On the Way to My Shoes

It's That Time! Soup Time!

2011-10-18T17:12:00.004-05:00

This is a bit of a twist on the traditional chicken soup and is very healthy but most of all TASTY! Always on the hunt for meals that are good for you and taste good, because of the health problems of my parents, I tried this and it was a direct hit. Make it and let me know what you and your family think.

Italian Chicken Soup

4 chicken breast halves (bone in), skinned
1 large onion, halved
1 large carrot, quartered
3 celery ribs with leaves, chopped
3 1/2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
2 cups water
2 teaspoons low-sodium chicken bouillon granules
2 bay leaves
1 can (14 1/2 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
6 green onions, thinly sliced
1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley
1/4 cup ketchup
1 teaspoon dried rosemary, crushed
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 teaspoon pepper
2 cans (15 1/2 oz each) light red kidney beans
1/4 cup grated Romano cheese

In a 5 qt Dutch oven or large pot, combine the first eight ingredients; bring to a boil. Reduce heat; leaving cover ajar, simmer for 1 1/2 hours. Remove chicken; strain and reserve broth. Discard vegetables and bay leaves. When the chicken is cool enough to handle, remove bones; discard. Cut chicken into bite-size pieces; set aside. Return broth to pot; add tomatoes, onions, parsley, ketchup, rosemary, basil, garlic and pepper; bring to a boil. Reduce heat. Add beans, cheese and chicken; heat through.

Yield: 14 - 1 cup servings (3 1/2 quarts)

Calories: 125
Total fat: 1 gm
Calories from Fat: 8%
Saturated Fat: trace
Cholesterol: 12 mg
Carbohydrate: 19 gm
Protein: 11 gm

The Secret Ingredients Remain: The Same But Different

2010-12-13T09:10:00.003-06:00

While a few things have changed with the German Christmas Cookies, such as when they are made, what they are topped with, and who makes them, some have not and that includes the secret ingredients. Christmas cookies, weihnachtsgeback, or more specifically the making of them, has been a tradition descending from the maternal side of my family encompassing now at least seven generations.

The farthest back we can trace this tradition, dates to the latter part of the 19th century and at a minimum, originated with my great-great grandmother who lived in Birnfeld, Germany. Her family owned a flour mill in a small rural town in the German countryside, a farming community where chickens, cows and families grew up together, a bucolic existence to be sure. Such charming, close-knit villages generally developed around mills and the services needed to sustain daily living. The abundance of flour gave rise to the creative formulation of recipes among the village women, one of which is my great-great grandmother’s recipe which endured through the previous 100 years or so in my family to this day.

Time passes.

My mother, who is the source of this information, was born in Heidelberg, Germany during World War II when everything needed for daily living was scarce. Food, clothing, money and housing. As a result, my great-grandmother, Maria Dorathea Firnschild-Meixner, lived with my mother and grandmother, essentially raising my mother, as my grandmother had to work to support the family. My grandfather was supposedly killed in the war, another story for another time. Christmases came and went. In spite of the war, somehow they found a way to make the Christmas cookies, regardless of the scarcity of food.

Tradition was, at that time, to make the cookies one to two weeks in advance of Christmas Eve, during the night when the children were asleep. A coal stove was employed for baking during my mother’s childhood and a brick oven during her great-great grandmother’s life. One batch was made and one batch only. The cookies were regarded as a treasure to be slowly savored. The cookies, I would say, resemble a shortbread style, not too sweet but delicate, their flavor improving with time as the Christmas event approached. They were topped with either a light, tangy, lemon glaze or a rich egg yolk wash and garnished with a single almond or pecan placed in the very center of the sweet, indeed a luxury at the time. The shapes cut out by the ancient cookie cutters that had been passed down through the family, came in the shapes of chickens, ducks, stars, hearts and circles.

Time passes.

During my childhood, the tradition changed somewhat but yet remained the same. Due to their popularity among our family and closest friends, one batch was not ever enough to satisfy demand and hence evolved into nine gargantuan batches of cookies. My mother spent long days making them to give as “heart” gifts to those we loved. Now the egg wash was not only garnished by nuts but by pearl sugar, infusing each bite with an extra measure of sweetness. Not only were the cookies graced with the delicate lemon glaze but now some had raspberry preserves gently sandwiched between two thin cookies and were sprinkled with a dusting of powdered sugar. The cookie cutters now included bells. The baking now began during the first week of December and was tackled during the daytime when we as children could watch and pinch pieces of cookie dough off when we thought mom wasn’t aware, but came to find out later, she knew.

Dough pinching. My favorite baking activity. I thought I was so clever, sneaking into the fridge at night to eat the cookie dough, my favorite, beating chocolate chip cookie dough any day of the week (in my humble opinion). The dough would take an entire day of it’s own to assemble, mixing the cold hard mass by hand, and would be put in the refrigerator to keep it’s chill until baking time, usually a day or two later. I would carefully unwrap a round of dough, pinch off a portion, smooth over what I thought was much remaining, and rewrap the goodie. By the time I was finished or sick whichever came first, it was plain for my mom to see, there was significantly less dough. She never said anything, though. It was our unspoken secret.

Time passes.

Now I make weihnachtsgeback for my family and friends. It is every bit as popular today as it was years ago. Some traditions remain yet change. My mom and I usually make seven batches, the first or second week of December, during the day. Now the cookie cutter collection includes leaves, a very large angel, wreaths, trees, and frogs, yes, frogs, in addition to the time cherished and worn, stars, chickens, ducks, circles, stars and bells. The toppings remain the same, for some things cannot be improved upon without sacrificing the nature of the cookie and that is indeed sacred to us. I prefer for the finished cookie to be a bit thicker and pale in color, my mom prefers them to be thin and a toasty-looking tan. Making these cookies is an art and took me, a good cook, years of practice to master. And believe you me, thicker and pale is the way to go!

The most beautiful, meaningful change occurred when my mom came to live with me eleven years ago, we now make the cookies together, as mother and daughter. Sometimes we have even been able to include my sisters who do not live local to us. Our ultimate dream would be to have my mom, myself, my two sisters who make these cookies also, my niece and great-niece all come together to make these family heirlooms, although we may have to rent a large kitchen to do it! It has now become a family activity, a treasured one we look forward to each year. Although we grumbke about the mess, the hard work of mixing the dough (which my mom has succumbed to letting the kitchen aid mixer do the work since her hands are now arthritic), the hours spent on our feet, about whether thicker and pale is best or thin and darker, and how my angels always break because they are too big, each year the experience is priceless. For the record, now I eat all the dough I want not caring if my mom knows or not, still snitching from the fridge for old times sake to see if she notices! And yes, for the record, I still usually get a belly ache by the time we are finished.

The dough disappears, but what remains is the laughter, the being covered in flour, the beautiful results after two days of baking and the memories we create each blessed year that will carry on and sustain us in the generations to come, passing this touching, special, culinary legacy down to our children’s children. I have boys but hope someday my eldest, who enjoys his familial history and traditions, at least will show an interest in this great generational tradition or maybe his beloved will. In any event, my nieces will carry on.

The same but different. The shapes are the same but different, the timing is close to the same but different, we gobble instead of savoring the holiday treasures, the environment in which they are made has expanded, but the recipe remains the same.

Oh! I almost forgot! The secret ingredients! The flour may no longer come from my great-great grandmother’s mill but the secret ingredients that flavor the cookies with a special edible fragrance, remains the same: love, family, and tradition. They may be intangible ingredients but they flavor the pastry with a delicate but definable flavor that cannot be replaced with anything you may purchase at the grocery. And now, with the addition of the family creating these morsels of love together, we add laughter.

Stop by. Taste and see.

Poems. Prayers. Promises.

2010-11-15T13:16:00.001-06:00

As a young boy, the poems held the future as a rose. But what do young boys know of roses? He knows only of those poems that he is read, and to what child does a parent read a rhyme of anything other than sunshine and rainbows and truth? So, he believes in the reality of the fantasy.

But the fantasy is tarnished. The poems echo, hollow in his heart. Prayers are cried in haste, trying to recall the fantasy. Because promises lay in waste at his feet as he stands, waiting, at the screen door, praying the promises he’s been given will come true. That he will be met, at the door. Pleading for something he doesn’t even quite understand but knows he wants, he needs. The evening rings empty as another promise lies broken at his feet. Another prayer is unanswered. Another poem is a lie.

Careful to avoid being hurt by the broken pieces, he steps around them, thinking he is not touched by the jagged shards, but they embed in his shoes. Following him, wherever he steps, though time.

The little boy, now a man, stands at the screen door. Remembering the lie of the poems of the past. Now is the time to write his own poem. A poem that paints the future as a rose. What does a man know of roses? He knows of the thorns, but the thorns have taught him how to handle a rose. He thinks he knows. But as he writes, his hands are pricked and he bleeds, staining his own poem of the future. And the jagged shards of promises past, make scars on the path he treads.

The little boy, now a man, doesn’t understand prayers for they have left him untouched with their non-existent answers. He feels the pain, the bitterness and the wanting. For what he is not sure. But he knows he wants. The pieces that go missing leave him searching. Yet he searches in vain. Afraid to pray, unwilling to pray, he searches . . . in vain.

The little boy, inside of the man, tries to write the poem. But without the prayers, the promises he makes fall in pieces around his feet as he stands at the screen door. His promises are carried away like chaff on the threshing floor in the presence of the wind. He tries to be different, oh how he tries. But until the little boy inside of the man, is let go to heal, and grow, there will be no change. He has kept it all these years. He has kept his pain, as fresh after all this time as a new fallen snow.

The acceptance of the imperfections of the old poems, of the answers to prayers not seen but indeed present, of the promises broken not in malice but in self-absorption, will lead to the little boy inside becoming a man of his own promises. Forgiveness is not condoning the wrong, or righting the past. Forgiveness is robbing the wrong of the ability to hurt life, to mar the future, cleansing the poison that eats away at who we are. It is the healing of the wound from the inside to the outside. Forgiveness presents the gift of clarity, of sight. Forgiveness of the past is the key to the future as a rose.

The man, stands at the screen door. The key cradled in his hand. Poems in his heart. Promises on his lips. Emptiness at his feet. And the future before him, as a rose.

If You Can't Smell Autumn In The Air Yet, Bake These

2010-11-12T12:39:00.005-06:00

I love the pumpkin scones I get at Starbucks to go with my tall Earl Grey tea with plenty of cream. Yum! But I cannot always afford to feed that habit. Well, I found a pretty good recipe that comes very close to what I can get at the store with the green sign. Try them, you'll love them! I've included a photo of how mine turned out.

Scones

2 cups flour

7 T. sugar

1 T. baking powder

1/2 t. salt

1/2 t. cinnamon

1/2 t. nutmeg

1/4 t. ground cloves

1/4 t. ginger

6 T. cold butter

1/2 cup canned pumpkin

3 T. half and half

1 large egg

Powdered Sugar Glaze

1 cup powdered sugar

1T. powdered sugar

2 T. whole milk

Spiced Glaze

1 cup powdered sugar

3 T. powdered sugar

2 T. whole milk

1/4 t. cinnamon

1/8 t. nutmeg

1 pinch ginger

1 pinch ground cloves

TO MAKE THE SCONES:

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Combine flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and spices in a large bowl. Using a pastry knife, fork, or food processor, cut butter into the dry ingredients until mixture is crumbly and no chunks of butter are obvious. Set aside.

In a separate bowl, whisk together pumpkin, half and half, and egg. Fold wet ingredients into dry ingredients. Form the dough into a ball. Pat out dough onto a lightly floured surface and form it into a 1-inch thick rectangle (about 9 inches long and 3 inches wide). Use a large knife or a pizza cutter to slice the dough twice through the width, making three equal portions. Cut those three slices diagonally so that you have 6 triangular slices of dough. Place on prepared baking sheet. Bake for 14-16 minutes. Scones should begin to turn light brown. Place on wire rack to cool.

TO MAKE THE PLAIN GLAZE:

Mix the powdered sugar and 2 tbsp milk together until smooth. When scones are cool, use a brush to paint plain glaze over the top of each scone.

AS THAT WHITE GLAZE FIRMS UP, MAKE THE SPICED ICING:.

Combine the ingredient for the spiced icing together. Drizzle this thicker icing over each scone and allow the icing to dry before serving (at least 1 hour). A squirt bottle works great for this, or you can drizzle with a whisk.

Green Tomato-Blueberry Jam

2010-10-02T23:59:00.002-05:00

5 cups fresh blueberries (or same amount of frozen, thawed)

4 large green tomatoes, coarsely chopped (about 4 pounds)

1 1/2 cups water

5 cups sugar

3 (1.75 ounce) packages of fruit pectin

1/4 cup lemon juice

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg

Pulse blueberries and chopped tomato in a blender or food processor 3 or 4 times or until mixture is almost smooth.

Cook blueberry mixture, 1 1/2 cups water and sugar in a dutch oven over medium heat, stirring constantly, until sugar dissolves.

Stir in fruit pectin and remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil; cook, stirring constantly, 5 minutes or until mixture thickens.

Pour hot mixture into hot jars, filling to 1/4 inch from top. Remove air bubbles; wipe jar rims. Cover at once with metal lids, and screw on bands.

Process in boiling-water bath for 10 minutes.

A Goldilocks Morning (tweaked repost for a writing assignment)

2010-09-27T14:00:00.007-05:00

Yes, it’s a Goldilocks morning. The variety of which is usually only found in movies, art, or music. This day, it was apparently my good fortune to be in the middle of such a beautiful and moving composition.

It is early with getting my son, Brawny Boy, up and at 'em which is no simple feat in and of itself! While he begins his a.m. ministrations to get his cute carcass presentable for the girls at school, I lay on the sofa in the living room wishing I could be back lazing between the sheets for it was a late night and will be a hectic day.

Keira, not be be left out, jumps up to join me in my morning appreciation, stretching her long puppy body on mine. At six months, her feet reach my ankles and her muzzle meets my chin. She lays here softly breathing. She likes the feel of her breathing, snuffling, underneath my chin, has done this ever since she was tiny. Her heart beats out it's strong, rhythmic beat against my heart. Since when did she get so heavy?

The windows are open, drawing a pleasantly cool and purely refreshing through the house. Through the open windows,an assortment of birds play the music of nature, singing of the newness of day. Joining them in four-part harmony is my cockatiel, Oleo, making sure the world knows "Oleo is a pretty, pretty, pretty bird". Every once in awhile throwing even more "prettys" in there, when he is feeling especially "cocky" : ) He wolf whistles at my 83 year old father passing through the kitchen, like a testosterone befuddled construction worker might whistle at a hot babe on the street. My dad says it's good for his ego at his age, and whistles back at Oleo to return the favor.

My eyes are closed in relaxation and wonderment "How is it that I am so lucky to be blessed with such a day as this?". What did I do to deserve this gift? Nothing. I woke up breathing.

For whatever the reason the world continues to spin on it's axis, I will accept it's bestowal of this time. Enjoying it, reveling in it, appreciating it. How I can take such life for granted is a gross act of selfishness. I will immerse myself in it, use it for good and LIVE it. Trying to spread it's joy to those I meet, who see not the gem they have been given.

How do you feel about your day? How will you think of it as you move through it's portals? How will you use and enjoy it?

I’m blessed you took the time to enjoy my morning with me at this late hour and I’m not sure how your morning blossomed into the story of your day, but mine? Was just right.

My Own Personal Mastercard Commercial

2010-08-24T00:07:00.003-05:00

Starting 2 & maybe 3 new businesses, investment: None of your biz

Bed and Breakfast: $1,000,000

First major deposit into my B&B account: $$$$

Realizing my dream and my own worth: PRICELESS!!!!!

Yes, I Have An iPad And Here Is What I Think About It

2010-04-07T19:48:00.013-05:00

As of Saturday morning, I have an iPad (see iPhone photo). In fact, all of us here at MauroMedia have one. And I'm not ashamed to admit it. After all I read on the internet, one almost feels afraid to state the fact. There's not a single product in my remembrance, that has received such "dissing".

At any rate, I read an article "13 glaring iPad shortcomings" and since friends have asked for my opinion about my iPad, I thought writing about it would be a way to address their "13" and give you my own personal, non-subjective, non-techie view. Please, read the article first. It will make my responses to each issue much clearer as I am responding to their statements regarding the iPads perceived shortcomings. Let me preface this with the following statement:

Until November, the only exposure I'd had to Apple products was owning an iPod. I had never used a Mac computer and obviously did not understand anything about operating them. Not getting the whole "Mac love" thing, I am not biased concerning their products.

While I am enjoying the use of the iPad, I do not consider it a toy and I do not consider the issues the article author cited as "severe".

#1 It's awkward.

I'm a girl, I've never carried a phone on my hip. It makes me look fat, for pete's sake. Nor would I carry it like a butler would a tray, ridiculous. I don't want it under my armpit for obvious reasons. It is carried in my hand. I have it in the iPad Case which is non-slippery, protects it and transports well. I am klutzy and have no problems carrying it around. Are babies easy to carry? Do we need EVERYTHING in life to be effortless?! Do you need a butler to carry everything for you? Not me, thank you.

#2 It's heavy.

How long have you been sitting on that couch, Mr. Potato? I, in no way find it heavy or difficult to carry around. I have carpel tunnel and have not found it taxing, tiring, or painful to hold it for a length of time. I bought a book and have been reading it on the iPad. I love it! Consider it a Kindle PLUS so much more. Prop it up to watch a movie, for pete's sake! Why would you hold it?! Are you going to hold the TV while you watch a movie?! So why would I hold the iPad out in front of me? Oh, and by the way? Who wants to read a book on a smartphone that is the size of a small calculator? My eyes aren't that young anymore. The Kindle? Great for reading books but does it have apps? Access anything other than Amazon? Hold your calendar, address, and list information? Can it hold your portfolio of your work? Photos? Have 3G capability? I'm a weenie. It ain't heavy enough to preclude me using it and I use it in comfort.

#3 It's slippery.

So don't hold it under your arm. Why would you treat a major purchase with such nonchalance? Put it in the Case. It won't slip.

#4 The screen has too much glare.

So does the tv, so does a cell phone, so does the car windshield and so does snow. I use it in a sunny environment and have no problems. The clarity is phenom!

#5 Forget reading in the sun.

Okay, this one is splitting hairs and could have been included in #4 but maybe their aim was to connect it to the unlucky #13. Adjust the angle at which you are viewing it. Hard, I know, I could barely accomplish it *rolling eyes*. I, personally, wouldn't take a machine like this to the beach, which is made up of SAND incidentally and isn't good when it gets in ANYTHING (haven't you ever had it in your swimwear bottoms?), and I worry about thugs and no-accounts stealing my things when my head is turned. I would take a paperback novel which costs roughly $7 or less (if you get it at a used book store or swipe it from your sister or best friend) and if something happens to it, it's no big deal.

#6 Fingerprints are annoying.

