Category Archives: plant

Apr21

April’s Anointing

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April’s Anointing

April’s showers have brought a sparkle to the earth, at least in my neck of the woods. Spring cleaning begins with Mother nature’s cleansing the debris off the trees, fauna, and outbuildings with showers and storms these past few weeks. The rain soakings have brightened the redbud and dogwood trees blossoms in beautiful contrast to the fresh green leaves and various shades of green fields. Tulips and grape hyacinths are just about finished blooming and the buds on the peonies will be opening probably before May. In the Missouri countryside the farm ponds and creek beds are full. A weekend spent in northern Arkansas revealed similar countryside vignettes. Wild violets and buttercups dotted the roadsides with flowering almond bushes and irises flourishing near the farmhouses.

Our cottage home has come by some spring cleaning and sprucing up, too. We added a furniture piece to our living room. My mother’s china hutch came out of storage in our rental house’s garage, wiped down sparkling clean the glass panes and mirrors. With careful selection of items from Dean’s parents’ home, we uncovered boxes of his grandmother’s china and brought those home after our last trip there. We cleaned these circa 1930 pieces and placed in the hutch as well as my grandmother’s china and my mother’s Blue Willow collection. The glistening glass antiques have given an extra touch of warmth and nostalgia in our small abode.

A jot down to Arkansas Ozarks last weekend brought Dean and I to Eureka Springs. I facilitated a culinary and writing workshop at the Writers’ Colony at Dairy Hollow on Saturday afternoon. The Culinary Suite is housed in another cute cottage. I felt right at home making preparations for the culinary lesson on lemon and herbs in the suite’s pristine kitchen space. Five lovely local ladies from town came for the workshop. We all enjoyed making and indulging in lemon herb tea bread in the kitchen then moved onto the front porch to write block-out poems. Porch chatter and lots of laughs to share with the ladies on that sunny spring afternoon after the rains. Life surely is sweet. God’s blessings besmeared on us. April’s anointing.

Green Spaces

I long for green spaces … growth.

Water overflowing into vessels

Streams wash the earth … renew. 

Springtime green comes to stay,

Spring rains shower, drip, drip.

Puddles of water to run through

Soaking each toe … anointing.

I long for green spaces … growth.

Anna Marie Gall ~ March 14, 2018

Mar3

March Welcomes Spring

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March Welcomes Spring

“It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.” ~ Charles Dickens

Our road trip to the Southeast couldn’t come fast enough. It has been a very long, cold winter. I had been sick from my severe allergy to the cold, sinusitis, and bronchitis for almost 7 weeks, the longest time period that I ever remember even when I was a child. Winter wouldn’t stay behind as we crossed the Appalachians with sleety stuff hitting the windshield. A few short hours, we finally greeted Spring at the South Carolina coast. Along the way we saw fields of various shades of green and clumps of those yellow daffodils and jonquils, the tell-tell sign of the seasons changing.

There is something about when the daffodils bloom. Spring comes and goes with the wind but finally stays awhile. Welcomed sounds and sights all around. The lace curtains flutter with the open window and whistling spring air. Chirping, preening, and nesting birds. Bird eggs laid and baby chicks hatched. The rabbits nibbling on the wild violets and pansies. Clusters of colorful tulips are showy in vases and planters. It seems the whole world celebrates Spring. A renewal of spirit, health, and life. My good health has returned with the new season.

“A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings. because it has a song.” ~ Maya Angelou

So different are the birds. The coastal ibis, terns, gulls, and herons are shaped to skim the waters for their food. The songbirds are created to sing their songs, maybe attract a mate. Birds of prey are equipped with talons and large, sharp beaks. Their eyes can see yards ahead and the perimeter of their surroundings. God didn’t spare any detail when He created each species. As the birds, the uniqueness of each flower is evident. Beautiful colors and shapes, blooming at different times and environments within the growing season. Some flowers can be dried and preserved, but there is a specialness of the fresh bloom.

Walking the beaches and pathways I am reminded how unique each species God has created. And each has its place in this world. Author Marianne Williamson captured this, “A tulip doesn’t strive to impress anyone. It doesn’t struggle to be different than a rose. It doesn’t have to. It is different. And there’s room in the garden for every flower.”  While visiting area museums, my husband and I learned much about the history and culture of the South, the Gullah people, slavery, the Civil War, and the Native Americans. Their tenacity, resilience, and adaptations speak even today. While in our own uniqueness, there is room in the garden for each of us.

