Posted in family, Life

Family history

Posted on by Mama's Empty Nest

Maybe it’s just because we’re senior citizens now, the older generation in our family, but in the last few years, we two empty nesters find ourselves reminiscing often about the past – our pasts specifically.

My husband and I find ourselves sharing stories with each other about our parents, other long gone family members, and about our childhoods as well. Some stories we’ve told before, but some new ones have surfaced during our “story times.”

Upon hearing those, we look at one another and remark, “You never told me that before.”  And if neither of us has heard those particular stories previously, it’s safe to say our children and grandchildren haven’t heard them either.

“Stories have to be told or they die, and when they die, we can’t remember who we are or why we’re here.” ~ Sue Monk Kidd

Are family stories important? I think so. In my years-long research of both my and my husband’s ancestry, I’ve uncovered some fascinating facts and tidbits about long-ago ancestors which I’ve included in our family tree histories.

A few years ago, I led a women’s Bible study in my home about developing and leaving spiritual legacies for future generations. Passing down your beliefs and inspirational stories about those beliefs is important. For me, it’s more vital than bequeathing monetary gifts to our progeny.  

But I also think it’s valuable to pass on other aspects of our lives as well as our spiritual beliefs. A couple years ago, I checked out a library book entitled The Family Story Workbook by Kris Spisak. The author listed 105 prompts and pointers for writing your own life’s history. She suggested that readers remember, record, and preserve their memories and stories.

I agree wholeheartedly and am attempting to do so. That has become another large project I need to resume and complete. Of course being retired affords me the time and opportunity to do so. My plan is to type my own history in Word documents, print three finished copies for each of my children, and compile into notebooks for them.

Years ago, as our family prepared to move back to our home state after over 20 years living elsewhere, a friend gave me a touching farewell gift. Since we would live near our aging, ailing parents, it was an appropriate present.

The gift was a hardback book for grandparents to record answers in their own handwriting to thoughtful questions written as if their grandchildren were asking. Topics ranged from when the grandparents were born through memories of their friends, homes, travel, careers, holidays, traditions, hobbies, and more.

At the time, my mother was weary from her chemo and radiation treatments, so she dictated her answers to me, which I wrote in the book. Later, after Mom passed, I gave the book to my father so he also could fill out his stories and memories.

It’s not only a keepsake I hope my grown-up children will cherish someday, but also I trust it will provide insight for my grandchildren about their Nana’s side of the family.  And when I sometimes pull the book off the shelf and re-read what my parents wrote, I love refreshing my memory of their reminisces.

In addition to that source of family stories from my parents, my grandchildren will also have my own memories in hand-written form when I finally finish two other similar gifts I received.

One Mother’s Day, my middle daughter gave me a book called Mom, I Want to Hear Your Story, in which I can answer questions about my life. On my 70th birthday, my son and daughter-in-law (parents of three of my grandchildren) presented me with another book entitled Dear Grandchild, This Is Me. In addition to questions, it also includes pages for photos and envelopes to insert letters to grandchildren.

Accomplishing completion of those three legacies is on my to-do list of projects. Family stories should be preserved for future generations, and this is just the pathway I’m taking to do so.

“Preserve your memories, keep them well, what you forget you can never retell.” ~ Louisa May Alcott

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2026

Posted in photography, travel

Tuesday Tour: present visit to the past

Posted on by Mama's Empty Nest

When you live with a history enthusiast, you learn more about the past than you did from reading a textbook in a classroom. I speak from experience because the Papa of this empty nest loves history and on our road trips, we always seek out a historical site to visit.

My husband probably missed his calling and should have been a history teacher. He enjoys reading and learning about the past that much. After decades of being married to him, I’ve learned to enjoy history as well.

So, on a road trip to visit extended family back in November, we took a longer route for a specific reason. My husband, who enjoys American Civil War history, wanted to visit yet another battlefield.

Our journey took us through Tennessee to visit Shiloh National Military Park, the subject of today’s Tuesday Tour.

On a balmy warm autumn weekday, we arrived at the site and discovered very few visitors. That was a boon because we were able to take our time driving around the 4200- acre national park commemorating the Battle of Shiloh, also known as the Battle of Pittsburg Landing.

