I awoke after another restless night’s sleep. A combination of a urinary tract infection and my SI joint giving me troubles. I would rather stay in my warm bed to try for some more shut-eye. But job duties call despite how I feel. I am doing all my doctor has recommended. Need let the antibiotics do their job, think on positive thoughts, trust God, and just to rest. For me “just rest” is the hardest order to follow.
I move out the front door with purse and lunch tote in my gloved hands. A crusty morning, a crunch under my boots as I walked to the car. Yes, a thin sheet of ice under snow covered the sidewalk and car. I turn and see the winter porch decor dazzled with ice, too. Oh, the festive mood I wanted to be in for this holiday season. And the ice-capped snowman’s morning greeting did it. Just the simple things in life. I am ready to get through my day.
The holiday weekend marked the baptism of our youngest grandchild, Elise. Beautiful evening ceremony. Lovely child. God with us. Labor Day seems to signify the end of summer. Colorful fields with changing hues of amber and purple for the harvest season. A whole summer of prolific arugula is about to end although my growing season continues with my herbs. I sowed more leaf lettuce and basil a month ago in hopes to yield a fall crop. See how mother nature takes her course. Next year I will introduce a new herb to my quilt of culinary herb patches. Lavender. So I will learn how to prepare the soil for my first crop of organic lavender. Lavender lemonade is my favorite summertime beverage, and a lavender tisane is a soothing, calming herbal tea enjoyed before nap time or bed time. This time next year I hope to harvest my own fresh grown lavender at the Deanna Greens And Garden Art plot seated in Boone’s Hollow Farm. Not sure if little Elise will be quite ready for a tea party then, but maybe soon in the many days that follow …
In my last post I shared some French influence in the culinary arts. That same evening I threw together an overnight blueberry french toast which turned out deliciously, and we have eaten on this dish the past couple of mornings. The kitchen is not the only room where the arts have a French flavor. The artistic style of the French poet and painter Jules Breton now resides in Dean and I’s bedroom. Last year Dean gave me a print of Breton’s painting “The Wounded Seagull”, a replica of my favorite painting at the St. Louis Art Museum. A thoughtful gift. The original was created in 1878 when the World’s Fair was held in Paris. We had this print matted and framed, and now resides over our headboard. When Breton painted it, this was a time in history when “naturalism” was replacing “romanticism” in the arts, artists portraying the daily lives of everyday people. It is thought that Breton romanticized a common peasant girl in this painting. The wounded seagull looks up to her while she appears to be in a far away thought. Sea life was not easy, for the seagull or the girl. I think this painting tells the story of so many I know and love. We care and love each other a mist turmoil. The conflict and contrast continue.
I had a deja vu moment this past weekend while walking down a neighborhood street to the auto part store with my Dean and our Midnight. During our brisk walk I approached a view unforgettable from my childhood. An old brick house, the grandmother’s house of a farm family I grew up with just down the road from my childhood home and tree farm. I was 12-years old again and at the place where I knew I was more than 1/2 way home from the old town ball diamond where I played softball. On occasion my sister and I would walk to ball practice and our games. It was at least a 2-mile walk one way, and required us to cross over the interstate on a cross walk. Considered a summer adventure, not scary. Over 40 years ago, my hometown St. Peters, Missouri was a farm community. Everyone knew each other, and for the most part everyone was trustworthy. That cross walk was torn down a few years back. But if it was still usable today, would I let my 10-year old or even 14-year old granddaughter walk that distance to ball practice from home and back again? I would say “no” as this community has greatly changed in size. We do not know our “neighbors” like we did back then, and who knows about the interstate traffic and travelers. The world has changed its character.
“Almost home” is like those familiar places and people. Thankful for, content with. The rental house has been a temporary refuge for us, almost home. But home and family is where we are meant to be. All my senses clearly see, smell, hear, touch, and taste its warmth. The pine wood and painted walls smell fresh, clean, new. These colored walls are awaiting our human presence. I hear our birds chirp near the front porch in the maple and dogwood trees. And I feel the crisp new bed linens and quilt to my skin as I lay in my bed along side my husband. This weekend we will be moving our personal items back to our renovated home. And our hearts come with. Living minimally has been refreshing like the aromas of fresh wood. Dean and I vow to continue this. As I wrote a few weeks ago, “’Home’ is where you lay your head, and share your heart and blessings with your family…” no matter the structure or belongings. The Books of Matthew and Philippians in our Bible say, “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” and “I know both how to have a little, and I know how to have a lot. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being content–whether well fed or hungry, whether in abundance or in need.” My prayer for each of us, we know that God our Father provides for our every need and that we each are content with His provisions.