I am not anal retentive or nor do I have OCD. I don't notice the fingerprints unless it is turned off and even then, it doesn't cause me behavioral problems. Just like my mom did on the refrigerator, I wipe them off if they build up thicker than a 1/4 inch. If they bother you, use a small piece of microfiber cloth. You don't need a big towel. There are more important things to be annoyed with in this world that you can choose to let get to you, try war, poverty, hunger or the healthcare debacle.

#7 It does not multitask.

Hmmm, I missed that memo Apple sent out telling me they expect me to spend hours at a time on the iPad. They must think no one has a life. This does not take the place of my 27" desktop nor would I expect it to. It gives me the capability of doing more things when I am mobile. Frankly, I am a big multitasker and this inability do run multiple apps/tasks doesn't bother me at all. and is doing one thing at a time once in awhile all that bad? Oh, and all it takes is hitting the home button and the app to switch from one task to the other and it takes just a sec. Not a big deal for me.

#8 The browser is limited.

I'll be honest, I'm not sure what creating Google Documents is. Yeah it doesn't play Flash but that hasn't limited what I do. As for it being limited in any way I use it? I've done everything I want to do with the browser.

#9 The virtual keyboard stinks.

I have big fingers/hands. All keyboards stink for me. It's way better than my iPod Touch! Most peeps that I observe "hunt and peck" anyway. I use proper keyboarding technique and am working at getting better using them on the glass. If you want a full-size keyboard, get a desktop or large laptop. This is NOT meant to be that. I can live with it. If you do a great deal of word-processing, spreadsheets, or printing, stick with your lap/desk top. I don't expect this to take the place of that for me.

#10 There's no USB port.

Now this one might pose difficulty for me but I consider this to be similar to my iTouch and other people's iPhones (which I do not have) and I haven't heard them complain about the lack of a USB port.

#11 iPhone-only apps look horrible.

What did you do before apps? When the iPhone apps came out, were there 150,000 of them immediately? It will take time for the iPad to catch up. I don't put apps on my iPad that aren't intended for it. That would be like putting maple syrup in my car's gas tank. Maple syrup wasn't intended to be used in a car. Be patient. Everyone and their dog are coming up with apps.

#12 The price is just too high.

All prices, on all things, are too high when we want something. I want organic milk which costs $7-$8 per gallon versus $2.25 for non-organic milk. It's too high for me. But if I want something, I save for it. If I don't, then I don't. Remember how expensive VCR's were? If it's too high for you, wait, the price may come down. And if someone's iPad memory fills up quickly and they decide a bigger one is what they want, buy their small one and you might get a good deal.

#13 It doesn't replace anything.

Is it supposed to? It doesn't for me, it supplements. I like the way it works, it works great for what I will do in the field, on the go, and when lounging in bed where my desktop proves to be awkward. :-) I like books on it, I like the size. Bottom line: I LIKE it. It makes for a great PR and work tool in the photography/media business (not for photo processing). As a portfolio while out on the go, it can't be beat. For note taking while out on gardening business and using some of the simple design and reference apps, it is a great tool for garden designers and will get even better as new apps come out. Oh, by the way, Skype works beautifully on it!!! The sound works great!

If you do not frequent areas with Wi-Fi, wait and get the 3G model. As with any new product, deficiencies will be improved and tweaked

Not one thing in this world is meant to be the be-all and end-all, not man, woman or technology. And honestly, I couldn't care less about being cool.

In my personal opinion, if you don't want it, don't buy it. If you want it, get it. I love it.

My Birthday Gift to You

2010-03-31T13:50:00.005-05:00

Yep, it's my birthday but I am gifting you with a quickly put together little b-day gift. You women, that is. Oh yeah, you men can benefit from this as well but not to the degree my female friends can :-)

I am 47 today, yes, 47 inching towards 50. And I don't like it. Nope. Not one bit. Sure, I know the alternative is not too good but I whole-heartedly hate the aging thing and fight it every day of the way. Graceful does not describe how I am embracing my age for although I am above dirt, I want to look as young as I can for as long as I can and my fight for it began at 13. I was told if I invest in my health, it will pay dividends now and in the long run. I am at the long run part and I think it is paying off, judge for yourself.

The first and most important part of what I have done and do to fight the aging process is directed internally and being healthy on the inside shows up on the outside. Yeah, I've been a goody-goody in the language of my boys. I have been a vegetarian for a total of about 26 years with the last 23 being the long stretch. Never have I partaken of tobacco, alcohol or drugs my doctor has not prescribed for me. Getting plenty of sleep, exercise, fresh air and sunshine is part of my regimen along with eating a healthy, balanced diet that includes plenty of M & M's, Hershey bars and brownies :-) Hey, it works!

All things working together to make me good from the inside clear to the outside :-) Hard life experiences have helped moderate the age I look so I am thankful for the very hard things that have happened in my life for without them, I would be concerned I would look like I'm 12 years old :-)

NOW for the nitty gritty. People have asked how my skin looks good, my hair, etc. Here are the specifics of what I use. Take it for what it's worth. Try it if you like, it is what works for me and has over a period of time along with what I previously mentioned.

Hair: CHI Infra Shampoo and Conditioner for a kinky look, when I want a smooth look it's Paul Mitchell Super Skinny Shampoo, Conditioner and Relaxing Balm, hairspray - Professional Ultra Firm Hold for the kinky look, Redken Quick Dry 18 for a softer flexible hold.

All over skin: Dove Gentle Exfoliating Body Wash (never soap or anything drying), I use my own body scrub (see the Hershey's blog entry I did in July), Neutrogena seseme oil (at the end of showering), and Neutrogena Firming Body Moisturizer with Active Copper.

Face: Olay Foaming Face Wash for Sensitive Skin, Neutorogena Anti-Oxidant Age Reverse Lotion with SPF 20 (always use something with SPF of at least 20), Olay Regenerist Eye Lifting Serum, Olay Filling+Sealing (awesome!), Olay Regenerist Lip Anti-Aging Concentrate and I use Rimmel make up which my skin loves.

While some products from different companies don't work well together, these do very well. I am frugal and a little bit of these products goes a long way and lasts me a long time. Okay, well maybe not the hairspray :-)

My birthday wish for you is that this may be helpful and make you feel even more beautiful than you already are for if we FEEL good, we look FABULOUS!

Alice in WonderWeird?

2010-03-13T22:21:00.005-06:00

Tonight, my friend Rita and I took in a movie: Alice in Wonderland. Now, normally I am not into fantastical movies of this sort but as part of the expansion period of my life, I decided to take a chance that I miiiiiiight enjoy it and I went.

Before I left my place, dgdreamin, who inhabits my part of the Twitter universe, suggested I critique the flick upon my return. Here, I do so. These are my thoughts and my thoughts only about how the movie hit me.

As I said, fantastical movies are not my typical genre but I watched with an open mind. The opening was your typical old-timey English setting, hey, not too bad so far. ( I have a penchant for the English accent and you just might hear me using it this week *smile*) Things got a tad bit funky when she fell down the hole.

The plot was a good versus evil story but with twists along the way or maybe they were only perceived as twists because I'd not remembered what Alice in Wonderland was about. The Cheshire cat totally creeped me out, the Mad Hatter both made me want to look away and confused me, the Caterpillar's blowing smoke in Alice's face annoyed me, and the Queen of Hearts caused queasiness. Alice seemed too young for the age she was supposed to be in Wonderland and her actions seemed stilted. Contrived.

And then, she grew into the role and I do not mean when she ate the cake. Indeed, she DID regain her "muchness", appearing older and I relished watching her, hearing her speak. Along with the change in attitude I had towards her, I saw the Cheshire Cat and the Mad Hatter differently. No longer did the Cat creep me out, I admired his cleverness. The Hatter held me riveted. The Caterpillar intrigued me. The Queen of Hearts, well her bulbous head still made me queasy. Not mentioned yet is the hairy beast (can't remember it's name) who reminded me of the Abominable Snowman from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer but much meaner. By the end of the movie, I wanted to take him home.

The movie was crafted in such a way as to completely turn my perception of the characters around before it was finished. Not all will agree with what I think but it is how the movie hit me. By the end of the tale, I was hooked and realized I'd thoroughly enjoyed it! Of course, I took away a few things from it as well and they are:

1. Alice's hair is to die for ~sigh~

2. Alice kicks awesome a**!

3. Even in stress, there is humor to be found (makes it manageable).

4. I want a suit of armor just like Alice's and I don't want to have to make it myself from foil (note to self: google armor).

5. That Mad Hatter can DANCE! I want to learn how to do that before I die.

6. It is good to open your mind to new things, you just might enjoy it.

7. I have regained MY "muchness" and am proud of it.

Until I viewed this movie, a brief trailer was all I'd seen leaving me with no desire to watch this movie. Now? I'd happily head back to see it again. Or is that a - GAIN?! :-) Told you I'd be English this week . . .

Does Anyone Understand Groundhog Day?

2010-02-02T12:52:00.007-06:00

Now I don't rightly know about Punxsutawney Phil and his legend.

It would seem to me, that if Punxsutawney Phil could not see his shadow, it would be because the sun was not shining i.e. the sky would be overcast, gray, dreary signaling winter is still here and will continue for another six weeks.

Conversely, it would appear to me if Punxsutawney Phil COULD see his shadow, it would be an indication the sun is SHINING producing a very spring-like day thereby signaling spring is quickly on it's WAY.

Why is it the other way around? If it's gray and dreary, he cannot see his shadow and THAT signals spring will arrive SOON? Come on.

At any rate, I have my own system. If my plants look like this:

Spring ain't even anywhere close to bein' here. Just sayin'.

Chemicals and the Cold: I Believe One Made The Other Lethal

2010-02-01T18:33:00.001-06:00

Last week, there was an episode of the Dr. Oz Show focusing on organic foods. The Food Inc. documentary was discussed on the Oprah Winfrey Show the same week. Clearly, the world is catching on that we need less processed food going into our bodies and less exposure to chemicals.

It is my belief that my own life has been directly affected by chemicals used in food production. Now, I thought I was safe from most of the dangers of antibiotics, growth hormones and improper food being given to animals because I am vegetarian and have been for about 23 years. BUT, the dangers of chemicals came to me via treatments of vineyards and orchards i.e. pesticides and herbicides.

I will preface what I am going to say with what my doctor told me: "there is no conclusive evidence that either the pesticides or herbicides used to treat the fruit are the cause of your condition." That would be because there are no studies done to prove or disprove the cause effect relationship.

June 1996 saw me move into my beautiful home in the countryside of southwestern Michigan with my property being bordered by hundreds of acres of orchards and vineyards directly on the north and west sides. The farmer owning those fields would come by my home and caution me he was going to spray that day and while the chemicals were "safe" I could feel free to keep my kids and pets indoors with my doors and windows shut. Which of course, I did.

August 14, 1997. I'd been through one entire year of orchard and vineyard spraying. I spent the day on the beach of Lake Michigan. A warm day, we had a cooler of ice-cold soft drinks to quench our thirst. No problem.

August 15, 1997. I began the drive to visit my parents in Nebraska, stopping at a convenience store to pick up a cold soda for the trip. As I held the soda in my hand, my hand began to burn, to itch, to swell, turning red and yellow. Startled, I surmised there must be something on the bottle causing my hand to react. Locating some napkins, I wrapped several around the bottle and the reaction ceased getting worse, although it was a day before my hand returned to normal.

Throughout the week I was in Nebraska, my thighs swelled when I jogged in the early morning chill of the high desert, my tongue and lips swelled when I drank a slush at the Dairy King, and my finger swelled as I held the garden hose to water my dad's flowers. My father suggested I begin to write these incidents down in a log of some sort, which I did.

In the next six weeks, there were more occurrences of this sort with everything from a breeze in England causing hives to erupt on my legs, to leaning against a porcelain sink and getting hives on my midriff.

Upon taking this log to the doctor, he did a simple ice cube test and informed me I have cold-induced urticaria. In layman's language, I am allergic to cold. Cold temperatures. For me, temps below about 50 degrees induce my body to react. The cold temps cause my body to produce histamines creating hives both outside and INSIDE my body. If I eat cold food or breathe cold air, my throat will swell shut and I will die. If the cold radiates onto my heart from what is passing through my esophagus, it swells and will stop. If anything cold i.e. air, surface, food, water touches me, my body reacts in a very negative and potentially fatal way. Fun, huh? I fall into the lake? I'm a goner. Get locked out of the house on a cold morning? I'm a goner. There are worse allergies though, so I consider myself lucky.

There is no cure, only prevention. Curiously enough, it affects my life in ways I'd not foreseen, even in the summer. It's complicated. My allergist informed me that something caused my immune system to become permanently altered, thereby causing this reaction.

Now, long story, but this is how I think what I have is caused by chemical exposure. I heard of two other people in the same area who were exposed to similar toxins. One lived near an orchard, the other picked grapes at a vineyard often eating them without washing them. Coincidence? Not in my book. A friend of my best friend, also had this condition and had to move to Florida. She moved from the area in which I was living. There was also an inordinately high occurrence of cancer, especially of the breast, in my area. Some suspicion it is from chemicals related to the fruit production industry getting into the ground water but it has not been proved.

So. Obviously, I believe, organic is the way to go. More and more I switch to healthier ways of living, my eating included, wanting to eradicate them from my food intake. In the past, it was not near as difficult and I didn't think of the costs involved in purchasing organic products. But now, I am on a very fixed income and am finding it cost prohibitive to do so. There is only so much money to go around.

What tips, what advice do you have for me that might help make it more financially feasible to buy organic (I do garden organic)? With a gallon of milk at $7 versus $2 non organic, eggs at $4 and other products likewise as high-priced, how do I do it? How do YOU do it?

I look forward to hearing your suggestions and wish a long and healthy life for each of you!

"Maybe They're Just Not That Into Me"

2010-01-18T16:29:00.006-06:00

Dear Abby,

It's the story of my life *sigh*

A couple of weeks ago, it dawned on me (yeah, dawn does break on Marblehead occasionally) I had not received any bright, full-color, horticultural-eye-candy-filled plant catalogs enticing me to purchase their spring wares. Apparently, there was fineprint on the mail-forwarding dohickey-thing I filled out at the post office that informed me the plant/seed catalogs were NOT going to be sent onto me in Colorado. I'd neglected to read that part, I guess. Therefore, I did what every self-respecting plantaholic would do: I went online and signed up to receive every horticulturally-related catalog under the sun (don't worry, I recycle).

Now, here is what I don't understand: two weeks later, where are my catalogs? Each day, I inspect the mailbox. Waiting expectantly. Salivating. Each day, I continue to be disappointed. Don't they want my business? Or is it 'they're just not that into me'?

Wondering how to ascertain as such, I went to the experts for their opinion and adapted the criteria I found to help me answer that question.

Now I know, nurseries/seed distributors are just not that into me if:

1. They don't get back to me in less than TWO weeks.

2. They aren't sensitive to my growing needs.

3. They don't listen to me, or respect my opionions AND returns!

4. They leave me hanging on a figurative trellis, waiting for catalogs.

5. They do not bring out the best gardener in me (or they would give me plants that will not die).

6. They don't make me WANT to WANT them!

7. They don't call me to see if I need something.

8. They don't take the time to get to know my friends, putting them on their mailing lists :-)

9. They don't put my name in their little black book, in stone, with a star beside it.

10. They don't take an interest in my interests, (okay, so maybe I don't want them sending out spybots to infiltrate my facebook and twitter accounts, sending me advertisements).

11. They don't bring me flowers anymore. They don't ship my order the whole way, but instead make me meet them in a seedy part of Nevada behind some pokey cactus thing.

12. They continually backorder the things I ask for.

So far, only Bluestone Perennials, Burpee and Park are into me (yeah, I got THEIR catalogs).

Tell me how you know when a nursery is into you! What clues you into knowing someone wants YOUR business? Do you have an outstanding customer service story? A favorite nursery? A mail order source you'd recommend? I'd love to hear about it!

Signed,

Needing A Plant Catalog Fix In CO (aka Needing Nursery Validation)

Twitter Soup: A Delicious Blend of Interesting Peeps!

2010-01-07T13:22:00.016-06:00

Twitter whets my appetite for information, friendship and sharing. Nevermore than now, during my self-imposed house/dog-sitting exile on top of this snowy mountain.

This week is reminiscent of that time back in March when I broke my ankle i.e. too much time on my hands and not enough to do, therefore I am spending inordinate amounts of time on the computer (especially Twitter and FaceBook but here I will be referencing mainly Twitter). But that is not necessarily all bad! There is a wealth about life you can learn from others! Contrary to belief, the internet is NOT a total waste of time.

In addition to enabling me to connect with family and friends, both old and new, social media can be truly educational, encouraging and enlightening, not to mention entertaining. There are quite a few characters out there whom I have enjoyed getting to know! You wouldn't BELIEVE what I have found on Twitter! I will share it with you someday :-) It's AWESOME! But for now . . .

Here are just a few of the links I have looked at and learned from today. This is a drop in the proverbial bucket as to the volumes of information available to you via, in this case, Twitter and FaceBook. Browse them at your leisure and you just might find something to interest you, too!

Click on the embedded links to enjoy what I did! Take your pick!

Truly hilarious from kissmyaster

Amazing photos from AmazingPics 2009 Nature's Best Photography

Jim Goldstein's take on Embracing the Imperfect Image

Hear about the earthquake FIRST from Interleafer

Gaze on my childhood idol Donny Osmond every so often, he's always nice to look at :-)

Be inspired and learn how digging in the dirt changed lives not just for one family but for families across the nation

Learn about new ways, coming down the pipeline, to garden for your kitchen from Jennifer Bartley

Discover how gardening is different yet the same around the country (begin with my friend Susan's blog and access the other's at the bottom of her recent posting, I found someone in MY new area I can look to for help as a result!)

Do you have ANY idea how important getting in touch with the natural world is? Shawna Coronado can share with you how it basically saved her from a horrible life!

And of course, if you're into garden porn, you can't go wrong with this scintillating, mouth-watering offering of pics from Arcadia1

Speaking of titillating, I learned of a "must-have" plant last night that you MUST take a look at and you will see why it caused quite a stir on Twitter recently. Annie's Annuals has this one! Just call him 'Mr. Happy'!

What interests me, might not speak to your likes but this is intended to show you how simply wonderful these places on the web can be and there are truly amazing people out there just waiting to make your acquaintance.

Give it a go. Look for me: @gettingdirty . See ya on Twitter!

2010-01-05T22:22:00.007-06:00

I need all the help I can get.

NOAA says the Boulder area has some of the highest peak wind events of any city in the U.S. I believe it, all day the wind has been at about 50 mph and this hasn't been the only day. I also did some checking and my area also only receives approximately 14 inches of moisture per year with July being the driest of the summer months. Great. Cold, dry winters, too. Couple this information with my area being a zone 4 out on the open plain beneath the foothills of the Rockies where those winds come sweeping down and you have some harsh growing conditions.

This previous weekend, I notified the seed/plant catalog companies I normally purchase from, of my new address in order to begin planning what I would like to plant this coming growing season. The more I learn about this growing environment, the more I realize I am out of my element, my comfort zone. I've never grown anything in conditions like this before. Yes, I have much educating of my middle-aged brain to do. And quickly.

