This is a test!

I am just playing around a little with my background and layout and wondered what you thought of the new look. Is it easier to read or harder. Does it improve the look or not make a difference. Just wondering what 6you thought. I like the way the photos pop. Let me know what you think.

Gardening

September is here in all her glory. I love this time of year, especially this year. The summer has been unbearably hot and humid and because I come from the west where the air is dry, I hate humidity. The rains fell hard in the spring washing out many of the crops and forcing farmers to plant and replant and pray for the rain to stop. God listened too well and the rains dried up and the heat baked my
garden, my lawn and my very heart and soul it seemed. I longed for rain, I prayed for rain and here and there we got just a tease of rain but nothing to really measure. Until today. Today, finally on the first Sunday in September the rain fell, not in a down pour that washed away all the dried, baked soil and not in a thunder storm that blew down the trees and bushes but in a steady soft rain that quenched the earth and caused the humming birds to dance and celebrate at my feeders.

I am a gardener in my heart and in my mind. I think it is the optimist in me. Because to be a gardener you must also be an optimist. You must believe that when you place tiny seeds in the warm earth that something beautiful or tasty will rise up in their place. Thomas Jefferson once said. "Though an old man, I am but a young gardener." That is how I see myself. Never do I feel more alive or younger than when I have my hands in the warm soil and even though I know my muscles will ache tomorrow and I will wonder why I torture myself this way, today I have no question as the why I garden. It brings me joy and it brings me fresh produce and it brings beauty into my small corner of the earth. Or perhaps what Thomas Jefferson was referring to was the knowledge that no matter how many years I garden there will always be new things to learn, new methods to try and new plants to nurture. Gardening doesn't grow old it just grows richer with age.

Henry Beecher once said, "Flowers are the sweetest things God ever made, and forgot to put a soul into." My husband always asks me why I spend so much of my time and yard space planting flowers instead of just planting fruits and vegetables. I guess my only answer to that question is, "They bring me and others that pass my house, JOY, pure unadulterated JOY. They are God's art." Claude Monet once said, "I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers." I love to paint (not professionally, I'm not that good). I love to put paint onto canvas and see what I end up with but I have always known that I will create more beauty by burying seed in the earth and waiting for God to bring them to life than I will ever accomplish by painting. I am not Monet but my flower garden can bring the beauty of his works to life and that beauty feeds my spirit as I tend them and as I sit and enjoy their colors, textures and movement.

I always credited my mother for my love of gardening and especially the flowers but she has since told me that she doesn't think she is as much of a gardener as I am. So maybe it was my grandmothers, one growing her many, varied irises by the side of the house and the other her roses and magnificent vegetable garden or maybe it was just my love of beauty and cooking that sparked my interest. But whatever the reason I find that gardening is my escape from the stresses of life. It calms me when I am worried and energizes me when I am weary. The Koran puts it like this, "Bread feeds the body, indeed, but flowers feed also the soul."

I am not a gardener that is particular about each and every weed that enters my garden. I know that in Southern Indiana if you want zero weeds in your garden than you better plan to spend most of your summer hours in that garden pulling them out. Instead I try to remember the wisdom of some of the great gardeners. Emerson once said, "what is a weed? A weed is a plant whose virtues have not yet been
discovered." Anyone who has ever looked at Joe Pye weed or Queen Anne's lace can attest to that. They are a beautiful purple flower and a delicate white flower that grow wild in Southern Indiana in the fields. They are great for cutting and using in bouquets or just admiring as you drive down the road. But the locals would have you believe they are weeds. I have always loved morning glories ever since I was a child. How can you not love a beautiful vine that is covered in blue, bell-shaped flowers in the morning and closes in the heat of the day,only to re-open the next morning. But when I moved to Indiana and planted them on the side of my house, I was told by the farmer, whose corn field bordered my yard, that he spends more time and money fighting morning glories than any other weed. So again I quote another gardener, "What is a weed? I have heard it said that there are sixty definitions. For me, a weed is a plant out of place." Donald Culross Peattie. I was shocked as I watched my Granny standing by her flower bed yanking out full grown tomato plants with tomatoes on them saying, "I didn't plant that and I didn't plant that."when I questioned her about why she would do such a thing she replied. "They are weeds." I challenged her with, "No, they are tomatoes" and she smiled and responded, "If I didn't plant them, then they are weeds." Not so in my garden, not so. If I like them, they stay. If I don't like where they are, I move them but they are still planted and given a chance at life, unless of course, they become invasive and start to choke off my other plants, then they sacrifice their right to life.

