open windows

We don't open windows much here in the south.
Conditions have to be just right, which doesn't happen often.
But on the rare Goldilocks day, when it's not too hot and not too cold,
the pollen is gone and humidity is low, I love to throw open the windows.
The scent of fresh air fills the house, and I'm immediately taken back to my childhood.
In the Chicago suburb where we lived, no one had air-conditioning.
We kept the windows open all summer long, with a single fan in a downstairs window
to help pull the hot air out of the house during a heat wave.
(How we would beg our dad to let the fan blow inwards so it would
 blow on us, but no, he always faced it outward, and yes, at times
a slight breeze did come in the upstairs windows as a result,
but we still begged.)

The sounds of outdoors filled the house -- people talking, cars passing,
kids playing hide and seek, while crickets lulled us to sleep.
And it always seemed cooler on those hot nights
to sleep with our heads at the foot of our beds.
Maybe we were just trying to get closer to a window, hoping for a slight breeze.

Isn't it interesting how a simple open window
can transport us to another time?

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to floss or not to floss

Just shy of 46 years old, the Gardener's wedding band got stuck on his swollen finger. It had been there all those years except for the recent surgery. G's finger swelled in the night due to a bug bite on his knuckle. There was no way we could get that ring off.

We tried a few things and of course nothing worked. Then I recalled a you tube video I had seen––I can't remember why or when––but it was fascinating to see a method using dental floss to remove a ring from a swollen finger.

I maneuvered the floss under his ring with a plastic needle and then started winding the floss ever so tightly around his finger (which we had soaked briefly in ice water.) This may be the hardest medical thing I've had to do for him as it was so terribly painful. A little dish soap aided, and bit by bit, pulling the floss from the top the ring advanced further and further down his finger until off it came!!

I don't recommend anyone use this method. I just share the story for the amazement of how something we see or hear about in passing can years later become something vital to us. I attribute it to God's loving providence and care. The finger is healing nicely and the ring will go back on soon!

A recently discovered photo when the ring was only 16 years old.

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.

the boat

I don't usually enjoy a book about sports, 

so reading Boys in the Boat, by Daniel J. Brown,

was definitely a different experience for me.

And, it has become one of my favorite books.

More on the book in a moment. Food seems important at our book club as much as

we try to simplify things. This time Lydia Grace, our hostess, provided just

simple snacks. Well--maybe not so simple. One thing led to another 

as she creatively came up with boat-type serving pieces and snacks. 

See all the narrow slips (boats), oars and nine crewmen?

The book was about the 1936 University of Washington crew that won the 

gold medal at the Berlin Olympic games. See? That doesn't sound to me like

 a book I'd like. It was even long, and I had to get three different

copies out of the library to get it all read before book club.

 But it was well worth it. Mr. Brown is an excellent writer. 

 I kept reading snippets to the Gardener and he followed the story along with me. 

It took us through the depression, regattas near our college, the dust bowl, 

Hitler's propaganda schemes, extreme weather, and inside the lives 

of young college men who were just regular guys.

The teamwork was what was the most fascinating and such a wonder 

to take in. It was a riveting story and gave me a lot to think about.

"And he came to understand how those almost mystical bonds of trust and affection, 

if nurtured correctly, might lift a crew above the ordinary sphere, transport it to a place 

where nine boys somehow became one thing--a thing that could not be quite defined, 

a thing that was so much in tune with the water and the earth and the sky above that,

 as they rowed, effort was replaced by ecstasy."

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doubled by wonder

"I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought;

and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder."

~G.K. Chesterton, 1874-1936

A thought for the weekend.

"I've been somewhere"

As we drove away from our friends' house I turned to the Gardener and said,
"I feel like I've been somewhere." A friend told me that once after a birthday
party at my house that I had made as special as I could. I loved what the phrase says
and have used it since when something is really memorable.

Our friends had invited us and another couple for dinner.
And she pulled out all the stops, or at least all the good china, crystal, and silver.
It was a very delicious meal, beautifully served.
Our hostess paid attention to every detail. The other guest also loves
a nice table, and together we noticed and appreciated everything

we saw and tasted. Such a fuss is certainly not necessary
and I enjoy casual dining as much as anyone,

but once in awhile it's really nice to pull out all the special things
for a good meal and to celebrate friendship. 

What a great evening it was!