A bloody battle raged between almost 110,000 Union and Confederate soldiers on those grounds for two days in April 1862. The result was nearly 24,000 casualties, which was more lives lost than all of America’s previous wars combined.

Viewing the areas where Union troops headed by Major General Ulysses S. Grant and Confederate soldiers led by General Albert Sidney Johnston, who was killed in the battle, fought was sobering, especially seeing a now placid shallow pond which earned the name Bloody Pond because the carnage there turned the water red with blood.

History states that neither side was truly victorious since the Union forces held the battlefield by defeating the Confederates there but didn’t succeed in pursuit of the southern troops as they retreated to Corinth, Mississippi, where another battle would be fought in October of that same year.  

We spent several hours in the military park which was established in 1894 by the U.S. Congress. My husband thoroughly relished a 10-mile-long self-guided driving tour we took which gave us insight into strategic spots of the battlefield where we stopped and read what occurred there. A total of 156 monuments, 217 cannons, and more than 650 interpretive markers are located throughout the park.

Shiloh National Military Park is very well-preserved and the peaceful surroundings that fall provided lovely places for me to capture photographs including a view of the Tennessee River.

Yet the battle that raged there long ago was still on our minds as we imagined it and the suffering that took place.

Our visit included browsing in the visitor’s center and gift shop where we enjoyed a conversation with one of the knowledgeable volunteers who engaged with us “Yankees.”

Following that, we wandered into the U.S. National Cemetery, also located on the park grounds, where about 4000 soldiers and their family members are buried.

One fascinating aspect in the cemetery was a marker there detailing the spot where, during a rainstorm, General Grant established his headquarters under a large oak tree. The tree was destroyed by nature years later.

Even though Shiloh National Military Park is a national park, visitors can get in free and do not need an entrance pass.

 As we departed from this interesting historical place, I once again was thankful for history lessons about my country’s past and a husband who provides those insights on our present travels.

And then, he delighted me by driving us through the northern part of a state I’ve never visited – Mississippi. That little excursion brought my “visit all US state bucket list” up to 47 states visited with only three more to go.

“One cannot and must not try to erase the past merely because it does not fit the present.” ~ Golda Meir

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2026

Posted in Life, photography, Spring

Words for Wednesday: spring in my heart

Posted on by Mama's Empty Nest

When folks rant against winter weather – you know, the snow, the ice, the bitter wind, the cold temperatures, the wind chill – I just smile because I actually enjoy winter. But even my enthrallment has limits, especially this past – or should I say ongoing – season.

Winter hung around with its icy claws for a long period of time wearing out its welcome. As the calendar page rolled around to April, and spring was expected in March, we’ve endured a roller coaster of weather.

One day we welcome the sun’s balmy light shining brilliantly and warming us and our surroundings up enough to venture outside without a winter coat. Temperatures soar up the thermometer to a pleasant 70° or higher yet the next day, they plummet down to the 30’s or 40’s and we haul out the winter gear once again.  

As much as I enjoy winter, I also love spring (who doesn’t??) and my heart, mind, and soul are rejuvenated when color reappears in the landscape outside. As our yard transforms into a green expanse, trees emit their budding leaves, and spring flowers pop out of the ground, I find myself happy to greet them.

So, I have been patiently awaiting spring amidst the ups and downs of wacky weather in my neck of the woods. Finally, our daffodils burst forth with their sunny yellow faces and buds appeared on our tulips (not eaten by deer this year). One warm spring day last week, they posed for pictures.

But boom! Back to chilly weather just in time for Easter Sunday was not a welcome occurrence. However, a little bit of spring encouragement arrived when my husband brought me a cheer-you-up kind of spring gift.

I love hyacinths, so beautiful with their multi-flowered stalks and aroma that wafts through the air which is oh, so lovely. My mood soared when hubby brought these home for me. And it continues as their sweet smell permeates throughout our home.

They remind me that a simple small act can usher spring into your heart despite the weather. A memory of another long-ago spring day literally blossomed into my thoughts and provided yet another lofty lift in my spirit. We’re going back in time with this story.  

