I love the Vintage Lenormand, so know the new one will be at least as good, if not better! Looking forward to it.

Tarot Taxi

surprise-gift-bowIn 4 days time I reveal my new Lenormand deck. I can hardly wait! I am (still) not going to spoil the surprise, but I’ll drop a few hints, okay?

  • The deck is unique on many levels, I’m not just saying this, it actually IS unique. It will surprise and perhaps even shock you, in good ways though.
  • It will cater equally well for traditional and non-traditional readers. For veterans and newbies.
  • It is both familiar and very different, all at the same time…

It was really only a matter of time before someone thought of this… I am so glad that I was that someone (but I’ll bet you’ll wish you were! LOL!)

From 1 minute past midnight on Saturday morning 25th May  I’ll start revealing this new deck on my website www.rootweaver.com. I’ll also post a press release right here on the blog, to announce it.

WIN!

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Waking too early, and reluctant to leave my warm bed, brought back “feather bed” memories. Before electric blankets, the way to keep warm were “feather blankets,” actually comforters filled with feathers.

Thinking of early mornings in my childhood brought memories of cold weekend days when my parents didn’t have to get up early and just lay in bed awhile. My father would get up and light the heater, then go back to bed while waiting for the house to warm up. As children often do, we were up early as well. “It’s too early to get up!”  my mother would call out to my brother and me. Maybe so, but we didn’t have to stay in out own beds! As we knowingly stood beside our parents bed, we would be invited to get under the feather blanket while waiting. “Ooh – your feet are cold!” would invite giggles as well as putting out little feet on our parent legs to get them warm as we all lay in one bed, relaxed,  just being family, a true warm fuzzy time.

We talk about the “good old days.”  Maybe they were good, but I think we just lived more creatively out of need then, or maybe not having solutions to living handed to us. My fondest memories are from times when there wasn’t enough money to buy the usual things, so we found other ways to satisfy our need. My father was especially good at that.

One of my first memories of this is making our own Easter baskets. In our family, everyone got an Easter “basket” with candy, including the adults.  But our baskets weren’t woven, but made from shoe boxes decorated with whatever was available – ribbons, crepe paper, drawings with crayons, etc. None of that plastic green grass for us – we lived in the South, so our baskets were lined with Spanish moss! But the last and best decorations came the day before Easter Sunday when my father took the children into the area woods and swamps to gather spring flowers to put in the moss. I enjoyed it but thought we did it because we were too poor to buy woven baskets with plastic grass! How mistaken I was! Because of being “poor” we had richer memories than those who did.

Christmas was another of those times. When it was time to put up the Christmas tree, my father would choose a day when we could go into the nearby forest to search for the “perfect” tree – and if it looked too much like Charlie Brown’s tree, he would bring home extra branched to enhance it.  We always brought enough extra to make a wreath as well. The pine smelled so good! And we never had a stand to put the tree in. My father would cut the bottom of the tree flat and then nail on several pieces of wood to make a stand. Then came the ritual of getting out the decorations that had been carefully packed away, and putting them just so on the tree. We used those same decoration throughout most of my childhood, and even though they became rather shopworn, it was always just as thrilling to get them out.

One particularly memorable Christmas was a year that there weren’t many gifts on Christmas morning. I had some new clothes out of need, but my younger brother had very little. This really bothered me, and I couldn’t stop crying. When my father learned what I was upset about, he called up the man who ran the small town drugstore where we lived, and he opened the store so we could get something for my brother. My father took up both there, and my brother got a “Little Golden Trumpet” – I believe these were still made until recently! My father probably made arrangements to pay for this toy at a later date, but we all felt better about Christmas. As the old Dean Martin song says, “Memories are made of this.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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