The Trees

This week a storm ripped through my hometown and its neighboring towns. It wasn't a tornado but these winds did a number on South Jersey. Tree and power lines are down all over the Garden State.

My parents lost almost all their trees, have a hole in their roof and a broken chimney on their deck.
Its hard to comprehend so much damage to a place I love so much. I am only seeing the pictures and my heart is broken.

Sometimes the best way to  process sadness is through poetry.  So my ode to The Trees.....


The Trees

Trees you beautiful trees
Long gone are the hands who dug the hole and planted you
In celebration or remembrance or to buffer homes from dynamite

Tall memories growing of Christmases long ago
Snapshots taken
Needles falling softly with the seasons

Days under their shade, crab pots cooking, lawn chairs lazing,
Squirrels gathering, autumn colors, raking, trimming, berries at Christmastime
Always growing in presence in our little part of the world.

Their life, service, beauty is ended their days are done
Even trees don't last forever but they leave memories
They were our silent friends, whose presence gone, is felt.



So long old friends.

Why I Love Being Your Mother - 2015

I am keeping with my tradition to celebrate Mother's Day by telling my children why I love being their mother -via blog. Made possible today because both of you sweet children are sleeping after a long day of romping through Winterthur. So I sit here in the quiet house, birds chirping, an airplane flying overhead and I am excited and also wracking my brains so I can spin words worthy of you.

Dear Walter,
You have grown 4 inches this year according to the Dr. Imperceptible to me. What I have seen is the list of sight words you know without batting an eye. How you notice things everywhere after they have been pointed out to you. Things like columns on buildings, you see them everywhere now. You have storehouse of songs you recognize and sing along with on the radio. I will never tire of hearing you sing about Jesus. Most recently, you love the "Lalala song" and "Those were the Days" by Sythian. I half wonder whether it is a good thing that you and your sister have nearly memorized 2 songs about a Tavern, but you sing with such passion and gusto I can't help myself. I love to see you slip and slide to the W's in kitchen. The wealth of knowledge you have learned from watching the Octonauts is staggering. I love that you love quality shows and learn so much from them. And then are happy to pass on the information you have learned to whomever you choose to share it with.

You always leave me guessing as to who you will be conversational with. You will open up to veritable strangers checking out groceries or admitting us to a museum but will play coy with a friend or relative. It is no doubt to me though that people who know you love you and think you are an awesome kid.

I love you because you have helped me worry less about your well being by finally beginning to try new things. It has been a year of struggle and pleading but those rare occasions where you said, "Ok I will try it" are like shining bright spots. Apples, pears, chicken, pasta, chipsteak, chocolate banana smoothies all new foods for you; foods I can count on you to eat. I am proud of you for trying. And I will gladly accept carrots dipped in a Nutella as an option if it gets the carrots to your belly.   

I love how excited you get about things, saying, "Yahoo." I never tire of your ability to entertain yourself. Lego creations, Octonauts, Paw Patrol, pinecone collection, books about trains, computer games, elaborate train layouts, these are your things, your interests. Things that  make you - Walter. You love your sister and your friends. The bond you have with your sister is truly the sweetest thing in my life. To see you two sit together and watch a show, have a tea party, play in the pink kitchen, sit side by side in the sandbox, talk to one another in the early morning - parents can't ask for much more than for their children to love one another and get along as well as you both do. May it always be so.

There are many days I feel like I blow it with you, days when I feel really bad for the way I said something or did something. You are perpetually forgiving. Your sweet hugs and bright blue eyes looking into mine always reveal great love and forgiveness.

You are the most interesting and interested boy - I love that you are my interesting and interested boy.


Dear Rosie,

You have gone from a nursing "baby" to a "I wanna have a 'pink birthday" girl this year. It hardly seems possible that in a few months you will be 3.  You are pure energy and words. The words that come out of your mouth and your conversations with others or with your toys is always such a wonder to me because you are still this small, wiry, petite thing but you can talk like the rest of us.
It puzzles me that there are actually words you can't say correctly like "fruck" instead of truck and "fineapple" instead of pineapple. So cute though.

What I love about being your mom is that you, sweet Rosie, you know who you are! "Hi fish/squirrel/duck/baby its me Rosie." The reddish curls that frame that sweet creamy face also frame your impish grins and your stubbornness. That is Rosie sweet and beautiful but stubborn and independent. You are a cautious climber. You hate stinkbugs and love dandelion puffs. You are a meat eater. I can't get you to try a piece of fruit for the life me. You like to "do schoolwork." And in a few months, I may be able to stop cringing every time you get a paintbrush in your hand.
I love that love books, that you want to help, that you recognize the people who are your friends and will randomly say, "He is a good friend." You care enough to say "I am going to miss ______" fill in the blank because you will miss a long list of people and things.