Maybe the "icing on the cake" was when she served tea
in her mother's old Hall teapot. It was very similar to my own mother's teapot.
All three of us women have lost our moms in recent years, and somehow
seeing that teapot just touched my heart in a special way.

found on etsy

my favorite time of the week

 The phlox have started blooming. Each year they cover more area.

So lovely.

I'm growing a stack of these Sh*tterfly books. 

The Gardener keeps finding me coupons for a free 8 x 8 book.

It's not hard for me to fill one, I love taking pictures so much.

So I haven't paid for one of them (except postage.)

Azaleas are in full bloom but the dogwoods, who usually come at the same

time, are a bit slower. No one denies it's been a mixed up spring.

And if what is predicted actually happens this weekend, this pretty scene

out our front door window will be covered in white. Yes, white.

And my favorite time of the week?

The morning I volunteer in oldest ("Not so Little One's") 

2nd grade class. I must admit to my brain being taxed sometimes 

when I  help them with math problems, or try to remember

grammar rules, but it's good, so very good to be back in 2nd grade.

I love knowing her friends and talking school with her.

It has been a gift to me this year.

Five Bits About a Week

1. We gathered as old friends for tea this week to celebrate a new grandmother.

We gave her a few things to have on hand to help in her new role.

(not a grandma shower, but   a l m o s t …)

2. During a puzzle-making session, grandson wondered what it would

be like to make a puzzle with no picture on it. So we flipped it.

It was harder to do, and we're sure our brains got more exercise.

3. Four young men to join the Gardener and I for lunch? Certainly they

would not care about a pretty table, but my dishes are what they are.

I tried to make it very casual, and went outside 

to gather some azaleas for the center of the table.

 One of the guys declared the soup the best he'd ever eaten.

(As an aside, I purchased sweet potatoes for the recipe 

and when I went to peel them was shocked

that they were white sweet potatoes. New to me!)

4. Last weekend was so beautiful the Gardner and I decided to take a ride after

working outside all morning. We drove back roads to a little town

filled with antique shops. But all we did was enjoy lunch at a "store front" 

restaurant and then headed home for a nap.

5. Several funerals in our church community all on one weekend.

One was a dear elderly lady who loved Christmas. Her

daughter took all her mom's pins/broaches and designed them

 into a Christmas tree shape. What a sweet memory.

Bonus: Azaleas are in full bloom here, about a month early.

What a surprise to see camo holly berries in the midst of the azaleas.

the details

I'm drawn to architectural details everywhere I look it seems,

but maybe especially in Charleston, SC.

Five Views of Color

 

Some of my favorites.

Valentine

I was so pleased when I found this valentine my father

sent my mom. Hallmark 1944.

His sweet message inside reminded me of the deep love they had for 

each other, that always was evident to us children.

I remember how much we loved Valentine's day as kids.

We gave a valentine to each one in our class. But the best part was 

decorating shoeboxes with hearts and tinfoil or tissue paper. 

The slot in the top was important. 

They became mailboxes that each child dropped their valentine into. 

How fun to take it home and open the valentines!

on the high wire

The big circus made it's last stand in our city this week. The last time we went was when our boys were young. Now one was taking his children and they invited us to join them.

Our seats were up really high. We climbed endlessly it seemed, narrow steep stairs filled with people going both directions. The Gardener's bad back, my bad knee … what were we thinking. At least there was oxygen up there. Finally we arrived ready to plop into our seats. There were six smiling young adults to climb over to reach our seats. But why not go to the empty seats behind ours, they suggested, and step down into our chairs? Easy for 3, 5, 8, and 35 year-olds. But us? The Gardener bravely positioned his foot on the arm rest of the seat below. He teetered and towered at six and a half feet tall, his son reaching out to help. Later he joked that all eyes were on him, thinking the show had started right there––a giraffe on a high wire.

Safely down, he reached to assist me. It was a steep reach to get my first foot down into the seat below. But my other leg, with its two-year-old knee replacement, refused to follow. Awkward at best. I'm sure we were still part of the show though my descent was not as dramatic as the tall Gardener's.

I claimed the honor of my gray hair and marched down to the six, still smiling and friendly, and suggested they needed to rise and let me get to my seat. They didn't seem apologetic, but were very nice and, yes, smiling.

Once we got settled, the big show began in earnest. Even though far away, we could see and hear well. The kids were enthralled and mesmerized. Watching their faces was the very best part. I asked the Littlest later what she liked the most. "All of it, Grandma, just all of it."

I'm so thankful we were able to make circus memories with our grands at least this one time.

Farewell old friend.

mantle views