Hence, my plea for your help. If you have any advice, experience, or resources to direct me to, I would love you forever if you would share. I do intend to contact the cooperative extension for advice and information, although I will not be able to pursue the Master Gardener program here at this time, maybe next year.

I'm thinking grasses, prairie plants, natives and such but must learn what those are first. Direct me with specifics, please :-) I will be posting a photo soon of the house around which I will be gardening to give you an idea of the style of the structure to which the gardens will be married.

As I begin this new gardening journey, I will document with photos and journal entries my progress. Whether successful or not, you can join me in my new experience.

Come along and let the experiment begin! I look forward to your suggestions.

I Have These Days . . .

2009-12-21T13:14:00.006-06:00

There are days, such as this one, that others think I am far stronger than I am.

There are days of self-doubt and wishful thinking for times and events in the future as well as times and events of the past.

Am I doing the right thing? Was that decision the best possible? Was it made too quickly? Did I delay too long? Would that I could know the beginning from the END! Or would I truly want to?

So, I go with my gut whose feeling is born of the wisdom of my elders, the experience of my past, the hopes for my future, the dreams blossoming in my heart and just plain common sense. Knowing I've not ever been perfect, nor will I ever BE perfect, I can accept my choices and plan for the best. If what happens turns out to not be the best course of action, I can readjust mid-course and set sail for a new course, a new destination.

(Although, my hair may much more less in quantity and/or shorter than it was before *smile*)

Life evolves, as I do. Which, as I might remind you here, is healthy. After all, have you ever smelled something stagnant? Anyone who knows me intimately, understands I do not sit still (unless my ankle is broken and even then I am challenged to do so). I do not stand still. Even physically, I move quickly and with purpose. I want to be on my way. Somewhere. Somewhere beautiful, fulfilling, fun and where there is love.

This is what I wish for those in my life, as well. If ever I can be a star ahead of you, at a place to where you've not yet gone, to guide you with the light that has come from my own experience, I am here. To listen, to encourage, to lift up.

I AM on my way. I will be SURE of my direction until something indicates to me otherwise, then there is the possibility that at that time, I will be incredibly UNsure :-)

But until that moment, you may still find me, on my way to the rest of my life.

Not Quite the State of the Union. . . but a State of My Life

2009-12-09T00:27:00.014-06:00

Where do I start? The photo to the left could very well be one of my beginnings. It was a significant milepost in my life. You might say, this is a reflection of the last several months, somewhat of a "State of My Life".

I've been doing much thinking of late. You know, about my life and all?

About new beginnings. (Does that mean I have old endings? If I've started over, does that mean I ended under?)

I've realized that there are no do-overs but there are indeed start-overs. That I can begin anew (after I've ended a-old?). That nothing ever goes as planned but then who ever said it would or that it should?

Now, for an Oscar moment.

Beginnings. I'm thankful for them. I'd like to thank my parents for my very first beginning, for without them, I'd not be here today to begin again. There are many of influence who have been a part of each journey around the sun, who without, I'd not be here today. Literally.

Endings. I'd like to thank those along the way who were responsible for the many endings in my life, for without them, I'd not have had the strength, the courage, the inspiration or the need to start over. Many life lessons were learned along the way, making me the woman you see here before you today. Frankly, I like her and am thrilled to get to know her, continuing to make her acquaintance each and every dawn.

Other than the love of family and some friends, there is virtually nothing that remains the same in my story from last year's chapter to the new one being written. Not my job (figuring that out), not my marriage (it's no longer), not my home (it's a small apartment), not who lives with me (I am now totally alone without parents or kids or spouse), not the technology I am used to (learning Mac), not the part of the country in which I reside (now CO), not my finances (very poor but hey I'm not starving), not the weather (way colder here), not what I own (not much besides my car, wait the bank shares it with me), nor even who I am (which I might mention is indeed, the BEST part!). Yes, it is unnerving and extraordinarily sad many, many times and I remain cynical, quite hard actually, not able to open up fully to anyone. But you know what? This new chapter is also exciting! Challenging! An adventure! I can only be a BETTER woman because of it. Right?! Yes! You'd better believe it. Because I know it. I'm living it.

I am loving my life, as uncertain as it is at the moment.

What I do know with absolute certainty, is that I am okay, I WILL be okay. That I am loved.

None of which would be possible without the love and encouragement of many. The Many, who have joined me on life's journey from ALL walks of life, have entered through varied portals. Yes, portals even such as Twitter, MySpace and Facebook :-) Someday, I may tell you stories of the parts each have played in my life. I am defined by numerous things, not simply any ONE.

And I am rich. My life exhibits a richness, woven with the unique threads brought into my life by those who I've met not only early in my life but also those who have graced my life with their presence in the recent past. For now, suffice it to say: I am blessed by each one of you. I would not trade you for all the tea in China or all the coffee at Starbucks. I love you. I am here because of you. I THRIVE because of you.

I am finished with merely surviving. Watch me. I am on . . . my . . . way!

Thank you!

Now, I would like to thank my loyal agent, my adoring and faithful fans and my hard-working publicist . . .

Stop Ducking the Zukes

2009-08-15T15:42:00.006-05:00

This morning, I came across a wonderful sounding recipe from DDaisy, someone I follow on Twitter. The recipe is for Chocolate Zucchini Bread and is on her blog: Compost Happens. This prompted a small exchange with cityslipper about zucchini being the butt of many gardeners jokes. Btw if you are a Twit, or should that be Twitterer (?), you really need to follow cityslipper, too and check out his blog.

At any rate, I felt sorrow for the oft neglected and much aligned garden outcast, aka zucchini. So, I am here to stand up for "zuke" and shout it's merits to the world! Below is a recipe using this diehard (and yes, it isn't easy to make this plant die, it is quite prolific!) squash. If you do not tell the person eating it that it contains "zuke", they will not know.

The next time you see someone headed your way with this treasure, don't run, don't duck! Hold your hands!

So, go bake this up, let it cool, then sit down with a large piece and a glass of ice-cold milk. Chocolately and moist and cake-like, it is utterly delicious! Before you finish the last bite, you too will be a fan of this step-child of the garden! Stay-tuned for more recipes using zuke! You won't be sooooorry!

Brownies

2 cups flour

1 1/4 cups sugar

1 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 teaspoons soda

1/2 cup cocoa powder

1/2 cup oil

1 egg, beaten

2 teaspoons vanilla

2 cups grated, unpeeled zucchini (important! grate it into very fine shreds, i.e. NOT like a carrot)

Combine dry ingredients. Mix oil and egg. Stir into dry ingredients. Add vanilla and zucchini. Mix well. Spread into greased jellyroll pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 18-20 minutes or until done (the old toothpick test).

Icing

1 cup sugar

1/4 cup milk

1/4 cup margarine

1 cup chocolate chips

Mix all ingredients together except chocolate chips in a sauce pan. Cook for 1 minute or until sugar is dissolved. Add chocolate chips. Beat well until chips are melted and then spread quickly on brownies.

I was going to recommend you cover the leftovers after you eat some but at my house they don't last that long! :-)

A Direct Sower of Seeds, I Am Not

2009-08-12T19:12:00.011-05:00

Yes, it is waaaaaaaaaay overdue for the report on my seed experiment from the spring: direct sowing after chance of frost instead of starting my seeds in my greenhouse in the early spring.

Normally, I do not cut to the chase but today I will allow myself. So you are spared :-)

It was a dismal failure. For instance, the above photo. Now, in my defense, after I sowed these sunflower seeds we had mucho rain. Noah kind of rain. Maybe not 40 days but pretty darn close. As you can witness, I've moved onto other endeavors with the weeding of this plot being last on my to-do list. The viable beds being more important. I apologize for it's untidiness.

Seeds that were sown in the long border did nothing. Seeds I intentionally planted in my containers did not germinate (Maybe it was the seed vendors fault! Maybe I was shipped faulty SEEDS!). BUT the seeds that fell from the plants that grew in those containers LAST YEAR, germinated and did fine!

Seeds planted in the raised bed garden germinated half-heartedly so I threw some zinnia seeds that were hanging out in the garage into the beds there and they have done fine. I did discover that nasturtiums do not like the heat and humidty prevelant in my raised bed garden. This area has a microclimate of it's very own. However, I think I am on to something with herbs in that space and if I am here next spring, I will explore doing more with those. The birds love that garden and I would welcome opinion as to whether the seeds might have fallen prey to my feathered friends.

It's a mess, both from the storm the other night and my neglecting to pull out the bolted plants, but as you can see, some things have grown.

All in all, I have learned that direct sow doesn't work for me. More success was had when I started seeds in my greenhouse in early spring. Sure, it took more baby-sitting, or seed-sitting if you will, but the results were worth it.

Hey, you'll never know unless you try! Now, let's go get dirty! Happy gardening!

Confessions Of An Insatiable Chocoholic (or What I Do With MY Hershey!)

2009-08-11T15:41:00.017-05:00

Green/Natural. Chocolate. Fragrance. Chocolate. Healthy. Chocolate. Tasty! Chocolate!

Need I verbalize how often chocolate has been on my mind of late? Anyone who knows me is well acquainted with my incredible love affair with the decadent sweet and also is aware of the fact that I am no longer a spring chicken!

How can I enjoy chocolate satisfaction without it either ending up padding my jeans or stuffing my arteries? Yes, I am aware of the health benefits of a little bit of dark chocolate once in awhile but forgive me, I am decadent in my use of chocolate. I want to eat vats full of milk chocolate, preferably German or Swiss. I want to bathe in hot chocolate. I want to load my shopping cart down with Hershey bars as I enter the checkout at WalMart. I want to feel the richness of it's taste as I devour a pan of chewy brownies or drown myself in a gallon of melted rocky road or cookie dough ice cream luxuriousness.

Okay, so you now get my point. If I were to indulge my fantasies, I truly would resemble Jabba the Hutt already (as a dear, sweet, annoying friend of mine implies quite often, I might add). But nay, I do not. Not yet as of this writing anyway.

Back TO the point, sorry I digress. Not only do I have to be considerate of the caloric consequences of my corpulent consumption of the confection but I must also be thrifty or the sheer amount of my purchases would break my emaciated piggy bank. Hmmm. How to enjoy this treat without having to constantly purchase a new "fat" wardrobe (girls, you know what I talkin' about here) and how to do it economically?

I will confine myself to using a readily available, low-cost, tasty brand. Godiva, Ghiradelli and many others are indeed delicious but more expensive to indulge in. To satisfy my constant cravings, I will use Hershey. I have found Hershey to be robust, silky smooth and deeply satisfying on all levels and compatible with my pocketbook. While I appreciate the finer points of more exotic chocolate, I found Hershey to be perfect for me.

Next, how to enjoy Hershey without sending myself to Weight Watchers or an early grave? Other than the obvious avenue of consuming the Hershey candy bar (btw, I discovered if I exercise with a Hershey I actually lose weight!), could I discover another way in which to luxuriate in it? Yes, I use it in my body scrub. Have you ever showered with anything Hershey? Personally, I have found it to be a divine experience!

Bath and Body used to make a bodywash and lotion called "Wickedly Hot Chocolate" which I used but it was available for a limited time only. Since then I have had to become creative in how to replicate a body product which was both good for my skin, green, inexpensive, AND smelled and tasted like chocolate (in the event I was starving to death in the shower and needed something to eat to sustain my very life! Not that I would eat it, mind you except in an emergency but I might lick my fingers before scrubbing!).

I came up with a body scrub recipe using natural/green ingredients from around the house to which I could add some Hershey's syrup for that luscious and decadent aroma of chocolate. It contained ingredients that are good for my skin, that exfoliate and moisturize while feeding my senses and not my fat cells! When using the scrub, I first wash with soap/bodywash and follow it up with the scrub, rinsing VERY well. Following is the recipe:

1 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup oil

1/4 cup honey

1/2 cup Hershey syrup

1/2 cup white sugar (more if you prefer a drier scrub but that makes it harder to use)

Mix and store in a container in the refrigerator, taking some out ahead of time unless you like a COLD scrub. Mark the container "Do Not Eat" or invariably a teen will come along and think it is brownie batter and eat it.

Please, mix up a batch and go enjoy yourself while treating your senses and your skin to a decadent experience. And if you are up for a little romance . . . invite your significant other :-)

(And yes, I did eat the Hershey bar :-) Just can't be around a Hershey and not eat it!)

A Boy, Then a Man, Always My Son

2009-08-06T04:08:00.010-05:00

He's 17. A man. A boy. Some days a boy in a man's body but more often than not, he's fully a man. Well on his way to adulthood.

I love both of my boys, my eldest is 22 but this is about my youngest.

Because of the late spring timing of his birthday, he enters his junior year of high school chronologically ahead of his peers, often more advanced/mature than his classmates. Yet not in all ways, he remains foolish at times, as we moms well know.

Lately, although he will tell you forever, I have struggled with his growing up. Struggled with letting him go. How can he be ready to face the world on his own soon, when he cannot even remember to pick up the wet towels off of the wood floor? Or remove the dishes with leftover food in them from his room before they become moldy? Weighty issues certainly. Is he ready for more independence? Is it time for his dad to step up more? Is that what a young man needs? Does he still need his mom in the same way he did ten, or even five, years ago?

A couple of months ago, I asked him if he needed me around anymore. He hemmed and hawed, trying to find a politically correct answer, a fragile balance between the truth and his mom's feelings. In the end, what he came up with was: I'd trained him well how to take care of himself i.e. doing laundry, taking care of pets, cleaning his room, studying for class and going to work. How, he asked, would he grow up if I don't now let him be more independent and put those skills to work? But, I asked, did he need me here in order for him to be able to do those things? No, he said, but he would like to have me around sometimes. I think specifically to make tomato-potato soup and mashed potatoes for him and maybe to schedule his haircuts and buy his deodorant.

His reponse has caused me to do much thinking since then, especially in the last couple of weeks. We had another conversation just this week at which time he read this missive. How tightly do I continue to hang on? Is it for him or for me? He's made some pretty stupid judgment calls but then so have I. Does he need help navigating the shoals in his life that threaten to wreck him? Does he need me day to day, literally onsite? Or is it more being available in his life when he needs me?

These last few weeks I've been faced with decisions about my own life as I close one chapter and begin another anew. I am dealing with the dissolution of my marriage and somewhat, my family. Wondering, do I stay in this toxic environment that threatens to destroy ME? Would my son be okay with his dad? Would he suffer if I moved to another place but was able to be local frequently?

Much more discussion needs to take place, but I've realized he will be fine no matter where I am, as long as we can be together frequently in person and always available by some kind of electronic media.

So, if knowing he will be not only fine but successful, I now begin to explore where I want to be: New England, Michigan, Colorado, even Ohio. Where? There are a myriad of factors to be weighed as I contemplate my own future. Each place having significant reasons to relocate there i.e. family, work possibilities, friends, quality of life, cost of living, etc. Some places calling to me more than others. Sooner rather than later, it looks like I can plan a change, which I am currently doing so. The next part of my life awaits. And with his blessing.

What I do know for certain is this: I raised a fine young man, independent and capable of being more so, as he nears graduation. Independent . . . but still loves his mom. I must relate a recent discussion we had. I had told him some truthful, yet disturbing news about me. He put his arms around me, told me he loves me and understands. And could I please fix some of my great mashed potatoes for his girlfriend for her birthday?

Told you he needs me for some important things :-)

I am proud of him. He can be launched into young adulthood no matter where I am physically, in relation to him. I can be available for him whenever and wherever he needs me, whether I am here or there for he is in my heart, and I in his.

He was a boy. Now he is a man. But he will always be my son.

Au Naturale

2009-07-20T08:24:00.011-05:00

Natural.

Merriam-Webster defines it many ways but I suppose the definitions that speak to me are:

1. Closely resembling an original; true to nature; marked by easy simplicity and freedom from artificiality, affectation, or constraint; having a form or appearance found in the ordinary course of nature.

2. Growing without human care; not cultivated or artificial; existing in or produced by nature.

3. Having an essential relation with someone or something.

Natural, to me, denotes a freshness, a simplicity, uncontrived whether it is in relation to my food, my clothing, my environment, or my relationships.

Natural is the sweet, juicy taste of a sun-ripened melon or tomato as I bite into it. It's very essence dribbling down my chin. The heartiness of a whole-grain homemade bread with a savory soup on a cold winter evening giving sustenance to not only my body, but my soul, with it's warmth.

The cool caress of a linen dress on a summer day. The whisper of silk against my skin on a romantic evening. A thick, white cotton towel blotting away the droplets of water after a refreshing and leisurely swim in the pool.

The simplicity of the plants in the forest, the meadow, the mountain or the beach. Nature knows just how to wear her adornments for the best effect. Unfortunately, we have learned how to mess with her world and upset the balance, so that what was once beautiful is now destroyed by our excess and desire for control. I think of the pine beetle catastrophe in the Rockies and how if our natural world weren't so blighted by our chemicals, I can't help but think we wouldn't be suffering from so many of these disasters. This upset of what is natural, resulting in a landscape that will be forever changed. And that my friends is no exaggeration.

(Now, as I speak from my own personal soapbox, I must admit I struggle with being satisfied with the natural i.e. I cannot abide the natural color of my hair :-) But maybe if it weren't for the chemicals in the air, I wouldn't have to put them on my hair to rid myself of the gray! COULD pollution be the cause of my follicles ceasing to produce color?!) I digress . . .

Naturalness in relationships. A relationship marked by being natural is simple, freeing, joyful and fulfilling in the most beautiful of ways. It is almost "effortless" and when a relationship hits a snag and does require more effort, that effort is a natural extension of love for balance. To enjoy a relationship in which I can be myself, who I am naturally, and be not only accepted for it but embraced for it is pure heaven and a veritable utopia.

Live just as YOU ARE. No artificiality or constraint, throwing abandon to the wind and just reveling in the freedom of being.

Enjoy the natural. You will feel balance. You will create balance in your world for future generations.

But most of all, BE natural.

You will be loved for it with a depth that penetrates to your very core and overflows into your life with an abundance that is fullfilling beyond all measure or comprehension. This I know, because I am experiencing it this very moment.

So, today? Be you. It's a natural thing to do.

Eeny, Meeny, Miney, Mo aka I'm Confused!

2009-05-06T13:15:00.013-05:00

Vacation. Yep. That is the second most consuming thought currently in my mind. The first being "I wish I was well!" I'm abysmally sick. So, what with the broken and sprained ankle, the unrelenting rain, and now suffering with the mother of all kinds of respiratory flu, the day is leaving me with much time to think (probably waaay too much). And I am thinking about where in the world I'd like to go. To keep my travel agenda better organized i.e. so I don't forget, I've made a list of where I wish to go and why:

Germany - My mother immigrated from Germany at the nubile age of 19. My father valiantly fought there in World War II. Both would like to share their history and the history of the country with me. It is a beautiful place.

Turks and Caicos - The beaches are to die for, life is luxuriously laid back and there are areas in which to relax in virtual, if not total, seclusion. You know what that means ; ) Photography! Yep! ; ) Of the natural kind . . .

