I started this blog for myself for several different reasons. It was not easy to do this because I realize that other people will be able to read them. I have always been somewhat the kind of person who did not tell a lot about myself or my life and only tell people what I want them to know. Only certain close friends know a lot about me. I have family members that do not know as much about me as a few select close friends.
Blogging is new to me. A niece has been after me for a long time to start a blog. She thinks I have a lot of good stories to tell. The problem was: Should I blog about my paranormal experiences? Should I blog about my life on the farm? Should I blog about my own personal opinions about certain things? (I am very opinionated as you will find out)
I wasn't sure if I wanted to stay with one subject or two or many. So I have decided to blog about it all. What ever I feel like blogging about at the time. I am not an author nor am I an expert on anything. My opinions are my own. I am not "politically correct" so some of what I put down may offend people. (all I can say about that is...if I offend you then don't read my blogs) Be warned, I am known to use very "colorful" language.
You may read about my paranormal experiences, my life as a farmer, my views on politics, religion, kids, animals, a favorite recipe or 20. In short (I know, too late) you never know what the subject of each new blog will be but neither will I.
You are welcome to read them and leave comments. No matter if you agree with me or not. I may not respond to your comment but I will read them.
Showing posts with label paranormal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paranormal. Show all posts
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Thunder
Thunder was a purebred Siberian Husky. When I first saw him cowered in a small cage I knew I would be taking him home. He was so small and so timid. He was red and white with blue eyes. So beautiful. My heart just melted. I got him from a breeder and before I left the breeder told me that if I had not taken him, Thunder was going to be put down. When I ask why he told me, "Because he is of no use to me. He was born with one testicle and can't be bred." I couldn't believe it! After a few choice words, I scooped him up and took him home.
The next day I took him to the vet and was told he would not be able to breed but I didn't care. I got him to be a companion, not a breeding machine. And through the years, Thunder and I were inseparable. I took him almost every where with me. The only time he was not riding "shotgun" in my car was when I went to school. Everyone in town knew us and knew him. He was a friendly dog and as he grew, he looked more and more like a wolf. He got bigger than what was normal for his breed. Instead of the 55 pounds I was told he would be, Thunder weighed almost 80 pounds and with his wolfish looks, no one dared mess with me. He was also taller than he should have been.
He had this game he liked to play. I would give him a treat and he would try to put it in my hand. When I tried to take it he would growl then run. I had to chase him so he would eat his treat. Sometimes he would lay in the door way and when I headed that way he would slap a paw down on his treat and bark. He would not eat the treat until someone acted like they were going to try to take it from him. It was comical.
Thunder was also nosy. When a friend came over and left their purse on the floor, he would manage to get into it and take everything out. Never stole anything. He would lay everything on the floor and just look at it. Once a man came out to work on the furnace. The man would lay a tool down and Thunder would steal the tools. the poor man would go all over the basement trying to find his tools. When he found them he came to me and ask, "Would you please tell your dog to give me my tools back?" So I had to wrestle Thunder to get the tools.
My dad was crazy about Thunder. And dad was not a dog person but he would get a small bag of cookies and the two of them would sit on the porch and eat them until the bag was empty. Dad drank ice tea. He would sit in a lawn chair outside and would pour some in a dish for Thunder and the two of them would sit in the shade drinking ice tea.
Being a Siberian Husky, Thunder had a very thick coat. he shed so much in the spring you could make a sweater with all the fur. But he would lay still while I brushed him until I had all the loose fur removed. In the winter his fur was so thick he could go outside in the worse winter storm and it never bothered him. Once he was outside during a heavy snow. When I looked out the window I couldn't see him anywhere. I was so upset. All I could think of was he was lost or he froze to death. I went outside and started calling his name and suddenly a small pile of snow moved and out he came. Stretched, yawned and then came to me. He laid there and let the snow cover him while he slept.
He liked going to the vet. No matter what the vet did to him, he would take it. Sometimes he would moan but not once did he try to bite. The vet said he was one of the more pleasant dogs to work with. I think Thunder liked going because the vet always gave him a treat and the girls there would always pet and hug him. He loved attention.
Thunder was a great companion and he and I were "in tune" with each other. It was almost as if we knew what the other was thinking. He also knew when I was not feeling well or was sad. When I was ill he would lay by my bed constantly. When I was sad, he would get on the bed with me, lick my face then lay his head on my lap and sigh. He would stay that way for as long as I needed him. I would lay or sit there and stroke him until I felt better.