So back to today. It is September, September 4th to be exact and I am praising God for the gentle rain that fell on my garden and praising Him for the joy and peace that my garden brings into my life. I am a believer, a person of faith, an optimist so I will share one more quote that I love. Henry David Thoreau said, "Though I do not believe that a plant will spring up where no seed has been, Convince me that you have a seed there, and I am prepared to expect wonders." So plant your seeds, whether the kind that are buried in the earth or the seeds that you plant in your life, in your heart or the hearts of others and then sit back and watch as God brings beauty into your world and into the worlds of those around you.

The Rabbit Hunt

Before I post this I must add a word to my readers. As I have said before many of my siblings tell me that my memories aren't accurate or maybe that I exaggerate. I'm not sure if that is true or not but the story that follows is a memory of a time in my early adulthood so it happened years ago. As you read it,if you lived it with me realize that not all the facts may be exactly as you remember them and if you didn't lived it with me, then this is the honest truth of the matter.

Everyone was excited and talking fast as we sat dinner on the table. It was a birthday celebration for Leonard and I so the family was all gathered at Mama and Daddy’s for dinner and cake. Daddy was out of town on a job and wouldn’t be able to join us and we were waiting for my fiance Steve and my brother Leonard to get home so we could serve the meal. They had left early in the morning to go rabbit hunting in the snow covered mountains of Wyoming. My six younger brothers and sisters were excited and anxious to have cake and were starting to protest about waiting so long. We looked at the clock and at the sun setting in the west and assured them it wouldn’t be much longer.
Leonard and I had always shared our birthdays. We were only a year apart and our birthdays were on January 10th& 12th. We were not only close in age, we had shared friends through all our growing up years and now as young adults we continue to run around together. He and Steve met when Len returned from the army and quickly realized that they shared many of the same passions, one was hunting. They loved to go walking through the mountains hunting for small or large game. Today they were hunting for rabbits. The snow fell deep the previous night and they were glad to know that tracking would be easy.
The sun was completely gone now and the night was getting dark. The little ones were complaining about being hungry so we went ahead and fed them. We could feed them now and then have cake when our hunters got home. I could hear my mom and my older brothers talking in the living room. They were discussing how long it would take to drive from where Len and Steve were most likely hunting. I could hear the concern in their voices as they discussed the weather. The temperatures were supposed to drop well below zero tonight and I heard my mom say she would feel much better when they got home.
I helped my mom and my sister-in-law clear away the dishes from the table and clean up the kitchen. The tension in the house was building and everyone was aware of how late it was getting. My oldest brother came into the kitchen and said as calmly as he could, “I think if the boys could get home, they would have been home by now. It is bitter cold outside and it is dangerous to be stranded out there. I think it is time to report them missing.” I felt my heart skip a beat as I weighed my brother words. We had lived in Wyoming long enough to know that the weather could be deadly if you were stuck out in it unprotected. My mom moved to the phone, called the sheriff and said she wanted to report someone missing. The person on the other end of the line asked how long they had been gone and when my mom replied, “Since this morning.” The deputy told her that you couldn’t file a missing persons until they had been gone at least 24hrs. My mom’s voice grew more insistent as she reminded the officer that the temperatures were suppose to drop to 30below zero during the night and if they were without shelter, tomorrow would be too late. They finally agreed to send someone to the house to talk to her. As she hung up the phone I whispered a prayer, “Please God watch over Steve and Len and bring them home safe.”
