose to surround ourselves with lives, even more temporary than our own live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached. Unable to accept its awful gaps, we still would live no other way. We cherish memory as the only certain immortality, never fully understanding the necessary plan..."
- The Once Again Prince by Irving Townsend
Verkkokauppa 2014 -tilaisuuden esitys 23.10.2014.
Kuinka madaltaa ostokynnystä? Tärkeimmät kehitysprojektit. Käytännönläheisiä vinkkejä verkkokaupan kehittämiseen asiakaslähtöisesti.
An Afternoon with My Dad InterviewProfile Essay by Kenan .docxnettletondevon
An Afternoon with My Dad
Interview/Profile Essay by Kenan Reeh
Sitting down on our copious sofa, her dark, thick, curly hair waves like a black sea. As
my mother sits with her legs crossed and her mind open to my questions, she recalls her past
experiences when she would gather limestone rock on the creek bottom with her dad, back on the
farm where she grew up. As her eyes grow stale and her mind wanders off into a long past
world, she slowly recollects these great times.
“When my parents moved to their new house in Iola, Kansas, the yard was very plain
and my mother wanted some new landscaping. My dad suggested they should gather rock from
their farm. The creeks that ran through the pastures on our land were lined with limestone rock
filled with fossils and many unique quirks. The rocks were consistently about two inches thick
with a twelve-inch diameter, and which made for good stacking around flower beds and beautiful
walkways.” She continues on and informs me that every summer she would spend a week
visiting her parents. She and her dad would go to the farm and spend long days gathering rock
and storing them for later use in landscaping the house in town.
They would always go prepared with bale hooks and leather gloves. The bale hooks were
used to lift back the rocks, so any critters living underneath could slither away. They would
always pack a sack lunch and take any supplies they might need, including bug spray, sunscreen,
and a big jug of water.
“It was always hotter than Hades, and the humidity was always enough to sweat off ten
pounds,” she says with a long sigh. “It also was a steep climb up the side of the creek
embankment to get your load on the trailer, hooked behind the pickup.” Her mother could never
understand why she wanted to go spend a day in such arduous and miserable circumstances and
work so hard. She would just answer, “I love coming back home, spending time on the farm
where I grew up, and this is one thing that I can do where it is just me and my dad.”
One day she saw a very inimitable rock, unlike any of the other rocks. “I couldn’t
believe that this one-of-a-kind rock was still around after all the years we had scavenged the
area. The rock had a beautiful beige tone and was filled with unique patterns. I started toward
this rock that was perched high upon a stack of other rocks, like God had meant for us to see it.
Since it was above the water line, I didn’t think a living creature would be underneath it, and I
didn’t reach for my baling hook. As I leaned over and reached to pick up the rock, it turned
toward me, stretched out its neck, and tried biting me. This was no ordinary rock, as you can
see; it was a belligerent snapping turtle!” She laughed and grinned as she looked back at the
rock, and decided that it truly was unique and unlike any other rock. “Dad and I recounted that
story many times after that.”
The time sh.
Back in the early eighties I used to hop on a bus or get in a car and drive over to a magical island, the island of Manhattan. My cousin gave me a camera along with a few canisters of film. I had a little darkroom in my basement. I snapped these pictures.It was a fun time for me and great memories were created hanging out on the scene, in the clubs and on the streets of the Lower East Side.I met some great people, some to this day I am still friends with.I have been hoarding these images for a long time. I guess this is as good a time to share them as any.Enjoy the pictures,Ran.D. .
Verkkokauppa 2014 -tilaisuuden esitys 23.10.2014.
Kuinka madaltaa ostokynnystä? Tärkeimmät kehitysprojektit. Käytännönläheisiä vinkkejä verkkokaupan kehittämiseen asiakaslähtöisesti.
An Afternoon with My Dad InterviewProfile Essay by Kenan .docxnettletondevon
An Afternoon with My Dad
Interview/Profile Essay by Kenan Reeh
Sitting down on our copious sofa, her dark, thick, curly hair waves like a black sea. As
my mother sits with her legs crossed and her mind open to my questions, she recalls her past
experiences when she would gather limestone rock on the creek bottom with her dad, back on the
farm where she grew up. As her eyes grow stale and her mind wanders off into a long past
world, she slowly recollects these great times.