I love that you sing and dance. You make up your own songs and you always want to end the day with song like Jesus Loves Me, Twinkle Twinkle. I would love to put a bow or a ponytail in your hair but I kind of love that you have no desire for that. You know you want your hair to be free. I love that I can count on you to remind us to say grace, you fold your hands and "praise the Lord" sincerity. Very recently, you want me to "pray more" -more than just praising God for food- and you will shake your head in agreement as I list off other things to pray for. I hope that you will let that desire sink deep into your soul and that prayer will always be a way of life for you.

I love they way you call your brother "Walder." As I told Walter the relationship you have with your brother is a  priceless treasure. Seeing you care for one another and sharing or trying to learn to share is the best thing in the world.  I love you two because I see the way you love each other and it blesses me beyond words. You are brother and sister but you are friends too.

I love you and everyday I want to love you more.

Mommy

2014 Mother's Day Letter

2013 Mother's Day Letter

John 3:16

Here is a question for you. Who said?

 For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. John 3:16

The Red Letter Edition of the Bible puts everything that Jesus said in red letters.
So, let me ask again but make a small change. Who said?

For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. John 3:16

 How is it possible that I am 41 years old and have been reading the Bible almost daily since I was 19 and never knew or realized that it was Jesus who said John 3:16? I guess part of the reason is I haven't always had a red letter edition!

It was a sweet revelation and proof that the Bible is living and breathing as it pours out fresh new knowledge on people who have just missed the obvious.

Somehow knowing it was Jesus who said John 3:16 and not John or any other man makes the verse even more powerful.

This is the week we remember that Jesus lived out these words.
He is God.
He loves us.
He died for us.
He rose for us.
He wants us to believe. 
He wants us with Him.  

Red letters or black let the words sink in deep.

Long Days

Sometimes I envy those mom's who know help will come in time to cook dinner.

We just don't have a schedule like that. I have sort of given up looking forward to the relief. Like magically he would appear in time to distract so I can cook dinner. Or be home in time to eat dinner with us so I am not cleaning up dishes and food so late at night. I have resigned myself, when dad gets home there is not much else to do. Tuck them in and say "good night."

Neither of us like it.

I can remember back babysitting on long summer days. The days were long. It was work. And I couldn't wait for the parents to get home. To do what? Go watch TV? Were it 2015, go check out facebook? That albatross that sucks the life of you.  I digress.

My mom assured me that when it was my own house and my own kids the days wouldn't be so long.
She was right. Most days the clock moves fast, way too fast for the things that need to be done or that I want to do.

There are fewer days that creep along, maybe because I stopped expecting and relying on fresh recruits to relieve me.

Quiet Words

The thing about being a writer -in a world of blogs- you want, you need to put words out there too.

You want to tell the truth.

You want to ring the words of truth like a bell. "Listen, what I say may help." "Listen, I need you to understand." "Listen, I need to get this processed out of me."

Sometime you just can't -I just can't- privacy and pride keep me quiet.

There are no cathartic spilling of thoughts, dreams dashed, desires unmet, sweet joys and triumphs experienced to be shared. Except those trapped in a quiet notebook...

The words aren't meant to be public. They are meant for a quiet life between pages.
Words trying to respect the matter of fact, shoulder shrugging private and bound selves.

It just seems sometimes quiet is cruel and articulation is an enemy.

My One Word for 2015

A New Year - a New "One Word".

To be honest I had forgotten what my 2014 word was. Turns out it was "Seek" I guess I should have known that -I do have reminders above the kitchen sink!

So I have begun to think about what 2015's one word focus will be. What can I expect in 2015? Kindergarten - how the hell did that happen? Maybe the beginning of house shopping? All else is a guessing game and completely in God's hands.

So my word.... Maybe the word needs to have some mystery and excitement to it.

How about - expect? Believe? Be Still?

All good. All a little too generic. A little too lofty. A little too convicting.

Sometime during the course of 2014, my love of pink elephants came to the front of my mind. I have a always had a thing for pink elephants. We go way back... 

"Eleanore" in the background

I posted a couple around the house to serve as visual reminders, to remind me to face the elephant in the room and "seek a better way" one bite at a time! They have helped and I will keep them!

