Spring Bouquet

I recently drove halfway across the country from Kansas to North Carolina.  I had looked forward to the drive anticipating budding trees, green fields, and wild flowers.  I was surprised to find that spring was not springing anywhere along my route.  Maybe my return trip will be more colorful.  Meanwhile, I have to be content with these photos of flowers from a springtime past.

Garden flowers circa Spring 2013

 I cut a fist full of flowers in the garden the other day, picking ones I liked without a thought about what might go well together.

One by one I dropped each stem into a glass of water surprised how well they harmonized, each color complimenting the next. None of them competed, drowning out the others in a bid for attention.  Instead, the presence of one made the next all the more beautiful.

There is a lot we could learn in the garden.

Surprise, because there was no Spring yet.

TToT: A Crocus

In these times that are especially trying to our souls, it becomes all the more important to pause and find things for which we can feel thankful.

Ten Things of Thankful

The Make-a-Wish Foundation.  They are sending one of my former students on a chopper ride through the Grand Canyon next week and sending one of my current students to Disney World as well.

The young man who took the photo of the little African-American girl staring up at the new portrait of Michelle Obama hanging in the National Portrait Gallery.  Mrs. Obama predicted that the portrait would have an impact on little girls of color who would see it in years to come, but it only took a matter of weeks before we saw photographic evidence of this truth in the sweet photo of an awestruck two-year-old.

My Shark robotic vacuum which has made my life easier and house cleaner.

Young people, those who make my life better because I know them as well as those who I don't know, but I see attempting to make all our lives better.

Books

The opportunity to serve as mentor to a young man at church as he goes through Confirmation classes.

The chance to do the same for both of his brothers who came before him.

Family

The opportunity to make the bouquets for the wedding of a young lady I love.

And the simple truth that

even into a bleak and dreary world the Spring returns

  

Bunny Prints

mamakatslosinit.com

A Throw Back from April 2013 when I wrote about an Easter memory for Mama Kat's Workshop.

Shield’s IGA  was a block and a half from my house as a kid.  Junior ran the store employing not only his own kids but a bunch of the locals as well.  At least three of my older brothers held jobs there in high school.

A special display of large chocolate bunnies caught my eye one spring.  Solid chocolate with a real ribbon at the neck, they watched me with their sugar-dot eyes standing on the front of the cart as Mom pushed by the display.  My mouth watered thinking about the chocolatey goodness of the bunnies, but their sheer size told me they were out of our price range.  I didn’t bother mentioning them to my mother.

The car had barely come to a stop as we returned home from Easter services that year before my younger brother and I were rolling out of the backseat on a mission to find our baskets.  Our house had no lawn, rather patches of mud alternated with patches of grass and dandelions.  It was around one of the muddy patches that we found the most amazing tracks.

We inspected them closely and were convinced they were bunny tracks.  There was only one small trail of the special tracks, but it was enough to lead us to two of the large chocolate bunnies I had been dreaming of.

Bill was the brother working as a carry-out at the IGA that year.  We grabbed our bunnies and ran straight to him hoping he might be able to shed some light on the mysterious tracks in the yard or how the special chocolate bunnies had come to be ours.  He laughed and assured us he knew nothing about our Easter treats.  Eventually, we gave up our interrogation and turned our attention to bites of chocolate bunny ears.  It was hard to stay focused on the mystery with that sweet taste on my tongue, but somehow I suspected Brother Bill knew the Easter Bunny a lot better than he was willing to let on.

Spying on the New Neighbors

Something that brought you joy today...

http://ltsqldb.com/v2_thumbnail_linky_enter.aspx?id=269332

Our sunroom is one of my favorite places in the house.  Windows fill three sides.  A bird feeder provides constant entertainment to the east.  The west looks out on the patio.  The southern exposure is the longest.  The span of windows is broken in two places by matching trellises covered in clematis.  Nestled amid the tangled vines my husband discovered a nest.  Working at the computer in the sunroom, his attention was drawn to a flurry of activity.  A mother and father cardinal beat a continuous flight pattern from the bird feeder around the corner to the trellis to where three fluffy baby birds were tucked deeply into the nest.

Each time a parent neared the nest, three wide opened beaks reached high anxiously awaiting the deposit of food.