My hometown sits nestled among hills alongside a rolling river, which meanders its way to our nearest city where it joins another river and forms yet another.  For as long as I can remember, a riverfront park, complete with friendly park benches to perch on, abundant trees to offer shade, and a sidewalk upon which to stroll existed in my little town.

One of our main streets, aptly named Water Street, runs parallel to that park and serves as a divider between it, store fronts, and houses.  Driving along that street in early spring, you can view the park’s trees boasting about their blooms, waving their purple and pink robes of color in the light breeze. 

I was just a young teenage girl attending junior high school that spring many years ago.  Laden down with the drama of such days, fretting over friends and prospective boyfriends (or at least one boy I wished was my boyfriend), a stack of textbooks weighing down my arms (we didn’t have backpacks), and the weariness of a school day finally over, I trudged outside the school building and down the steps at day’s end. 

My head was down, my shoulders drooped, and my heart sunk in some kind of misery when I heard a familiar voice call my name loudly. My two married older sisters waited in my brother-in-law’s pickup truck parked at the curb behind the line of school buses.  Running errands downtown and finding themselves nearby as school dismissed, they decided to offer me a ride home.

Ordinarily, getting home without riding the school bus would have made me happy.  But that day, something troubled me.  No doubt, it must have been trifling because for the life of me, I don’t recall what rendered me unhappy or upset.

I’m not sure if I did poorly on a test, was angry at someone, experienced a really bad day at school, or it was just the moodiness of puberty, but I felt down in the dumps.  Obviously, some kind of teenage angst had me in its grasp.

My sister slid over from the passenger seat, making room for me to climb in, so I occupied the seat by the open truck window.  The day was beautiful. Warm. Sunny. Flowers gaily nodded their heads each time the wind blew a little breath.   But I didn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with my gloomy disposition.

We drove down Water Street beside the riverfront park.   Trees lined the park in a profusion of budding blooms and the scent of mowed grass wafted through the air.  But I didn’t really notice.

The traffic signal at the bridge turned red so we paused in a long line of cars waiting for our turn to cross the bridge and leave town behind.  Sitting in that truck on a glorious spring day, I must have appeared glum, forlorn, and melancholy. 

Suddenly, a young man stood beside my open window, saying to me, “Here, this is for you!” Startled, I incredulously looked at this guy holding a twig loaded with pink flowering tree buds out to me. 

He wasn’t someone I knew.  He wasn’t from my school.  He was older than me, but not one of the high school guys either.  He probably was a college student attending the university branch campus in my hometown and just relishing fresh air and a splendid spring day while strolling through the park.

And he presented a sprig of spring to me, a complete stranger – a scrawny 14-year-old girl who wasn’t happy with her life at that moment.  He must have recognized that winter still lurked in my heart and mind when he offered that blooming branch to me.  I accepted his gift, managed to mumble a surprised thank you as the light changed, and we drove onward.

I stared at the pink blossoms in my hand, wondered what just happened, and smiled happily all the way home.  My sisters had plenty of questions.  Does that guy like you?  Who was that?  Do you know him?  Are you sure you’ve never seen him before? Why do you think he gave that to you?

I did not have any answers.  But I have never forgotten that day.  The way the sunshine warmed my face.  The way cool air blew my hair into my eyes.  The way the park looked so inviting with flowering trees and sun glistening on the river.  The scent of grass and delicate blooms. 

The kind and thoughtful gift granted to me brightened that particular moment in time.   The feel of that small tree branch in my hand.  And the joy that flooded my soul due to a random act of one kindhearted stranger.

I kept that little branch in my room until the blossoms dried up and fell off the twig.  I never saw the college student again and eventually didn’t remember what he even looked like.  But I have never forgotten the feeling he gave me that day.  And I don’t believe I ever will.

I pleasantly recall the memory when that simple spring gift caused my heart to leap for joy just as it does each time I gaze upon those beautiful purple hyacinths my husband brought me. The true gift is paying attention to spring, no matter how long it takes to arrive, because spring itself is a gift of hope and joy and rejuvenation.

“The beautiful spring came; and when Nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive also.” ~Harriet Ann Jacobs (1815-1897), African-American author & abolitionist

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2026

Posted in photography, travel

Tuesday Tour: country road bridge

Posted on by Mama's Empty Nest

My search for covered bridges continues and I probably won’t be satisfied until I’ve seen and photographed all those historic structures remaining in my home state. That proves to be quite a quest because there are 209 covered bridges in Pennsylvania.