Some days the pets as well as neighborhood squirrels and birds watch us as if we are their entertainment. Most other days, it is the reverse. The household and outside critters are our entertainment. Our pets, Midnight, Celine, Jonas, and Pennylane will greet us at the front door after a long day at work. The dog with a wagging tail and panting smile, and the feline friends with purrs and nudges to be petted. The birds and squirrels gather at the dogwood tree to feed on seeds at the feeder or underneath where the seed remnants lie on the leaf-mulched earth.
When asked what my new year’s resolution is, the word is “repurpose”. Repurpose items already obtained. Rejuvenate, repair, renovate, recycle, all to mean the same as repurpose. Utilize an item for a purpose or meaning once again. To go with this year’s theme of “repurpose”, this weekend I had purposed to wash all the stuffed animals and characters that have residence in our home. We have quite the collection of teddies, rabbits, chicks, dolls, doggies, and even a Tazmanian devil from my children and grandchildren. These toys provded hours of entertainment and occupied a hammock hung in the back bedroom or sit on the bay window seat. One basket situated in the living room was bed to some favorites, ready at a moment’s notice to be gathered into the arms of a visiting child. Since my daughter moved in, more space is needed in the back bedroom. We placed these critters in plastic bags until after the holiday madness simmered down. To the local laudromat we went with 3 large plastic bags, filled 2 front loading machines. Dean and I watched as the soapy faces plastered against the door windows, as if they muttered “help!” from their foaming mouths. After the wash cycle we dried the freshly washed critters for just a few minutes in a gigantic-sized dryer. We brought home the damp stuffed animals, lined them on the trundle bed to air dry. Dean captured this photo of their greeting smiles. A bath always makes you feel better! Later we turned the critters on their heads, with their backsides up to air dry. We waited for our Labrador, Midnight to land himself atop the stuffed critters as the trundle bed is one of his favorite spots to nap. But the stuffed critters remained undisturbed.
Maybe there were too many of the critters, slightly overwhelming? We think so. Two of these toys date back to 32 years ago, my oldest daughter’s 1st Christmas teddy and 1st birthday Hush Puppy. The Care Bear with a band-aid on his leg was given to my oldest when she recovered from appendicitis at age 5. Another doggy belonged to my other daughter, and a teddy with a blue beret belonged to my artsy son. Others are a handmade rabbit and doll from a special grandmother. So the other purpose for the communal bath and animal reunion was to donate the less familar clean, germ-free critters to Goodwill. Some other children to love on their cuteness, softness. Tote to a tea party, wagon ride, or bedtime. We filled 2 bags to repurpose. And the other special animals and dolls sit in the living room inside the white wicker basket with a pink-gingham cloth lining. These await another child’s love, maybe more grandbabies?
On Sunday morn, I awoke at my weekday rising time of 5 am something. My bio clock keeps ticking on time. Darn it anyway. I join my feline friends in the living room and lie on the trundle bed snuggled under the throw while gazing at the picture window. Celine and Jo are situated on the love seat next to the window, their favorite perching spot. Celine had been there for awhile, dozing from time to time until the tweet of a neighborhood sparrow arouses her. Jo, the single male cat in the house just arrived to the scene after his night of prowling in the house. He cackles at the birdie, premeditating the pounce. Jo, our daughter’s Tabby takes every opportunity to escape to the outdoors. I cannot blame him. Pennylane, known as “Pounds of Penny” snoozes while her sassy plumposity lies on the floor nearby. And Pixie, the eldest feline and Midnight, the dog have not awoke yet, snoring with the other remaining humankind in the bedrooms. I watch the December sky turn from a midnight blue to a fuzzy and fluffy white with a tinge of purple behind the bare tree silhouttes. The silence so clear, a quiet moment with God. Creation speaks as the pastor did at church later that morning. “Trees” written by Joyce Kilmer in 1914 …
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
July brought about Dean and I’s 4th wedding anniversary, and then the first wedding of three family weddings planned for this year. Many family memory-making moments with more to come with the changing seasons. There is a change in the air every year in late July or early August, which tells me autumn is soon to come. Monday evening while watering at the greenhouse I felt that change. Silly to be writing about autumn in July, but growers always watch the weather and plan ahead. What’s the Farmers’ Almanac all about? This last day of July is another unusually mild day as St. Louis stayed below 90 and the humidity is low. And I am loving it! Walks during my office breaks bring refreshment to my soul and clearing of the brain from work stuff. Last year at this time we had the sizzling days of summer, up into triple digits several days in a row. You know, those kind of days where you can fry an egg on the sidewalk. Not this summer, thus far anyway.