A few years back, Thunder developed cancer. I kept him as comfortable as I could for a while but rather than see him suffer, I had to let him go. I called the vet and the next day I took him for his last car ride. When I pulled up to the clinic, I noticed a backhoe out back and a small hole. I don't know why that caught my attention. I led Thunder into the clinic and gave him a hug. The look in his eyes told me he knew this was the end for us. The girls there all gathered around and a couple of them had tears in their eyes. Even the vet was sad. I took his collar and tags then gave him one last hug and went to my car. I could not watch him be put to sleep. I sat in my car and cried like a baby. I was crying so hard I couldn't drive. I happen to look up and saw the vet carrying Thunder to the small hole and gently lay him in it. He made a special place out back for him. I got out of the car and walked over. Stood there for a few minutes and then went home.
A few months later I was cleaning out a closet and found a bit of Thunder's fur. I picked it up and just started to cry. I suddenly felt a lick on my face and immediately smiled. This would not be the only time I would feel his presence. When my dad passed away I was sitting on the couch. I felt like my world had ended and I felt that lick on my face and felt the weight of his head on my lap. Last year when one of my sisters passed away I was again sitting on the couch crying thinking everyone I loved was leaving me. Suddenly the couch moved. You could see the cushions move as if something was walking on them. Again I felt the lick on my face and the weight of his head on my lap. I even heard his sigh.
I needed him again...and again he was there.
The next day I took him to the vet and was told he would not be able to breed but I didn't care. I got him to be a companion, not a breeding machine. And through the years, Thunder and I were inseparable. I took him almost every where with me. The only time he was not riding "shotgun" in my car was when I went to school. Everyone in town knew us and knew him. He was a friendly dog and as he grew, he looked more and more like a wolf. He got bigger than what was normal for his breed. Instead of the 55 pounds I was told he would be, Thunder weighed almost 80 pounds and with his wolfish looks, no one dared mess with me. He was also taller than he should have been.
He had this game he liked to play. I would give him a treat and he would try to put it in my hand. When I tried to take it he would growl then run. I had to chase him so he would eat his treat. Sometimes he would lay in the door way and when I headed that way he would slap a paw down on his treat and bark. He would not eat the treat until someone acted like they were going to try to take it from him. It was comical.
Thunder was also nosy. When a friend came over and left their purse on the floor, he would manage to get into it and take everything out. Never stole anything. He would lay everything on the floor and just look at it. Once a man came out to work on the furnace. The man would lay a tool down and Thunder would steal the tools. the poor man would go all over the basement trying to find his tools. When he found them he came to me and ask, "Would you please tell your dog to give me my tools back?" So I had to wrestle Thunder to get the tools.
My dad was crazy about Thunder. And dad was not a dog person but he would get a small bag of cookies and the two of them would sit on the porch and eat them until the bag was empty. Dad drank ice tea. He would sit in a lawn chair outside and would pour some in a dish for Thunder and the two of them would sit in the shade drinking ice tea.
Being a Siberian Husky, Thunder had a very thick coat. he shed so much in the spring you could make a sweater with all the fur. But he would lay still while I brushed him until I had all the loose fur removed. In the winter his fur was so thick he could go outside in the worse winter storm and it never bothered him. Once he was outside during a heavy snow. When I looked out the window I couldn't see him anywhere. I was so upset. All I could think of was he was lost or he froze to death. I went outside and started calling his name and suddenly a small pile of snow moved and out he came. Stretched, yawned and then came to me. He laid there and let the snow cover him while he slept.
He liked going to the vet. No matter what the vet did to him, he would take it. Sometimes he would moan but not once did he try to bite. The vet said he was one of the more pleasant dogs to work with. I think Thunder liked going because the vet always gave him a treat and the girls there would always pet and hug him. He loved attention.
Thunder was a great companion and he and I were "in tune" with each other. It was almost as if we knew what the other was thinking. He also knew when I was not feeling well or was sad. When I was ill he would lay by my bed constantly. When I was sad, he would get on the bed with me, lick my face then lay his head on my lap and sigh. He would stay that way for as long as I needed him. I would lay or sit there and stroke him until I felt better.