“Be yourself. Everybody else is taken.” ~ Oscar Wilde

Nov20

Grace Found In The Ozarks

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Grace Found In The Ozarks

“The beauty of the trees, the softness of the air, the fragrance of the grass … the summit of the mountain, the thunder of the sky … the trail of the sun, and the life that never goes away, they speak to me, and my heart soars.”

~ Chief Dan George

Dean and I got away this weekend. While in route to a countryside Ozark destination we talk on the telephone with our son and 7-year-old granddaughter. She asked, “getting away from what?” Good question. The answer is “everyday life”. Do you ever need a reset button? Take a couple of days away from your own four-walls and neighborhood. Just the drive southward I felt like a load taken off my back and feet. Being in new scenery did wonders. Cobwebs are cleared out of the brain. Breathing fresh air instead of the stifling stagnate vapors. Sleeping is allowed with no schedule to keep. The body is rested. Hot beverages sipped while conversations are simple and sweet. Kissing is easier, intimacy is reveled. Listening to poetic words shared in a quaint setting is like a snug quilt. The writing pen flows as the wind does. God’s grace was given these autumn days in the Ozarks.

"Yes, God is more than ready to overwhelm you with every form of grace, so that you will have more than enough of everything —every moment and in every way. He will make you overflow with abundance in every good thing you do." 
~ 2 Corinthians 9:8 The Passion Translation

“Nature … is as much a part of my poetry as the alphabet.”
~ Phillip Howerton

A Patchwork Quilt

Patches come alive on the country drive with

nature’s many vignettes together making a lovely spread.

Colorful swatches pieced on the quilted landscape

with each border of trees and patch of farm telling its own story.

Each story preserved with reverence, holy and sacred

as You live out Your story, I admire Your beauty.

That gold thread worked throughout Your swatch

You cannot see while You work, fight, sit, and play.

The blends of brown and green match perfectly

to the red and golden patch found next door.

The rivers of blue flow to the rose-colored borders,

opens the gates to more stories on the horizon.

The purple haze dims your otherwise ocher perspective,

but from My view casts a mystic yet faithful cover.

My view is not pretentious from the heavens,

My batting is Your foundation, necessary for warmth and togetherness.

I am there with You stitch by stitch, the ins and outs of the needle.

Your doubts and whereabouts I know, I know You full well,

every flaw, tear, stain, and blemish combed in and out of Your fabric.

You are altogether lovely at a time such as this.

A patchwork quilt worth living the whole,

it’s pieced purposes for yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

Anna Marie Gall ~ November 19, 2023

Oct22

The Countryside and Sycamores

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The Countryside and Sycamores

On Saturday I left home mid-morning to travel about an hour north to Pike County. I had the inkling to enjoy autumn’s superb weather when I heard the weekend forecast. I could have perused the boutiques on historic Main Street or shopped until I dropped. But I wanted to be outdoors. Dean’s mother passed away on October 6 with her burial in St. Joseph, MO last weekend. At last week’s funeral, I reminded myself that it was time for a visit to my parents’ gravesite just outside of Bowling Green, MO. Both my parents and grandfather died during the month of October as well; 11 years, 9 years, and 3 years ago.

The countryside was beautiful, yet I felt a sadness for this occasion. The colors of the leaves and harvesting fields distracted me from my somber mood, but my purpose for this autumn drive was not missed. I took the scenic route following along the Mississippi River. I forgot about all those little towns with speed limits at 30mph. It was enough for me to slow down and refocus for the next leg until the next village. The river that author, Mark Twain wrote about is so wide in many places in Lincoln and Pike Counties. Between the trees I could see it sparkle like diamonds in the sunlight. Although, the many stand-alone sycamore trees caught my attention the most. Even the hillside cemetery had a sycamore.

I said a prayer, asked for forgiveness for some unkind words I recalled I said to my parents many years ago. Some memories were from childhood and others as an adult. Likewise, as memories flood my mind of unkind words my father and mother said to me, I forgive each of them. Those memories help explain my own behaviors as a person. No reason to repeat history with negative words. Simply, be kind to others.