Bay of Fundy, Nova Scotia/New Brunswick - The Bay of Fundy is known for its high tidal range and the bay is contested as having the highest vertical tidal range in the world with Ungava Bay in northern Quebec and The Severn Estuary in the UK. Facinating! It must be striking to watch the tide come in and depart.

Prince Edward Island - Being a voracious reader of the Ann of Green Gables series of books, it is a no brainer. I still reread the books. Faeries and wood nymphs anyone?

New England - This is an area I frequent and NEVER tire of, especially Boston, the Cape, the White Mountains, and the Bar Harbor area. I am in love with Mount Washington (I would marry it, if it could manage to say 'I do'!) and it's extreme conditions but because of my cold-induced urticaria, I can only visit in the summer. Super bummer.

The coast of Florida - I love beaches. Nuf said! One of the Florida areas I like the best is Destin/Ft. Walton. I love the feel of the sun on my skin! Basking in the heat. A cool, fruity drink. Mmmmm. My daddy says it will kill me but I think I'd rather go that way than "baconating" myself to death like he is.

Williamsburg/Yorktown, Virginia - Colonial history is one of my hot buttons (touch it and see what happens!) and I must see life as it was (or as close as I can get to it) and where the Revolutionary War essentially was won. I simply must! Autumn with it's crisp air or Christmas with it's colors of joy would be an awesome time to revel in history past!

Alaska - The cruises are out for me, bummer, but I could do Denali and the southeast rainforest in the summer. I would LOVE to do this: http://www.alaskacanopy.com/ !!!! Photography on this trip would be amazing! Wanna join me?! We could zip right on out there!

Hawaii - Loved the first time! But who says the first time is always the best? I yearn to go back to see another island such as Lanai. The less commercialized, the better. The Kona coast of the Big Island is fabulous! Arid, no rain!

Negril, Jamaica - It has an out-of-this-world beach! Cliff diving at Rick's Cafe is exciting to either do or watch. And no, I won't go back to the Hedonism II with you this time either.

Australia/New Zealand - A land of contrasts! The lushness of NZ and the starkness of parts of Austrailia make for a thrilling time spent in two very different places and cultures. Plus, my favorite physical therapist is from there and he made me curious. Again, great photography!

Europe - There are areas of this old continent that appeal to me more than others. I mentioned Germany already. Other areas of interest include the gardens of England and France, the Italian countryside, the coast of Greece and the city of Prague. Spain and Portugal are maybe's but my grandmother used to go there and she often touted the fact that their beaches are topless. Let's remember now, she got me a nose job, not a boob job. And I am now 46 : ) Blech! Somehow topless and my grandma don't go together that well in my mind.

Every other year Susie, one of my very best friends, and I take a "chick trip" together. 2010 is our next trip and we are thinking someplace in Europe. We need to figure it out yet. Send suggestions!

I have been to every U.S. state but Alaska and enjoy revisiting most of them. Would love to head back to the Rocky Mountains (anyplace along the range), Black Hills, Salt Lake or my home state of Nebraska (the panhandle portion).

Decisions, decisions, decisions. I am not sure yet where I am vacating to in the near future, but I will let you know when I get back! If you'd like to travel with me, drop me a line! I love to pal around!

I would love to hear where YOU would like to visit and why! Pick a place and let's dream together : )

A Goldilocks Morning

2009-04-27T08:27:00.005-05:00

Yes, it is a Goldilocks morning. The variety of which is usually only found in movies, art, or music. This day, it was apparently my good fortune to be in the middle of such a beautiful and moving composition.

It is early with getting Brawny Boy up and at 'em which is no simple feat in and of itself! While he begins his a.m. ministrations to get his cute carcass presentable for the girls at school, I lay on the sofa in the living room wishing I could be back between the sheets for it was a late night and will be a hectic day.

The windows of the living room are oriented to the rising sun which is quickly on it's way to it's daily zenith. The rays of sunshine stream into the room and over the sofa on which I relax. Liebchen is on her perch at the window, napping in the sun's warmth, waiting for a squirrel to make it's usual early appearance in the front garden looking for leftover acorns. Keira, not be be left out jumps up to join me in my morning appreciation, stretching her long puppy body on mine. At six months, her feet reach my ankles and her muzzle meets my chin. She lays here softly breathing. She likes the feel of her breathing, snuffling, underneath my chin, has done this ever since she was tiny. Her heart beats out it's strong, rhythmic beat against my heart. Since when did she get so heavy?

The windows are open, drawing the air from the front of the house to the back. There is a breeze, it is pleasantly cool and purely refreshing. Sounds of an assortment of birds play the music of nature and they sing of the newness of the day. Joining them in four-part harmony is my cockatiel, Oleo, making sure the world knows "Oleo is a pretty, pretty, pretty bird". Every once in awhile throwing even more "prettys" in there, when he is feeling especially "cocky" : ) He wolf whistles at my 83 year old father like a testosterone befuddled construction worker might whistle at a hot babe on the street. My dad says it's good for his ego and whistles back at Oleo to return the favor.

My eyes are closed in relaxation and wonderment "How is it that I am so lucky to be blessed with such a day as this?". What did I do to deserve this gift? Nothing. I woke up breathing.

How do you feel about your day? How will you think of it as you move through it's portals? How will you use and enjoy it?

I am blessed you took the time to enjoy my morning with the the sun, the breeze, the birds, Keira, Liebchen, Oleo, my daddy and me.

Namaste. I wish you this day and I wish you well.

Surprise of the Tree Peopy

2009-04-24T12:30:00.008-05:00

The day I went to Little Rock for my non-existant hair appointment, it would have been a waste of time and gasoline if I didn't take advantage of the opportunity to visit my favorite plant nursery, River Valley Horticultural Products. YES, the nursery is good enough to drive approximately 225 miles round-trip for even when I don't HAVE a hair appointment. I usually make a day of it with friends eating lunch out, taking the truck for our haul. Having just the car that day, though, limited what I could bring back.

One of the plants I brought back that day was a tree peony (good place to mention that often I type peopy instead of peony but I mean the same thing). I'd been wanting such a plant for my woodland garden area, the sunnier portion, and this one was priced for clearance because the marker had been lost somewhere along the way. The nursery personnel had no clue as to it's color, etc. Not one to pass up a bargain, I bought the just emerging plant and took it home.

Eagerly, I anticipated it's bloom. Each day checking to see if there was a bud. When the bud appeared, checking for evidence of it's color. Have you ever in your haste, picked a bud and tore it apart for a peek at the inside? I resisted. I've done it before and it tells you nothing! So I waited. Patiently. Not something I am very good at, I might add. Just ask my orthopedist. The anticipation was exciting! Somewhat like Christmas, waiting to be surprised by what was in the package underneath the gaily decorated tre. Hoping for that Malibu Barbie, not Skipper. I was hoping for a peony with bright red blooms or some equally exotic color! Please, just don't be white! No plain vanilla! Not bland! Not boring old white!

It bloomed.

White.

Surprise! Off all the sorry luck. It was like getting underwear and socks for Christmas.

It unfurled slowly, first a ball, then a cup and finally a saucer. I watched it over a period of days. Surprised each day, at how large it was getting and when I thought the bloom had peaked, it hadn't. It continued to get bigger and bigger. The fragrance is heavenly, unbelievable, intoxicating. The color . . . elegant, lovely, delicate, classy, simply beautiful. Strong, for the 30 mile per hour winds are buffeting it to and fro. As you walk past the area, heading to the back of the house, or are exiting the car, you smell it. This small plant is only about 16 inches tall . . . and the blooms range from 6 to 8 inches across! Bigger than my daddy's hand!

Surprise! I abso-freaking-lutely LOVE this tree peopy! Peony! (Pronounced pee-O-pee)The outcome was not what I expected and frankly, it was not what I had wanted but I LOVE it.

And that surprises me.

I appreciate it for what it is, all the things I mentioned above. If we could do this in our lives with other things, people for example, think how much more content we would be. The tapestry of our lives would be more diverse, rich with experiences and broadend horizons. Think of how much more love and acceptance we would be blessed with. And Peace. That is what I want for my life and that is what it will be.

All because of an unidentified . . . little yet big . . . tree peopy. Surprise!

Mission Possible, My Dear Watsonia

2009-04-13T08:57:00.033-05:00

It was a dark and stormy night. No, wait. I'll go another night, the wind and rain will mess up my hair.

It was a dark and oh so extraordinarily, still night. The air was thick with humidity, the consistency of grits. If a tree fell in the forest this night, no one would hear as the sound waves would stop dead in their tracks, resisting penetration into the thick, night air. Regardless, STEALTH was still the operative word on this night of:

Mission Possible.

Not long before this night of adventure, I'd stumbled onto knowledge of a rare and beautiful plant. A plant, without question, I had to possess. It was not enough to gaze at it from afar via a photograph on the internet. After all, are photos ever really enough? Would you not rather enjoy an object of such fascination in the flesh and blood? Or in this case, cellulose and chlorophyll?

And what is that object of my affection, my dear Watsonia? Yes, that's it, it's elementary my dear, Watsonia! Watsonia!

The search began, countless hours and days I scoured the web like a gardener crazed, to no avail. If people grow this, where in tarnation do they obtain it? Well, you can kiss my aster! It came to me like a bolt of lightning out of nowhere! The one person to possess it in this land of plenty? CYNTHIA! Apparently, unbeknownst to the rest of the known world, she had procured it and cornered the horticultural market of this stunningly beautiful plant, placing it in her fine garden of one acre.

Suuuuuuuuuure, Cynthia comes across as friendly enough and generous enough with all of that pesky goatsbeard she tries to divest herself of, offering it to unsuspecting gardeners like myself. But she has a deeper, more sinister agenda with my dear Watsonia: a monopoly for herself.

For all intents and purposes, having Watsonia for myself was seemingly a mission impossible.

After much thought and counting of precious pennies, I determined a trip to South Africa to obtain the beauty (Watsonia, not Cynthia) was out of the question in my current financial straits. The only other alternative? A daring mission to alleviate Cynthia of the treasured flower. Guarding such a rare beauty would consume far too many of her resources and being the friend I am, how can I let her drain herself that way? Unselfishly, I plotted to come to her aid . . .

Later, after consulting adventure guru Harrison Ford, a wise guy, for tips on how to obtain such treasure, I ended up disregarding all of his advice as too dangerous and formulated my own plan. After all, what does he know about taking care of hair and keeping outfits clean while swinging on vines? I would have that plant, come you-know-what (my mama won't let me say that word, after all, I DO have standards) or high water. So I devised my plan and waited until the flower was in bloom so I'd know which plant it is (because she has such a godawful variety of them I had to be sure which one it was I was going to 'borrow' and her garden is large). Maybe I should have consulted a garden coach . . .

The night arrived in full splendor. (Why it was splendous, I have no clue but just wanted to say it). The stars were winking as if they knew my secret, that indeed that night, the flower would be mine! I drove what seemed like forever to her beautiful garden, into the depths of the unknown, somewhat like a holler in Kentucky, falling into nowhere at the ends of the earth. Parking my getaway vehicle behind some trees, I got out and advanced on foot to her garden, lit only by those damn stars that wouldn't refrain from going on and off. Where was the moon when you needed it?! Oh, forgot, I brought a flashlight! One of the solar-powered jobbies, as I am somewhat of a greenie. Funny thing about those, how do they work at night when there is no sun?

So, I went back to the getaway truck (because real women drive trucks) and got a battery-powered ungreen flashlight that actually worked, making mental plans to return the other one for a refund since it didn't work at night as promised.

Flashlight in hand, I advanced AGAIN, towards the prize, being wary of her guard cat, Tootie. I hoped that Tootie would recognize me from my picture on MySpace where I had seen her photo millions of times. She appeared to be mesmerized by the koi swimming gracefully in the pond (I couldn't actually see them in the dark but I did see them on video once and assumed they were still swimming) and let me continue undisturbed. Ever so silently, I worked my way around the garden, sometimes having to take to my hands and knees to crawl through the tangled jungle of unweeded nutsedge she so despises removing (you'd think she loves that stuff the way she grows it) and creeping over hostas. The nutsedge swaying over my head, I slithered along the ground, low on my belly on my reconnaisance mission. It was a fortuitous choice my wearing black that evening even though part of me looks pretty good in white and so I had thought of diguising myself as a moonflower. (The white would have been a laundry faux pas and who KNEW that black spandex and a cape would look THIS good at night?!). The process was made so much easier not having to drag my boot/cast behind me, the ankle healing just in time for me to wear my much-loved stilettos for this mission of retrieval. That darn clunky boot/cast/thingy would never have worked as part of such a stylin' secret mission outfit.

I rounded the pond. WHEW! When was the last time she cleaned the puddle?! I need to get Dan Eskelson down here on the double, Master Pond Scum Scrubber that he is . . . and learn her a thing or two!

Like I said, I rounded the pond and spied something. Something tall, something green (or at least I think it was green, everything looks black at night) and knobby at the top with what might possibly be solid masses of flowers. On target, I crouched down low, moving forward slowly, making sure Tootie the attack cat was still suitably occupied with her tuna casserole. Having satisfied my anxiety, I made a grab for the stem, pulling hard to wrest it from the ground, keeping the rootball intact. For as hard as the stem was and as heavy as the plant was, you'd have thought this was ironweed instead of watsonia! It felt as if it could be made of steel! That bugger must have hundreds of blooms up there for it was incredibly top-heavy, swaying in the night, back and forth and swinging wildly around, almost falling to the ground!! What a magnificent specimen! No matter, I had come this far, I was up for the task! I'd not been lifting weights for nothing! Weeks of preparation would NOT be wasted!

With the gold in my grasp, I made for the getaway truck, raced to open the bed cover, threw the massive plant in, dirt spraying everywhere in my haste before plunking it into a bucket of water!
But, oh no! Mercy me! I had to go back. I couldn't come all this way and not leave Cynthia a note! What would she think of my manners if she found out I'd been in the area and didn't stop? Grabbing a pen and pad of paper delicately decorated with a gardening motif, of course, and dictated a note to myself to leave on her door: "Hey Girly-Girl! Sorry I missed you. Stopped by but apparently you were otherwise occupied for I didn't see you anywhere! Let's have tea sometime. I'll bring lovely hats! Ta ta! Your bff, Garden Chick."

Slipping the note into the space between the screen door and the jamb, I danced an eager jig all the way back to the mission-mobile, anticipation lighting up my countenance as it does each and every time I get a new plant.

Getting behind the wheel, I could not believe my good fortune! To have the Watsonia in my grasp! Okay, in the truck bed. But to FINALLY have it in my possession! Such a monstrous one at that! The mystery of where to obtain it: solved! The mission of retrieving it: accomplished! All right, so a little guilt was niggling at the back of my brain but I knew of her hunger for new plants and I would send her some more of her first horticultural love: nutsedge (Seriously, I think she collects it). Maybe something else different mixed in, liiiiiiike maybe goats beard or 'knock-out' salvia, knowing she'd appreciate it even not knowing why she'd be receiving it.

Smiling all the way home, I mentally envisioned myself planting the new acquisition in my garden. The siting, the planting, the nurturing, the watering, waiting for it to thrive in it's new home. Such visions sustained me and kept me alert the entire way home. My hair was actually a freaky mess full of twigs and oak leaves (doesn't she rake?), my absolutely-to-die-for spandex outfit ruined beyond repair literally falling off my body, dirt smudges caked on my cheeks. Why, I'd not been that tore up since my last night of Shipe hunting!

Too sleepy to do anything other than fall into the soft arms of my awaiting bed, I thought like Scarlett, "I'll think about it tomorrow!" After all, it wasn't as if Mauro Media was beating down my door for a photo shoot or anything! (Although one could hope ; ) So, off into the land of slumber I went, drifting away into dreamland on a bed of the soft, red petals of Watsonia.

Waking into the sunshine of a blessed and glorious day, I slowly made my way to the computer with a light, yet nutritous, breakfast of champions, anticipating the installation of my new "find". Excitedly, I decided to share the fact with Cynthia that I'd "found" a Watsonia. After all, she didn't need to know where it came from and she'd be so happy for me, for we'd been discussing the search for so long. She wouldn't even notice it missing from the abundance of plants in that large garden of hers! I knew for a fact that she had three shipments coming from Bluestone Perennials ALONE anyway!

Hitting send after I'd penned the e-mail detailing my discovery, it was only a moment before she messaged back. She must've had caffeine this morning before going to her 9 to 5 to 9 job!

She wrote:

"I am sooooooo happy you were able to come up with a source that enabled you to get a Watsonia! I know how much I love mine and that you, being without one, grieved you to no end and frustrated the buhgeegees out of you. But after you plant it, would you please mind bringing my birdfeeder back?"

Drats! It must’ve been that damn cat, Tootie!

The Seeds Are Coming! The Seeds Are Coming!

2009-04-10T14:58:00.005-05:00

That is my ode to events in American history taking place on April 18-19.

The first of my few seed orders arrived today! If the weather will cooperate and hold until Sunday afternoon, I will proceed with this seed experiment.

It may be a trifle bit difficult but you would undoubtedly be surprised at what one can do while carefully crawling around the garden in kneepads. Think being out on Army maneuvers. To motate from one garden to the next with my supplies, I propel myself around in my garden wagon with my good leg. A process of transportation that works terrific! The garden wagon contains anything and everything I might need in the course of the planting, including my fountain Diet Coke from Micky D's and my iPod. Where there is a will, there's a way and there is nothing driving me like being out in my garden doing something!

Planting may take twice as long but then in my exasperation, I remember, it is about the journey, not the finishing. Although, I would like to complete the my planting before autumn arrives! Any hole digging I will farm out to an able-bodied young man such as Brawny Boy (my son). There are a few remaining plants to move. I'd like to complete such said work before the opening of the pool in May.

Here I go! Stay tuned!

"Raindrops on Roses . . ." These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

2009-04-08T12:50:00.015-05:00

Recently, someone posted a video on FaceBook of a crowd of people overseas in a station breaking into dance and song spontaneously (yeah right, they ALL knew the exact choreography) to a song from the movie 'Sound of Music'. The song was 'Do, Re, Mi'. On occasion, when I hear that piece it naturally leads me to sing "My Favorite Things". The 'Sound of Music' is one of my all-time favorite movies. In fact, the album was the first I ever owned as a child.

A few months ago, I undertook making a list of MY favorite things i.e. the things that make me feel good (and then I don't feeeeel, sooooo baaaaaad!). When I need a pick-me-up, I consult the list as a reminder. On my list are things to see, touch, hear, taste, smell and do. Some I can do wherever I am, some I might need to go to. Some are near, some are far (' a long, long way to ruuuuunnnn!'). Some benefit just me (' a name, I call myself!), some benefit others.

But it is MY list. What would be on yours? I would love to know if you are willing to share : )

Smiling into the eyes of the man I love right before we kiss.