As I considered my one word I thought of my pink elephants. It occurred to me maybe I need a visual word not an abstract character word.

A birthday gift came to my mind. And and just like that I had my idea, my visual, my "One Word."

 Honeybee.

or 

Honey, be!



Honeybee
Work hard
Produce something sweet



Now that's a good goal for the year. Not too heavy. Not too out of the realm of success.

Our Christmas Letter

I ran out of Christmas Cards this year. So I thought I could post my little highlights letter that I always send out with our Christmas cards or in years past as our Christmas card.

Dear Family and Friends,

I am looking back over the year and our “highlights” are more like little Christmas lights. Little bulbs of discovery, amusement, and shake your headedness. Tiny events that precede one right after the other like little flashes of light that when we put them together they are this incredible collection of memories – one conglomeration of High Little Lights.

Little Lights like – Weekly Walter is closing in on finishing the restoration of his own 1960 Lincoln.

Walter and I gave up our old flip phone for smart phones with a texting plan. This made during the day communication so much easier. It was a small change with a huge effect.

My little lights involved getting to know people better at Bible study and MOPS and serving the women in a small way that involved an important thing – breakfast!

Little lights flash for every new word little Walter can read: so, do, to, up, the….. A flash of light when he sees a word in a book, sign or at the store that he knows and points is out.

I am teaching him kindergarten work at a Preschool pace and I am enjoying the process and amazed at the progress. The little sponge soaks up words, ideas, numbers – he can count to 100 with help.  Almost daily, little light bulbs light up.

He will walk to Jr. Church on his own now and is eager to hold the door for the other kids. He finally eats apples and chicken! (Truly that maybe a legitimate Highlight!)

Rosie is a feisty firecracker. She has “music in her body” an older woman told me recently. She saw Rosie swaying to a music box. Her sweet little lights include watching that girl swing her hips like she was born to dance to VBS music! Then, you can hear her singing herself to sleep, “Jesus Loves Me….” She strings together all the songs she knows into one song so that you would think the “Itsy Bitsy Spider” lived on the “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” and of course Jesus is there and loves both the spider and the star! She is so articulate and we are amazed at how much she knows and that she responds with such precision. She is also very particular about not having her hair be anything but wild and unruly. No bows or pony tails. She reminds me of the new redheaded Disney Princess Merida from the movie Brave. I just hope she doesn’t turn me into a bear someday!

All these precious little lights when put together have made for a wonderful year: busy, active, bright, tiring and challenging at times.

I hope we can all see the little lights in the coming year. The sweet songs, the tender hugs and kisses, the sincere conversations, the changes in heart and perspective.  They help light the way to the next day, remind us that all these precious lights are from the true source of Light and they keep us going and growing and enjoying.

Bright Blessings,

Liz, Rosie and the Walters

“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness,

but will have the light of life.” John 8:12

Party Palpitations

Someone will be turning 5 in a few weeks. F-I-V-E it is so hard to believe how quickly the time has gone!

It seems like last week, I was recovering from a 29 hour long labor. It seems like just yesterday I was consoling my husband because our little baby's perfectly feathered "Mr. Breck" hair had changed into something more straight and blond.  Oh wait, that really was just last week, after 4+ years he still hasn't gotten over the change in hair texture. I digress.

So my boy has been talking about a birthday party. This is something that sends absolute chills down my spine. Oh the cost. Oh the details. Oh the noise. Oh the venue because we have a small place. Last year, it was a perfect sized party. However, his list of friends is growing and I love that he wants to involve so many people into his special day. It is my deep desire for him to have good friends. Friends he can count on.

So why do, I shiver when I think about throwing him a party? Perhaps it because every time I have taken a Spiritual Gifts Test I fail the hospitality portion. It is not my gift. It is something I really have to work at.

With all my thoughts the last few months about good neighbors, feeling mommy guilt and wondering if my kids will feel cheated because they didn't have a swing set or a painted colorful room as of yet, I have to ask myself, can I cheat my son out of a nice 5 year old birthday party because I am having heart palpitations at the idea of a party with more than 3 kids!? 

I know the answer to this question.

Really What is the Quest For?

Is the quest really for "time for myself" or is to feel less guilt?

That is what I need to process.

Here is a list things that leave me feel the mommy guilt...