On way back home, I stopped in Clarksville, MO to use the restroom and stretch my legs. I had hoped to grab a sandwich. Not many eateries to choose from, but a clean restroom was a must. A riverside bar & grill had patrons there. A dozen Harleys were parked outside along the curb. I am not a biker, but hoped they welcomed all. The restroom was clean, and the patrons enjoying their food and drink. I love a good grilled sandwich, so I stayed. While eating a delicious chicken club sandwich at the Clarksville, MO bar & grill, words flooded my thoughts, so I wrote them down. Here is the poem:

Sycamores

Scattered hills breathe sadness.

Sadness as they overlook the valleys.

Valleys of withering grasses and emptiness.

Emptiness except for the stand-alone, century old sycamores.

Sycamores with peeling, white-painted bark.

Bark that seems to come apart at the seams.

Seams covered with crimson red sumac vine.

Vines that kept those years together.

Together during the bitter and sweet seasons.

Seasons are many that fill our lives.

Lives interwoven with faith, hope, love, disappointment, grief.

Grief over ill health, blank dreams, and abandoned promises.

Promises made with good intentions.

Intentions distracted with stressors and others’ disregard.

Disregards are many by hurting or hurtful people.

People everywhere breathe sadness.

Sadness dissipates as they look up to the Heavens.

Heaven’s Divine nature made a canopy of colorful leaves.

Leaves are many of those stand-alone, century old sycamores.

Sycamores that still stand alone near the scattered hills.

Oct17

Bittersweet

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Bittersweet

While on a country drive in northern Missouri the day we buried Dean’s mother, we stopped along the roadside where a local man was selling bundles of bittersweet. We bought a small bundle to capture the colorful autumn season and this day. The past few days came in like a whirlwind leaving the mind with thoughts scattered like the autumn leaves, and the heart in such an array of emotions. Bittersweet are the days in October. The leaves weep that summer is gone like I have with saying goodbye to a parent yet another October. Like a young loon and its parent who has flown South without him. 

"I find it a little melancholy when I see parent and child this time of year.   The parent seems to have a 'far-off' look that betrays thoughts of soon leaving forever, the child she devoted her life ... Little does the child know that it will soon be fending for itself and will have to find its way south without mom's/dad's help." ~ Matt Huras

We returned home, and the hummingbirds have left Missouri to go South, too. With some parents leaving comes sooner than others. Like twice before there is an emptiness with the death of a parent, but with God’s grace, we will move on to our destination.

Sep23

An Almanac Autumn’s Arrival

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An Almanac Autumn’s Arrival

Autumn comes in with a cool morning and the promise of warmth by noon with the full sun. A London Fog tea latte is calling my name. The leaves are turning golden with oranges and amber peeking through already. I am reminded of the abundance of autumn with berries plump, zucchini and yellow squash almost the size of a toddler’s leg, and the many varieties of tomatoes overflow the gardens and baskets. I read this poem many years ago and always enjoy reading it again every September …

Blackberry Eating by Galway Kinnell
I love to go out in late September
among the fat, overripe, icy, black blackberries
to eat blackberries for breakfast,
the stalks very prickly, a penalty
they earn for knowing the black art
of blackberry-making; and as I stand among them
lifting the stalks to my mouth, the ripest berries
fall almost unbidden to my tongue,
as words sometimes do, certain peculiar words
like strengths or squinched,
many-lettered, one-syllabled lumps,
which I squeeze, squinch open, and splurge well
in the silent, startled, icy, black language
of blackberry — eating in late September.

The other fruit to take notice of this autumn is the persimmon. The Old Farmer’s Almanac isn’t predicting a terribly cold autumn for the Midwest, but what about winter? The persimmon seeds are supposed to tell us what kind of winter we are to have. Look for the persimmons to be ripe soon in your area, if not already. Missouri is to have a spoon winter. According to this article with the Old Farmer’s Almanac here is how to predict weather with a persimmon seed:

1. Find a locally-grown persimmon. (A locally-grown persimmon is necessary because it will reflect local conditions!) Wait to pick the fruit or cut into the fruit until after it gets a bit soft—almost mushy.

