here comes the bride

Early in the morning I donned my black slacks, comfortable shoes, white shirt, pearls 

(I knew she'd be wearing hers) and headed over to a friend's house where we were going to 

celebrate a wedding. We put matching aprons over our black and white 

and set out to give a bridal brunch on the morning of the big day.

What a sight met my eyes. This friend can really set a pretty table.

The flowers alone about took my breath away.

And it was plain fun to serve the beautiful bride, her bridal party and family members.

I always wanted to be a waitress, at least for a day, 

and run a B and B for another day …

so I enjoy when I don't have to sit at the table but can just focus on serving. 

We had small tables in the living room since there were 22.

Can you believe these chair covers for a song from the store with the red circle?

Maybe my biggest compliment is that someone

thought we were caterers.

a big book

It's been a long time since our book club has met. Maybe it's just as well

as our book this time was over 500 pages long. Well written by a great writer,

 Eric M*taxas, the book B*nhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy

takes a long time to read and not just because it's lengthy.

It's causes you to stop, think, discuss and ask questions.

This time we met for a simple tea at a pretty table just because we love

pretty--so why not? Bonhoeffer started his life in privilege and

was well educated. His mother probably served tea at a lovely table as well. 

It was later, as he stood his ground and

"submitted to no one and nothing except God and His Word"

that this young German faced a not-so-lovely life in prison.

He was a prolific writer and his quotes are meaty and plenty.

There is so much to say about this man who lived his life with passion

for truth and a commitment to justice. He was willing to give his life for the cause

and he did. The 70th anniversary of his martyrdom was just a few weeks ago.

We sat our friend from Germany on the highchair and she

joined in our lively but sobering discussion.

Would we do the same as this brave man?

"In ordinary life we hardly realize that we receive a great deal

more than we give, and that it is only with

gratitude that life becomes rich."

~Dietrich Bonhoeffer

washing the 'main

I've washed leaf lettuce, such as Romaine, this way for so long I don't know if there is another way.

 I used to use a salad spinner but thought it occupied a lot of room in my limited cupboard space 

for the little I used it since it didn't seem to spin it all that dry.

So I lay it out on an old terrycloth absorbent tea towel, layer upon layer. 

Sometimes I let it sit like that for a few hours, or I roll it up and let it sit rolled up until 

I'm ready to make the salad. Or if I'm just washing it for use another day, I'll put it in a 

large baggie with some paper towel to absorb any left over moisture.

My method reminds me of my mom washing hankies or other

fragile linens, wrapping in a towel, sticking in the

frig for ironing later on. 

But that's a story for another day.

I'm curious--how do you wash lettuce?

the flowers of spring

A house we stayed at recently had geraniums in full bloom, and other flowers
we would see in summer where we live. Of course Florida is on a
different flower schedule than we are. These were taken in early evening.

"The flowers of late winter and early spring occupy places in our hearts 

well out of proportion to their size." ~ Gertrude S.Wister

Joining Monday Mosaic.

what's in a friendship

It had been a mere 45 years since we had last seen each other on her graduation day. But when Sara and I walked across the restaurant into each other's hug, the years slipped away like a tide fading at ocean's edge. Our husbands, at a distance, came forward to shake hands and meet each other. The Gardener and Sara had been college classmates, but we had not known her husband. Of course we liked him.

Sara and I knew each other best at nursing school. She was my "big sis" there and welcomed me as a newbie and showed me the ropes of how to survive in a competitive and challenging environment. I was always grateful.

We connected as good friends do, with common interests and passions. And we just liked each other. Christmas cards and occasional letters kept us connected over the years.

So how would it be, this meeting again after all these years? Two gray-haired, retired nurses, having lived full lives--marriage, career, children, now grandmothers--would we still connect and know each other?

Can you guess? We didn't miss a beat. We had a lot of catching up to do (Fb has helped), but we quickly were able to get beyond the news of children and grandchildren. We talked more deeply about life because we trust each other and care about the same things. And we are still basically the same girls as we were back then.

So I concluded that once a friend, always a friend. Whatever drew us together as friends in the past is still with us today. Haven't you met an old roommate or high school friend--or even a blog friend--and found it easy to pick up just where you left off?

outside our door

The weather beckoned us outside this weekend.
I always enjoy making mosaics and joining in Judith's Monday Mosaics.

a promise

"Our Lord has written the promise of resurrection  not in books alone but in every leaf of springtime."  ~ Martin Luther

hat lady

This girl loves hats and is even happier if several purses are hanging off her arms.

So a birthday was a good reason to get at least one crochet project completed.

