Garden Pointers

 

When I get a chance to go outside with my grands, they'll often hear me say, 

"Use your looking eyes."

 Of course, the teacher part of me can't resist adding even more instruction-- 

"Listen! Did you hear that?" 

"Touch this," or 

"Smell these..." 

You know--just your everyday kind of interacting with nature. 

But for me, the visual trumps all the other senses. 

Small wonders in my own backyard remind me of who I am in 

the grand scheme of life. Ordinary sights like this datura bloom point the way 

to the One who longs to welcome us home. 

My dear husband gifted me a macro lens for my recent birthday. 

Now I can get an even closer view of nature's small miracles, 

markers on the path of life. 

 

If you'd like to read more about HOME, I'm writing a newsletter on 

Substack. Click the link to take a peek. Subscribe for free to help 

this writer girl out. 

The newsletter focuses on practical ways to build an authentic home while 

heading toward our true home.  

I hope you enjoy it. 

Sky Gazing

Why is the sky a subject of study only when I'm at leisure? 

If I'm kicked back in my Kentucky beach chair with nothing to do, 

 I'll tilt my face upward  

and check out whatever artwork God left way up there. 

When I'm not at leisure, I'll scan the sky for rain or storms--snow? 

A jet streaks across the horizon, and I wonder 

what the passengers will enjoy upon arrival. 

Hawks wheel above, and their grating call draws my eye 

upward, but only for a moment.

It seems my time viewing the sky decreases 

even as stress levels increase.

Does it seem that way to you, too?

If I'm zipping to the grocery, the nursing facility, or to school, 

I don't stop and take time to sky gaze. 

But I know I should. 

Taking time to look up inoculates the nonsense with

 a necessary dose of perspective. 

I might log a two-thousand-word day, 

prepare a kidlit lesson, and work 

my way through a mountain of laundry--

but I need to pause every now and then to

 look up and remember these truths. 

 

A Worthwhile Practice

 

Gratitude. 

I haven't been the best student, but 

the Lord has been teaching me about this discipline ... 

my entire life. 

* dogwood blossoms turned to berries

Living where there's a turn of the seasons provides plenty 

of opportunities to cultivate a grateful heart. 

*heavenly blue morning glories on the courtyard trellis

In seasons of grief and loss, it helps me to look 

outward and upward, instead of inward. 

I've spent a lot of time outside on my one-acre, 

deliberately searching out beauty and 

stubbornly seeking the wonders He's provided. 

*sweetgum leaves as individual works of art

Gratitude is a practice I intend to continue.

How do you cultivate a grateful heart? 

* More about living a thankful life here. 

The Building Team

Do not despise small beginnings. 

This divine encouragement came to Zerubbabel, the temple builder. 

Obviously, He wasn't talking about spring tulip spikes 

in Kentucky. But it's surely a gardener's verse too, for 

a gardener is also a builder, similar to good ol' 

Zerubbabel. 

We're all building something or other, isn't it true? 

I'm determined to be on the building team 

and not the tearing-down team.

Although when I have found myself wearing that 

ugly ocher jersey on occasion, I rip it 

off and move on as quickly as possible.

Here's a tiny splash of the glory that resulted from 

oh, so, small beginnings. 

Two more posts on small beginnings here and here. 

I'd love to hear about your small-beginnings project and how it's coming along.

 

Almost Fall and a Thank You Gift Offer

It's that time of year. 

The zinnias shrug into crisp September air 

and outdo themselves in height and color. 

Fanciful fairy rings sprout overnight 

in dew-drenched clover.

And you teach your dog to wear glasses. 

Why wear glasses? 

The better to READ with, my dear!

It's only two months until my project with Familius Publishing, 

Teach Your Dog to Read, 

comes on the market. 

November 8th is the big day. 

If you preorder, I'll send thanks in the form of 

seeds from my garden. You can choose one of these: 

Send your choice of seeds and your mailing address to simpsoncircle@gmail.com.

Wonder Sparks

It may not be smart to stand under an icicle to get a photo like this one. 

But if you're prone to wonder as you wander, 

you'll do the silliest things to capture a spark of it for your own. 

Winter in Kentucky pares away every frill boasted by warmer seasons.

Without blooms, bugs, or buds for marvelment, 

you have to work harder to discover and enjoy natural wonders.

* I think it's worth the effort. *

True Colors

 

Suddenly, fall is almost finished on our one Kentucky acre. 

This year's color change was slow to arrive, but just before they fell, 

the leaves put on a dazzling show of color. 