2. Open the fruit and cut open a persimmon seed. 

3. Look at the shape of the kernel inside:

  • If the kernel is spoon-shaped, expect plenty of snow to shovel.
  • If it is fork-shaped, plan on a mild winter with powdery, light snow.
  • If the kernel is knife-shaped, expect frigid winds that will “cut” like a blade.

I hope you enjoy your autumn and all it entails in your part of the world. It will prepare us for the next season, the winter whatever that may bring. There is a season for everything …

“There is a season (a time appointed) for everything and a time for every delight and event or purpose under heaven—” ~ Ecclesiastes 3:1

May9

May Days and Mothers

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The May weather has been gorgeous! Gardens and yards are popping with colors and textures. The lovely peonies and irises just opened this week. I have spent a few mediative minutes each day in my garden, planting, plucking dead foliage and blooms as well as watering. And of course, time to “cast my cares upon Him”. My mother’s favorite were purple petunias. I added some to one of my planters today to remember my mother this season. Our green perennials have perked up with the fresh sunlight, air, and rainwater. Our freshly potted herbs are thriving. This growing season we planted several varieties of mint, oregano, thyme, marjoram, sage, and basil. The basil is the lemon variety, and I hope to add that to my lemon tea bread recipe this summer. I will be hosting a workshop on the essence of lemon and herbs, sharing my lemon tea bread recipe, and how to write a block-out poem using a recipe. This will be held at a local farm. More information on the workshop is forthcoming.

Our resident fledgling robins made their way out of their nest over the weekend. We see Mama Robin flitting around at the edge of retaining wall and bushes between our house and the next-door neighbor church. Her little ones are under cover while they develop their wings and learn to feed themselves. The nest has been empty since Sunday. Robins will have another brood this season, so Dean and I thought to move the nest off our front door basket and fill the basket with something welcoming like a small ornamental birdhouse. But the nest was interwoven with the flowers, greenery, and moss basket. Dean found a huge piece of concrete to put in the nest. I searched for something a little less bulky. I found a couple of rocks at the dollar store, one says “love” and the other says “peace”. A clear message to Mama Robin to please find another place to lay your eggs and hatch your next brood. Plenty of trees and niches in our yard for Mama and Daddy Robin to build their next nest. We need our front door to be accessible. Peace and Love to all mothers, mothers in waiting, and those who love like a mama!

“We can love because He first loved us!”

1 John 4:19
Mar11

Marching On

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Faster than the speed of light, our electronic devices send information via texts, emails, photos, blogs, letters, invoices, payments, deposits, documents, and on and on … I literally cannot keep up with it all. The passwords alone are too numerous; none less learning all these new programs, two computer monitors with at least four programs opened on each at any given moment in my 8-hour day.  And ten different ways to pay ten different invoices!   Lickity-split like in the snap of the fingers I am supposed to know these details with no written instructions. My brain is fried. Frazzled and bewildered is how I feel most of the time since I started this job. Constant multi-tasking is not good for me or anyone from what I understand. My weekends have been much like the weekdays, just crammed packed. Change is inevitable.

I feel I am missing the seasonal signs; bright daffodils blooming, sprouts of green popping up, fruit trees budding, the busy finches and sparrows nesting, not fully appreciating the approaching Spring. Like a lightning bolt, family emergencies strike.  I cannot respond in a way to meet the needs, due to either lack of time or exhaustion.  Other people God appoints step up in my absence. “Home wasn’t built in a day … the days were long, but the years flew by”, Todd Tilghman sings.  I don’t want to miss any of it.  As we march on, February ended with another family emergency with Dean’s mother having a stroke. She was rushed to the hospital by ambulance, in a coma-like state for two days, but miraculously has come through. Marching on into March, she moved into rehab and will be in an assisted living facility very soon. The elder Galls have entered into a new season of their lives, needing special attention that a reputable assisted living facility can bring. As most stories end with a glimmer of hope, here comes baby Jeremiah Robert. He waited until the shifting stormy weather to be born, two days past his due date. Our ninth grandchild, another blondie baby Gall is perfectly made.

Sep22

Autumn’s Here and Aspens Here We Come!

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Autumn’s Here and Aspens Here We Come!