A few years back, Thunder developed cancer. I kept him as comfortable as I could for a while but rather than see him suffer, I had to let him go. I called the vet and the next day I took him for his last car ride. When I pulled up to the clinic, I noticed a backhoe out back and a small hole. I don't know why that caught my attention. I led Thunder into the clinic and gave him a hug. The look in his eyes told me he knew this was the end for us. The girls there all gathered around and a couple of them had tears in their eyes. Even the vet was sad. I took his collar and tags then gave him one last hug and went to my car. I could not watch him be put to sleep. I sat in my car and cried like a baby. I was crying so hard I couldn't drive. I happen to look up and saw the vet carrying Thunder to the small hole and gently lay him in it. He made a special place out back for him. I got out of the car and walked over. Stood there for a few minutes and then went home.
A few months later I was cleaning out a closet and found a bit of Thunder's fur. I picked it up and just started to cry. I suddenly felt a lick on my face and immediately smiled. This would not be the only time I would feel his presence. When my dad passed away I was sitting on the couch. I felt like my world had ended and I felt that lick on my face and felt the weight of his head on my lap. Last year when one of my sisters passed away I was again sitting on the couch crying thinking everyone I loved was leaving me. Suddenly the couch moved. You could see the cushions move as if something was walking on them. Again I felt the lick on my face and the weight of his head on my lap. I even heard his sigh.
I needed him again...and again he was there.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Buying Items With Attachments
Recently I read a post by a woman who enjoys buying things with spirits attached. She stated she has had spirits around her all her life and she enjoys them.
I neither condemn or condone people who do this because I know she is not the only one. My question is this: Why deliberately bring something into your home?
I have been surrounded by spirits all my life. I am comfortable around the ones already in my home and bringing in new spirits is something I never do on purpose. One never knows what they are bringing into their homes until it is too late.
I love to go antiquing. My family calls it junking. If I encounter something that I know has an attachment, I walk away from it no matter how bad I want it. I can tell if a piece has an attachment just by simply putting my hand on it.
About a year ago I was in one of my favorite "junk" stores and found this great little wooden foot stool. Made of oak and it did not have nails in it but pegs holding it together. And it was a great price. A price you just could not let pass. I put my hand on it and felt nothing so I bought it and took it home.
I put the stool in my bathroom and thought no more about it except what a great deal I got. That night I took a shower and as I stepped out I came face to face with a little boy. I jumped back into the shower then thought, "Wait a minute! I don't have a kid that looks like that!" I stepped out and the boy was gone. I immediately thought of the foot stool I bought and went to it and put my hand on it. I felt a small vibration which told me it had an attachment. I put the stool in the hallway.
Later that night when I was in my bedroom I happen to look towards the door and saw this same boy peeking at me . When I went into the hall...nothing. So not wanting to bring new spirits into my home I sat the stool on the porch. I also wanted to see if this was a new spirit in my home or one that had not shown itself before. I have that happen a couple times.
The next evening I was watching tv and had the urge to look towards the window. There he was! Looking at me from the porch. I called a friend who does investigations with me, told him about all what has been happening and he came that night and took the stool with him. He placed the stool in a room in his home and set up a video camera in hopes of catching the boy materializing. To this day...nothing but my friend does report that small things have taken place in his home like keys missing or things moved and at times, loud noises.
I have not seen the boy since the stool was taken away from my home. We don't know if he liked it better here or if he just does not want to show himself to my friend. I have been in my friend's home many times since all this and I have experienced no activity nor have I encountered the boy.
Now I know that some of you are saying, "It was just a small boy. What is the deal?" The deal is that I don't know if this was just a small boy, or a demon disguised as a small boy or what kind of havoc this "small boy" could have caused in my home. The deal is...I am happy with the spirits that are already in my home. I do not need or want to bring any more in because you never know what you are bringing into your home.
Spirits can attach themselves to anything. No matter how large or how small. I personally know a woman who bought a beautiful dresser at an estate sale and when she got it home, almost immediately things started happening. It got so bad it taunted her day and night to the point she was constantly physically ill. This had gone on for several months before she finally confided in me. I took a friend who has experience dealing with this sort of activity over to get rid of the dresser and cleanse her house which was not an easy thing to do since she waited so long to ask for help it had a strong hold in her home. We found out later that the owner of the house where she bought the dresser had gone mad and killed his wife and himself. No one knows why he did it. And it happened in the bedroom where this dresser sat.