Just like every year, sunlight and 

temperature changes signaled chlorophyll to stop its work. 

And the greens of summer faded away while I was busy carving 

pumpkins and puzzling out costumes.

Without the influence of chlorophyll, 

what the leaves packed in during their spring-and-summer lives 

finally surfaced to create ...

... a grand spectacle of fall color pointing to the 

glorious nature of a wise and extravagant Creator. 

* photo taken on a Smoky Mountain getaway

It might be a life lesson, whispered to anyone  

with an ear to hear. 

Hello and Goodbye

Well, hello, Spring! 
I thought I saw you skulking around the edges of our Kentucky acre—

awkward with un-belonging and unsure of your welcome. 

You're not to blame. 

Winter took too long in its departure, seeming to leave then rushing back 

for some forgotten object. Some seasons don't know when it's just time to go. 

And Spring, I'm sorry you've already been bullied away by Summer 

who shoved its way in, smelling of firepits, cut grass, and sunscreen.

Maybe next year you'll arrive earlier and stay a little longer. 

 

Premium Property

Yesterday, we woke up to a winter-wonder landscape. 

My sidekick and I went out for a look around and some photos. 

We found this cozy bird bungalow still vacant, 

but what a view! 

A tiny home among snow-capped dogwood blossoms is 

premium property for sure. 

Maybe when spring sets in for good, bird tenants will come as well. 

I'm hoping for bluebirds. 

Here's a collection of favorite bird books to share with the littles in your life. 

****

These days, I'm pondering this verse: 

"Your own ears will hear him. 

Right behind you a voice will say, “This is the way you should go,” 

whether to the right or to the left."

Isaiah 30:21 NLT

January Portraits

January is a black and white snapshot 

of ashen-iron skies and 

dappled dove-grey grass. 

January is a lady-in-waiting, 

dozing and waking, 

then slipping to slumber again.

January is an empty attic room,

where blinding-brilliant sunbeams pierce 

a lazy dust mote dance.

- SHSimpson 

Plenty of Space

Sapphire skies host cotton candy clouds while

drowsy river waters float Kentucky kayaks

and carry conversations,

bouncing laughter bank to bank and back. 

Paddles dip, then lift and switch—

providing plenty of space for the 

what-ifs, 

how-abouts, 

and did-you-evers

which stitch our summer together.

Spring Garden Tips and Swift Transitions

My lily of the valley went above and beyond in the last few weeks. 

This frilly girl can be invasive—extremely so. 

If your boundaries aren't strict enough, it will take over the entire garden. 

I recommend putting it in a container if you can't be ruthless with the hoe. 

Our Japanese maples were frost-fried during the crazy weather we've had this 

spring in northern Kentucky. One young tree only has a few leaves left to power itself 

through the rest of the growing season. It's well over twelve feet tall now but 

started as a seedling like the one I found this week. Red maples can be sprouted 

from their "keys" if you have plenty of patience. 

Tutorial here. And this longer tutorial is loaded with information. 

SIDE NOTES:

One of my least favorite sayings is, "The only constant in life is change." But we all know how true it is—life is an ever-lengthening chain of transformations, variations, and transitions with an about-face or two thrown in for good measure. 

* Here's where we have choices. 

Will we choose to react in fear and doubt, processing change from a position of weakness? I admit to pitching a tent in one of these slums or another too many times. 

Or will we choose to absorb life's vagaries with confidence and good humor?

2020 has been a continual test of my resolutions to choose well. 

Maybe it has been for you, too. 

* I've been through a few stages of life now, and here's what I keep coming back to. This is what gives me direction. And when I entered motherhood twenty-eight years ago, this became one of my anthems. Will you share yours? 

What Kind of Fruit?

The fruit trees are blooming on our rural one acre.

Blushing peach tree blooms, alabaster plum tree flowers, and still-tight apple buds. 

It doesn't matter how desperate the news, 

spring in Kentucky is settling in and getting comfy.

 My Youngest planted these trees a few years ago. 

They're barely tended, receiving only a hard pruning now and then. 

 No fertilizer. 

No pest control measures. 

No staking or mulching.

And yet ... they bear fruit anyway. 

But not the sort of fruit anyone looks forward to enjoying. 

Tiny and shriveled, what survives the late-season frosts 

bears the gnawing of every critter that passes through our backyard retreat.

With the rest of the world, I'm examining the fruit my life is bearing.

In impossible-to-imagine pandemic days, will I yield fruit gnawed by fear and anxiety, 

frost-bitten with affliction, neglect-shriveled knobs?

I pray not. 

Will you, with me, work alongside the Master Gardener to 

stake what's leaning and allow the pruning of what's useless?

 Are we willing to stand guard against enemies of anxiety and 

despair, and instead, pour on the fertilizing energies of gratitude and generosity?

I pray so.

Together, we can bear fruit that will bring delight instead of disappointment. 

Read more about spiritual fruit here. 

Explore a fascinating innovation in fruit trees here.

At First Glance

A visitor to my Kentucky acre might believe this curly willow to be dead. 

At first glance, that's understandable. 

"Just cut that down and make room for something new," 
my visitor might say and donate a casual kick. 

But, the gardener knows better than any visitor. 

Time and attention have been invested in this tree—hours of staking, 
pruning, and watering. The considerate gardener knows that 
it's a mistake to hoist or chop in haste. 

What's true in the garden also proves trustworthy in the greater arenas of life:

parenting
friendships

aging
career

So, wait a while. Slow down and look the other way. 

Sometimes, not every time, but occasionally 

 when you look back, you'll find those longed-for signs of life.

------------

Learn how to root curly willow branches here.  

I just cut a long "whip" and leave it in a bucket or a tall vase of water 
until a decent root ball forms. 

Here Comes a Duck

She waddled up our seen-better-days driveway, 

 chatting to herself the way ducks do, and stood in a puddle, commanding our attention.

She got that and much more. 

All summer, we carried around bits of bread and cracker crumbs 

and became her best option for some decent take out.

In exchange, she followed us around the acre like a family dog providing a 

soothing backdrop of duck talk. 

I often wondered exactly what 

she was saying, but never could get close enough to make out 

any real words. It might have been a complaint about the 

 bread quality or the boring variety of crackers, because she 

disappeared after a few visits—on to better menus, I'm sure.

Exactly what your granny used to say, right? 

"Just when you think you know what to expect, 

here comes a duck."

Settling into Garnet

The Japanese maples on our acre are always among the first to 

celebrate spring. Trunk and branches store and 

stoke their calling-card color all winter, and in the spring ... 

... it bursts from every stem tip—scarlet flags against a

new-blue, spring canopy.

Now the fanfare is over, and they've settled into a more sedate 

summer color, something along the lines of garnet. 

As many of you know, I signed a contract to publish a children's book with Familius Publishing. I'm thrilled to join this company and add "Debut Author" to my list of life titles. I'd like to give updates here on what the journey to publication has been like for me, and let you know what's coming up next. 

Here's a question I've answered before:

How did you make connections in the writing industry?

In fall, 2013, my youngest son finished eighth grade at the Simpson Home Academy and entered public high school. I cautiously tiptoed into the writing world, staying safely on the edges. My investigations led me to Word Weavers International. Through this organization and its generous leaders, I began to step out of the shadows, meet other writers, and learn about the #writinglife. 

I'd love to answer questions about what's involved in a publication journey, which is unique to every writer. Ask your question or share your own experience in the comments.

A few facts for now: 

* The working title of my book is "Family Dog." It's highly unlikely that the title will stay the same. 

* The book will be in the Spring 2021 Familius catalog but will be available a few months sooner than that. 

* I haven't met the illustrator or the editor of the book yet. 

* I paid for high-resolution photos (headshots) at Portrait Innovations. It was a painfully awkward experience, but the talented young photographer managed to get a few photos that I'm happy to have for a back-cover blurb. 

More details soon! 

Susan

Toadstool Surprise

Someday when you're out walking your combo dog* on a crisp fall day,

you might see one of these ordinary brown toadstools.

It happened to me. 

When I stooped to see a bit better, tiny light-sparkles bounced from micro-thin

spider strands stretched across the cap.  

What a clever decoration!

From bended knees, I peeked farther under the cap to see sunshine-lit gills.

This often despised-sprout looked more and more like a welcoming shelter.

And from a ground-level view (belly)—what an impressive structure! 

The perfect place for tiny folk to relax on a sunny fall afternoon. 

At least it was ... until my combo dog rushed back to see what was so interesting. 

Turns out toadstools are delicate, not dog-proof at all. 

Back to walking. 

* What's a combo dog?

That's what you get when you adopt a puppy from the local animal rescue people. 

They tell you it's a Labrador retriever, but it turns out to be a

beagle-y, Australian shepherd-ish, terrier-type of mutt. 

A cute, smart, adorable one.