According to my research, it’s estimated that more than 1500 covered bridges existed in my state in the past. Currently, out of 67 Pennsylvania counties, these historic relics can be found in only 34 of them now.

Unfortunately, my own home county is not one of them, so in order to discover the subjects of my pursuit, road trips are necessary. On a warm sunny September day last fall, we two empty nesters set off on a day trip searching for a covered bridge located in Lawrence County, where it’s thought five such structures once existed.

Now though, this county is home to only two remaining covered bridges, and we’ve visited one of them – McConnells Mills – fairly often. I even wrote a blog post back in 2021 highlighting it long before I began actively photographing these types of bridges.

So, we skipped visiting that one and traveled through a scenic rural area where it’s common to see Amish buggies sharing country roads with you. We found the second Lawrence County covered bridge in Wilmington Township, near the town of New Wilmington.

Banks Covered Bridge is a single-lane wooden structure erected in 1889 (builder unknown) crossing over Neshannock Creek. At 121 feet long, 15 feet wide, and a height clearance of 8 feet, 9 inches, this bridge was built on stone foundations with steel girders supporting it.

With a weight limit of 12 tons, it is still open for foot traffic and automobile use. When we arrived, we parked on the side of the road, and I waited until a pedestrian jogged his way through the covered bridge to start snapping photos.

What makes Banks so unique is that the entire bridge, inside and out, is painted white unlike so many covered bridges which are painted red. I think that makes Banks very pretty and picturesque.

It’s also nicely maintained by Lawrence County, which owns the historic bridge. Banks Covered Bridge was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1980. Repairs took place in 1999 and additional repairs, restoration, and replacing of decking were completed in 2021.

Finding this gem was rewarding. Traveling on those rural back roads was relaxing, and I don’t think I’ll tire of searching for covered bridges along country byways any time soon.

“Take the back roads instead of the highways.” ~ Minnie Pearl (1912-1996) American comedian and country singer

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2026

Posted in Faith, holy week, photography

The week ahead

Posted on by Mama's Empty Nest

Every year during this very special week I find myself a little speechless.

Holy Week, the week between Palm Sunday and Easter,  always leaves me at a loss for words.

To remember that my Savior entered Jerusalem triumphantly to the cheers of a crowd shouting “Hosanna, blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord”  on what we now call Palm Sunday, yet just a few days later, Jesus hung on a cross dying to jeers of the crowd simply astonishes me beyond words.

After observing the Passover meal with His disciples and trying to prepare them for what He knew was to come, Jesus established what believers in Christ call the Last Supper. 

Then He prayed to the Father in the Garden of Gethsemane.  Jesus was betrayed, arrested, deserted and denied, tried and condemned to be crucified until death, beaten, scourged, and mocked.

To consider that He willingly bore the sins of the entire world on His shoulders, knowing the pain and agony He would bear, and to realize He loved me (and you) enough to offer Himself as the sacrificial Lamb takes both my breath and my words away.

My own words seem so inadequate to express what my Savior did for us. 

So as this Easter week unfolds, I’ll meet with some sisters in Christ during our weekly Bible study in my home.

I’ll attend a communion service at my church and our newly baptized oldest grandchild will celebrate this meaningful event for the first time with us.

I’ll solemnly remember what my Savior did for me and for you on that ol’ rugged cross on Good Friday.

And I’ll celebrate the resurrection of my Savior on Easter Sunday with joy!

And all because of this:

“For God so loved the world that He gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” ~ John 3:16

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2026

Posted in family, Life, loss

Saying goodbye to our cowboy

Posted on by Mama's Empty Nest

As a teenager, my oldest sister found her cowboy when he lassoed her at a country fair.

From her childhood, my sister was enthralled with horses. According to one family story, when she and one of our cousins were youngsters, they often pretended to be horses galloping around. She wanted to be a cowgirl and own horses herself.

Years later on that day she attended the fair with a friend, she met her friend’s older brother who was there showing and riding his horses. He just happened to be practicing his roping skills, and he literally threw his rope around my sister.