To this day she will ask me to go with her to sales or junking but sometimes spirits will get by me like with the foot stool. And that is not the only time I have unknowingly brought something into my home. So far I have been lucky it has not been anything difficult to get rid of.
I guess my point is this: Be very careful about what you bring into your home. You never know what you are getting. It just may be something you really do not want.
I neither condemn or condone people who do this because I know she is not the only one. My question is this: Why deliberately bring something into your home?
I have been surrounded by spirits all my life. I am comfortable around the ones already in my home and bringing in new spirits is something I never do on purpose. One never knows what they are bringing into their homes until it is too late.
I love to go antiquing. My family calls it junking. If I encounter something that I know has an attachment, I walk away from it no matter how bad I want it. I can tell if a piece has an attachment just by simply putting my hand on it.
About a year ago I was in one of my favorite "junk" stores and found this great little wooden foot stool. Made of oak and it did not have nails in it but pegs holding it together. And it was a great price. A price you just could not let pass. I put my hand on it and felt nothing so I bought it and took it home.
I put the stool in my bathroom and thought no more about it except what a great deal I got. That night I took a shower and as I stepped out I came face to face with a little boy. I jumped back into the shower then thought, "Wait a minute! I don't have a kid that looks like that!" I stepped out and the boy was gone. I immediately thought of the foot stool I bought and went to it and put my hand on it. I felt a small vibration which told me it had an attachment. I put the stool in the hallway.
Later that night when I was in my bedroom I happen to look towards the door and saw this same boy peeking at me . When I went into the hall...nothing. So not wanting to bring new spirits into my home I sat the stool on the porch. I also wanted to see if this was a new spirit in my home or one that had not shown itself before. I have that happen a couple times.
The next evening I was watching tv and had the urge to look towards the window. There he was! Looking at me from the porch. I called a friend who does investigations with me, told him about all what has been happening and he came that night and took the stool with him. He placed the stool in a room in his home and set up a video camera in hopes of catching the boy materializing. To this day...nothing but my friend does report that small things have taken place in his home like keys missing or things moved and at times, loud noises.
I have not seen the boy since the stool was taken away from my home. We don't know if he liked it better here or if he just does not want to show himself to my friend. I have been in my friend's home many times since all this and I have experienced no activity nor have I encountered the boy.
Now I know that some of you are saying, "It was just a small boy. What is the deal?" The deal is that I don't know if this was just a small boy, or a demon disguised as a small boy or what kind of havoc this "small boy" could have caused in my home. The deal is...I am happy with the spirits that are already in my home. I do not need or want to bring any more in because you never know what you are bringing into your home.
Spirits can attach themselves to anything. No matter how large or how small. I personally know a woman who bought a beautiful dresser at an estate sale and when she got it home, almost immediately things started happening. It got so bad it taunted her day and night to the point she was constantly physically ill. This had gone on for several months before she finally confided in me. I took a friend who has experience dealing with this sort of activity over to get rid of the dresser and cleanse her house which was not an easy thing to do since she waited so long to ask for help it had a strong hold in her home. We found out later that the owner of the house where she bought the dresser had gone mad and killed his wife and himself. No one knows why he did it. And it happened in the bedroom where this dresser sat.
To this day she will ask me to go with her to sales or junking but sometimes spirits will get by me like with the foot stool. And that is not the only time I have unknowingly brought something into my home. So far I have been lucky it has not been anything difficult to get rid of.
I guess my point is this: Be very careful about what you bring into your home. You never know what you are getting. It just may be something you really do not want.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
A House Of Spirits
I love the paranormal. I was born and grew up in a haunted house. I live in it to this day. So I have had paranormal experiences all my life.
My earliest memory of a paranormal encounter happened when I was 4 years old. I was laying in my bed and the light was on. Mom forgot to turn it off when she left the room. I yelled at her that the light was keeping me awake and a woman in a blue dress stepped into the room, smiled at me and turned the light off. I didn't know who she was but I remember not being afraid of her.
To this day I can remember what she looked like and the dress she wore. Her hair pulled back and her blue dress with stripes that ran down the length of the dress. The bottom of the dress was very big and round. It was not until I was a bit older that I learned her dress was a "hoop" dress. The kind women wore during the Civil War era. She had ivory skin and the kindest face. When I was 10 I saw a photo of one of my great grandfather's aunts and realized this was the woman I had been seeing at different times in the house. She was also the woman who turned out the light in my room that night when I was 4.