Walking on the beach at Cape Cod. ALL of the Cape.
Remembering, literally, the brown paper packages tied up with string my German grandmother sent me as a child.
Remembering time spent with my grandparents. *smiles*
Laughing from the belly.
Baking cookies to give to others. (Hit and run cookie drops!)
Visiting plant nurseries.
My sister's "chicken neck".
BUYING plants!
Autumn in New Hampshire.
Listening to music of many different kinds.
Eating chewy brownies and spicy spaghetti.
Watching it snow.
Holding babies.
Blue Naked with toasted bagels and cream cheese.
BEING naked! Ahhhh, skinny-dipping on a hot, sultry, southern summer night!
Taking photographs.
The smell of lavender, mint, lemon balm and rose petals.
Mount Washington web site.
Candlelight.
Chatting with my sister, Marsha.
Losing tonnage when I've put on a few.
Time with my Vitamin "G's"
Hiking in the mountains.
Giving or getting a wink.
Getting hot, sweaty, filthy and exhausted in the garden, taking a cool shower, lathering up and lotioning down.
Traveling (especially 'Chick Trips').
Calling up friends.
Visiting gardens.
Having tea.
Basking in the sun.
Susie and Linda's laughter.
A new garden magazine.
The Apple Dumpling Gang and Home Alone.
Chocolate everything.
An island in Maine.
Meeting new people.
A spontaneous hug from my boys. Good grades too!
Sitting on top of the Scottsbluff Nat'l Monument in the wind listening to the ages.
Cuddling with the dogs.
My mom's hugs.
My dad's whistling while he works.
Reading.
A hug from or chat with a teenager.
A walk in the woods of Washington, NH.
Hearing I'm loved.
Being in the pool on a Southern sunny afternoon.
Visiting history.
Learning about something new.
A walk in the park and feeding the ducks.
Just laundered sheets.
Getting a massage from Sue.
A fire in a fireplace.
Cooking for anyone who loves to eat (like college kids!)
Sand between my toes.
Volunteering in my community.
Hearing 'no cancer' once a year.
Listening to the mourning doves outside my window in the a.m.
Sunrise and sunset.
Indulging at a Bed and Breakfast.
Fountain diet Cokes from McDonalds (a medium fry and 20 ketchups don't hurt either).
Doing yoga.
Watching it snow out the window while laying in bed.

Early nights and lazy mornings.

Living in Colorado.

Seeds of Change

2009-04-03T20:40:00.007-05:00

Seeds: another sign of change in my life. I've never ordered so many seeds in my life, not even if you were to add together all the seeds ever purchased since my diaperhood. I prefer plants already started by someone ELSE and nurtured until they can withstand transplanting into my containers and gardens. Being ready to bloom when they are planted is a nice plus.

A year and a half ago, I put up a 9 x 12 greenhouse from a kit. It looks quite nice actually. This was the first step to my becoming a "grower". Grandiose plans and high expectations had I! This also provided a way for me to winter-over my tropicals, of which I'd amassed many since my inspiring trip to Hawaii. All throughout the winter I faithfully kept it heated and watered, nursing my tropicals along and tending to the seeds that had been started in trays and various pots. Wouldn't you know?! Surprisingly, the seeds actually grew! Okay, the SECOND batch grew, after I cooked the first batch because it got TOO hot in the greenhouse. Greenhouse experiences are another topic.

The first try at growing plants from seed was moderately successful. Many lessons had been learned and I looked forward to trying again for spring of '09.

What is that old adage about good intentions? For numerous reasons, winter was not conducive to getting a head start. For other reasons, my gardening budget for this year is severly limited (ugh! you might just as well cut off my oxygen supply!). Purchasing "already grown plants" was not going to be an option this year for annuals or perennials. In addition, I felt I needed to work on my character, patience specifically. I could use a lesson in non-instant gratification and taking my time (am not that great at waiting). The answer to my horticultural and budgetary dilemma was seeds.

Now, I've never done this before, so I will keep you updated on how it goes, but I am actually direct sowing all of my seeds this year either into the ground, the keeping bed or my containers. No messing with the greenhouse and flats. No buying already grown plants. The annuals will not be blooming in mid-May and the perennials will not bloom until next year but it will be good for my character development and of course, my bank account.

I will be brutally honest about my success or failure, what worked and what didn't. I will include photos if or when the seedlings emerge if they make it that far. Frankly? I am nervous. Will this define me as a gardener? Let's hope not!

I welcome any and all tips.

Wish me luck and we're on our way . . . we've only just beguuun . . . .

Stay tuned!

"Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished." - Ancient Chinese philosopher, Lao Tzu

True Confessions: Garden Shame

2009-03-31T12:33:00.014-05:00

What was that commercial jingle when I was a kid?
"Curlers in your hair! Shame on you!" Seems to me it was for a Dippity-Do ad or some such thing? Well, it might not be for curlers in your hair, but we usually experience shame at some point in our life. Sometimes it is over important things and sometimes it is over the ridiculous.

The other day, I happened across a 'tweet' referencing "garden shame". Now what is garden shame? Webster's says it is (excerpts):

a: a painful emotion caused by consciousness of guilt, shortcoming, or impropriety
b: a condition of humiliating disgrace or disrepute
c: something that brings censure or reproach

Now, how on earth could anything like that be coupled with the endeavor of gardening or the garden itself?! Yikes! In my humble opinion, if something is growing in the garden, it is a miracle, a thing of beauty in and of itself. I sensed from what I read in this tweet, the garden shame arose from a comparison of garden appearances i.e. my garden doesn't look like Martha Stewart's or P. Allen Smith's garden or maybe even a neighbors. Doesn't that seem an unfair comparison?

As I sit here, I ask myself a few questions: Should I feel shame because my garden does not look like someone else's garden? No! My garden is a reflection of me. Am I to feel shame about myself? No! Am I a work in progress? Yes! Is my garden a work in progress? Yes! Do I have a professional gardener on staff? No! Do I have loads of time to sweep my garden clean of dirt creating an impeccable space? No! Would I, Me, Myself really want to? No! (because as we know, I like being dirty!)

If my garden were perfect, why would I need to learn, try, grow, reorganize, experiment? Where would be the fun? The "growing" experience? It may be an overused and much maligned cliche' but gardening is a journey, not a destination. If your garden becomes "perfect", seriously, you need to start over!

We are not all born to our mothers to know instinctively which plants harmonize in regards to color, texture, growing requirements, etc. nor have we all been able to obtain esteemed degrees in horticulture or design. BUT, we all CAN learn by educating ourselves through various means to become competent, if not proficient, at doing those things! Would you get to interact with other gardeners (hello tweeters!), spend billions of dollars on books, read magazines when we should be working, reorder plants to fill the bare spots made by the plants we killed or spend countless hours learning, sharing, and enjoying? Besides, design and what is pleasing to the eye can be quite subjective, opinions varying from person to person (the only person you HAVE to listen to is the city inspector if you let your grass get too high and then his opinion counts unless you want to be fined). What looks good to me may not appeal to anyone else. I like that Cereus giganteus (saguaro cactus) next to the Louisiana Iris' ! Not really but you get the picture : )

In addition, consider when you began to trod the path towards becoming a gardener. Did you learn from your grandma when you where knee-high to a grasshopper or did you begin late in life? Are you a Jedi Master Gardener with the "Force" being with you or are you more like Larry, Curly and Mo when it comes to natural ability? Janet Carson who has degrees in horticulture and has been doing it all of her adult life is farther ahead in experience and understanding than I am. Although I have "green genes", my DNA didn't make itself known until I was 28 which was 18 years ago and I still come up with hideous plant combos and plants that inexplicably die. I dare you to ask me about "the Chocolate Garden".

So, if you are having problems with garden shame, don't. Do not waste your time, energy and precious brain cells, save it for something that deserves that kind of angst and self-recrimination. Love the garden you have and garden the way you love. Gardening hopefully brings joy, provides helpful therapy and an outlet for expression, not shame. But if you are affected and suffer some shame, it might help to follow a good 12 step program, here I'll get you started:

Step One: I do not really make plants grow, God does. And we know God does not make shameful gardens. Repeat after me: I feel no shame.

Speaking of which, the only garden in which shame was an integral part and understandably so, was one named Eden. And it wasn't because the plants didn't look as good as those in the neighbor's garden (soooo, maybe they didn't have neighbors yet). Who wants to keep up with the Joneses anyway? All it gets you is a bad-ass recession!

Just to show you I do not feel shame about my garden even when I am neglectful of it and it doesn't look like the New York Botanical Garden, I posted a photo of my shrub up top. Yep! It is a 'Juniperus 'Andora Compacta' (purple bronze at this time of year). Can you tell? I just happened to not weed the bermuda grass that kept comingu up in it the entire summer and it looks p-r-e-t-t-y nasty! But hey! Life happens and it wasn't a priority at the time but the fact it survived being taken over by the "devil weed" is a miracle! And THAT, my friends, is beautiful! While I am at it? Although I make every attempt to garden as organically as possible, I have another true confession: I use halsulfuron on my nutsedge, prudently, but I do.

And I say . . . I feel no shame!

Your garden is yours. Comparison only creates envy and that kind of green doesn't grow, it only destroys. So enjoy your own garden without abandon and do your best with what you have. It is enough.

And repeat after me . . .

Viva Las Vegas?

2009-03-27T18:33:00.008-05:00

Originally, I envisioned my missive about the International Master Gardener Conference to be a daily posting of the happening of the previous day. BUT, something unexpected happened to change my plans which I will get to in just a bit.

The flight, albeit long was fairly uneventful as flights go and in spite of a four hour layover, managed to end without crashing in the strong winds we encountered upon landing. Frankly, I wanted to kiss the pilot and would have, if not for that whole locked cockpit door thing they have going now. Unexpectedly, the desert air felt as if it had a recent infusion of arctic air and to think I packed shorts, halter tops and bikinis :(

Monday was the first full day of the conference. It consisted of the traditional welcome to the community and some interesting statistics from the U.S. Department of Agriculture followed by a keynote speaker, Jeff Lowenfels, who spoke on a topic I've been curious about for some time now: mycorrhizae. I also bought his book "Teaming With Microbes" in order to attempt to understand the science behind his lecture. Although I did not realize it at the time, I realized later that he is not a scientist and so I must look closely to make sure his assertions are backed up by science. I look forward to the read.

The second half of the morning was taken up presenting various awards to MG groups for their projects. Among them: a children's garden in Lafayette, LA, a series of backyard ecosystem workshops in New Castle, DE, an inmate veggie garden in Kane Co., IL, organic gardening brochures in Toronto, ON, a waterwise garden in Sandoval Co., NM, a gardener's companion calender in Placer Co., CA and Junior MG awards for Menard, TX.

A choice could be had for either lectures or tours for the afternoon. When attending a conference of any kind, I pretty much choose lectures/learning over tours/visiting. The first session was on Latin names of plants. Although I picked up some trivia, it wasn't what I'd thought it would be and was mildly disappointed. Clearly the presenter was knowledgeable but did not share with us much as to how to understand the latin names and finished in only 30 minutes of the 60 minute session.

My second session was "Art From Found Objects". It sounded fun! It was entertaining and inspiring. While I am not a person who likes mega amounts of ornamentation in my garden space, I did come away inspired and amused. The photos are not the best since I took them of the powerpoint screen but I am going to post them so all can see some of what she collected. You may see them here as soon as I get them posted this evening.

The third and final session for the day was "Community Gardens 101". I had been anticipating this lecture for awhile! Some gardeners in my community are interested in starting a community garden here in Newport for those that are being hit hardest by the economic crisis. This HAD to be filled with information and resources! Right? Wrong! Some parts were dry and the others were inspirational (the guy HAD to be a preacher in his off time) but in the end, we did not come away with any nuts and bolts to build our gardens with.

Truly, I wish I had gone on the tours this time. Oh well, Tuesday morning would bring those! Breaking with my usual habit, I did decide to go on two tours to four different gardens instead of lectures on Tuesday. I was jazzed! Then dinner and a show that night!

Tuesday dawned cold and windy, what I was coming to expect from Las Vegas in March (*sigh*). I dressed warm but very snazzy and accompanied my fellow gardeners to the waiting tour buses. First stop, a home in a subdivision where all the homes look alike. You definitely don't want to try to make your way home on your own if you are drunk because you'll end up in someone else's bed!

Driving into the neighborhood, we all looked at each other because, surely, these tiny lots could NOT house a garden for a tour. The space was very small indeed. Surprisingly, it showed what you can do with a small space but we were still puzzled about it being a tour stop at an international conference. I will mention, the hosts were wonderful, the gardens were impeccable and the plants were well-labeled!

On to the next stop: a two acre garden. My juices were flowing in anticipation of THIS one! About all I can tell you about this garden is: nothing was labeled and what we had been told should take an hour to cover, only took 30 minutes. BUT, that was just fine with me. For upon arrival at this garden, the bus driver did not lower the bus for my exit after I'd had to reboard to retrieve something resulting in my falling off the bus, not expecting the long drop-off. Making a long story short, my right ankle broke and sustained significant tearing of a number of ligaments. Hence, why I was glad the tour only took 30 minutes instead of the aforementioned 60 expected minutes. I felt shocky but didn't want to be any trouble so I waited on the tour bus. (Shhhhhh! This is my story and I'm sticking to it! My dad doesn't need to know it happened table dancing!)

After returning to the resort, my state coordinator Janet Carson took me to the emergency clinic for treatment. Traveling alone, I have no idea how I would have managed without her assistance i.e. getting my meals, helping me pack, and transporting me. She was a Godsend! The new perspective I have gained as a 'handicapped' person was enlightening. Many a kind stranger helped me all the way back to Arkansas and for them I am extremely thankful!

Needless to say, I cancelled the rest of my trip and conference attendance to return home. Not exactly a stellar time, nor what I'd expected. Numerous comments were made regarding how much better the Little Rock conference was two years ago compared to this one. The accomodations were a disappointment in Vegas. For less money, I could have stayed at the Bellagio and will when I return next time.

The Neon Lights Tour on Monday night was fun! Take it if you end up in Sin City.

The changes which have taken place over the 20 years since my last visit were phenomenal! And while I did not have the vacation of my dreams, I met some terrific people. I look forward to seeing more of Las Vegas and doing the photography I missed upon my return . . . someday.

Leaving on a Jet Plane (better be a jet)

2009-03-21T11:29:00.006-05:00

"I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know if I'll come back again . . ."

Okay, so the verbage isn't EXACTLY right : ) But you get the picture that I am going someplace. That "someplace" is the International Master Gardeners Conference in Las Vegas, NV. I will be there from tomorrow until Friday and I simply cannot wait! What could be better than a vacation in Vegas surrounded by plant-loving people?! Not much!

The conference consists of pre-conference tours, workshops, lectures, garden tours, a trade show, food and lots of time for networking. In additon, instead of taking the post-conference tours, I am electing to rent a car and head into the desert to do some photography and sight-seeing of my own. When I explained to the parentals where I was going and what my plans were, it became apparent to me that my daddy is watching waaaaaaaaaaay too much CSI. Two hours later, he is calmer but not extraordinarily so. He has always thought I was his 9 year old ill little girl but now with his dementia, I think HE THINKS I am 3 years old :( Trust me, I will be safe. I do NYC by myself, I can do this.

Anyway, I digress. Given that my time will be spent having an absolute blast (!) I don't see myself as having much opportunity to tweet or blog unless it is late night. BUT I will share what happens at the conference with you and any photography I am able to do, upon my return (if I come back :).

This trip is special in another way as well. Going to Las Vegas, especially right before my birthday, has added significance. The trip is a celebration, a marking of a new birth in my life: of me. It is the beginning of my new life, one filled with hope, promise and joy. All things have changed recently in my life, some good changes, some painful changes but they all are part of who I am and where I am going. THAT new start is something to celebrate and embrace. What BETTER way to do that than doing what I love with people who share my passion?

So, see you later, adios, sayonara, arrivederci, auf wiedersehen! Happy spring and joyous gardening to all!

Garden, Gardeners and Garden Shows Oh My!

2009-03-20T09:20:00.007-05:00

"It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor, would you be mine? Could you be mine?"

Of course you can! If there is one thing I know about gardeners, it is this: no matter where you live or what what your zone (even if it's the twilight zone!), no matter how far away it is, no matter the gender or style . . . we are all kindred neighbors. There is something about getting dirty in the soil that brings us all together. The earth is a bonding place.

This has been a Garden Circus Week for me and while I could go on for hours and literary miles, I will try to contain myself :) Let me elaborate.

The promise of spring brings with it a bevy of garden shows around the country. Here in Arkansas, there is the "large" one in Little Rock (I use the term large VERY loosely) and even smaller county shows usually put on by local master gardeners which enjoy a very active and healthy following in my state. Last year I attended Philly and was disappointed in it's lack of practicality, monotony in repetition and ridiculous vendors. The presentations were wonderful, I must admit (Joe the Gardener was there and you must SEE him if you haven't already!). I was offered the opportunity to attend the Chicago show this year but the price I would have had to pay in order to attend was too high. So, this year I've had to live vicariously through other's experiences and their blogs, which indeed, I have been doing. I will say though, that although there are some shows I clearly did not appreciate in their entirety, I am able to take away something to inspire me in some way.

For me, the creme de la creme comes this next week. Sunday, I leave for the International Master Gardener's Conference. It is an every other year event held in different locations and I look forward to see what the desert hosts show us! Master gardeners tend to be focused on plants, sharing and the down-and-dirty nuts and bolts of gardening. THAT is what I LOVE! This will be an ENTIRE resort filled with no one but gardeners!

Which brings me to gardeners. A gardener of recent acquaintance, Garden Wise Guy, posted a YouTube link on his blog to show what is involved in physically putting together a garden show such as the one in San Francisco. The video was provided by Jayme Jenkins. If it weren't for the ingenuity of these fine people, the second-hand experience would be beyond my reach. I thank them for not leaving me stranded in the horticultural wasteland in find myself in out here on the delta.

The internet has given me the opportunity to meet some amazing gardener friends! GK, Cynthia, Hoodsie, Amanda, Michelle, Scott, Ian, and countless others. Again, if I expounded on each of them, well you know, the literary miles thing. Some friendships have even transcended the internet. I count myself lucky to have gotten to know them. All of us can learn from one another regardless of the level of gardening knowledge we feel we do or do not possess. Man! It is exciting to learn from each other!!!! I get soooooooo JAZZED about this part of my life!! Just give me some dirt and plants and I am SET!

Discovering the web site "Twitter" has allowed me to meet some fascinating people, mostly gardeners and some photographers, who have blessed me in the short time I've come to "know" them. Their garden advice, their compassionate thoughts, and funny life-advice have enriched my life in a short time. As I mentioned above, there is something about our love of the earth and growing things that bonds us together. Ahhhhhh, there is NOTHING like a fellow gardener! Certainly, I have learned that if we band together we can even help influence the gardening policies of the White House! There is nothing we cannot do. Now that there will be a garden at the National Residence, let us gardeners move on to helping our government take care of this recession thing :)

Gardens. For all we are about, for all we converse about gardening, it would all be just words if we did not apply our hand to the proverbial plow, so to speak, and create gardens. The culmination, the manifestation of our green madness: our gardens. No matter how big, 15+ acres, or how small, a container on our balcony, we grow gardens. We take pride in them, we enjoy them, we work them. In doing so, we grow, we heal, we pleasure in them and we share with each other. Across the fence, across the street, across the internet, across the miles.