That moment was just the beginning of a long life together. My sister married her cowboy, and they celebrated 65 years of marriage this year. That cowboy entered my life when I was very young, and I don’t remember a time when he wasn’t part of our family. The first time I ever sat in a saddle was on one of his horses.

I was six when they married and was thrilled to be the flower girl in their wedding. That cowboy didn’t become just a brother-in-law to me, he became my big brother and I loved him dearly. Now my heart is heavy with grief because after years of suffering in pain with infirmities and illnesses, that cowboy was called into heaven this month.

A huge void will be felt in our family. That cowboy wasn’t just a horseman. He was a hard worker who expected those who worked beside him to be the same, a wonderful provider for his family, and talented in so many ways. He served his country and was a US Army veteran.

He was a superb custom home builder, so conscientious that those who contracted with him to build their houses knew it would be done correctly and absolutely well-built with no flaws or imperfections. His carpentry work was excellent and he constructed three beautiful homes for my sister and himself over the years.

He was smart, an honest man with so much integrity and a surprising sense of humor. He loved his family including his wife, daughters, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren in a quiet, unassuming way.

As I grew up I witnessed how much he also loved and respected his in-laws, my parents, and would do anything for them.  They thought the world of him and I’m certain they considered him as a son.

His love extended to my other sister and me, to my husband/his brother-in-law and my children, his nieces and nephew. He didn’t proclaim his love for us out loud until the last few years of his life, but we felt it without the words.

That cowboy not only had a reputation as a well-respected home builder here in our hometown area but again when he moved his family to Oklahoma.

As time went on, he then experienced success as an innovative business owner with my sister when he built fancy custom RV-type living quarters in large horse trailers for those traveling rodeo and horse show circuits. Following that, he became an RV “doctor” repairing RVs and co-owned an RV parts retail business with my sister.

But one thing I admired about my brother was that he lived his own cowboy dreams and made sure my sister fulfilled hers too. A horse owner from the time he was young, he was an award-winning barrel racer at horse shows and rodeos well into his 50’s and even tried his hand at calf-roping.  

When infirmities prevented him and my sister from riding their horses, he substituted by their riding trails on ATVs in the deserts of Arizona and Utah, where they enjoyed camping excursions with their RV.

Eventually, he and my sister retired, sold their family home in Oklahoma, and took up residence in Arizona for a few years. My husband and I visited them there twice and relished adventures he led us on in those all terrain vehicles.

Many memories of my beloved brother flood my mind and cause my tears to flow. Yet how blessed I feel that my husband and I spent quality time with him and my sister last November, enjoyed an excursion he wanted to take to Oklahoma City’s National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum (that’s him there in the photo below), and celebrated Thanksgiving with them in their home.

It’s heartbreaking to lose a cherished family member and while grief for those of us left behind is dominant, we celebrate his life. And God comforts me with knowing my brother is no longer suffering in this world. After several exhausting and painful days in a hospital, Jesus called him peacefully in his sleep to his new pain-free life where someday we’ll all be reunited once more.

If there are horses in heaven, I know my cowboy brother is happily riding the range.

“Oh the last goodbye’s the hardest one to say, and this is where the cowboy rides away.”~ George Strait

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2026

Posted in photography, travel

Tuesday Tour: revisiting the Old West

Posted on by Mama's Empty Nest

Once upon a time, this Mama and Papa lived where the wind comes sweepin’ down the plain. If you recognize that line, you know it’s from the musical Oklahoma.

We native Pennsylvanians lived there for a few years in our early married life and as unencumbered young adults, we enjoyed sightseeing around the state as time permitted.

One of those places we visited with newly made friends was the Cowboy Hall of Fame in Oklahoma City. Since that was close to 50 years ago, my memory of that event is only jogged via the photos I took back then.

So, it was interesting and rewarding to re-visit that place last November when we traveled back to this southwestern state to celebrate Thanksgiving with family residing there.

When we lived in Oklahoma all those many years ago, we felt blessed that my oldest sister, brother-in-law, and their children also lived in that state, close enough drivetime for family get-togethers.  

