Category Archives: journal

Communique

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Every day brings a ship,
Every ship brings a word;
Well for those who have no fear,
Looking seaward well assuredOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
That the word the vessel brings
Is the word they wish to hear.

This poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson is called Letters.    Letters are a type of communique, a collection of words intended for a person or persons.  Letters have been written for years, centuries, and millenniums.  Their forms have been on stone tablets, metal, wood, paper, electronic mail (e-mail), Messenger, and even the Bible mentions words have been scripted on the heart.  Yes, words are heart matters.  Read a poem, letter, scripture passage, blog post, or journal page, and you can feel the author’s heart.

This poem mentions a hope for the word(s) one wishes to hear.  What do you hope to hear today?  “I love you.”  “I am sorry.”  “I need you.”  “I am okay.”  “I miss you.”  “You are healed.”  “Forgiveness.”  “Thinking of you.” “See you soon.”  “I am trying.” …

The next question:  What word(s) can you share with someone today?  My words to share today are “I love you despite all my imperfections and your imperfections.”

 

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The Basics

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Gratitude

One water pipe can change the course of one’s life.  A broken one anyway! Life took a U-turn or some may say a few steps back.  I remind myself that life is not a linear course.  There is so much to learn and experience for it to be a flat, straight line.  Dean and I are back to the basics.  Simple living arrangements in a 1-bedroom studio apartment in a hotel. Stripped to enough clothing for one week.  And I am managing!  Maybe I need to rid myself of the excess in my closets at home collecting dust?  Same with food provisions.  We manage without all the condiments in the frig and choices in the cupboards.  What about all the nick nacks that we packed those 2 days immediately after the flood?  I could give away or toss away into the trash.  The basics indeed, and I am grateful to have a warm bed, comfortable couch, a stove to cook on, breakfast served daily, and the ability to write.

Our plan to buy a guest house in our beloved Hermann, Missouri was curtailed with the water main break in our home 2 weeks ago. We have to take care of our own residence before providing for others. Purples, lavendar, greens, and grapevines color my vision to share a tranquil retreat with others.  This will come about … God’s perfect timing and plans.  We focus on new flooring, walls, and doors for our home.  God’s provisions and blessings.  The basics and the details are in His hands.

 

Autumn’s Alter-Ego

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A hard freeze tonight is in the weather forecast. Up until this week, we wondered when autumn was here to stay. Each night it gets colder. Farmer Dave from the 550 AM radio show says the growing season is offically over in Missouri. We have moved 95% our plants to the shelter of our home and garage in the past 2 weeks. The gourd vines are almost all dried up, so the big gourds will come off their shriveled, withered vines. They will sit in the screenhouse to collect mold on their skin to complete their curing process for future crafting projects during this winter. The little gourds will go to the farmers’ markets this weekend. Great autumn decorations for your harvest table. Our roma tomato plants will die off after tonight’s freeze. We have three huge tomato plants in portable planters, so they now grow under the plant lights of the garage. I wonder how long we will have our organic tomatoes this autumn and winter?! I forgot about my terra cotta planter sitting at the corner of our 1/4-acre plot at Boone Hollow Farm, greets us when we come up the hill to the greenhouse. It houses a solar light post and plants. The geranium, swedish ivy, and vinca may live their last day today. We will not make it the greenhouse tonight with our work schedules, watering, and securing light source for the other plants. But then maybe the solar light will provide a bit of heat to keep temperatures above freezing near the terra cotta plants? Dean and I learn more about caring for plants during the experience rather than just reading about it. Hands on learners. Our plants are science experiments. This blog is our gardening journal. With the crisp nights and early mornings come the glowing autumn foliage. This weekend is to be the peak color weekend. Autumn has an alter-ego I can live with.
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A Redo and Rendezvous Weekend

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Festival of the Little Hills
If you are new to this blog, welcome! So followers, how do you like the redo of the Deanna Greens And Garden Art blog? I love the color changes and artsy design of this theme with WordPress. The floral-paisley swirls, warm hues, ruffled and rough edges represent well the greenhouse, Dean, and Anna. I have found on my journaling journey how important art is to me. Colors, designs, ambiance, and emotion play important roles in this greenhouse adventure my husband, Dean and I embarked on 21 months ago. Yes, plants and art go together in my world. Yes, a love affair of sorts. Hence, the name of our business and this blog. Oh yes, sound structure and organic science are the foundations. But the unique pots & troughs, antique wooden crates & dressers, solar lights aglow, and this literary expression about the green life evolve into garden art.
So off to the Olde Town Spice Shoppe in 2 short hours. I will rendezvous with 300,000+ locals and visitors in historic St. Charles, Missouri for the Festival of the Little Hills this gorgoeus summer day today and Sunday. Herbs, spices, local honey, and specialty food items such as “Beef Dirt” and “Goose Poop” are some of the items to be sold while at work. Check out their website: http://www.oldtownspices.com. A fun store to visit, and great mail order service as well. The Festival of the Little Hills or as the French say Fête des Petites Côtes has been a St. Charles tradition for many years, drawing crafters in from afar as well as local. The rich culture of the French lives today. For more information take a gander at this link http://www.festivalofthelittlehills.com. I promise to write more about my adventures of the celebration this weekend.
What remodel, redo, repurpose, recycle project are you involved with and/or where will you rendezvous this weekend?