I thank gardens for bringing us together. Sometimes I wonder, if everyone did gardening of some kind, if the world would be a less bitter and angry place? Would it culitvate peace and peas? Flowers and friends, instead of discord and enemies?

There is a garden I am growing on the corner at my business. It is at the third busiest intersection in our county and therefore highly visable, as am I when I am tending it (note: wear highway orange for safety, not my usual uniform!). It has furnished much enjoyment for the community and inspired others to created spots of green of their own along the highway. There is no end to the stream of people who stop in to comment on the garden or ask questions about the plants. This garden is raising awareness. A small garden can have big and far-reaching results. Even the number of cigarette butts being tossed out the car windows at the stop-light there have decreased significantly!

It doesn't take much to create a starting place for change in this world, in our communities, in our sphere of influence, does it?

But then, we gardeners already knew that :)

To Tatt or Not to Tatt: A Journey of Self-Discovery

2009-03-18T17:39:00.008-05:00

A mighty, weighty question.

Recently, I posed the question on Twitter whether I should get a tattoo, go on an exotic vacation, get a new car, etc. to celebrate the recent monumental changes in my life. Hands down, the concensus was to acquire a tattoo. Now an explanation of why this is something that requires much consideration on my part.

All of my life, I'd pretty much been taught that tattoos were body mutilation along with piercing. Now before anyone goes and gets upset, hello? That just happens to be the environment in which I was raised out on the windswept, rural, prairies of western Nebraska, a very ultra-conservative place. The only people who ever got tattoos where guys who were sailors, truck drivers or Hell's Angels. So, see where I got my thinking? And because I have been none of those . . . well , the thought just never crossed my mind.

So, when raising my boys, I taught them the same thing, horrified at the thought of my sweet little fair-skinned boys coming home with permanent black ink somewhere on their body looking like a biker. I about passed out when my eldest came home a year ago with his ears pierced. Again, only girls do that, not boys. Remember, I am from Nebraska.

But times change. And no, I am not having a mid-life crisis as my father seems to think any change signals.

All right, here's where it gets strange: I am seriously thinking of getting a tattoo. Me. The tattoo-averse chick from the prairie. Of late, it has not been a fleeting thought, it has actually been a thought that hounds my thinking! And yes, it is even titillating to think of doing it!

Now, for the extremely mind-boggling part? If this is something I were to pursue, I am actually thinking I want a snake! Yep, I fear snakes like I fear nothing else. I hate snakes. All I have to do is to look at a photo of one and that night I am haunted by vivid nightmares about them. Think of the Lonesome Dove scene where the horse is crossing the river . . . yeah, those are the stuff my dreams are made of when it comes to vipers.

About the snake and where I'd put it. I don't want a little one. I want a whipcord-thin-slim, long, black asp slithering gracefulling down my spine to the middle of my hips with the tail curling slightly onto my shoulder-blade. Classy, simple, elegant, mysterious. Of my own design. Or one like above (without the copyright info).

All of this confused me to say the least. So, I took it to my counselor. Yeah, I see one. So what? She's simply fabulous! Anyway, I shared my thoughts about it with her.

We discussed this at length. Our final take was this: I've am basically a free-spirt who has been living in a box of other people's making for far too long and the last few months have been letting myself be me, just me. In addition, I have a desire to express who I have come to know as "me" in a tangible and visible way. The choice of the snake may be a way to express my embracing of the things I have previously feared in my life. By putting it on my back instead of my arm, I display this but do not have to look at the snake all the time. It makes sense.

Still, the jury is out on whether I will acquire the ink and if I do, what form it will take. My friend "C" said she got one when she was 21 on her hip, it was Mickey Mouse. Now that she is older and has put on some weight, it now more resembles "Dumbo", the ears are larger :) I suppose one needs to be careful and think ahead when choosing the design :)

If you'd like to visualize what it would look like, check http://tinyurl.com/d8gajo If you wish, feel free to express an opinion of whether I should consider it, what and where. Doesn't mean it will change my mind, but I'd like to hear your thoughts.

A great amount of thought will be given to this, more so than I'd anticipated. It might mean more to me at 45 than 21. And maybe I will continue to wait until my journey of self-discovery has logged a few more miles.

I'll let you know!

To Spread or Not to Spread: The Musings of Garden Chick

2009-03-13T14:13:00.008-05:00

Okay. So I muse. Big deal. Sometimes I muse about vital things like the recession (which I cannot control) and sometimes I like to muse about things less serious

I LIKE to muse.

Take for example, this afternoon.

I was vigorously toweling off from my shower. Always starting with the hair, creating that messy-just-stepped-out-of-the-ocean look, and working down my body, wisking away fine droplets from my moisture drenched tan skin and that's when I noticed IT. A fine blond hair above my belly button , aka navel, but henceforth to be refered to as 'button'. Now, my belly is covered with blond peach fuzz as I would guess most bellies are, (aren't they? please let me know if I've been misinformed) but this piece of peach fuzz obviously had it's own DNA telling it WHAT to do. Because it was not 1/16" long, it was clearly 1/2" inch long. Completely had a mind of it's own! I could not let it stay that way.

Now, you might ask, what is she getting at? Beeeeee patient, I'm getting there, I'm just on the way to my shoes!

So then, back to my musing. I pull out a small pair of manicure scissors and attempt to cut it off to match the rest of it's buddies. And during this artistic act of restoration, I pinch my belly with the finger holes of the scissors. OUCH! What was that? Don't ask me how I did it. Well, when I bent over to see if I'd mortally wounded myself, I saw what appeared the be the round head of Casper the Friendly Ghost!

Huh? You ask? Well, as I bent, my belly button opened up slightly and surprise of all surprises (another blog coming on surprises)! It was white! Gasp! This can't be! (see photo of my normal navel at http://www.pbase.com/gardenchick/image/99927182)

You see, I've been tanning for my upcoming trip to the desert. Noooo, you don't have to be tan to go to the desert! But I want to lay by the pool and not blind my fellow swimmers with my lily-white winter shade of epidermis!

Okay okay. So here is where I start musing: when you are tanning, are you supposed to hold your belly button open?

Now, when I was in college, I had a friend that liked to lay in the sun. Alot. She had it down to a science, a skipping-science-class kind of science, to bask in the sun for long periods of time. Anyway, she was so extraordinarily preoccupied about what would appear white and what would appear brown, that as she reclined on the blanket there in the park, she would spread her fingers and toes so the spaces between would match the rest of her.

Well, now I get it! Because who wants to wear a bikini and have a white navel?!

So, is the answer to spread or not to spread?

Will anyone notice? Will anyone care?! Okay, so maybe no one will probably get close enough to see but I will KNOW! Am I being paranoid? Maybe, but I happen to like my button. In fact, when I had my gall bladder removed (very unglamourous subject), they were going to put an incision above my button. I said NO. That would look positively disastrous! "Go THROUGH the button", I said, which they did :) Well, I suppose this is a nonsensical issue with the other goings on in the world (which worry me too, btw) and one might think it isn't worth musing about.

But . . . I'm going to hold it open anyway, along with my fingers and toes ;) Because unlike the recession, THIS is something I can control.

Does Blondeness Extend Beyond Roots?

2009-03-13T10:58:00.011-05:00

Stardate: March.10.2009

Mission: Pursuit of great hair. For the last month . . . it has been elusive. Not a single day has it been sighted. In the mirror. In the window. In my mind. I simply must possess this great hair. Without it . . . there is no hope. Not even from Obi Wan Kenobi.

Target: Little Rock, Arkansas. Lying 97 miles southwest of my location. For blonde hair. Bottle blonde. The kind of blonde technically not given to blonde moments.

Contact: Jennifer. Paul Mitchel stylist. Gifted. Booked up the wazoo.

Report: Rushed morning. Don't comb hair (why should I?). No make-up (in a hurry). Old t-shirt (don't risk getting color on important top). Must arrive on time. Be finished on time. Another mission to be accomplished upon my return with non-negotiable ETA. Drove like a bat out of hello. Construction notwithstanding. Arrival five minutes late. Jen nowhere in sight. Concerned. Waiting. Rest of salon staff think I'm a homeless person parked on their bench out of the rain. Could be. They go to call Jen. I pull appointment note out of bag. SHIT. Instructions said Wednesday. SHIT again. Blonde moment.

Oh God. Beam me up Scotty. Please.

Clearly without the blonde for one more day. Decide to make hay while sun shines. Okay. It wasn't.

Mall not an option with looks like that. Universe was wet enough. Didn't dare cry. Went another 14 miles to favorite nursery in the galaxy in pursuit of consolation. It worked. They know me, didn't care what I look like (looked like been rained on and just coming off a 7 day gardening marathon), felt sorry for me, gave me golf cart, let me busy myself for two hours. Plants have a way of cheering me up. Ask Wall-E how well that works. Logged 222 unnecessary miles at a very unwarp speed.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stardate: March.11.2009 (correct Stardate)

Mission: Pursuit of great hair. Again.

Target: Little Rock, Arkansas. Lying 97 miles southwest of my location. For blonde hair. A bottle blonde, increasingly given to blonde moments.

Contact: Obi Wan Jennifer. Stylist of those possessing the Force (those forced to drive another 194 miles second day in a row for their hair). Yes, she IS worth the drive.

Report: Rushed morning. DID fix hair. DID put on make-up. DID wear awesome shirt. One might be forced to go to the mall. Drove like a bat out of hello. Construction notwithstanding. Jen was there. Waiting. Staff didn't recognize me as homeless person from day before. Welcomed with open arms, offering drinks. Wonder why. No SHIT-ing this day. Relaxed. Submitted to treatment.

Am now blonde.

Am worth it.

Moments and all.

Mikki's Love

2009-03-11T17:42:00.013-05:00

Mikki.

She has been my friend. For twelve years.

For twelve years I took her for granted. Thinking she would be around today, tomorrow and next year. But I have learned that nothing is forever. And that the worst thing you can do is to not appreciate those you love.

You see, this awakening, this realization comes from recently discovering that Mikki is dying.

Mikki is my tri-color australian shepherd/golden retriever dog. In these, her last remaining days, she has been "speaking" to me. Imparting cherished and important truths. Mikki my friend, my dog, has been teaching me. You might say, making sure I learn something from her. Now, it is important to note here, Mikki is a gentle, intelligent, compassionate, devoted, loving companion with a somewhat sly, yet innocent, sense of humor.

Example: she is having trouble walking but when she really wants to, she can jump up on the back of the sofa in order to see the mailman and bark wildly, for sure incessantly, at him (which has been a favorite pastime during the entire course of her life!). When she sees me looking at her in surprise, she jumps back off, slinks with a limp to the rug, lays down with a sigh, looks pitiful and sad, appearing to say "What? That wasn't me. That musta been a short-term miracle cuz I can barely walk! In fact, I'm so weak, I think I need some more of that salami and cheese."

While Mikki is still with me, which will not be for long now, I will enjoy her, spoiling her rotten with love, food and furniture rights. She is unabashedly and certainly soaking up this pampering with all she's got! Almost smiling as she reclines on the leather furniture :) I will mourn later.

This leads me to the important life lessons I think she wants me to know and remember.

If you knew your life was almost over, how would you spend the time you have left? Here is what Mikki says:

Eat anything you want like lots of salami, cheese, canned food and cat poop.
It is okay to spit out your medicine if you don't like the taste.
Spend as much time as you wish laying around on the sofa, the leather one. Oh, the bed, too.
Sleep until you get to eat again or until you have to go outside to the bathroom and then do it on the patio of you can't make it to the garden.
Let everyone else clean up after you.
Speak your mind to mailmen, UPS drivers, young whippersnapper puppies, squirrels or anyone else who catches your attention.
Don't let anyone make you take a bath, whine, they will give up. (okay, forget this one, they will give you a bath ANYWAY, don't fight it, it gets over with faster)
Lick other's ears. Like your sister's. Alot.
Pass gas when you want, they will just pat your head and say in that baby voice "Isn't that cute?!"
Look appealing so everyone who walks by has to stop and rub their hands all over you (feel you up).
Use any and all looks to get whatever you want.
Drink until it is running out the other end.
If you don't feel so hot, you don't have to exercise.
That although someone might be physically gone, the memories never go away.

And most importantly . . .

Accept love and give love completely, unconditionally, never taking each other for granted for in the blink of an eye the one you love could be gone.

If it is one thing Mikki has done exceptionally well, it has been loving me without conditions, even when I took her for granted.

I am going to spend my time . . . loving. No matter how long I have.

Can "simple" animals teach us humans something valuable? I think they can.

If you had little time left . . . how would you spend it?

A Garden or a Yard?

2009-03-01T16:26:00.009-06:00

As I speak or write to others, I often question how to refer to the area in which I toil. Is the area surrounding my indoor living space a garden? Or is it a yard? In order to arrive at the answer to a question of such magnitude, I consulted the "wise old sage", the "wizard of Oz", yes, you guessed it: the internet.

First stop: Merriam-Webster dictionary for definitions. Yard is defined as "a small usually walled and often paved area open to the sky and adjacent to a building" (yikes! a prison!), "the grounds immediately surrounding a house that are usually covered with grass or an enclosure for livestock" (thinking Plimouth Plantation here). In earlier times, the yard was where the laundry was done, the dishwater disposed of, the ahem "heap" kept, and the animals housed in our largely agrarian society. As our living became more urbanized and mechanized, our yards ceased to be the service areas they once were and we began to plant them with grasses to keep the dust down and to beautify our surroundings. Hence the yard became a "lawn".

Next, I checked the entry for garden which is defined as "a plot of ground where herbs, fruits, flowers, or vegetables are cultivated, a container (as a window box) planted with usually a variety of small plants, a public recreation area or park usually ornamented with plants and trees".

It would seem as though we as we turned away from our agricultural/rural way of living, we would have more time to pursue other activities if we planted our yards with grass (heck! taking care of a lawn is like planting a crop!). Now it seems as if we are coming full circle to a semblance of what we'd left behind. More money is being spent restoring lawn areas with other plants, trees, shrubs and flowers. We apparently are not satisfied with surrounding our indoor living spaces with a carpet of grass but are creating "gardens" filled not only with ornamental plants but food producing ones as well (there is a movement afoot to bring back the "victory" gardens of old). Places are being created, even small ones, in cities and suburbs filled with green growing things to refresh our eyes and calm our spirits as we inhabit our concrete jungle and navigate through our asphalt wilderness.

Next, I moved on to exploring the differences in the "mood" of a yard or garden to determine which catagory my outdoor space would best fit. The internet served as an excellent resource recording others' thoughts on the subject. I will begin with their thoughts on what a yard is.

Buy, buy, says the sign in the shop window; Why, why, says the junk in the yard. ~ Paul McCartney

I buried a lot of my ironing in the back yard. ~Phyllis Diller

I always thought a yard was three feet, then I started mowing the lawn. ~C.E. Cowman

A lawn is nature under totalitarian rule. ~Michael Pollan

This generation should entertain this generation. It's only fair. When I was a kid, I mowed the lawn. Now, somebody else's kid can mow the lawn. ~Tom T. Hall

A yard appears most often associated with a lawn (when was the last time the lawn was anything but a headache). Or a graveyard for the things we no longer desire (old sofas, garbage or an ex :)! Just kidding! Or the place where incarcerated people receive their exercise! It would seem, the mood set by a yard is lacking in renewal, relaxation or beauty.

Now on the other hand, here is what has been said about gardens:

The greatest gift of the garden is the restoration of the five senses. ~Hanna Rion

It is good to be alone in a garden at dawn or dark so that all its shy presences may haunt you and possess you in a reverie of suspended thought. ~James Douglas, Down Shoe Lane

I used to visit and revisit it a dozen times a day, and stand in deep contemplation over my vegetable progeny with a love that nobody could share or conceive of who had never taken part in the process of creation. It was one of the most bewitching sights in the world to observe a hill of beans thrusting aside the soil, or a rose of early peas just peeping forth sufficiently to trace a line of delicate green. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne, Mosses from and Old Manse

Gardening is about enjoying the smell of things growing in the soil, getting dirty without feeling guilty, and generally taking the time to soak up a little peace and serenity. ~Lindley Karstens, noproblemgarden.com

In my garden there is a large place for sentiment. My garden of flowers is also my garden of thoughts and dreams. The thoughts grow as freely as the flowers, and the dreams are as beautiful. ~Abram L. Urban

Ahhhh! A garden! It is sensual, peaceful, a thing of beauty. A place to dream and create. A way to nourish our bodies and our souls. I believe after reading the above and knowing how this space around my abode moves my heart, I now know there is a profound difference between what is a yard and what is a garden. Now when I converse or scribe, I can assuredly know my outdoor space is not merely a yard but is indeed . . . my garden.

Lastly,

Gardens are a form of autobiography. ~Sydney Eddison

This garden quote caused me to contemplate what my gardens say about me. That foundation and structure matter to me? That I don't need much water? :) That I love weeds? That I am creative? That I break rules? That I am vibrant? That I am not a run-of-the-mill gardener? That plant names mean something to me? That I am natural? That I am a failure? Or rather that I am a work in progress? Gardens can be a reflection of who we are, what we are about and what is important to us.

What does your garden say about you?

Begin creating your autobiography today . . . in your garden.

Another Day in My Garden Journal

2009-02-28T18:52:00.009-06:00

A day without sunshine is . . . well, a cloudy day!

The last two days were definitely NOT cloudy days! I am from Nebraska where we make hay while the sun shines so I happily spent my time recently out of doors in the yard/garden.

Hmmmm, I've often wondered aside if I should call the area in which I toil a yard or a garden? That is a musing for another day I suppose.

Anyway, whatever it is, it beckoned! Thursday dawned bright, warm, humid and quite windy. Assuredly, it was not a day for an industrious raking of the leaves (where they spawned from, I do not know as I raked all of them up in the autumn!). Not only was the day absolutely perfect for doing more clean-up of the garden but it was ripe for inspecting the ground for "almost spring" surprises. Frankly, this time of year is as exciting as Christmas for me! There is no more thrilling sight than to see a plant reawakening after winter's freeze! Okay, I can think of one but this is a close second . . . :)

Back to my gardening :) My efforts were concentrated on the front gardens, the brick patio and the "small triangle" bed.

The front gardens had liriope to be cut back before the new growth begins and as full as it is becoming, the hands quickly became sore from the shears. Roses and the woody parts of the nandina were pruned. Winter-damaged stems of the hydrangeas were cut. Dead foliage from last year was picked up. Woodland poppy seedlings were transplanted along with two clematis (a burgundy and a white) which will now grow up a new cedar and copper trellis. Pulmonaria seedlings were popping up and needed to be relocated. While tending to these chores, lo and behold! What did I see? A hosta shoot! This is the earliest ever for one to appear in my garden! Who DOESN'T believe in global warming?!