Too many times I make my kids wait so I can read or post something on the computer.
I think my son might get too much computer/TV time
I think my daughter gets too much TV time (granted they are watching quality/educational shows)
Frequently, they don't get dinner until after 6:30pm
I am asked constantly to play and I almost always find a way out because I just don't know how to play trains the way he really wants me too.
I don't like to play.
I don't pray enough with my kids.
Right now as baby girl is simultaneously cutting 4 teeth, I let her pretty much eat whatever she asks for. Though I think there is a limit in how much dried pineapple an almost 2 year old should eat.  
As fun as she is, I can't wait for nap-time so I get stuff done.
Not going outside or forcing them to go outside on a beautiful day.


This list is not comprehensive by any means I could go on and on. I haven't even touched on my temper and tone in which I sometimes correct them with.

I am not sure that finding time to make felt flowers will ease the guilt of our terribly unscheduled mealtimes.

So what will?

Accepting or believing that I am feeling guilty for ridiculous reasons or setting a better meal schedule.

So I process....

Indiana Momma

I watched a documentary about the real "Indiana Jones." It got me thinking. How are mothers like Indiana Jones?

For me, I am on the search for a "Holy Grail," that sacred peace that will preserve my sanity as dirty dishes fly at me like rolling boulders and I trip over cars and trains like booby-traps in a dark cave. All in a quest for that one thing that eludes me - time for myself- actually guilt-free time for myself.
A daily quest that should be easy to find everyday but more often than not I crawl into bed having not found it. 

Time to read.
Time to pray on my knees.
Time to blog, quilt, make felt flowers.
Time to exercise without 45 pound weights deciding to jump on me as I make feeble attempts at crunches.

These sweet moments of bliss usually just get started 5 minutes before nap time dramatically ends.

It always seems more important to be doing something else dishes, laundry intermixed with facebook and news posts. The latter two suck me in with a force too hard to resist for someone slightly lonely, terribly tired and definitely procrastinating on figuring out what to have for dinner.

It serves more as a pseudo-time for me - speaking specifically of facebook- because it fills a small void for connecting with people but also brews up a terrible case of mommy-guilt.

Seriously something has to give, some new schedule or paradigm shift needs to happen because unlike Indiana's quest for archeological treasure my quest is not so out of reach if I could only manage my time better and or use a little self-control.

The American Flag Pin

So I took the kids with me to the PA primary election in May as we usually do. They (the election workers) have come to recognize us and enjoy watching the kids come and grow.

This time they gave Little Boy an American Flag pin. He loves this pin. For awhile he as wearing it everyday. He calls it, "My American Flag pin" and he makes me proud. I think he understands that it is something special and he frequently points out "American Flags" when we are out driving. Doll-baby does now too.

These small things are what will keep the American Dream alive. Kids like him who will grow up understanding that the flag and everything it stands for is precious. It is something we must be careful with and protect.

As it is Veteran's Day this week we are working on some projects for the Veterans nearby. I am thinking of my Grandpop and hoping I am doing him proud.

I wish that all little kids were learning this. 

More Millies

This summer a very dear woman, Millie, went to be with Jesus. When I was less than 2 year old, I would climb the fence to her house so I could get strawberry milk. Millie would call out to my mom, who had been cleverly coerced to fetch a "cup of water." Just that quick I was over the fence!

One day, Millie invited a very sad, young mom to a Bible study. A mom at a crossroads in life after giving birth to a disabled son. My mom became a Christian because of Millie's invitation. So, I was raised by a Christian mom because of Millie. Millie left an indelible imprint on our lives.

Millie is certainly not the only neighbor who left an indelible mark on me.  All the neighbors on my street Mr. and Mrs. V, Jeanie & John and all those that extended from them. They were neighbors you could count on to watch over us, look out for us and revel in watching us grow. We watched fireflies from each others porches, we shared cups of sugar and exchanged small Christmas gifts. Mr. V let me sprout seeds in his greenhouse, Mrs. V was always interested in my "love life" and I am still giving Jeanie bouquets of violets when I can time it right. All these "Millies" - these precious neighbors who were family by choice.

I find myself wondering - perhaps sounding more like mommyguilting- over whether my children will have Millies in their life. Neighbors they can count on. Friends who will watch out for them and enjoy them as they grow. I know that there will be Millies at church but somehow a Millie next door is what I crave for them.

We had a sweet elderly neighbor for a season, but she has passed away and unfortunately my son who usually remembers everything doesn't remember her.

So I wish there was something I could do to ensure they have Millies in their lives. All I can do is leave it to God and hope that His plan eventually will involve neighbors who will love and invest in my kids like my childhood neighbors did. So when they are 40 they can recall great memories of great aging people. If my desire for them goes unanswered for whatever reason, I hope I see all the other Millies out there for them who just may not be next door with a glass of strawberry milk, but in some unsuspecting place

Processing....