Living In This Present Moment

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Bluebird
We have at least one pair of Eastern bluebirds who have nested near the fields at Boone Hollow Farm. Wooden bluebird houses are attached to a few nearby fence posts. Natural foliage and virtually undisturbed grounds surround. They fly freely during the day, flitting about gathering bugs to feed their young while singing beautiful songs. Their predators such the night owl and coyote are heard every night. Yet each day is an occasion for song despite the possible dangers that lurk. Wildlife and nature live in the present moment, and celebrate it. This is what my grandchildren remind me with their everyday lives. They find simple joy in drawing with colors on a blank canvas of recycled paper, creating a sweet note to mommy or me, and the innocent truth they speak even in those awkward moments. Living life to its fullness. Children welcome the gift of living in this present moment, which can bring their adults to this same place, if we allow it. Eli 3rd Birthday
My husband, Dean does this for me as well. I am a planner, and he lives for today. So sociable, affectionate, and thoughtful. Dean brings me back to celebrate this moment. Praying, journaling, and gardening take the cares of yesterday and worries of tomorrow so I can celebrate today. “There are exactly how many special occasions in life as we care to celebrate,” this Robert Brault quote says. Simple joy for the taking, everyday. My Dean

The Year of The Mattress

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Dean and I along with our labrador-flat coat retriever mix, Midnight arrive at the 60+ year old cabin situated on Island Lake just at sundown. Oranges, pinks, and purples kiss the lake “good night” and welcome us. It’s been a long haul from St. Charles County, Missouri to this Minnesota paradise. But so much worth the road trip. Weekday and weekend warriors cannot stop on vacation either. We had taken the extra long route following the Mississippi River highways. So a 12-hour trip became a 15-hour trip. The meandering scenery had slowed our pace down before arriving at this moment. Midnight climbs out of the SUV from his secure kennel into what I think my father described to him as heaven. Our dog gazed wide-eyed at this expansive beautiful lake recounting the aquatic tales his deceased master had told him, I am sure. Into the lake he went, lapping water and going for his doggy swim in Island Lake. Just 2 minutes to realize heaven was here, and my father’s spirit present.
Our first night at the cabin we unloaded the SUV, then gathered jackets and a flashlight onward bound by foot just up the road with our dog. The little green cabin had folks congregated there near a campfire. We met up with my childhood friends and greeted new ones from as far away as Norway. Midnight gets acquainted with more labradors, the natural breed of our 4-legged friends in the land of 10,000 lakes. Before we know it, the time passes midnight with the campfire still aflame. Embers will be there in the morning to start a skillet breakfast. We head back to our lakeside cabin, choosing the front bedroom of the 2-bedroom pine-lined dwelling. I climb into bed too tired to have a spring from the mattress just about empale me. We’ll sleep in the back bedroom tonight and deal with the mattress issue tomorrow. We discovered the back bedroom mattress was not much better as Dean and I are forced to meet in the middle. This mattress’ sunken center provided cozy quarters for this exhausted yet still honeymooning couple. Our backs ache in the morning begging for more support. Dean flips over the empaling mattress to its other side to discover the year of the mattress … 1971. Why that is the first year my father along with my mother and their 4 children ventured to this heavenly northern destination in a Chevy Impala. Now don’t cast too much judgement on this mattress date. The cabins are only used 3 – 4 months out of the year, so a normal 10-year mattress can go to 30 – 40 years. So at 42-years old, it might be due for replacing.
Electronics, computer and TV are non-existent in the cabins. While on this get away, Dean chose to use his basic cell phone on occasion. I took a vacation from it all. This post was written last week, scrawled onto my paper journal … I awoke this morning before sunrise. Is it night still? No clock to check as we are in a time warp at this northern lake retreat. In just a few minutes I see a tinge of blue in the black sky. I take this moment to observe the day’s beginning. I slip on my jeans and sweatshirt and quietly step onto the screened porch. Those moments of complete silence, no human awake just nature and I welcome the morning in this neck of the woods. Our dog, Midnight stretches on the porch and awaits at the porch door to be let out. He, too embraces morning’s arrival this day. There is something special about living in the present moment. All senses akeen, see the colors change before my eyes recognizing the picturesque treeline before me. The loons cry out as the fog lifts from the lake. Misty vapors keep my skin and clothes damp, I smell and taste the lake, and I remember my father’s love of this place. His planning, mapping, and research of his yearly fishing trip started in January when the tree farming and landscape designing was at a hault. My father was a planner, and I too like him. Yet this present moment reels me back to reality. I would have missed this unforgetable sunrise had I rolled over and slept in another morning of my vacation … ducks, a blue heron, and even a night owl calling it a night show themselves amongst the pines, birches, and cattails. The dragonflies are now flitting about, illuminating more color for this overcast day. The brisk morn may see a rain shower before the warm noon sun. No boat on the lake, that I hear or see, and 2 hours into this day … In 1971 and several years to follow, my father would have been out on the lake by now catching walleye and bass for that evening’s dinner. Way before my siblings or I and definitely my mother opened an eyelid. I miss my father today like everyday. This place called Valhalla is heaven on earth, and was my father’s favorite place while he was alive on earth. Somehow he is with Midnight, Dean, and I. It is called eternal life …
For my siblings and I Valhalla meant playing with friends all day with very little chores. We would play h-o-r-s-e in the barn, swim in the cold lake, boat rides, hide-n-seek with the fireflies lighting the path, and a campfire with songs and roasted marshmallows. Those young teenage years I wanted to be on the receiving end of another kiss from a cute Norwegian boy, my Minnesota friends’ visiting cousin. To me Valhalla is about people, kind-hearted genuine folks. The mild summer and lake fish bring the people. But the people bring life to the vacation. The summer visitors enjoy fish fries, potlucks, smokey breakfast skillets, and campfire tales. This year the fish fry, skillet breakfast, fire grilled pizzas, and lemon rice krispies treats make the food highlights. More Norwegian cousins entertain the family and friends this year. I miss my Norwegian friend from my childhood, and his cousin promises to persuade his return to Valhalla next summer. Initimate moments we share about the death and memory of loved ones. Songs were sung at church and at the campfire. Yes, my Scrabble game had kinder words reflecting my kinder, at peace thoughts this restful week. The year of the mattress did not reflect the oldness of 1971, but the goodness.