Our road trip last fall proved to be another blessing enabling us to spend time with my relatives now including my sister and brother-in-law’s grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

During our visit, my brother-in-law expressed a desire to check out the Cowboy Hall of Fame, now known as the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum. Both he and my sister were western enthusiasts, a cowboy and cowgirl themselves, and after living in Oklahoma for many years, had not visited the museum yet.

We naturally obliged and accompanied them one beautiful sunny day. That visit is the subject of this Tuesday Tour post.

The museum looked totally different, expanded and modernized since Papa and I were there in the late 70’s. We were amazed by the changes at this now 220,000-square-foot building. The American West history, culture, and over 28,000 artifacts and artwork are showcased in this museum which was founded in 1955.

As we wandered through the exhibitions and galleries, it was evident to us how vast the collections have become and how much improved and comprehensive. One of the aspects we’ve never forgotten from the past was viewing a huge sculpture called The End of the Trail by artist James Earle Fraser. We were delighted to see it once again.

Traditional and modern art is displayed in two galleries: one with more than 2000 pieces of Western paintings and sculptures, some by well-known artists Frederic Remington and Charles M. Russell and the other holding more than 2500 pieces of Native American artwork, including traditional clothing and beadwork fashioned by plains tribes.  Some of the artwork is available for purchase as well.

One exhibit boggled our minds. Wooden tray-like drawers were filled with samples of over 8000 different types of barbed wire. Why was that important? Barbed wire changed ranching when it was used by western ranchers to settle land disputes and manage their herds of cattle. We never would have imagined there were so many styles and types of that metal wiring used for fences. Seeing was believing.

We viewed exhibits displaying other aspects of the American Old West like an extensive gun collection which included rare guns owned by famous westerners Wyatt Earp and Wild Bill Hickok. Other displays showcase ornate saddles, cowboy attire like hats, and frontier military life exhibits.

An entire section of the museum is devoted to Western film and television stars which took us senior citizens back to the past. Everyone from cowboys Tom Mix and Gene Autry to Roy Rogers and John Wayne is depicted in the collection, which includes vintage western movie posters, props like John Wayne’s hat from the movie True Grit, photos taken while filming, and stars’ personal items.

One of the most fun wings of the museum is called Prosperity Junction, a 14,000 square foot recreation of a 1900s western cattle town with vintage items from that time. As we walked along this town’s street, exploring all the buildings including a bank, general store, telegraph office, schoolhouse, church, homes, and even a saloon with original furnishings, we felt like we’d been transported to the past.

Another interesting aspect is this museum owns a large collection of chuck wagons, which were vitally necessary to carry food provisions and cook meals for cowboys on those long cattle drives.

Outside the museum building we meandered through an area housing more reconstructed American West structures and several examples of Native American dwellings which prove educational.  Other western statues are also located on the museum grounds like the one pictured in the beginning of this post.

This Oklahoma City museum, located at 1700 NE 63rd St., hosts temporary traveling exhibits during the year. Currently on view until May 3, 2026 are two: “The Cowboy: An Immersive Journey” (a  360-degree experience using projections and sounds to provide understanding of cowboy history) and “Route 66: From Trails to Truck Stops.” Visit the website for more information.

The National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum website states that more than 10 million folks from around the world have visited it. We were happy to be four of those spending some time exploring the “Old West” on that day with my sister and brother-in-law.

And I’m certain they were interested in one wing of the museum for sure – the National Rodeo Hall of Fame – where visitors can learn all about the sport of rodeo, something they both knew a lot about.

“The Old West is not a certain place in a certain time; it’s a state of mind. It’s whatever you want it to be.” ~ Tom Mix, (1880-1940) American Western film star

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2026

Posted in Humor, Life

In the pink

Posted on by Mama's Empty Nest

I’m not certain how or why it started but flamingos have been flocking to this Mama and Papa’s empty nest in the last couple of years.

Pink flamingos. Not the live, standing around on spindly legs, in all their flaming pinkness kind. Instead, inanimate ones.

If memory serves me correctly, and believe me, at my age, sometimes it doesn’t, our grown-up kids jokingly commented that we, their parents, needed pink plastic flamingos in our expansive yard.

