Tattered Past

Tattered Past: My ongoing journey through genealogy, history, writing, self-exploration and art. ~~~ Rita Ackerman

Monday, December 17, 2012

Walking In The Rain

A couple of weeks ago I sent worry stones to each of the grandsons. Alex is carrying his in his pocket and loves the calming effect. Brendan is using his as a 'treasure' and keeps it in the 'treasure box' I made for him a couple of years ago.

Jessica was a little afraid Alex would loose his so I told her we would get more. Saturday, even though it was raining off and on all day and rather cold, our first hint of winter here in Phoenix, Doug and I headed to Old Scottsdale to find some worry stones.

It was wonderful. Walking up and down the streets in jackets and knit caps, dodging raindrops, and popping in and out of stores if something caught our eye was reminiscent of shopping in the downtown area of my home town in Kansas. It felt wonderful and I actually picked up some Christmas spirit.

One shop owner invited me in his jewelry shop to meet a lady from Canada who was browsing his store. (I was kind of hovering by the door waiting for Doug to get out of the car.)  I told him I needed worry stones and he made some suggestions on where to find them.

I thanked him and we headed for the Mexican Store, where we were headed anyway.

This is a marvelous over-stuffed store where you can find all kinds of things. It has been on this spot for years and always seems to be busy.
 
I bought seven worry stones, one in the shape of a heart, which I'm keeping for myself.
 
Since we were enjoying the day so much we roamed around through some more shops and Doug found himself a tee-shirt that says something like:
"If a man makes a statement in the middle of the desert and his wife isn't around is he still wrong."
I said "YES!"
I later told him I was going to write that on the bottom, but of course I wouldn't. (or would I?)
 
 Across the street was this marvelous display of yard art.
 

I want to get a bunch of the sunflowers to put along our back fence. 
 
Across the street from that was more sculptures and the marvelous little pathway that begged to be explored (but not in the rain.)

Sometimes we forget the most wonderful places are right in our own back yard.
Or that the best memories come from taking the time to walk in the rain.