Tucked under the hat are her first-ever wisps of stick-out pigtails.

What a busy day it was turning two. 

Joining in Monday Mosaic.

glass slippers

I have a favorite scene in the new C*nderella movie. What fun it was for me to take Little One to see the story with real life characters--a story we had acted out so many times when she was a bit younger.

Any young child coming out of this movie will be thinking about forgiving others, having courage, and being kind. I find that uplifting.

Back to my favorite. As we know Cinderella's best friends are the little mice that scurry here and there. Tension builds towards the end when the king's men travel around doing the glass slipper fitting thing. (I'm always amazed how there isn't one other foot somewhere in the kingdom also the size of C's.) But how will C get a chance to try it on since she is locked in the attic? Oblivious to what's going on downstairs, she sweetly sings but only the mice can hear it. Her little friends seem pretty smart about what's happening and get the idea to hang on the handle to open the window … three make a chain and try but it's not quite enough. The chubby one decides to toss his cheese-snacking habit for now and joins the mouse chain, being just the extra weight needed to crack the window and let C's lovely voice be heard down below. What a wonderful example of creative thinking, teamwork and love for a friend. And of course they all live happily ever after.

Photo: Little one at three wearing her "these will do for glass" slippers.

mowing again

"I love cutting the grass this time of year. Its lush green color and rich scent spill into my psyche. The tidy definitive rows do something for my love of orderliness and sense of accomplishment. And when I mow I wish I could be a child in our yard. My mower turns a corner under trees that would make wonderful tea party places or passes over expanses of lawn begging for blankets spread out for doll playing. There's a few potential climbing trees and tall bushes for hide and seek. Mowing affords time for my mind to deliciously wander back to childhood and visions of delight in simple things. An hour later muscles may ache, but my mind is refreshed like I've been on a short holiday."

So went one of my first posts nine years ago this month. One-thousand, four-hundred and fifty-one posts later I'm still at blogging, and haven't yet run out of things to say. Close--yes, but not yet.

The lawn is lush and green in this first blush of spring. I still love mowing when it looks so beautiful after I finish. Later in the summer when it's so hot and dry, it's a different story and not so fun.

Now nine years after that post, mowing is a little different. I no longer have those childhood dreams as I mow around shady trees because, sadly, those big old trees in our front yard are now gone, replaced by new ones that are stretching up but yet to provide shade for those childhood dreams of play.

And after six months off from yard work, I mowed for the first time this week with my new knee. It was wonderful. A year ago the twists and turns around the yard were painful. Now the pain is gone. A little bit of newness all around this spring. And much gratitude.

by the sea

Is there anything quite so mesmerizing as the sea? 

Each wave speaks new words, 

crashing in a slightly different place as the tide creeps in or out.

Thoughts come more clearly, 

it's easier to breathe deeply. 

Maybe more so on a gray blustery day.

We linger just a few more minutes; 
it's hard to pull away.
The Gardener and I spent a long weekend at the beach.
So restful. We even enjoyed a full day of torrential rain
because we had nowhere to go. We read and napped.
And we came home refreshed.

"My soul is full of longing 

for the secret of the sea,

and the heart of the great ocean sends 

a thrilling pulse through me."

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Tony

Isn't he beautiful?

And that's the Gardener's red shirt.

The day the Gardener flew home from Thailand he didn't leave until midnight.

A friend wanted him to go pet the tigers, and I persuaded him to go "for the

grandchildren's sake." When I didn't hear from him until the next day I

began to feel guilty and the "what ifs?" piled into my active mind.

But he was fine and enjoyed the experience, though not without some risk.

These big cats are raised from birth in a loving environment, are NOT declawed,

and are well fed. They sleep a lot, just like little cats, and if you pet them

according to the rules, all is well "they say."

There was a waiver to sign when they entered the area.

Then only tense moment was when the tall Gardener stumbled
near an "ambush" of the "junior high age" tigers. 

The tigers were unphased.

But the guards--they were a bit rattled.

lessons still

I felt like my mother's child even as an adult. She would give me her gentle warnings or 

reminders up until she died. "Don't you need a sweater?" "Be careful going home." I learned 

early on it was not nagging--just gentle "hugs" -- a reminder of her love and care for me.
And I was always learning from her--even how to gracefully die at the end of her life.

I've come to realize that my mother is still teaching me. As I continue to sort through her things, 

I find "lesson nuggets" as I see more intimately how she lived and why she did what she did.

 I learn the most from letters she wrote or received.

 I came across a gem the other day--a birthday letter she had written to a dear friend. 