Post processing.

Reading over this draft I realize that it isn't just my craving for my kids to have good neighbors and playmates. I want good neighbors again too. I want people who I can connect with, entrust my kids to, and who have that cup of something that I may need. I want my porch to be inviting. I want neighbors who are friends. This has just not been my reality for the last 6 years. I want Millies for my children, but I also want them for me too. You can never have enough Millies.

The Process

Because Glory, Hope and Wonder Abound
I try to come back to the root of this blog, which sometimes gets lost. After all, its over 8 years old now.

I believe Glory abounds.
I believe Hope abounds.
I believe Wonder abounds.

At this stage in life Wonder probably abounds more than anything.

I wonder what we will have for dinner.
I wonder when baby girl will wake up from her nap.
I wonder if I will get 5 minutes in the bathroom alone.

I wonder if homeschooling is the best for us... for me.
I wonder if I am doing enough.
I wonder ... a lot.

Sometimes it may come off as worry more than wonder. I find it is frustrating that this is what is communicated more.

So I need to process. For me to process, I need to write. The trouble is time. But I have to find the time so I can get back to the abounding hope and glory...

So bear with me as I process. ... and finally post some drafts that I worked on this summer.

Visitors From Heaven

Last month marked 20 years. Wow 20 years since my younger brother went from being a "Visitor from Heaven" to a resident. He was a catalyst of spiritual growth for so many people and now his deformed body is perfect.

It happened that his anniversary fell during a week of remembrances for other visitors from Heaven.

October 15 was National Infant Loss Day. A day when we remember those babes full grown and lentil-sized who visited this world briefly. Too briefly.

It was also the week that baby Shane was born and within hours passed away - as was expected.

Shane's parents Jenna Gassew and Dan Haley found out mid-way that their son was not well and would not survive. So they made a lifetime of memories during the rest of her pregnancy doing all those things they would have done with Shane had he lived. Trips to the shore, baseball games, train rides...

In the process, they showed the world just how precious life is. A tiny life others might have chosen to remove, they chose to enjoy. Showing us how important each tiny life it. They cherished whatever time they had with the love of their lives. 

All these converging occasions of sadness, remembrance and also deep love within the same week.  I recalled the song we played at my brother's funeral. A song, I had heard for the first months before his death, but knew in my heart it would be played for him one day soon.

A Visitor From Heaven, by Twila Paris. A song for Little Louis, Shane and all the little Lentil-sized babes waiting for us - home in Heaven.

Chestnut Kerfuffles

I have a sorted history with chestnuts. You might say there have been some chestnut kerfuffles. I have a new kerfuffle I can add to my chestnut "bowl".

A couple weeks ago, a friend gave my husband a burlap sack of chestnuts from his yard. I thought it strange because years ago, I was told that all the chestnut trees in our area died off in a blight. So either his survived the blight or its a newer tree. Then, I put them on top of the fridge and didn't much more of them. Until today.

So, today I noticed these grubby looking white worms crawling on my kitchen floor - more than a dozen. YUCK. Ruled out the box of apples. Ruled the battered box holding the apples. Ruled out the yard sale book shelf I had just brought in. Did some googling could be a moth larva? Looked at my cornmeal, that's fine. Started looking on top of the fridge and then I saw the bag of chestnuts. Hmmm maybe, open it up there they were. Back to google. Yup, Chestnut Weevil larvae. The blight that wiped out chestnut trees in our area a long time ago. All afternoon while conducting my research and looking for the infestation site I couldn't help but think this is just my luck and remembering my first Chestnut Kerfuffle.

Which frankly I was shocked that I never blogged about this! I thought for sure I had.

Actually caught one crawling out of its little chestnut hole.

From September 2006

The Chestnut Kerfuffle

Only close friends and family know about my kerfuffle last year of roasting chestnuts in the oven.

It all began one fall afternoon while taking my after work walk in the woods, I noticed these beautiful chestnuts on the ground. Like a true hunter and gatherer, I squirreled away chestnuts into every pocket on me. I set them in my blue pottery bowl for decoration. Then, one night I decided it was time to roast them. So I read online how to roast them. Careful to cut slits in them so they wouldn’t explode, set them in the oven and then went upstairs to make a phone call.