Scrabble Words

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I keep a Scrabble board set up in my office at St. Louis County, available at the front lobby area for co-workers, visitors, and employees alike to play at their leisure. I borrowed the board game from our neighbor colleagues one building over. One of my office break activities is to play Scrabble. It is a stress relief with the construction projects in my office building. It is like fingernails on a chalkboard some days. Spelling a word or two takes the edge off from the noise level of the drills and saws. I can concentrate better after forming words from the letters that pop in my head. I know it is strange, but it helps. Wellness in action versus taking a “smoke break”, a drag or two of a cigarette before hitting the reports and answering the 100 and 1 questions our employees and retirees have. A “game” is completed usually in 4 or 5 days, with myself the most active player. I experience this same release when I write this WordPress blog or in my journal.
My daughters call me the “Scrabble Queen”, because I love playing it and am very competitive. Though I am competitive in other games such as Monopoly, card games, softball, tether ball, etc. I can still smack that softball over the left field fence. Ask my elementary schoolmates about my tether ball game. I would beat the snot out of the boys at every tether ball game. Well, not the boys but the tether ball! There was a boy or two I may have swung at as well… So back to Scrabble, with my family I use to make nonsensical sentences with the words we formed on the board. My siblings or children and I would laugh for what seemed like hours making up sentences with the Scrabble words. The analyst in me wonders if the combination of words I form for any given Scrabble game have a subliminal significance? Yesterday’s Scrabble board has the words “dead”, “blind”, “fist”, “knot”, “whimp”, “weigh”, and “czar”. BTW: “Czar” scores big points for a short word if you put it on a triple letter or triple word score. So the above words are fairly strong, echoing my recent thoughts of this tough world. “I wish I were blind to the world, whimpy by character, or dead to my feelings, because I am weighed down with knots in my stomach from the tight-fisted czar called life.” Woo! Simply said, I am overdone and have a tude. Feeling ready for my vacation from the house, office, spice shoppe, and greenhouse, you think?! R & R is right around the corner, tomorrow a matter of fact. Thank God! Maybe my Scrabble game will have kinder words such as “zeal”, “calm”, “smile”, “peaceful”, “love”, and “gratitude” when I return from my northern destination? Good chance of it! I want to be a colorful light to this world!


What words does your life spell today? I pray God’s best in your life: color, music, adventure, health, love, and peace!