This farm has been in my family for over 200 years. The current house was built in 1859. And though it has gone through many changes and remodeling through the years, the beauty and character of it has remained. The house has a rich history and is full of spirits.
There are at least 7 spirits in this house who make themselves known. The spirits in this place are all ancestors of mine with the exception of a man who was ran over by a wagon and was brought into the house and died a couple days later. There is also the spirit of a female slave. Our family did not own slaves but it was a safe house for run away slaves heading north for freedom. She was ill when she got here and died that night. I guess her spirit decided to stay. Maybe because of the kindness she was shown during her short stay here or maybe because she had no place else to go.
One of the spirits, I believe, is my maternal grandfather. He was crippled in World War II and walked on crutches as long as I knew him. He had one finger missing as a result of an accident in a coal mine in Kentucky. A job he worked until this farm passed to him. Grandpa was a big man with a kind heart and a hot temper. Even though he chewed tobacco and smoked a pipe on occasion, he hated the smell of cigarette smoke. And he especially hated to see women smoking.
One night a few years back I had friends over. We were sitting around the kitchen table and some of us lit up our cigarettes. I was about to take a puff from mine when I felt an invisible hand slap mine and knock the cigarette to the floor then the ash tray went flying across the table. Needless to say I quit smoking and to this day those friends will not come back into my house. When they do visit I have to stand in the yard to talk to them.
I have hundreds of stories I could tell about this house and the experiences I've had through the years. Time and space does not allow for them all. I can say I have not at any time been afraid to stay in this house alone. Even though at times I can feel them watching me or I have caught glimpses of them as I walk through the house. Or even the times I have walked into a room and came face to face with one of them.
I just think of them as family that will sometimes drop in for a visit. Or at least to let me know they are around watching over me.
My earliest memory of a paranormal encounter happened when I was 4 years old. I was laying in my bed and the light was on. Mom forgot to turn it off when she left the room. I yelled at her that the light was keeping me awake and a woman in a blue dress stepped into the room, smiled at me and turned the light off. I didn't know who she was but I remember not being afraid of her.
To this day I can remember what she looked like and the dress she wore. Her hair pulled back and her blue dress with stripes that ran down the length of the dress. The bottom of the dress was very big and round. It was not until I was a bit older that I learned her dress was a "hoop" dress. The kind women wore during the Civil War era. She had ivory skin and the kindest face. When I was 10 I saw a photo of one of my great grandfather's aunts and realized this was the woman I had been seeing at different times in the house. She was also the woman who turned out the light in my room that night when I was 4.
This farm has been in my family for over 200 years. The current house was built in 1859. And though it has gone through many changes and remodeling through the years, the beauty and character of it has remained. The house has a rich history and is full of spirits.
There are at least 7 spirits in this house who make themselves known. The spirits in this place are all ancestors of mine with the exception of a man who was ran over by a wagon and was brought into the house and died a couple days later. There is also the spirit of a female slave. Our family did not own slaves but it was a safe house for run away slaves heading north for freedom. She was ill when she got here and died that night. I guess her spirit decided to stay. Maybe because of the kindness she was shown during her short stay here or maybe because she had no place else to go.
One of the spirits, I believe, is my maternal grandfather. He was crippled in World War II and walked on crutches as long as I knew him. He had one finger missing as a result of an accident in a coal mine in Kentucky. A job he worked until this farm passed to him. Grandpa was a big man with a kind heart and a hot temper. Even though he chewed tobacco and smoked a pipe on occasion, he hated the smell of cigarette smoke. And he especially hated to see women smoking.
One night a few years back I had friends over. We were sitting around the kitchen table and some of us lit up our cigarettes. I was about to take a puff from mine when I felt an invisible hand slap mine and knock the cigarette to the floor then the ash tray went flying across the table. Needless to say I quit smoking and to this day those friends will not come back into my house. When they do visit I have to stand in the yard to talk to them.
I have hundreds of stories I could tell about this house and the experiences I've had through the years. Time and space does not allow for them all. I can say I have not at any time been afraid to stay in this house alone. Even though at times I can feel them watching me or I have caught glimpses of them as I walk through the house. Or even the times I have walked into a room and came face to face with one of them.
I just think of them as family that will sometimes drop in for a visit. Or at least to let me know they are around watching over me.
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