Papa laughingly agreed. But I objected vehemently and that’s when the flamingo flocking began in earnest. That Christmas, I suddenly discovered a pink flamingo ornament hanging on our Christmas tree.

No one fessed up to being the culprit who placed it there, but it wasn’t either Papa or I who did so. Hmm, which one or two of our sly offspring to blame?

Then it became an even bigger joke to see who could gift us with added pink flamingos. Beach trips produced a couple flamingo “souvenirs” presented to us. A plastic squeezable flamingo appeared. And the joke continued on and on.

Flamingo sightings were duly noted and sometimes sent via photo text messaging. Papa got a bigger kick out of these silly events, threatening we should purchase some “yard ornaments” of that nature.

Our kids thought they were getting Mama’s goat, but actually these antics made me laugh inwardly while appearing to not appreciate their efforts. I wasn’t a good actress in my high school years for nothing, I tell you!

I mean if you can’t beat them, join them, right? This past year I found the perfect Christmas cards to send to our jokesters – a pink flamingo on the front with something like “Wishing you a fa-la-la-la-mingo Christmas” greeting. We found it amusing and our kids thought it was hysterical.

Anyway, now we seem to gravitate to fake flamingos wherever we go, or they become more apparent to us. We even spotted one outside a Chick-fil-A restaurant on one of our road trips as shown below.  What?! No flamingo products are sold there thankfully, so why a flamingo?  No clue.

I’ve started snapping photos of our pink mascots when we spot them and decided to share a couple with this post.  

Not sure how many flamingos will continue to flock their pinkness our way, but we’ll greet them with a hearty laugh. However, they better not show up in our yard!

Perhaps I need to just view the flamingos that keep appearing in our life in the way this quote reassures me:

“Where the flamingos gather, there is peace and harmony.” ~ unknown

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2026

Posted in food, photography, travel

Tuesday Tour: a sweet day

Posted on by Mama's Empty Nest

The city of Louisville, Kentucky offers plenty of interesting places to visit and we two empty nest road trippers have explored several of them.

Back in 2010 on a trek to the deep south, we enjoyed visiting that city’s famous horse racing venue, Churchill Downs, and the Louisville Slugger Museum. But during an autumn trip last year, my husband and I, with some of our family, experienced a few places we have never been in that city.

Let me first disclose that I’m not a foodie, definitely not a gastronome. Seldom do I write about food because it just doesn’t excite me much. When it comes to gastronomy, noshing on exceptional eats, or exclaiming about culinary feats and cuisines, I’m a no-show. My thought is “I don’t live to eat, I eat to live.”

But on today’s Tuesday Tour, I’m straying from my norm and highlighting two Louisville spots where we enjoyed some yummy edibles.

One Saturday morning we savored brunch, which is only served Saturdays and Sundays, at the South Seas Tiki and Golf Lounge. It’s fun little place where once you relish your lunch or dinner, you can play a game of miniature golf.

The restaurant, decked out in a south seas beachy theme, is located on the ground level of a Story Avenue building in an area of the city called Butchertown. Perusing the brunch menu, which includes shareables (appetizers), signature pancakes, plates and bowls (various egg dishes and burgers) and salads, we ordered fried plantain chips served with mango salsa.

I opted for one of the “signature pancakes,” three pancakes loaded with fresh pineapple, bananas, mango, and strawberries then topped with whipped cream and toasted coconut. My choice looked so tasty when the waitress brought it to me, I dived right in and forgot to take a photo of it.

After our meal, we headed through the bar/lounge area to an unusual miniature golf course located on the second floor of the building.  

An interesting aspect of this mini golf is the theme – each hole is designed to represent “famous Tiki cocktails.” While we’re not alcoholic beverage imbibers, the course was definitely a unique experience and we got a kick out of it.

Later, after more sightseeing in the city, we topped off the afternoon with a sweet treat by stopping at the Macaron Bar, a bakery specializing in those crispy French pastries called macarons.  You can find this establishment in other cities too.

Drooling over an assortment of macarons in several flavors, we purchased some to take with us, sampled in the car, and saved the rest for later. My favorite was a lemon lavender one.

Our excursion that day proved to be a memorably sweet one with food, family, and fun.

“This is a wonderful day. I’ve never seen this one before.”~ Maya Angelou

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