My "small triangle" bed is an area at the front door of my parent's home (a guest house in my backyard). This garden contains a variety of plants, one of which is my favorite: Black and Blue salvia. It is the best hummingbird magnet I've ever had in any of my gardens! Bees love it also. One small plant has become quite a mass and was a mess of dead, dry, sticks. This is also the earliest I've seen growth on it. But the lovliest surprise of the day came when I saw the surprise peony.

Year before last, I purchased a gorgeous orange daylily that apparently had a stowaway in it's nursery pot, for last spring Inoticed a plant that I'd certainly not installed. It was too soon to flower but was easily identified as a peony! It is pushing it's way up again this year. The anticipation builds until it does bloom to see what wonder I have! Will it be white? Pink? Red? Whatever, it is exciting! Plus, I got TWO plants for the price of ONE! What gardener does not like a deal?!

Here, I might mention, is where I explain my brick patio. Over time, it seems to have turned into a small nursery of sorts. I have a 9 x 12 greenhouse but that is where I store my tropicals over the winter season and start seeds for the spring. The patio outside my laundry door is where I store the perennials, shrubs and trees I find at close-out sales. I purchase them at fantastic prices and then use them in my community for beautification projects, mainly at the public school campus. This "nursery" is the bane of my 83 year old father's existence! You see, he is my chief waterboy :) "Are you ever going to plant these?!" What he does not realize is that I DO plant them but then buy more, constantly turning them over :) To him, if you have seen one sedum, you have seen them all. I would like to come up with another viable solution for "nurserying" them. We have a new commercial greenhouse at the school but then I would have to traipse over there all summer to take care of them.

All of the "nursery" plants need to be spruced up, pots cleaned of their debris, repotted if they are outgrowing their current containers, and moved (for the brick patio itself to be cleaned). What is fun about this job? I come across thrilling plants that I forgot I had! And of course, I see the baby plants emerging from their winter sleep. Again, the proverbial Christmas!

The above took two days of work. Why does it seem that although I spent two days working in the gardens, there is more to do than there was before I even began? I do believe the chores are splitting and multiplying before my very eyes . . . like some type of alien life from outer space!

Regardless, I had a blast! The sun was on my face, the wind chapped my cheeks and the fresh air invigorated my very soul! My three dogs had interesting adventures helping me sniff out the new shoots and making themselves general nuisances :) My dog Mikki, spent most of the time Friday laying at my feet, wanting affection which I was glad to give. She is dying and loves to be with me in the garden. There is no more fitting place for her to be for her last days.

So, to this update I add the following that are now making themselves quietly known in my garden: Cape Cod tulips, daffodils, agapanthus, canna, pineapple sage, mexican marigold mint, stachys, peony, ajuga, creeping jenny, camellia, hydrangea, azalea, achillea, clematis, buddleia, solidago, weigela, pieris, beauty berry and akebia. Think that covers it!

A history note. Last year, the unthinkable happened: I couldn't have cared any less for gardening. I wondered if I'd feel the love for it ever again as I had in the past. I now happily know the answer: a resounding YES! My passion and excitement are back as strong as ever and it has returned to become the best therapy ever!

There are many more days needing to be spent on cleaning up and I welcome each and every one of them!

Plant on baby and let's get dirty!

Mail-order Nursery Report Card

2009-02-27T19:56:00.001-06:00

With the exception of one order I placed just this last Thursday with Big Dipper Farm, all of my mail orders for plants have arrived and I thought it might be helpful to others if I shared the experience I've had with each of the various companies. Often times I am interested in purchasing from a new nursery but am hesitant, not knowing what to expect.

Here follows a report card of my findings:

Audubon Workshop - Grade A - Their prices are decent, the plants are very healthy, they are packed well, I've not had to use their customer service or their replacement/refund policy, they usually have a good coupon. I've used them in the past but have not had need of them this year. Their plants are pretty basic so the selection is not wide.

Bluestone Perennials - Grade A - Their prices are good, the plants are kind of small which is why it isn't an "A plus" but are healthy, they are packed well, their customer service is wonderful and their replacement/refund policy is great. They have good discounts and coupons. I like that most things are sold in threes. Shipping was about 13% of my total after discounts/coupons.

Breck's - Grade B - Their prices are decent and their coupon helps, their bulbs perform, they arrive in typical bags for bulbs/roots, I've not had opportunity to use their customer service or replacement/refund policy which is a good thing. Pretty run of the mill. Shipping was approximately 26% of my total after coupons.

Brushwood Nursery - Grade A plus - Their prices are competitive, their shipping is a flat fee which can be a plus, their plants are healthy and arrive in superb condition and are sizeable for their pot size, I've not had to use their customer service or replacement/refund policy. The way the plants were packed was terrific. My experience was outstanding!

Burpee - Grade D - Their prices tend to be high for both seeds and plants, two of the three plants arrived dead and all three were out of their pots with soil everywhere, they were packed poorly, I will be finding out how well their customer service and replacement/refund policy is :) Their seeds germinate reliably but I only order from them what I cannot get elsewhere because they are more expensive than all other seed vendors I use. Shipping was approximately 19% of my total.

Dutch Gardens - Grade B - Their prices are decent, their coupon helps, their bulbs perform, they arrive in typical bags for bulbs/roots, I've not had opportunity to use their customer service or replacement/refund policy which is a good thing. Pretty run of the mill. Shipping was approximately 16% of my total after coupons.

Garden Crossings - Grade A plus - Their prices are decent and are cheaper than some, you have a choice on many of the plants of the size you wish to purchase, their plants are very healthy healthy and arrive in superb condition and are sizeable for their pot size. When I contacted them about an item not shipped, they responded AFTER HOURS and told me they felt the plant did not have enough growth on it yet for them to feel comfortable sending it to me but will ship as soon as it does. I've not had to use their customer service or replacement/refund policy. My experience was fabulous! Shipping was approximately 12% of my total.

Henry Field's - Grade B - Their prices are decent, their coupon helps, their plants perform, they arrive in typical packaging, their customer service or replacement/refund policy is good. Pretty run of the mill. Shipping was approximately 16% of my total after coupons.

High Country Gardens - Grade A - (They'd be a plus if the shipping weren't so high) Their prices are great, their plants arrive healthy, they are packaged wonderfully, their customer service is great but I've not needed replacements or refunds, their focus on plants that are drought tolerant is terrific and they have plants that are not the "run of the mill". They are a very conscientious nursery. Shipping was approximately 25% of my total.

Johnny's Selected Seeds - Grade B plus - Their prices are good, their seeds germinate, I've not had occasion to need their customer service/refund policy. Shipping was approximately 20% of my total.

Park Seed - Grade A - Their prices are competitive, their seeds germinate, I've not had occasion to need their customer service/refund policy, I've not used them for their plants, just seeds. Shipping was approximately 18% of my total.

Santa Rosa Gardens - Grade A plus - I received a gift of plants from this nursery from a friend and they were in great condition, healthy, good size and packaged beautifully! I have heard from my friend who sent the gift that they are a terrific place to do business with!

Seymour Seed - Grade A - Their prices are competitive, their seeds germinate, I've not had occasion to need their customer service/refund policy, I've not used them for their plants, just seeds. Shipping was approximately 18% of my total.

Springhill - Grade B plus - Their prices are competitive, their plants arrive healthy, they are packaged wonderfully, I've not needed replacements or refunds and they have a nice coupon. Shipping was approximately 27% of my total.

Totally Tomato - Grade B plus - Their prices are competitive, their seeds germinate, I've not had occasion to need their customer service/refund policy, I've not used them for their plants, just seeds. I've read some pretty negative write-ups on them but ordered anyway and was not disappointed in the least! Shipping was approximately 19% of my total.

K. Van Bourgondien & Sons - Grade A - So far. They all arrive roots and bulbs in typical packaging. Their prices are very good, I've not had to use customer service or their replacement/refund policy, they have a good coupon. Shipping was approximately 16% of my total.

Wayside Gardens - Grade D - Why oh why do I keep ordering from them? No more as soon as I use the in-store credit up for the plants that arrived dead. They are expensive, their packaging is okay, their plants are teeny or sickly or dead, etc. I've only received one thing that was really healthy and had size, it was a liriope in a gallon pot. They have been good about replacing but it is with a plant that was as dubious as the first. They were good about a credit on this last shipment but it is a hassle. I've had many hassles with their orders. I will not order from them anymore. Nope, no, zero, nil, zilch, nada, that's it, uh uh.

White Flower Farm - Grade A - I have both purchased from them and received a gift of plants from someone who purchased them from this nursery. Their prices can be a bit high, their plant size is about what you would get from most places, they are packaged well (in fact, I received a plant that was quite delicate and it arrived in PERFECT condition!), the plants are very healthy, and I've not had to use their customer service or replacement/refund policy.

Pinetree Seeds - Grade A - Nice small company with attentive customer service. When I did not receive my order, they reshipped immediately! Great prices! Germination rate of seeds was very good.

Maybe this information will encourage you to be adventurous and try a new nursery or maybe it might give you a heads-up when ordering from others.

Regardless, I wish you many happy plantings!

Is Spring Just Around the Corner?!

2009-02-13T19:42:00.004-06:00

Nothing too introspective here. Just a heads up about what I saw in the garden today.

The weather has been warm the last couple of days with abundant sunshine! That kind of day beckoned me outside to do some weeding and cleanup of the debris which has accumulated over the winter. For you see, in my zone (7 with microclimates of 8 in my garden), weeds grow all winter long. Yes, I must weed in WINTER, too!!!

After weeding, I next went after the debris i.e. dead foliage, autumn leaves, and what did I find?! New growth! Already! Some of the plants poking their heads up through the soggy soil were echinacea (one even has a stunted bloom!), salvia, lemon balm, spearmint, sedum, day lilies, thalictrum 'Black Stockings', roses, hymenoxys acaulis (sundancer daisy), verbena, aster,, pulmonaria, woodland poppy, columbine, heuchera, and more that I've not noted here.

The hellebores are blooming but suffered breakage from the ice storm that roared through here two weeks ago. Hence, they are broken and sorry looking but there are a few courageous blooms to look at. Miraculously, the camellias are almost ready to pop and suffered not a single broken branch!

Speaking of the ice storm, there were other major causualties in the garden. The "Heritage" river birch has broken limbs at the top of the main trunks, a 20 year old crape myrtle was sheared in two, a blue point juniper was parallel with the ground and both of my full-grown willow oaks have severe damage that will require the work of an arborist and tree-trimmer. BUT, my coral bark japanese maple survived like a navy SEAL!

The neighborhood dogwoods did well under the weight of all that ice. Just an FYI in case you are looking for trees to plant in ice-prone areas.

So, I don't know about you but it was enough to get me excited about spring! In fact, this is the most excited I've been about spring in the last couple of years! I don't know what the new season will bring, but I am ready for whatever it is.

Let's get growing!

Dad and Me Together

2008-10-31T17:03:00.022-05:00

He is getting old, my dad is. He is now on the down-side of 82, tires easily and hurts alot.

And now . . . he has Lewy Body Dementia.

I'd always worried it would be his weak heart that would take him away from me before I was ready to let him go. Are we ever REALLY ready to let the people we love . . . go? Now I am worried that this new disease will take "who he is' from me before his bad heart takes his last breath from him.

So before he forgets the important things in his life, like me :) I post this for him. That he might know, that he might truly realize, how important he has been, is, and will be to me.

My daddy.

In our lives, my daddy and I have lived this poem and as we approach it's last stanza, I like to be reminded: that tho' we might be apart for awhile, in the end, we'll always be together.

My Dad and Me Together

I often think of days gone by

Back when I was a lass.

Of how I often loved to be

A taggin' 'round with Dad.

Dad taught me by example

Things that time and space can't sever.

And many a happy time we've had,

Dad and me together.

I remember once, 'twas long ago,

While walkin' down the lane,

The birds were singing here and there,

Each one his own refrain.

Dad taught me that old adage

About the truth -- birds of a feather,

And I kept thinkin' as we went,

Yes, Dad and me together.

The years passed by, and changes came --

A family of my own.

But many a time we went again

To that old country home.

Dad's steps were slow and shorter now,

But still it seemed he'd rather,

And soon we'd be a walkin' 'round,

Dad and me together.

Dad's gone now; he's left us here

Lonely, sad at heart.

We always knew the time would come,

Some day we'd have to part.

But if I, like Dad, can sail life's sea

Through rough and stormy weather,

There'll come a time we'll always be

Dad and me together.

Author Unknown

A Surprise!

2008-08-24T21:27:00.012-05:00

Tomatoes and hydroponics. Sure they go together. Strawberries and hydroponics, too. But roses and hydroponics? I wouldn't have guessed! Let me back up and explain what I am talking about.

Last May, I ordered a bareroot hybrid tea rose from Jackson and Perkins, the name of which is 'Welcome Home'. It originally was ordered as a gift for someone. Yellow happens to be my favorite color of rose, too!

It arrived in June, I put it in a bucket of water planning to send it on to it's intended final destination in a couple of days. Well, while "on the way to my shoes" I got busy and did not get it prepped to send. And it sat in the bucket of water. Although it sat right where I frequently walked, it was as if I didn't see it. My dad emptied the bucket and refilled it with fresh water every once in awhile but it remained in usually green, slimy water, neglected. I didn't really want it but didn't know what to do with it (my friends don't like roses).

Until . . .

The day before yesterday.

As I exited the back door on the way to my swimming pool, a spot of yellow caught my eye. Wonder of all wonders, that ROSE IN THE OLD BUCKET was blooming! The bush had leafed out nicely and produced three blooms! Granted they are smaller than what they should be, I was startled that it grew and produced leaves much less flowers of any size!

That tenacious rosebush is an inspiration to me! If it can suffer extreme neglect and harsh growing conditions and still bloom, cannot I do the same when my life mirrors that of the rose in the bucket?

I am going to plant that rose.

In a place of honor and where it can be seen daily, by everyone. Right by my front door. No longer will it languish by the back door.

In all my years of growing plants, never would I have guessed roses can be grown in water. Curious, I looked up roses and hydroponics on the internet and apparently, there are people doing it as you may see by the references in the following links:

Growing Beautiful Roses

An Innovative Mix: Roses, Hydroponics, and Computers

I find it fascinating that it can be done and I'd previously had no clue! Though the special meaning for me lies in the fact that mine has given me a lesson in survival, inspired me and radiates optimism.

It is more than a 'Welcome Home' rose, it is a rose of hope . . . a survivor.

Just like me.

Lessons from Shells

2008-07-26T10:48:00.002-05:00

While in Florida during April, I went walking along the beach during the morning looking for something to photograph. It wasn't extremely early in the morning so most of the shells along the shoreline had been picked over by ones who had arisen earlier (the early bird gets the worm). But there were enough to look at, nothing spectacular but interesting nonetheless. As I picked up shells and examined them determining which ones I wished to keep, I began to notice something.

First, there were far fewer "perfect, goreous, unbroken" shells.

Second, the shells that were pretty on the outside were almost always plain and uninteresting" on the inside.

Third, the shells that were plain and uninteresting on the outside were pretty and interesting on the inside. By that time, I'd picked up enough to fill the pocket of my shorts.

Laying them out, I photographed some of them and in their silence they taught me a lesson. The shells are like people. There are those that that are beautiful on the the outside but once you look at their inside, you may very well find there isn't anything attractive or worth looking at on the inside. Now, true, there are a few, very few, that are beautiful inside and outside and they may have nothing broken about them. But those are few. As almost all shells have some imperfection or something broken about them, we as people are that way as well. Most of the time, if a person thinks they have it all together, they probably do not. We are all broken or hurting in some way.

The plain shells. I discovered that if I took the time to pick up the shell and turn it over, I'd find something worth noting on the inside. The shell might be pretty, have interesting structure, be colorful or unusual. But to see it, I had to take the time to stop rather than just pick it up on the fly, pick it up and examine it. I had to look for the attributes that at first were hidden (unless it was upside down).

Such as it is with people. Most people we meet are of the average kind. Most are nondescript. Most are not considered to be part of the "beautiful" people set. BUT, if each of us would take the time to examine those people, get to know them, we might discover something worth knowing about that person. We just might find something beautiful on their inside versus their outside.

I keep that handful of shells on my bedside table to remind myself of those lessons learned in nature that morning. To look beyond the exterior.

My life is richer because of that walk. I take time to discover what is inside a person and how my life might be made better by that discovery. Most of my best friends are those shells that are exquisite on the inside. Those are the "shells" I keep.

Something learned from my years of growing and aging. Maybe aging isn't such a bad thing after all (tell that to my wrinkles :)

So, maybe I have much that is interesting to share with you. Maybe you can discover something in me that can make your life richer for the living of it. You never know.

I am headed to Cape Cod soon. I wonder what the shells there will tell me? Whatever they say, I hope the their words and the time at the shore will bring healing.

Next time you find yourself with the opportunity to visit the ocean, pick up a few shells. They might teach you. Listen, you might hear more than just the sound of the ocean in them.

You might hear lessons for life.

Motley Crue, A Motley Crew, and A Gospel Choir?

2008-06-09T01:11:00.001-05:00

Okay. What do Motley Crue, A Motley Crew and a Gospel Choir all have in common? Portfest in Newport!

Last night was the second and last day of Newport's annual summer festival called Portfest. It is a two day festival with approximately two weeks of local activities i.e. talent show, fishing tournament, 5K race, etc. leading up to the big weekend (not including the wearing of the official t-shirt which begins about six weeks or so before and is "required" wearing on Fridays around town). It seems like everyone in town has some connection to the preparations for the big event.

Friday was a long day and I was not able to make it out to any of the festivities but Saturday night I made my way out for the BIG show with some friends. While there, I made a few observations.

First, I might mention Vince Neil, lead singer for Motley Crue, was the headliner for the concert. Now when our Chamber of Commerce director announced this at our annual banquet, I found myself asking "Who in the world is Vince Neil?" It didn't matter enough to me to investigate . . . until I saw his photo on the posters . . . and found out he was with the metal band Motley Crue. To say his photo was ultra hot would be a gross understatement. I might mention here I've never heard one of their songs either. But hey, looking that good, who cares?! It also bears mentioning that most of the acts that do these festival circuits have seen their heyday and so when they show up here, they look nothing like the photo on the posters. I now realize these photos are from days gone by. So with no recognizable music and nothing to LOOK at, I tried to nap until the fireworks. But that was an effort in futility. For even though we'd moved almost a football field back from the speakers, I still felt like I was attached to a defibrillator. Every cell in my body was reorganized. Moral of the story? Sit TWO football fields away from the speakers, don't believe those guys look ANYTHING like the photos on the posters and oh, rock stars do not age gracefully, especially ones with lives like this one.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vince_Neil

Second. It is indeed a motley crew that shows up for Portfest. My life takes me out into our community on a daily basis where I know and see a good many different people. But I'm telling you, I've no idea where this motley crew comes from each year for Portfest! When the napping thing wasn't panning out, I decided to people watch. Veeerrrrryyyyy interesting . . . where DO they get those clothes? Does he realize mullets are 'out'? How can she walk in those wedges on this turf? Can they not see their clothes are waaaaaaaaaay too small? Does her mother know she is with him? When was the last time he took a bath and do guys wear shirts anymore? You would not believe the interesting humanity congregating at our little festival. Yep, quite a motley crew of our own. As these thoughts went through my head and I recognized no songs, I realized . . . I am very much middle-aged. By the way, where did Brawny Boy go to? Is he wearing a shirt?

