The One That Made It

Last spring we bought two young dogwoods trees, a white and a pink.  

I hatched a scheme to create a garden entryway to the back part of our little Kentucky acre.

All I needed was a well-aged, blue-painted door ...

... and a pair of dogwood saplings, which we easily found at Lowes.

But as it turned out, young dogwood trees are like pretzel thins for whitetails—irresistible. 

SO the entryway dogwoods got gnoshed to bits over the winter.

But the extra one we planted close to the house—as an afterthought—made it.

Maybe deer don't care to munch so close to an outdoor grill?

SIDE NOTE:

While I was out taking these photos last night, 

helicoptering over stiff blooms as my men grilled burgers nearby, 

an unexpected hymn bubbled up and hummed past my lips.

Great is Thy faithfulness ...

Summer and winter ...

Pardon for sin ...

All I have needed ...

Peace that endures.

I know I'm not the only one in this crowd with an anxious heart. 

Am I?

It's hard to rejoice when life keeps piling on. 

Like a child left at the nursery desk, I 

nervously bite my lip and wonder when situations 

are going to get better. Just how long will it be until my 

Elder Brother shows up and puts everything in order?

That's when those old hymns drift back, bringing truth and comfort along for the ride. 

Summer Visiting

Guest posting is fun.

Check out my guest post at

Lindsey Brackett's blog

Just Write Life.

Lindsey is a wonderful writer friend and an earnest soul.

Browse around—you'll be glad you visited her blog.

Fairies and Photography

Last fall, I took a leaf photo that I loved. You know how good can be born from 

the very painful things in life? Well, that's exactly what happened.

My returning RA made it much too painful to get low enough to capture the light 

beaming through fall leaves scattered across our patio. So I fiddled with settings and 

took the photos 'blind' by placing the camera on the ground and pressing the shutter release.

 Every photo was a surprise, since I had nothing to do with the

 framing or focusing of the shot.

It occurred to me that photos taken from this vantage point  display what a fairy might see.

Guess I read a few too many books about woodland fairies in my childhood 

because it sure stuck with me!

 And now that spring is swelling into summer, I find myself  wondering what those

 fairies 

might see IF they wandered through my flowerbeds -

 Oriental poppies from below - quite an impressive sight!

 Painted ferns would make a colorful overhead display.

Lily of the valley blooms could replace church bells on any clear morning!

***

This would be a fun photo project for children this summer.  Any point and shoot camera, 

a DSLR with an 'auto' setting, or an iphone camera will do the job. Be ready 

to delete many photos that focus incorrectly, come out blurred or poorly lit. 

But wait for it ...

... they will be thrilled when they get a photo that perfectly portrays the everyday 

viewpoint of  the common garden fairy. And you have a chance to talk with them 

about seeing things from another person's perspective,

 and the effort and payoffs that are involved in that sometimes difficult  task.

Just a thought.

Link to more kid photography ideas here.

The Bag Men

It's funny how age and experience can bring a certain variety of wisdoms, I think. For example ...

- The neighbor's cat is just going to eat a few birds. There's no fighting nature.

- That whole 'You can't judge a book by its cover' thing - really true.

- People speeding wildly in their vehicles can be oh! so easily explained.

- It's just reasonable (and economical) to keep a few different sizes of jeans in your wardrobe.

And now I've come realize something new about  those men you sometimes see carrying the purse. Not their own --- you can tell by the unwieldy handling. I must admit to some inward snickering and scoffing in the past, and yes, even to quietly pointing out the occasional sight of  a bag-bearing husband  for a quiet chuckle among friends. Especially that rare fellow who awkwardly shoulders his wife's purse, in order to have both hands free.

I have to say, I've tried to spare my husband this particular indignity 
among the many which I've managed to inflicted upon him - 

"Thanks, but I 'll carry that myself."  

Said too sharply, I know, because of the big ding that would put in my own pride. It just seems like a 
too-huge admission of weakness to not be able to carry my own purse, right up there with being 
unable to slip on my own socks.*  And Lord knows, I hang on to my (perceived) 'independence' 
pretty fiercely. He's still working with me on that.

*These seem like two of the most basic functions of everyday life. There are other, even more basic,
 of course, but I refuse to let myself even consider those for now.  

So recently, when My Wonderful Husband had to carry my bag to the house while I gripped his other arm, slowly making painful progress toward the house, the tenderness of his helpful gesture smacked me right in the face. "I can't believe you're carrying my purse..."  I managed to squeak, to which he began to swing it and sashay along, being careful to  not jar me too much. It was funny - he made it funny,  to diffuse my emotional response and defeat my pride.   "Not a big deal," he smiled, "Does it match my outfit?"  

I Can't Believe I'm Here is a refrain of my life, maybe of everyone's life,  and one that is sometimes accompanied by mournful tears. Now, laughing is generally better than crying, and we try to stick to that motto around here. But some moments pass by unLIVED if they are refused a recognition which may require tears, even tears mixed with laughter. Even though I can't believe it,  I am here, in a purse-surrendering-spot of life, and the bag-bearing husband is no longer an object of smirky amusement to me. 

He seems more like a hero, actually.

Fall Annabelles

This is how my Annabelles look right now.

They aren't much to look at, are they? Sort of browny-greenish, and translucent with the sunshine coming through the leaves. (That's Middle Son's pumpkin sitting in a place of honor on the front porch...there's some hydrangea vine going up the brick of the house face...you can see a little of the backyard.) Anyway, not much for looks—but wait. In the spring they're one of the first to show tender green leaves. Their buds come on way before the big blue hydrangeas and long before the pink diamond hydrangeas. Every year, I consider cutting them off, they look SO dead—and it is the front of the house. I've never been able to bring myself to do it. They come back better every year, always giving me a baby or two to transplant or share.

"And the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will Himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To Him be the power for ever and ever. Amen." 1 Peter 5: 10-11.

Thanks be to Him, I want to give Him glory for fulfilling this in my earthly life. He has given me a remission from rheumatoid arthritis! The disease first came into my life (OUR lives—it affects the entire family) in 1990, in my second year of teaching inner city first grade and my second year of marriage. I enjoyed spotty relief during my childbearing years, but RA returned with a vengeance after Youngest Son's birth in 1999. I've been through all sorts of medications and complications, and finally, have been given a reprieve from the pain. I saw the hand of the Lord so many times during those dry, browny-greenish years, when the health of my body was certainly looking dead, just like the picture above. The recent good news of a new remission has me feeling like the Annabelle in the spring—bursting with health and promise.