Mama was telling the little ones that they should go get ready for bed when the deputy arrived at our door. We invited him in and told him about Steve and Len and asked that a search be started. The deputy replied, “They probably just stopped by the bar for a drink on their way home.” “No”! I replied, “They don’t drink and even if they did, it is Len’s birthday and they knew we would all be waiting to celebrate. Something is wrong or they would be home.” The sheriff looked around the room at the concern on everyone’s face and finally agreed to put out a bulletin to keep an eye out for their car and in the morning send out a search plane. My mom cleared her throat and tried to remain calm as she repeated her concern. “It is too cold to wait until morning! They are out there and may be freezing. We need to start the search now.” The deputy looked at her and responded. “If they stayed with the car they will still be alive in the morning and if not, they are already dead.” The words echoed in my ears. I couldn’t believe what he was saying. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes and my face felt hot. I was sure he was wrong. I knew that God would watch over them and keep them safe. My mom remained insistent and finally the deputy agreed to send one car out to look for them.
My two older brothers decided they would conduct their own search. They had hunted with Len and Steve before and knew some of the area they liked to hunt. Mama made a thermos of coffee and packed some food, and then Charley and Johnny left to start their search. There was nothing else to do but pray and wait. The radio was playing and the weather man reported the temperature as 20 below zero. Mama said, “I’m going to pray the rosary she moved to the bedroom and knelt beside the bed. My sister, sister-in-law and I joined her and we began to pray. “Please Lord keep them safe. Keep them in the car and safe from the extreme cold.” The hours passed slowly, the little ones fell asleep on the couches waiting for word but the adults continued the prayer vigil. The weather man reported the temperature had dropped to 30 below zero, again my mother suggested the rosary and again we all knelt around the bed and prayed.
I thought about what the deputy had said and I knew that it wouldn’t be possible to survive in the extreme temperatures of the night unless they were inside somewhere. I thought about how much I hated the cold and I prayed even harder, “Please Lord keep them safe.” The weather man reported that the wind chill outside was 50 below and warned that you should stay inside because it wasn’t safe to be out. Mama began to cry and then announced that we should all pray. Again, we knelt together and begged God to protect them. How could something so terrible happen on Len’s birthday. This couldn’t be happening. “God please don’t let the night end sad.” I prayed.
The first signs of dawn were painting the sky and we continued our prayers. We hadn’t heard anything from Charley and Johnny or the deputy. The ringing of the phone sent a chill through the room. Would it be good news? Mama answered. It was the sheriff’s office saying they were sending out the search plane now that it was light. “Thank you!” my mom said and hung up the phone. “Let’s pray.” she invited and we returned to the side of the bed and got down on our knees. We had just started praying when the phone rang again. Everyone held their breath as Mama answered the phone a second time. It was Charley. “We have them and they are alright. Call the sheriff and end the search then meet us at the hospital.”
When we arrived at the hospital they were already with the Dr. Their toes were frostbitten but otherwise they were fine. “Thank you God!” I prayed as I entered the ER and hugged Steve. He told us the tale of the previous day and night. “We lost a chain off the tires and then couldn’t get out of the ravine we were in. We tried to dig our way out but once it got dark we knew we were stuck for the night. We were wet from being in the snow all day and cold. We could only run the engine for short periods to conserve the little fuel we had left. Lucky for us, I had your birthday gift in the trunk of the car. It was an electric blanket and we used it to keep warm until Charley and Johnny found us. Leonard kept going to sleep but I would wake him and remind him that you shouldn’t sleep or you might freeze to death.” Leonard laughed, “I told him we might freeze to death anyway and I would rather do it in my sleep.” “When Charley and Johnny finally found us, we were huddled together under the blanket, wishing we had some way to plug it in. When they opened the door and said there was hot coffee and food in the truck Leonard replied, “Shut the door it is cold out there.” So they carried us to the truck.” My sister-in-law responded, “I can’t even count how many rosaries I prayed for you tonight and I’m not Catholic so I don’t even know how to say the rosary but I said them right along with everyone else” Everyone laughed, laughter of relief and of joy.
Steve and I have been married for 37 years now but we haven’t forgotten the lessons learned that January night. We always carry some food and blankets in the car during the winter. We tell someone exactly where we are going when we go hunting or camping. And we end each day thanking God for his constant protection and his never ending love.