We wanted to be part of what was going on with this sweet little family.  The parent birds wanted to make sure we knew they were highly aware of our presence on the other side of the windows.  They flitted around attempting to make a diversion.  Finally, they decided we weren't too threatening, but gave us angry bird looks just to make their point.  We were not to get too close.

Once we decided we could all coexist, an amazing thing happened.  One by one the babies took their first shaky, tentative steps outside the nest.

Harry, The First and Most Brave ( His faux-hawk is evidence of his confident air.)

Beaker, The Middle Child (Note the look on his face.  So much attitude.)

And Russell,  The Baby Bird (Devil may care attitude shown in his half smile and sleepy eyes.)

It was incredible watching the babies work up the courage to leave the safety of the nest.  The parents fluttered back and forth in front of the trellis letting out occasional chirps of encouragement.  They remained nearby, but back far enough for each baby to be responsible for himself.  Nature's wisdom.

And every once in a while they would shoot us a look making sure we remembered we were only there with their permission.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers  

That perches in the soul  

And sings the tune without the words 

And never stops - at all  

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard  

And sore must be the storm  

That could abash the little Bird 

That kept so many warm  

I’ve heard it in the chillest land  

And on the strangest Sea  

Yet - never - in Extremity, 

It asked a crumb - of me.

Emily Dickenson

Wisdom of the Jonquils

Yesterday was the first day the jonquils were in bloom.  I stood in the sunroom drinking a cup of hot tea admiring their fragile beauty.  Their sunny yellow blooms looked so delicate.
Overnight we experienced the gambit of weather.  I was awakened by a hail storm that rattled the windows along with my nerves.  Hail gave way to rain and I drifted back to sleep.  This morning we awoke to snow cover.
Looking out the window at the white lawn my mind traveled to the jonquils out back and I feared the worst.  I threw on some clothes and headed to the sunroom preparing myself to find them battered and destroyed. How could those delicate blooms survive the storm I wondered.  And there was my answer.  How could they survive the storm?  With heads bowed.

Written in 2012.  Shared again to celebrate the arrival of spring.

Planting Season

My sister was given a bucket full of seeds as last year's gardening season came to an end.  Too many to use herself, she gave lots to me.  I was thrilled---images of neat rows of brightly colored vegetables peeking out from bouquets of green leaves filled my mind.  I returned home and delightedly presented the seeds to my husband who received them with far less enthusiasm than I had hoped.  His late father had been an avid gardener so I thought he might welcome the chance to reconnect through time and labor in the sunshine.  But it was precisely the experience with his father's big garden plot that made him less than enthused about my plan.  He told me the work of a garden is far more than I had imagined, and the fun far less than I had dreamed up.

I took him out back to visualize the perfect placement of the rows.  He half-heartedly helped me strategize.  Soon I decided I am on my own with this project!  Even a quick retelling of The Little Red Hen where no one wanted to help until they smelled the irresistible aroma of her baking bread did nothing to sway him.

I recently watched a documentary on Hulu about the production of food in America which only served to make me more interested in eating locally. How much more local can you get than your own back yard?  

I am set to try this!  I know nothing about growing plants.  It is true that summer is my least favorite season as I don't like to be hot.  I admit I am the indoorsy type.  Perhaps my husband's lack of interest in serving as my farmhand is not such a mystery.  This could be a disaster, but I am going to give it a go.  I am issuing a challenge to myself to learn something about which I know nothing, and to take a chance!

I am reading. I am wistfully perusing gardening blogs and magazines filled with rainbows of vegetables.  I have been dreaming of ripe, juicy vegetables, and this week I have started some seeds indoors.  The mudroom is full of potential, granted it looks like dirt.  Still, it is potential I am just sure.

Written April 13, 2011

March 2016-This week I planted seeds again, all the while thinking about the optimism I felt in 2011. Five years later I know I will never be a great gardener.  I lack the stick-to-itiveness once the mid-summer heat hits. I do love to have about a dozen plants of different types growing in pots or a mini-plot.  Watering with the hose before beginning my day is a meditation.  Measuring growth keeps me grounded in the present.  Occasionally, there is even the reward of a vegetable or two.