It reminded me of the letters we heard our (GHWB) 41st president wrote.

Letters of encouragement. 

My mother was not fond of public speaking, but she did express herself 

so well in writing. Her example in this particular letter
has reminded me how important affirmations are.

I'm doing better now in following her example. 

It's not hard to find good things to say about someone.

Wouldn't it just make your day to receive a note of encouragement
inside a birthday card?

not much

 There's not a lot going on in "Podsoland." The weather isn't great and life has been 

pretty routine. Not much to blog about. But when I looked at my photo file 

I found a few things have happened. We had friends over for dinner with an

 international flare two weeks ago. It's the curry I have written about before, 

but I thought the toppings were so colorful I had to take a picture.

 The children of our local deer family have grown and visit every day.

This time I knocked at them from an upstairs window and they saw me and 

stared me down. I moved away and so did their eyes, I came back and

they looked at me again. They are getting very at home in our yard.

 The Gardener is about as far away as he can be. We keep in close touch

with F*ceTime--what a wonderful thing--but I feel like I can't catch up with 

him as he is 12 hours ahead of me. Meanwhile when he is away 

I do enjoy cooking some veggies that he can't eat.

 Two-thirds of the grands were over and they are really

into tents right now. Amazing how long they wanted to stay in this

old pack n play--that is, as long as it was a tent. 

 My cousin happened to be on a train in Chicago that passed through the

town where I grew up. How thoughtful of her to text me a pic of the iconic 

water tower that I saw nearly every day of my childhood. 

We had the "Great Stain Bust Away" at our mentor group the other

night, making a natural stain remover. Each girl brought a stained item to work on.

Most of the stains were successfully removed we heard the next day. 

Being young moms, they all said they

could. have. brought. ten. garments.

bedtime birthdays

So there we were. Baby sister bathed and in bed. Little Brother bathed and in jammies. Time for Big Sister to have her shower and then some bedtime stories. But something catches their attention. The big cheeseburger bank is suddenly morphing into a birthday cake. And the party planning (bedtime stalling) begins.

"We can't read stories right now, Grandma, we're planning your birthday party. Please don't look over here while we're working." They keep busy right by the cake for the longest time. But what they are doing I'm not sure. Of course I can't look. But I hear words like streamers, balloons, gifts, candles, cake, presents.

Suddenly it is time. They run around the room waving their arms shouting, "Pretend you see balloons, streamers … you have to pretend a little Grandma." That's not hard for me. The room comes alive with all the trappings of a party. There are presents wrapped in baskets and a big candle on top of the carrot cake. The singing of the birthday song begins with vigor. I go over and blow as hard as I can to get the large carrot candle out in one blow. They cut the cake in big pieces and it is delicious. And then it's time for presents. I open them slowly, wanting to enjoy the surprise of each gift.

Finally the last crumb is gone, the balloons are popped, and it is time to brush teeth. That's something you do after cake, right? An easement into bedtime. One story and Little Brother falls asleep in his bed. But big sister, that's another story. She brings up the subject of French braids. "Just one time, Grandma?" This grandma's a big softie, that's for sure.

grandmas and their braids

I mentioned in a previous post that kids love to have a look at my braid when they visit my house (I cut off my long hair when I was in my mid-30s). But it's nothing as dramatic as looking at my grandmother's braid.

My grandmother was a dignified, hard working woman and this photo is how I remember her. You can't see that she's wearing sturdy "old lady" black shoes, stockings, and a dress. Always. She's probably in her early 50s in this photo.

When we visited my grandparents for a week each summer, we usually got a big treat. Just once each time we could get up early in the morning and come downstairs to their bedroom to watch Grandmother brush her long hair (down to her waist) and put it into one or two braids.

It was such a strange vision of our dignified grandma. She was transported into a young girl in our minds--long braids, glasses off,  and wearing a long, flannel night gown.

Then we would watch her pin it up, twisting two braids around her head, or one braid into the bun you see in this photo.

When she reached her 70s she cut her hair and would go regularly for a wash and set with a "blue rinse." LOL. She was a widow by then. I admire her tenacity in learning to drive in her 60s after my grandfather died. Her sons taught her.

But I digress. As to the viewing of braids, I'd choose a braid connected 

any day over one cut off and lying in an old chest.

voices from the past

A dear old friend died recently.  We haven't seen each other in years; she and her husband were sort of mentors to us when we lived in Africa with our young family. I was surprised to learn she was 90;  it's hard to take in how the years slip by and friends grow older, especially if we don't see each other in person.