But we need rain. My green friends love rain water versus faucet water. Thank God, we have access to faucet water at Boone Hollow Farm where our greenhouse plants live. Otherwise, Dean and I would be hauling it in. Our herb bed built this spring is situated on the screenhouse side of our outbuilding and has been a productive home. Plans to build another bed on the greenhouse side this autumn is underway. I want to make it a cold frame to see if we can grow some vegetables through the winter. The plants will have double protection from the cold weather with the plastic liner of the greenhouse and then a storm door atop their bed. I love green experiments. My biology experiments in high school and college were fun and scary at the same time. Now there are possible delicious, nutrient-dense dinners involved here. So what veggies winter well in Missouri? I am to find out. I remember garlic and spinach from my EarthDance Farms days as an apprentice 3 years ago. And turnips grew in the fields at the Bates Family Farm in Franklin County to attract the deer during many deer seasons. Wonder what the Farmers’ Almanac is saying for this upcoming winter? Planning ahead …
Some of my biggest stress relief is having a dog and a cat to come home to on any given day. Dean and I’s pets are our fan club. Unconditional love and acceptance. The other day I was greeted with the most pathetic whine from Midnight, like I was his long-lost buddy. Dean arrived home before I, and had the front window open to welcome the late afternoon spring air. I could hear Midnight when I pulled into the driveway. Some days when we unlock the front door we have a big black nose right there with a welcoming, waging tail. Other days, the black nose is resting on Dean and I’s bed. I have written about “Midnight”, our 85 lbs labrador, flat-coat retriever mix a few times, and mentioned our cat, “Celine” once or twice. At the end of our workday Celine usually meanders from the back bedroom stretching from her afternoon slumber trying to focus with her sleepy green eyes. Some days she stretches her front paws onto my leg, wanting to be picked up, hugged, cuddled, loved like a child. In the photo, Celine is awakening from an afternoon nap amongst the seedlings and other plants on the warming mats. My Dean has captured our pets in their most comical, yet common poses during or after their sleep. We have 6 “granddogs”, with the youngest “Bleu” shown in the photo. “Grandcats” are part of the family, too. Here is Pennylane, our youngest grandcat posing so cutely. Last night was another story. Thunderstorms ripped through our local area about 3:00am. Our Celine lowers herself to a crawl on the floor and hides. And our 85 lbs dog becomes a nervous wreck with each clapping thunder. He pants and paces from one room to another, one side of our bed to the other. Dean finally got up to give Midnight an herbal supplement that helps calm him. This morning I awoke to find Dean on the couch and Midnight on our bed. Guess who got more sleep?
Winter’s chill has come with the New Year here in Missouri. Brrrsy! A thin layer of snow, freezing rain, and more snow covered the church parking lot New Year’s Day. In 2012 I did not need my black faux fur Russian hat, but I pulled it from the coat closet this 1st week of 2013. Dean calls my head covering my “Ivana hat”. I think he likes the old world style on his bride! Warm, and protects my head and ears from the stinging air. Already this year it’s requiring drastic survival tactics! It was 10 degrees F in “Skunk Hollow”,according to the local 550 AM radio station yesterday morning. A woven scarf and gloves accompany. I have long locks (unlike the photo), yet not enough for 10 degrees F. For those quiet intimate nights with my hubby in order to keep the pets from snuggling in our bed requires closed bedroom doors. Don’t want to keep the dogs and cats outside or even in that garage for more than 5 minutes. I know, they are part of the family, and spoiled! So then, pajama bottoms with a long-sleeve night shirt is mandatory as well as the space heater next to the bed. The heated air from the furnace does not circulate as well with closed doors. All those clothes kind of defeat the purpose, but makes for great snuggling with my man. Marital union must take place in the winter months, as there are plenty of people born the months of September, October, and November, right? What about those folks up in Alaska, Norway, and Russia? Somehow, they reproduce! Cups of hot earl grey tea and chai lattes are on my winter survival list also. Oh, cannot forget the fire in the kitchen fireplace. Spicy hats, teas, and layered bed clothes add a spark to life, don’t they?!