Here in my neck of the woods autumn arrived overnight when a cold front blew in rain and cooler temperatures. By the books the summer ends today and the meteorologists are saying officially the autumn equinox takes place this evening. But my senses tell me it is already here! All just in time for a road trip to Colorado to see groves of glowing aspen, rigid mountains, and brief visits with friends and family along the way and back. Packed long and short-sleeve shirts, shorts, leggings, jeans, jackets, socks and my boots. I brought my sandals as well as a winter coat just in case. Ready for it all!

Preparations have been made all week. Bills paid ahead, ordered the mail to be held until we get back, arrangements made for my brother & sister-in-law to look after our cottage and yard, ate leftovers and emptied the frig. All were a reminder that vacation is finally here. Dean and I put off a week-long vacation this summer to experience this autumn get-away. Our last long road trips this year were to St. Augustine in February for a sunny vacation, and Gulfport, Mississippi in March to make arrangements for my younger brother’s remains after his sudden death. But these next 9 days away we will travel to the countryside and be with the “Talking Tree, a place where spirit and nature can be”. 

Come with me to the Talking Tree
a place where spirit and nature can be.
Where science of the forest couples
with ancient traditions of the land.
Where indigenous people learn to live
with trees mindfully hand in hand.

Listen to branches rustling hymns
through silent sounds in their limbs.
Mighty Maples murmur in the breeze
sweet tales of syrup drawn to please.

Trees converse, they do care
sending forest messages everywhere.
Through the air and underground
signals pulse from floor to crown.

Quaking Aspen is known for being
the earth's most massive living thing
these trees united by one root system
the world's largest superorganism.

Trees often act for collective good
doing exactly what they should.
Sometimes they will reset their mast
until the attacking danger's passed.

Internal rhythms set their pace
slower than the human race.
Tree's daily burden that they bare
is they process the world's air.

Did trees learn survival plans proven
in the 360 million years pre-human?
What do 7 billion humans foresee
as the fate for earth's 3 trillion trees?

Fallen trees again live too
vessels that life flows through.
Their wood relives deeply in
buildings, books even violins.

So stand with me in equanimity
and listen for lyrics patiently.
Wait to hear beneath this tree
poised to the sound of "poetree".

by Greg Gaul
Sep12

September’s Shift

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September’s Shift

Summer has been long and August lollygag gelled around until finally September has appeared. September’s shift is focused on seasonal changes. Cooler breezes, the air crispier, green leaves beginning to yellow, frantically feeding hummingbirds almost ready for migration, and squirrels burying nutty treasures before the frozen months. Welcome to the prelude of autumn. School children busy about their studies, football games, band practice, parents carpooling, traffic lines longer, and work schedules tightening after a lazier summer season.

This week my regular cooking classes start up again with 5 adults’, 4 children’s, and 1 adult/child class ahead of me. I am teaching this semester with the community college’s continuing education program plus 2 Saturday classes offered at a new venue, a local lavender farm. See more about these classes and where to sign up on my culinary class page. This weekend I worked on a recipe for photos for my crockpot apple cobbler. My Dean surely doesn’t mind being a taste tester. After that all-time record 10″ rain one night in late July, we realized our gutters needed new facia put in. So, Dean finished up the gutter project this weekend, replacing old facia boards that should have been done when a crew was hired last year for a new roof and gutters. That took 4 full days over the past few weekends to secure our cottage from these pop-up storms we have been experiencing.

Autumn is showing up in our neighborhood homes and shops, too. A prompting to shift my decor this week, an autumn wreath placed on the door, a leafy-print runner, amber lights, and pumpkins gracing the buffet. The perennials thickened up over the growing season. A trimming is needed before they come indoors early October, another project for this week. I plan to give away a few pots of houseplants as we have more than plenty. If you live in the metro St. Louis area and need greenery to warm up your home this winter, please let me know if you’d like a green houseplant such as a Boston fern, asparagus fern, spider plant, or philodendron. Each are in showy ceramic or terra cotta pots.

Summer Taking A Curtsy

Lazy daisy, dandelion days of summer are taking a curtsy,

Making way for golden rod, crispy air, and blowing winds.

Soon a final goodbye to the hummingbirds, butterflies so flirty.

With nectar-filled blooms giving a bow and then final bends,

Flowerheads wither, seeds scatter, food for the birdies.

An autumn canvas with yellow, orange, and red blends

Come after September’s rains and sunny days with certainty.

Anna Marie Gall September 4, 2022