Jean was always so gracious, good at hospitality, caring, and writing letters. We kept up through the years.

"Back in the day" we would use cassette tapes as letters, especially when we lived in Africa. It was a forerunner of Skype (that may be a stretch, LOL). 

In my ongoing work of sorting through old things and cleaning out, I've come across a box of cassette tapes. And yes, we still have a cassette player.

Some of us struggle more than others with the sentiment involved in keeping or tossing. 

I was glad that I had kept these up to this point, and as I listened 

to some of them I loved hearing the voices of our little boys.

Then I came across a "letter tape" from Jean, sent from Africa, telling little details of life there 

now 30 years ago. Listening to it reminded me of people and places I hadn't thought 

of in a long while, but more importantly, her voice was as clear as if 

she was standing next to me. So good to hear.

I sent the little cassette to her husband, wondering if it was the right thing to do, 

not knowing how he was dealing with the loss of his wife of 65 years.

I got a note back from him this week. How he loved the tape. 

And, it is the only recording he has of his beloved's lovely voice.  

I was so glad, at that moment, that I am a keeper of sorts.  

What a gift I had given to him, that could have long ago been tossed in a trash bin. 

The dilemma remains. What to keep, what to toss.

Heart Party Part II

Part 2

For this tea party we used adult-size teacups and saucers. 

Some of my most favorites, along with the teapot Little One's daddy

gave me for Mother's Day quite a few years ago.

And the tea this time was pretty hot and we learned how to sip every so slightly

to check how hot it is. They all did well.

Of course one of the most fun things about a tea party is the

act of placing sugar into the cup and stirring it. 

At one tea party I had, the sugar bowl was completely emptied.

This time the bowl was not emptied, but the sugar was all wet and soggy.

Just stop and smile at that visual.

After they were finished we had a quick trip to my bedroom to open

my grandmother's cedar "hope" chest and have a look at my braid.

It seems to be something they always want to do, 

if they've seen it before or heard about it..

Then for the wrap up of the party we read a story.

When my blog friend and former neighbor recommends a book I always

take note. This one, Somebody Loves You, Mr. Hatch, surprisingly

was on the shelf at our library. What I didn't realize was how

perfect it was for Valentine's Day. (I believe God

delights to put things like that together for us.)

So we ended with a wonderful story with a good lesson

about love and friendship. Then off they went to

run outside a bit in the wind and dropping temperatures.

Brrrrrr.

I googled the name of this book and found it online being read by

a familiar actor. You might want to listen to it yourself! 

Heart Party Part 1

Part 1

I love valentines, tea parties, and sharing it all with little girls. I look back at some of the tea parties 

I've had with little girls, now all grown up--some with their own children, 

some off to college…. Now it's time for some new little girls. 

I picked up Little One and her friend after school the other day and we came to my house 

for a tea party. Two other little girls joined us. Two were 6 3/4, one was 5 2/3, and one was 3 1/2. 

Or so they said (you know age can get a little competitive, at least at that age.)

Our conversation hit all kinds of topics, from where in the world is

Hong Kong, to how tall South African penguins are, to the meaning of arrogant.

Hearts of cheese were extremely popular. I think they were hungry.

The cookies were just OK. I feel like I've lost my touch in

decorating cookies, but these girls didn't mind. Their core values for cookies:

icing, it's thickness, and the embellishments.

They were such sweet little ladies. I noticed at the start they were all

sitting with hands folded on their laps, just smiling.

We read from God's Valentine Chapter and substituted "Jesus"

whenever there was the word "love" as our pastor did last Sunday.

"Jesus is patient and kind; Jesus does not envy or boast; He is not arrogant or rude. 

Jesus does not insist on his own way, He is not irritable or resentful . . . Jesus

rejoices with the Truth. Jesus bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."

Stay tuned for Part 2.

The Great Table Exchange

From Point A to Point B to Point C to Point D.
That's how it went down one Saturday.

A new table comes from the store to Youngest Son's house.
(A to B).

Their old table comes to our house (that's B to C).

Our old table goes to young friends' house (C to D).

I loved our old table. And old it was, a pub table with leaves that 

pulled out from underneath each end. 

We loved both eating at it and using it as a work table.

But we've never had enough sturdy chairs and it was time.

Our "new-to-us" dining room table has good sturdy chairs. 

It can be extended to seat 12.
And even though the table's about the same size as the other,
it strangely makes the room look bigger.

With a piano in the dining room you'd think we'd have some dinner music.

But the pianist is usually busy serving the meal.

I enjoy seeing my great-great grandmother's white bowl on a lace tablecloth.