“When my parents moved to their new house in Iola, Kansas, the yard was very plain
and my mother wanted some new landscaping. My dad suggested they should gather rock from
their farm. The creeks that ran through the pastures on our land were lined with limestone rock
filled with fossils and many unique quirks. The rocks were consistently about two inches thick
with a twelve-inch diameter, and which made for good stacking around flower beds and beautiful
walkways.” She continues on and informs me that every summer she would spend a week
visiting her parents. She and her dad would go to the farm and spend long days gathering rock
and storing them for later use in landscaping the house in town.
They would always go prepared with bale hooks and leather gloves. The bale hooks were
used to lift back the rocks, so any critters living underneath could slither away. They would
always pack a sack lunch and take any supplies they might need, including bug spray, sunscreen,
and a big jug of water.
“It was always hotter than Hades, and the humidity was always enough to sweat off ten
pounds,” she says with a long sigh. “It also was a steep climb up the side of the creek
embankment to get your load on the trailer, hooked behind the pickup.” Her mother could never
understand why she wanted to go spend a day in such arduous and miserable circumstances and
work so hard. She would just answer, “I love coming back home, spending time on the farm
where I grew up, and this is one thing that I can do where it is just me and my dad.”
One day she saw a very inimitable rock, unlike any of the other rocks. “I couldn’t
believe that this one-of-a-kind rock was still around after all the years we had scavenged the
area. The rock had a beautiful beige tone and was filled with unique patterns. I started toward
this rock that was perched high upon a stack of other rocks, like God had meant for us to see it.
Since it was above the water line, I didn’t think a living creature would be underneath it, and I
didn’t reach for my baling hook. As I leaned over and reached to pick up the rock, it turned
toward me, stretched out its neck, and tried biting me. This was no ordinary rock, as you can
see; it was a belligerent snapping turtle!” She laughed and grinned as she looked back at the
rock, and decided that it truly was unique and unlike any other rock. “Dad and I recounted that
story many times after that.”
The time sh.
Back in the early eighties I used to hop on a bus or get in a car and drive over to a magical island, the island of Manhattan. My cousin gave me a camera along with a few canisters of film. I had a little darkroom in my basement. I snapped these pictures.It was a fun time for me and great memories were created hanging out on the scene, in the clubs and on the streets of the Lower East Side.I met some great people, some to this day I am still friends with.I have been hoarding these images for a long time. I guess this is as good a time to share them as any.Enjoy the pictures,Ran.D. .
Similar to Serenity Campground: Mentone, Alabama (9)
1. Serenity Campground: Mentone, Alabama
On June 17, 2008, "Nik" of "Burt is my Muse" Blog had this to say about Serenity Campground.
[NOTE: The owner's name is LARRY ROSS, not Frank Ross]. She also included some photos on her
blog which she took while there.
"If you're ever in Northern Alabama and looking for a sweet, secluded place to park yourself...try to
find this little campground. We got to stay here for the night and despite the drenching rain, it was
one of my favorite spots on this trip thus far. Mainly because of Frank Ross - it usually comes down
to people, doesn't it?
Mr. Ross purchased this property 9 years ago and over that time has built, mostly with his own two
hands, a beautiful park.
I ran that day and so was one of the first to arrive and meet Frank. In his early 60's, with a wide
smile and a sort of boyishness to him, he was eager to point out some of the prouder features of his
land.
"All these lots," he said, pointing to the tent area, "I put all these in by hand, laid the logs, tamped
down the chert, levelled her off. Just tried to make it comfortable for folks."
One of the things I noticed immediately about this camp facility is that in each of the little tent sites,
he left two or three trees. It's an unusual feature...most tent sites that are fabricated like that are
usually devoid of nature, even though you're surrounded by it.
2. "Yeah well I did that on purpose. I like the nature, that's what people come here for and I'm not just
gonna cut something down just to cut herndon family it down. I wanted to keep this place as
beautiful as when I found it. Here, now have you ever had wild blueberries?"
He showed me the blueberry plants, along with the wild raspberry plants. Pulled off a leaf of
sassafras, the likes of which I had never smelled before other than in tea. He talked about how he
had the little lake built, has a paddleboat available for people and that his son keeps a tent sight at
the end of the row and visits often.
I asked about the dog that followed him around.
"Oh, she's a wild one. Half coyote and half husky. I never have named her, she don't belong to me.
She won't let anyone pet her...not even me, but she's a sweet old girl and I make sure she's always
got food. She's good-natured, won't ever bark or nip at you, she just don't like to be touched.
Mother's full coyote and will come around from time to time and check on her." . . .
I wished we could've stayed longer here...sometimes I always wish we could stay longer at a lot of
places; but I suppose the good thing to know is that we get to visit all these beautiful places and can
make my way back to these spots.
Thanks so much Mr. Ross!"