Rose Colored Glasses

Rose colored glasses
I have been told by people that know me and love me, that I don’t see the same world as most people. Some say I exaggerate things, others that I fabricate stories and many that I see the world through rose colored glasses. They say I see the world the way I wish it was, instead of how it truly is. I focus on the good in people and try to see their “whys” for the things they do that I disapprove of. Whether that is true or not I don’t know but it got me to thinking…

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if everyone in the world wore rose colored glasses? If all of us look at the best that the world has to offer and saw the strengths in people instead of their short-comings. So many times when someone does something we don’t like we are quick to judge their behavior as bad or evil instead of stopping to look at all the possible reasons for their behavior. We take their actions personally, as if they did it to us and don’t treat it as, merely a random act.

I read a book once called The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz and he talked about creating a better world by all people living according to four agreements.
1. Don’t take things personally
2. Always do your best
3. Be impeccable to your word
4. Don’t make assumptions
After reading the book I thought about how it could change the world if we could all live by those agreements. What if when someone did something that scared us or hurt us we would look for the possible reasons for their actions or better yet what is we asked them about their reasons rather than assuming we already knew them.

I wondered how much industry and economies would prosper if every person that came to work put forth their best effort and felt pride in the job they were doing. Not only would the employees change but also the management would work at being the best, the most understanding, the fairest, the most organized that they were capable of being.

And what a change our world would see if no one uttered a word that would do harm to another person. Not one word of dishonesty. No gossip about another person. No criticism unless it was to that person and was only meant to help them improve the situation. No nation would judge or criticize another, unless they were discussing with that nation what their needs were and were offering assistance to improve a situation. And even then they would allow the other nation the right to choose whether or not to accept their offer of assistance.

And finally what if each of us gave up our claim to mind reading powers and stopped assuming we knew what was in another's mind or heart when they did or said something. What if we went to the source? What if we allowed others the right to make mistakes sometimes and then learn from them without criticizing or making fun of their efforts?

So today I will get up and start my day but first I will put on my rose colored glasses and remind myself to see the world as it could be and look for the best in each person I meet.

Life is funny

Life is a funny thing. We enter the world without a road map, without a guide book and are expected to find our way through it and hopefully leave the world a better place than when we entered it or at least no worse.
Somewhere along the way we realize we are not journeying alone. I guess the first person we notice is our mother because of her all important role in our life. She feeds us, cleans us when it’s needed and comforts us when we are feeling distressed. Mom is our security and our first love. Gradually our little eyes open to find other interesting people, like our daddy, who knows how to tease and romp and can be quite entertaining to watch. Then we find other little people, maybe not as small as us but still small enough to peak our curiosity. Each day it seems our tiny world expands exponentially until one day we find ways to interact with the world around us. This whole process has been witnessed by parents again and again and each time it is a mesmerizing miracle to behold.
Our world takes a huge leap when we enter school. For the first time we are exposed to influences that are not directly controlled by our parents. Some of these are wondrous and exciting others are unsettling and frightening. We not only catch every childhood disease known to man that first year of school but we also catch on to how people treat and manipulate others and learn how they expect us to behave.
I don’t remember much about my early years of school but I do remember that I got in trouble in first grade for being a tattle-tell. I even know who it was that told me to go tell the teacher (she didn’t get in trouble so I doubt she remembers the incident). Isn’t it strange that this would stick in my brain after all these years? I was shy and unsure of myself those first years of school and I watched the other kids to learn how to act. But overall I was a happy little girl and liked school.
Somewhere around fifth grade things changed for me. I got a best friend. She was my confidant, my idol, my playmate and my best buddy. My dad used to say we were each other’s shadow. We used to pretend that we were sisters. This friendship was probably the one that shaped me more than any relationship I had outside my immediate family. Her family was from a much higher social-economic class than mine and she was the youngest, the only daughter and the last child at home. I was the 5th of 12 children and the second oldest daughter. We were so very different and still we played and dreamed in tandem. We were inseparable from 5th grade until our junior year in High School when our activities and boyfriends kept us busy and gradually we spent less time together.
But from that experience and many other experiences in the years since, I have learned that everyone needs a special friend, maybe a sister or brother, maybe a cousin or school friend, but we all need someone to share our joys and our sorrows. So look around at the people that you share your life with and appreciate the friends and family that brighten your world. Take time to tell them they are special to you.
I entered this world without a guide book or a road map but somehow I was blessed to find a series of guides that led me to where I am and I feel it is where I am meant to be. Thank you my friends for accepting me as I am and encouraging me to make the most of my life.

When I was young I thought my mom had super powers. She could fix anything that was broken, kiss away Boo Boos, sing me to sleep when I was tired and cheer me up when I was sad. I believed she never slept because she was awake to tuck me in and kiss me good-night and was up in time to make breakfast for me before I woke up.
By the time I started school and I realized that no, she wasn't a super hero, she was a genius. She could tutor me in math, proof read my English or help with a science project. She knew everything about religion and baking and sewing and on and on and on.
Years went by and soon I was in junior high. I looked at my mom and saw a magician. She could turn chores into games and create art from scraps. She could tuck her three youngest daughters into bed and then magically make three Easter dresses appear before they woke up on Easter morning. There they would be laid out on the couch with white shoes, white gloves and Easter bonnets. That is a magic trick I will never forget.
By the time I reached high school I thought I knew everything. I knew without a doubt that my mother was a talented artist and a dreamer. She was the only mother I knew that painted murals on the dining room wall and wrote Christmas pageants for church, composing the music herself.
As a very young adult my world suddenly crumbled around me and there Mama stood as my rock, close beside me to hold me as I cried and to assure me that God had a plan. She listened as I insisted that it wasn’t fair, not judging just quietly assuring me that “the sun will come up tomorrow.”
The sun did return and with it three daughters each one arriving on the heels of the previous one. I found myself a young mother constantly busy with diapers, laundry, picking up toys and teaching my little ones not to play in the toilet or the fish tank, I suddenly realized that my mother was a saint and a martyr. I marveled at all the love and patience she had given us and wondered how she survived twelve children. But she didn’t merely survive us, she found the time and energy to offer each of us unconditional love, making sure we knew that we were wonderful and special.
Now I look around and see that I have grown older and they say that with age comes wisdom, though I don’t feel very wise. I now see my mother more clearly and I realize that she is all those things and more. She is a super hero, a genius, a magician and artist and dreamer, my rock and a saint but most of all she is my Angel Mother who loves me, inspires me, encourages me and makes me want to be a better person than I am. She is a kind and gentle woman, a loving mother and grandmother, a quiet light that warms all how come in contact with her. She is the woman that I hope to someday be. Mama, I love you!