The concert finally finished (not a moment too soon) and during the lull, I leaned back and looked up at the stars. The stars are very visible where I live as it is rural and there is very little light pollution. The temperature at 9:30 pm was 89 degrees, there was a good breeze and no humidity and miraculously, no bugs thanks to the fogging crew. The air felt like satin against your skin. It was Perfect with a capital P. There were couples taking advantage of the night and the stars (apparently Motley Crue music puts some people into a romantic mood) as we waited for the fireworks to begin which did none too soon because I didn't want to watch the couple's fireworks :) The wind wreaked a bit of havoc with the fireworks but it was still a good production with the best finale I've seen yet at Portfest.

Third. I almost forgot. The gospel choir. Interestingly, only in the South would you follow up a Vince Neil/Motley Crue concert with fireworks set to music from a gospel choir! Only in the South.

All in all, Portfest was a great time. Five years ago at my first Portfest, having just moved here, I knew one person. Now, not only was it fun to head out there with a group of my friends but I knew dozens of the festival goers around me (the 'normal' ones :) . Good friends, good junk food, perfect night, Brawny Boy behaved and also wore a shirt. What more could you ask for on a summer's night?

Next year? You're welcome to come with me . . .

My Taps

2008-05-27T01:12:00.002-05:00

"A man must know his destiny… if he does not recognize it, then he is lost. By this I mean, once, twice, or at the very most, three times, fate will reach out and tap a man on the shoulder… if he has the imagination, he will turn around and fate will point out to him what fork in the road he should take, if he has the guts, he will take it." George Patton

It is Memorial Day.

It is also eleven days from the 64th anniversary of D-Day of which I am reading about in Jeff Shaara's "The Steel Wave".

When I was born, the twentieth marking of that day had not yet even come. It has now been what seems like so long ago. But with any war, it is never long enough for us to forget. Not long enough to forget the sacrifices of the men and women in that World War or the Great War or the Civil War or the American Revolutionary War or the many other wars in which lives were lost in the cause of freedom, freedom for ourselves or for others.

Days such as this one, Independence Day or Veteran's Day have such meaning for me, affecting me deeply. Not just because I am passionate about my country's birth or it's preservation but because one of this country's heroes lives with me: my dad.

My daddy, now 82, is a World War II veteran. He was with the 78th Lightning Division, 309th Infantry, "E" (Easy) Company fighting in Germany and Belgium, the Huertgen Forest, Battle of the Bulge, the Bridge at Remagen. He was 18 years old. After slogging it out for two years in the trenches, suffering through cold, enduring days on end of fear and pain, he came home with a purple heart and a bronze star. Not the same man who left two years before but a man still, a changed man. A man proud of the service he gave his country and for which he still pays a price today.

Until 1986, after a serious incident with his health which was a result of treatment for his war injury, my dad did not like to speak about the war. As children, my siblings and I would play with the remnants of his uniform and the medals which were kept in the garage along with his military photo. The times represented by those mementos were never referred to until 40 years later. Then, it was as if a dam burst, creating a need to talk about what happened during his military service and he has since shared with us as his family, and school children where we live, the reality of war. The good, the bad and the ugly.

The stories of his experiences are varied. There are stories of bars and fights (of the drunken kind) in England, English families adopting the soldiers, stories of being scared spitless and of bravery, of ordinary people in war-torn countries who did not believe in what their evil leaders were doing, of German children not knowing the difference between their neighbors and the enemy and seeing them as they were . . . just people to love and admire no matter the uniform, of U.S. soldiers having hearts of gold and reaching out to those same children to make their day a little more sunny when their home was being blown to bits. He knows of looking into the eyes of his enemy who was just doing his duty, knowing he had someone somewhere that he was special to, yet my daddy knowing he had to do his duty, too. He remembers seeing the mask of death worn on the faces of soldiers on both sides. His stories are of how his heart broke knowing that there were innocent people, children, killed in the shelling, shelling not only by the Allies but by their own German army. His stories are of some lighthearted moments with both his fellow enlisted soldiers and officers. Ask him about his tailoring and barbering skills :) Of soldiers who were good and bad, on BOTH sides.

And his stories are of having seen his buddies blown to pieces as they stood beside him, knowing it could have been him, and of treating those that were injured with either medical care and/or comfort as they lay dying or waiting for a medic.

It is about those people, we think today. The ones who didn't make it back. But for the grace of God, my father might not have made it back and he has never, not once, forgotten that. And so today he, too, is remembering his friends who paid the ultimate sacrifice.

Unfortunately, the loss did not end there and it never will, as long as there are people left to disagree on the face of this earth. But also, never will the remembering end. No matter the war, no matter the place . . . we will remember . . . and we will be grateful.

Today, Daddy, I am thankful for what you have done for your country and am relieved that today I honor you and need not lay a wreath upon the soil underneath which you lay. But when that time does come . . . I will remember. Proudly.

Teaching, Learning, Touching Lives

2008-04-06T01:13:00.001-05:00

It was yesterday. The morning after one of the most hellish nights of my life (of which I am amassing quite an astonishing number). On tap for the day? Substitute teaching. Not kindergarten. High school biology. More teenagers. There was no way to back out, so I bucked up. They had requested a strong, good sub, one who could command respect the moment upon walking into the room. When a request like that comes in it strikes fear into the hearts of a sub for there must be an ominous reason for the teacher to request such.

The agenda: an exam for the first two period classes, an in-class assignment for the last period class. The school operates on a block schedule of four periods per day. The first was my prep period.

I introduced myself to the kids who did not know me. Many of them do i.e. "Hey, you’re Suke’s mom!" or "Aren’t you Reggie’s mom (my son’s nickname)?" It began with the usual moaning and groaning about an exam, the teacher including material not appearing on the study notes, the test being too hard, yada yada yada. So far, so good. Made sure the seating chart had been adhered to, took roll, gave the instructions for the test and the kids dug in.

Although some kids took longer with their exam, the long block period provided more than enough time to finish it and then allowed for time left over. As they finished, they could read, write (not text), or relax. Cautiously, I made a decision to allow the kids to talk quietly amongst themselves.

Surprisingly, many of the kids approached me to talk or asked me questions from the groups they were in, apparently curious about me. By the end of the period, the kids were engaged in conversation with me and the topics had run the gamut. We discussed the value of education, setting priorities, drugs, alcohol, violence, the media, my background, their backgrounds, their opinions, relationships, their language, some of their police records, their dreams, their mistakes. These were the discussions that took place throughout the day.

The second class proceeded as had the first and when the exam was completed some of the students came to my desk to talk to me individually or we talked as a group.

During the last half of that class, a student I’d had in the horticulture class last school year was passing the classroom , saw me and stopped to say hello. I’ve always affectionately called him "Holey" because of the number of piercings he has. He loves it. He was one of those students that gets into your heart and doesn’t leave it. We talked for awhile about his life, school, his future, he is a senior. This student has not had a stellar academic career but if anyone takes the time to know him, they see he has an amazing heart and incredible potential but he doesn’t apply himself. Upon finishing, he gave me a hug, turned to the assembled group and said "Ms. Stephanie is the only person who can read me the riot act and do it in such a sweet voice that I don’t even know that I’ve been reemed out because I’ve listened to every word she said."
Another student which I’d not met before began talking with me. When I learned his name, I began to put two and two together and figured out that he was the young man involved in a situation with the police that I’d just heard about moments before from a phone conversation. I also realized he was the friend my son had spoken of previously. This young man had a penchant for foolishness. He loved to put videos on UTube showing him and others doing dangerous, gross, sickening stunts. One of them resulted in a run-in with the law a few months ago. He discussed how all of that made him feel. He was embarrassed at what he used to do, ashamed of the police situation and has now turned over a new leaf. He is extremely creative with video technology, production and has a great imagination. To use it all productively, he is now going to do some videoing for me for a non-profit which I head up and take care of the computer work for me. His excitement at my interest in his ability and the trust he felt from me warmed my heart.

The third class wasn’t exactly thrilled about their assignment but I convinced them they were better off than the other two classes which had had an exam. The complaining ceased quickly :) Their assignment was completed in very short order (except for one student) and again I decided to allow them to talk amongst themselves.

Again, we discussed the stories of their lives, topics of which were sad such as the death of Donnie and why he committed suicide (which we now know and it is horrible) or exciting such as their plans for the future or thoughtful such as the challenges they face everyday and what their response to them should be.

The day was perfect. Not a single student acted up, misspoke, or gave me a single bit of trouble. Not even a suggestion of it. I couldn’t figure out why they had made such a specific request for the type of sub? Why the concern? These kids were phenomenal.

As the last bell rang, my teenage son "Reggie" came to find me and asked how my day went. For you see, he KNEW the kids that were in my classes. He was grinning, thinking "I’ll bet they ran you ragged and gave you a really bad time. Oh, this is going to be GOOD!". When I shared with him the happenings of my day and the interactions I’d had with specific students, he was dumbfounded. He made me repeat the names of the kids I’d referred to, telling me I was mistaken as to their identity. His final response was "Wow. That is not like those kids at all. Their behavior is ALWAYS bad and they live to eat substitute teachers up, making them miserable." I laughed and told him he must not really know the sophomores because none of them were like that!

The end of the day. So much learning had taken place. But not only the learning of biology. I learned much from my students. Maybe they learned a small something from me. More importantly, I think, was the sharing that took place. Sharing of ideas, feelings, opinions, stories, hugs . . . and hearts. Kids will talk, if we would just listen. Their stories are too many to share here but know this, you would love to hear them :) . All of them: sad, funny, thoughtful.
God, I love those kids. The rascally ones, notably :) I needed to be there, in that place, at that time, yesterday, with those kids because they taught me something valuable: there is hope. There is hope for these kids no matter what they have done or where they have come from because it is about where they can go from this point on if they choose. There is hope for this town. There is hope for the future.

On the way out to the car, with my son still grinning in disbelief at the kids and his mom, my heart is filled with love of which I told him. I felt encouraged. For these kids had shown me what I need to know . . . there is hope, hope for my own two sons.

And as for the type of substitute teachers they need for these kids? Maybe they just need one with a heart . . . and ears.

Too Soon Extinguished

2008-03-30T01:14:00.001-05:00

Sweet, humorous, kind-hearted, respectful. Those are words one would use to describe him. Now there is another to add to the list: gone.

This morning, my son John called me from the road as he was returning from his spring break trip to Florida. The last few days, I must admit, were a bit nerve-wracking for me since I’d not heard from him except for a late-night missed call Thursday night with no message left.

Anxiety-causing.

This morning, my son John called to let me know that his classmate, Donnie, from Newport had taken his own life. Sweet, humorous, kind-hearted, respectful Donnie. Now gone.

To describe the shock is not possible. To fathom his family’s grief is not possible. To pray that it will never be my child and no other family will have to go through such grief IS possible and I’ve prayed that all day long.

It also brought to mind the blog of a young 15 year old friend of mine. She wrote it recently and in it she wrote she felt she no longer wanted to live. I spoke to her of my concern for her which had been growing over the last three months. She acknowledged she has such feelings and is depressed. Fortunately, she also made them known to her parents who had noticed a change in her as well and are going to get her some help. I wanted to let her know I am here for her.

Anytime.

Reach out to the young people around you. Get to know them. Sometimes they need someone in addition to their parents to be there for them.

I’ve no details about what happened this morning and I may never have any. Too many times in such situations, no one ever discovers the why, as if there is ever any good "why" as to such sadness.

But I do know this: today a young man’s life was extinguished all too early and we are left heartbroken. We need to love on the young people around us, they may need it. And you, nor they, may even know it.

Be there.

Passing of a Well-Loved Pet

2008-01-17T01:10:00.002-06:00

The last few days have been difficult ones. Saying good-bye to a loved-one whether it is a person or a pet is painful to say the least.

I want to thank my friends that have sent kind words and those that have been here for me these past few days. I needed such support. It has meant a great deal during a sad, trying time.

As Kiki awaited her freedom from her suffering this morning cradled in my arms, she purred, slowly blinking as she looked at me. I felt her trust in me. Tangible. I could see it in her eyes. The sense that instinctively she knew I sought to free her from her pain.

And so, just like in so many years . . . she loved. She purred, she pressed her cheek into my breast . . . and she loved. A silent thank you. For loving her enough to do this.

"Could I but give you comfort in my death,
How might I tell you what you meant to me?
All I did, both night and day, was love you,
Rulers of my kingdom and my heart.
Like gods, at last you claimed my painful breath,
Opening the door to mystery,
The final gift of all the gifts you gave me,
Taking what I could no longer give you
Even if I tried with all my heart."

Author Unknown

Peace, Kiki. You are loved and will be missed. Thank you for loving me back.

Catch ya on the fly, mom.

Service: A Life Lived In, A Life Given In

2008-01-08T01:09:00.001-06:00

Late in the morning, I attended the funeral of the husband of P, good friend of mine. This man, I had known casually for the last 4 years. The last four years of his life being a mere shadow of the life he'd lived in his previous 70. But I didn't know that. Not until today. After attending his funeral service and hearing of the rest of his life, I can now understand more fully how difficult these last years were for both of them during his decline.

One by one, family and friends stood at the podium and gave testimony to a packed church of G's life, what he did, and how it affected them. The eulogies given by his four boys were stirring, moving, inspirational. Let me give you an example of what kind of man he was and the legacy he left to the rest of us.

At one time, he'd worked for the gas company, being on call 24/7 to help customers with repair issues. During the middle of one night, he'd received a telephone call from an elderly woman who needed help, her heat wasn't working. After he had gotten dressed, left home, did the repair and returned home, his son asked him if he was going to charge her for the service call. To which he replied, "No son. She thinks I still work for the gas company." You see, he no longer worked for the gas company but when she called his home, he still answered, still practiced service to others, he still showed up, even when it wasn't required of him. If anyone needed help, with anything, at any time or any place, G was there to help.

Selflessly.

He wore many hats: husband, father, firefighter, deacon, elder, painter, builder, utility worker, Navy veteran . . . but the best and most fitting hat that he wore was that of Hero. Because that is what he was to everyone who knew him. A hero.

He lived a life of service. He was a hero. Ask anyone who knew him. They'll tell you. I thought I'd somewhat known G but now realize . . . that I met him just today . . . and yes, he was a hero. He will be missed. His was a life lived in service . . . to his family, to his friends, to his community.

This afternoon, I witnessed an event reminding me of a life given in service.

For this afternoon, our community, this small town that I currently call home, did what it does well: cares for it's residents, it's own. We saluted those who are called to possibly give their lives in service.
You see, this afternoon, our community came out to give a hero's send-off to our local Army National Guardsmen, Delta Company 39th Infantry, who are being deployed to Iraq until sometime next year. So, as is so typical of this warm, welcoming, wonderful and caring community, we lined the four-mile route from the armory to the highway. Our residents came out in force: waving yellow ribbons if they weren't tied onto the fronts of businesses, waving flags if they were not on poles struck into the ground, raising signs with warm, well-wishes, waving arms, whistling, cheering, throwing kisses. The town's finest consisting of the local police and sheriff's departments led the way with motorcycle-riding veterans following right behind them, escorting the chartered buses carrying the soldiers through town. Behind the buses, traveled the families and loved-ones of the departing soldiers with messages of love and encouragement written all over their cars.

As the families and love-ones followed behind the troops, you began to notice that those inside the cars were doing the same thing that we were: crying. We cried. Cried, but tried to smile through the pain. Because we are proud of our soldiers. Because we, as a community, are more than simply that . . . we are family. Because no matter what side of the political fence each of us is on, when it comes to love and support of our troops, we are on only ONE side: their side.
Those men and women who left us today to serve overseas, far, far away from our small enclave here, are not only living a life of service, they may be called upon to GIVE their life in service.

Selflessly.

Join me in praying for their safety, in praying for the safety of ALL who serve in our armed forces. Pray for lives that will continue to be LIVED in service, no more to be GIVEN in service. For ultimately, we are all community. Not just here in our small corner of Arkansas, but worldwide.

So, at the end of this day, I realized that although many, many bad things are happening in our world today . . . there also happened something good.

Small Town Saturday Night

2007-06-24T01:08:00.002-05:00

Hot. Sultry. Outside on a Saturday night in a small town in the South. Feels much like wearing an angora sweater in a wet sauna. But you suffer the oppressive heat and humidity to gain something more than a satisfactory test of whether your anti-perspirant works like the commercials said it would. You endure the climatic discomfort to connect with the many reasons that keep you here in this small town in the South: the many people.

There are those in this place that loudly complain there is nothing to do here . . . ever. They decry the lack of things to do using foul language. Well, I would like to say a few F-words myself to tell you what this Saturday night in this small town held for me: Family, friends, and fireworks.

A family reunion was taking place at a renovated local train depot. One attending family member is an employee for a professional fireworks display company. Out of his desire to make the reunion memorable, and his love for this community, he put together the biggest fireworks extravaganza the town has previously seen, even larger than the display at the annual Portfest. Free to the families, friends and neighbors of this area.

Who says there is nothing to do in this town? This night is just one of many opportunities we have to enjoy in our small town.

So, we went out to watch what was a spectacular, professional display of fireworks but more than entertainment took place, recreation took place. As the town assembled on Front Street, people connected, relationships were "recreated." The disconnect that happens in the busyness of living life: heading off to jobs, to school, home and garden chores, meetings, civic duties, family activities . . . gone, as people sat next to each other, catching up, connecting. What you heard and saw was laughter, conversation, friendship, hugging, back-slapping, handshaking.

What you experienced was . . . community.

A small town in the South on a Saturday night.

On the Way to My Shoes

2007-06-19T01:36:00.000-05:00

"What does THAT mean?" you might ask. It is a phrase often chuckled about that relates to an event a number of years ago and is accurately indicative of what happens when I become deep in thought.

Several years ago, I received a telephone call asking me to meet someone to which I replied I just needed to put my shoes on and would be there in five minutes. Almost an hour later, I'd still not yet arrived at my destination. For you see, on the way to my shoes, I became distracted by something I was thinking about and was so deep in thought, I forgot about the meeting and instead went on to deal with the issue I had begun reflecting on. It was only when reminded by a phone call from the person I was supposed to meet, that I recalled where I was supposed to be and apologized stating that "something happened on the way to my shoes". Yes, I continue to be distracted by my thoughts as I muse, reflect, ponder and meditate on the questions, situations and challenges that surround me on a daily basis.

As I think on these things, I've begun to write them down and have decided to put them here as a means of sharing, with those that might be interested, what lies close to my heart. I welcome your perspective and sharing of ideas in the hopes that each may be moved, inspired, comforted and enlightened by learning from one another.

I encourage you to remember to slow down in this fast-paced world, to pause and reflect on the mysteries of this life, the experiences that happen, the uncertainties we face and our hopes for the future . . . while on the way to your shoes.

And maybe, just maybe in the process, we might be able to lift someone up, be of help to someone, along the way.