As were talking, I heard an explosion. “Gotta go, I think my chestnuts are exploding!” I hung up and ran. I heard a few more explosions and turned off the over. Then carefully, ever so carefully I opened the oven door only to have a chestnut come exploding past my face leaving chestnut flicks in my hair! Quickly, I shut the oven door -not sure whether to laugh or cry. I almost lost my eye to a whizzing chestnut!

I was so disappointed. Most of my chestnuts exploded in the oven the others were so charred that they weren’t edible because I couldn’t get them past my nose! Eventually, I got the oven cleaned out; vowing, “Next year I will try again and make deeper slits so they don’t explode!”

So last week, I gathered in plenty. Filling all my pockets and emptying them in my blue pottery bowl when I got home. They look so pretty and fall-ish. I anticipated lighting the fireplace with my new roommates some night and roasting them there. Like in that Christmas Carole, “Chestnuts roasting on a open fire…”

That brings me to yesterday. I stopped by the creek before I went to pick up a friend at the train station. “I’ll pick up a couple for him,” I said to myself.

“I picked up some chestnuts for you.” (I had told him the exploding chestnut story.)

And I presented him with 2 chestnuts. Guess what his reply was?

 “These are buckeyes!” (He is from Ohio home of the Ohio State Buckeyes he would know.)

He said, “These are poisonous; only squirrels know which side is safe to eat.”

Note to self: Before foraging in the forest for food verify with an Audubon Society book (or google) before you eat anything!

Needless to say there won’t be any roasting of my “chestnuts” this year, which will prevent the accidental deaths of my roommates and me. I’ll buy my chestnuts at the grocery store where things are nicely labeled!

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

The sort of funny thing is that the reason why I know about the chestnut blight and why I thought it strange that there are local chestnuts available is because I happened to mention to my co-workers at the time that I had found "chestnuts" at the park. They had thought it strange because they knew about the chestnut blight and how there are no chestnut trees in the area anymore. I just figured one tree survived because I was sure they were chestnuts.  So, now I have a container of Chestnut Weevil larvae that my children think are "cute" that I need to dispose of and a bowl full of real chestnuts that I need to roast or something before they explode with more weevils.

                                                           
  Full circle folks full circle. 

Exploding chestnut kerfuffles.

Dethroning a Queen

I come from a long line of beekeepers. I love the little gals. I just don't like them buzzing near my ears. So I am always reluctant to "go through the bees" when I am asked.

Recently, I said yes. Be Brave Be 40. You know?

I donned my suit.

I held the box with the new queen.

I tried to stay calm despite the buzz bys.

I survived. The old queen - not so much.

(Actually, the new queen was replaced too. She wasn't doing too much.)

Ironically, the same day I went with dad to replace the queen, there was a terrible accident nearby involving a tractor trailer full of beehives. It broke my heart because so many were lost.

 I appreciate these little workers. Delicate and so vital to our ecology and agriculture. They need to be protected and cared for and sometimes that requires the dethroning of a Queen and maybe a better truck driver...
 

 

Sunday Projects

On a Sunday afternoon, I find it quite blissful to craft. I will throw caution to the win and not worry about dishes or picking up. 

As luck would have it Rosie girl was down for a good nap. That called for Play-dough for the the boy and felt flowers for the mom. That was the plan. That was what we did we made a huge mess between the 2 of us. Of course I was left to clean up the bulk of it.

 

 The results were worth it though!

Mother's Day Project

                                                         

I think we call this a Pinterest Win. On Mother's Day we went to Lowe's and picked up

terracotta pots and potting soil. Hubby assembled.

I just needed to figure out what flowers to put in there. A couple days later, I went out looking for flowers and this is the final project.

I liked the stacked look so much I did this variation on a theme with my herbs... I am pleased with the outcome. Though, I do need to stay on top of keeping them watered.

The Lost Figs

The cries could be heard around town. It looked as though all the figs trees had not survived this cruel and cold winter. There was talk of just digging them up.

I had to have a look for myself when I was in town. It looks like time and a little more warmth is what they needed. Little buds of green were emerging. What a relief. Though many branches were lost. There is still hope of figs this summer. We can hope to "taste and see that the Lord is good".... good to the fig. Good to those that love this tasty morsel.

The Raisin

So I noticed as I was getting in the car that there was an ant trying to carry a raisin. Go figure.

Call it faith.

Call it perseverance.

Go ant, haul that thing.

Show us how to move mountains.

Show us how to do what looks impossible.
 

Makes me think of this wise Proverb...

Proverbs 6:6
Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise!