out of the dark

The little resale shop-in-a-house-along-a-country road that only opens seasonly, emails to say they 

will open on the weekend. It's been awhile since I'd been there so I decide I "need" to go. 

We just never know what we'll find there. 

There is only one thing I'm looking for. I get there soon after it opens and the 

proprietor meets me at the door, arms outstretched in frustration. 

"We have no electricity and don't know when it will be on again." 

But she invites me in to shop in the dark. 

The light from the door shines on a plethora of Franciscan Desert Rose. I find two bowls to add 

to my mother's set that I so enjoy using. Now I can serve soup to six. Right next to that, in a

 bit dimmer light, are a bunch of glass desert dishes of which I have seven at home. Now I have eight!

But they are not what I'm looking for.

I head in the darkness towards the book room. The reason I came. I shine my 

phone flashlight on the rows of bookshelves, scanning for a certain title.

Down behind the chair is a neat stack of books on a bottom shelf.

I move the chair and reach down to read the titles.

Sure enough, there it is. Not just a nicely priced used copy, but a beautifully

bound copy looking like new, with pictures inside.

My own book was given away years ago. I needed a new copy as my granddaughter

and I are beginning to read it together, a bit at a time. And I can only

renew a library book so many times!

Imagine my delight in finding such a volume.

(I call it a God-wink!)

And I was so pleased when we were looking through our movies 

last week and came across Little Women. "Not-so-little-one" said,

"Oh I can't watch this one, Grandma. 

I have to read the book first."

a taste of camp

The Gardener continues to improve. And a few days before Easter

the grandchildren arrived for "Camp G&G," as I

decided to call it, hoping to give it a positive spin as their parents 

were very far away. We kept busy and had lots of fun. And

this grandma hit the sack each night the minute their lights were out.

Here are some highlights:

Eggs of course. This year I got "fake ones"

and used their interesting method of coloring.

Just drops of coloring in a baggie, insert egg and squish around.

The kids loved it, wanting to add colors to see what happened.

They were beautiful.

Puzzles, games, blocks, old videos, stories, playing with

neighbors … lots of good fun.

Outdoor work too, supervised by Grandpa who had graduated

from walker to a cane. A good friend dropped off three plants in

three Easter buckets for the kids to plant in our garden! A great idea.

The same thoughtful friend came back later with bug shaped 

cakes she had made, along with icing ready for coloring and decorating.

Such fun, and a delicious desert.

The final day this exhausted Grandma succumbed to

lunch from McDs (which these kids probably

never experienced before.) I have to say the food was

healthy and the happy meal prize--smurf houses--provided 

entertainment for the rest of the day.  

Smurfs? "Grandma, how do you know about them?"

nature stories

 The dogwood. It's whispy beauty gleams in the most surprising places.

A sprinkle of color here or there, peeking out of woods, along fences.

Its thin, oft crooked trunk proudly bends to its Easter tale.

The story is that its strong wood was used for crucifixions.
After one was used for Christ's cross, dogwoods never grew straight again.
The flowers, in the shape of  the cross, portray the crown of thorns,
the drops of blood and the nails.
It may be southern folklore, but dogwoods stop me to remember.

In our garden one solitary azalea blossom survived the freeze.
The bush is huge and usually blooming white.
 You may make your own story here, but for me it's about the Gardener.
I'm so thankful he's home after serious back surgery
and six days in the hospital.
A new lease on life, one could say.

Our neighbor's dogwood and late blooming (after freeze) azalea, 
seen through the branches of our baby dogwood, just starting to bloom.