A Destination, Literary, or Garden Escape – You Pick

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I am counting down the days now to our summer escape to my favorite northern destination in Minnesota. 62 days to be exact. Island Lake between Detroit Lakes and Park Rapids at Valhalla Resort is the place to be. The steady lapping of the water across the sandy shoreline, I long to hear. And the loons with their young calling out to the others, echos in the morning air. The swift tide brings gemmy and shell treasures along the shoreline with mossy driftwood after an afternoon storm. Just the quiet of a summer evening is what I desire. Simple. No city lights, just the northern stars and shining moon to guide my walk along the gravel road to the campfire sparks awaiting for more friends to join.
During those days of rest, a book or two will be at hand to read. Poetry felt. More words to spill onto my journal, eventually onto this blog. Last summer was the genesis of another writing genre, a literary affair with history and romance. Dean and I’s first. Another new adventure for us, probably a several year project with military and history research with 1st and 2nd hand accounts from the Minnesotan locals. Nature walks and shady naps under the birch trees abade.
Of course, the other escape is the garden. Someone’s other than mine, where I do not have to work in it, just be. All the senses awakened. Planted purple lobelia, pink impatiens, and contrasting green native ferns glisten with dewdrops of the crisp mornings. Vignettes of wrought-iron and wooden creations, the ambiance of charm. Fragrant organic tea and delicious strawberry bread shared with my friend while sparrows chirp and chipmunks scurry. I cannot wait to be at Valhalla once again.
Other destinations are on the horizon, I see a place for Dean and I to call “our own”. “Because there’s nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times its sent away,” poet Sarah Kay writes. “Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting. So … get on your way,” Dr. Suess encourages us. See where this life leads us …

They Are Mine Alright!

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So these are my grandchildren, Libby, Ella, Brendan (in the back) with Eli and Hannah (in the front).  Yes, they are mine alright.  They are loud and rowdy when they get together, like they had not seen each other in ages and catching up with each other’s news.  They see each other fairly often as their mothers are best friends and sisters.  I love my grandchildren despite their loud presence.  I have actually learned to relax with children as I get older.  It is guaranteed, they will bring a smile to my face and make me belly laugh when I am with them.   Angels they are not, unless they are sound asleep on their pillows.  This photo was taken on Easter at my parents’, their great-grandparents’ home in Pike County, Missouri.  Libby is a precocious 8-year old, smart as a whip, and will say things as she sees them.  She is a sponge with science subjects such as plants, likes to garden and camp.  Libby thinks she is the ultimate authority on some matters; therefore, it is her parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and teachers who instruct her differently with her reluctance.  School of hard knocks, you know.  She reminds me of her mother, my daughter Elisabeth.   I adore them both.  Then there is 6-year old Ella.  She is one investigator, discovers and researches things.  Inquiring minds want to know!  She is a peaceful child, though can let stubbornness ruin “the  moment” unless Mom or Dad steps in.  Ella resembles me in so many ways.  My Dean calls her “Mini Anna”.  Then there is the 1st born grandson, my 5-year old Brendan.  Reading in full sentences since age 4, on the go as a new adventure character, wrestling with Dad, yet makes time to cuddle with Mom.  Now there is one long word to describe 2-year old Eli … whirlwind!  Maybe another word … tornado!  Eli is into everything!  And definitely has those “terrible two” moments.  But he will bring a smile to my face when he says “I like ‘hot cream'” rather than ‘ice cream’ or when he sits next to me and wants to read a book.  Well, I just love to read to children, especially my grandchildren.  And finally, there is my 1st grandchild, Hannah who will be 11-years old in November.   Her nickname “bug” dubbed before she even walked fits her well.  Hannah loves nature and animals, bugs included.  I have a ladybug stepping stone her mother and her designed for me when she was a preschooler.  Hannah is a “social bug” now, loves to be in the know of the raising teenage movie and singing stars, and has limited access to online chats.  I imagine a cellular phone would be her 1st choice for a birthday or Christmas gift.  See if Mom & Dad are ready for that yet!?  Meantime, journaling and creating art are great outlets for her.  Mine, five wonderful grandchildren!

Through Art Only

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 Oscar Wilde once said,  “It is through art, and through art only, that we can realize our perfection.”  Art forms are many, and more is the artist in each of us.  The contrast of a black and white landscape captured through the camera, the colored palette made from a weaver’s loom,  the Gothic design of an architect’s arched door, a foodie’s crisp salad greens garnished with red nasturtium, artisan apricot beer accompanied with the baker’s cracked wheat bread, the wind sounds slowly dancing from a flute, the flow of a poet’s words; these all are the artist’s perfection.  I find journaling and blogging the avenue to keep my artistic mind going.  Time is an element for most of us, but I encourage all to take time to at least journal your thoughts.  You never know what inspiration will come to you …  Relic stepping stones for the garden are my next artist’s project.  I cannot wait to mix up some concrete and artistically arrange my “finds” into a one-of-a-kind design. 

Below is the gothic doorway of the Carmo Church in Lisbon, Portugal.   I found the photo on the internet.  It emphasizes the gothic arch.  Accompanying it is a photo of my home parish All Saints Church in St. Peters, Missouri, a gothic style church.  The parish was founded in 1823.