A Unique Family

I was not raised in a normal family. The average American family has 2.5 children. I was the 5th of 12 children. The majority of US families are blended or single parent households. I was raised by two loving parents that both resided in my home. Currently most homes have both parents working outside the home. I was blessed to have a loving “stay at home mom” (but she was a working mother, remember 12 children). Those weren’t the only things that separated my family from the norm. My dad traveled in his work but was always an active parent, present at the birth of every child and home for all the major holidays I remember. We had a family band and performed locally and regionally at weddings, nursing homes, school dances and bars. Mama was an undiscovered artist writing Christmas pageants, painting murals on the walls and allowing her children equal creativity even to the point of my brother’s painting their bedroom walls black and covering their ceiling with swirling red and white stripes dotted with stenciled blue stars. She didn’t flinch when they replaced their light fixture with a black light and covered the black walls with psychedelic posters; after all it was the 70s.
But don’t get the idea that we were free spirited "hippy" children. We were a grounded Catholic family that said the family rosary, went to mass on Sunday and weekdays and sang in church more than anywhere else, often making up the whole choir. Mama read us bedtime stories from the Lives of the Saints; I believe she was hoping we would follow in their footsteps.
I remember once when we were performing Christmas music at the State Children’s Home in Wyoming and a little boy came up to my brother and said, “Your family is weird.” My brother never missed a beat as he smiled and replied, “I think the word you are looking for in unique.” From that day on I have always believed I was the product of a unique family and I always smiled at that thought.
When I married Steve, who most people describe as a playful, guy that forgot to grow up, and we began our family how could we expect them to grow up to be anything but unique.
Our girls started their lives in Wyoming surrounded by enough cousins, aunts and uncles to fill our home to over-flowing. So when we moved to Indiana where we had no family my youngest asked with all sincerity, “But who will come to our birthday.” We soon learned that you don’t really have to share blood to be family and there were wonderful friends that opened their hearts, homes and families to us so we could share the holidays. With this change we realized that some of the family traditions that worked in Casper with a very large family didn’t work well with our smaller crew so the girls began to create new traditions. Thus began the commemorating of Dios de los Muertos at the Art Museum for Halloween (whenever possible), dressing up as Indians and Pilgrims on Thanksgiving, and the afternoon Thanksgiving “craft with a twist competition” after the meal instead of football (remember all my children are girls) of course Steve and the husbands still have the option of football if they feel the need, the annual cutting of the Christmas tree as a family and the Christmas family crossword puzzle (where every question is about someone or some event in the family’s history).
We are a close family but each has their separate interests and calling. Tana is my oldest and she and Nic have a son Cohen. Nic is a photographer and Tana a lawyer. Angie and Nick (yes, they are both named Nick, just to make it confusing for me when I’m old) own and run and bagel/sandwich shop and grille. They have three children, Calvin, Henry and Marley and live just outside our town on a three acre mini-farm. Stephanie our youngest is single and works as a therapist for a community mental health center. She likes to claim the title of “Favorite Aunt and Spoiler of the Grandchildren.”
Steve and I have good-a-nuf health. Good enough health to allow us to continue working, Steve with computers and me in mental health. We are members of the community music club and I still sing at the church but we spend most of our free time enjoying our children and our grandchildren. I teach them things they need to know and Steve teaches them how to get in trouble.
So I am the product of a unique family and I raised my children in a unique family and now I sit back and watch with pride as they raise their children in their own unique families. Life is good!