involving hope

One morning in November, I heard a man on the van radio say, "Planting anything always involves hope." I was impressed by the simplicity of that thought, and how I felt that he had been speaking directly to me, and I started to cry. I thought about it Saturday, and felt sorry that I didn't remember who had said it.

Saturday was the coldest day of last week, the second week in December. We had enjoyed several perfect days of light jackets. Lindon Nursery was selling flower bulbs at forty percent off Wednesday. I used some of my birthday cash from Grandma Martha to buy Spring...daffodils, tullips, and irises.  Saturday snow was predicted by noon, so I went out first thing to get the bulbs in the ground before it arrived.
I let the rabbits help me. They were upset about my pulling out the old annuals and dead heading the perennials, which I don't think I did a very good job of.  They probably won't be back.
Here are Wes and I together. I think there is a bit of resemblance. It is true that Sam named one of our rabbits after the director of Moon Rise Kingdom.  

 I am not sure that there is anything more inspiring than a bulb, with its amazing potential to produce, divide, withstand, repeat. 

 Just as I was sweeping up the pulled out weeds and scattered soil and crunchy old leaves the wind started to blow in and what looked like the predicted storm started to arrive.  I can't remember the last time I was outside when snow started to fall, little gentle flakes.  It was lovely to look up at the heavy clouds covering the mountains and imagine what drama was going on up there as I stood below, in the valley, looking at my garden and thinking about Spring.  In summer I looked toward winter with dread, knowing my yard would be bleak again.  But this, year, because I have planted so many bulbs, it will not feel abandoned, but rather, cultivated. It will know I am waiting.  The rabbits are waiting too, but they aren't going to play here once my flowers come up. They can poop there all winter long, however. 

 I am like this: wherever I am I miss the rest of the world.  It is my challenge in life to be patient with the present, because I always miss it intensely when it is gone.  This was my Saturday evening. Looks like rubble. I am buried underneath the figuring out of many things, but this one happens to be what to do with too many girls in one room. 

One day this will not be the present, and I suppose I will feel an intense longing for this view from the mess upward. And for everything that surrounds me... blankets, dirty socks, pencil stubs and candy wrappers, gloriously rescued misplaced shoes, and maybe I will even miss the figuring out, which some days feels like it will crush me, like rubble would, or maybe even like soil, but my hope is that it won't.

october snow

While Grandma Martha was away in beautiful California, we had our first snow. 

                                                                       Everyday I have more respect for pansies.

Grant was excited to go out and make snow angels. Somehow I only got footprints.

When our neighbor Marie got off the kindergarten bus the kids made a snow dog.

The snow was wonderful for the apples.  Everyone in the neighborhood has been talking about how flavorful they are now--  almost lemony. I love having this tree in common.  I would live in a commune in a heartbeat.

My alyssum didn't mind the snow.  They are still in bloom.

 I went out to rescue the little green tomatoes. 

This was the day before. The plant had grown up on to the rose trellis. I wish we could have had an Indian summer. I had dozens of new tomatoes.

I have been so grateful for this little flower box all summer and fall.  It has grown so abundantly.

garden shadows

Wednesday September 12, in the afternoon I went to McCourd's nursery for the .99 cent sale on mums.  In the evening our ward held the tenth annual neighborhood Salmon Bake in the park. It was our fourth year. There are not that many annual activities that we have attended four times. That almost seems excessive. This activity is highly anticipated however, by Sam and Kyle for the fish, while my other kids fantasize about free reign of this table.

 Granddad helped serve the salmon this year.

Thursday morning  I went out to the garden

to say goodbye to some of my tired petunias and relieve them with red-orange and yellow mums, and purple and white pansies. Sophie kept busy tilling the soil, picking tomatoes (unfortunately she preferred the small green kind) and decorating the kitchen floor with shredded cheese.

  

I waited all summer for the alyssum to bloom. They seem to be loving the cooler weather, and now the garden smells sweet like I hoped it would.

I found this picture of our backyard that I took at Easter time. The backyard didn't look like this when we moved in.  Jackie, the previous renter, had a beautiful garden...so that added to the stress and guilt I felt everytime I walked out to this neglected space. 

 A year ago we had just moved from a  townhouse facing the park, to this more permanent home that we rent from Granddad and Judith. I was heading toward finals in massage therapy school.  Our house was filled with more than a hundred boxes from the three separate shipments that arrived in July. Each shipment was from a different period of our life: Maine, Ecuador, Beijing. 

When school ended in October I told my classmates I was going to go home and take two weeks to unpack the boxes before I started thinking about working. That's funny now.  My goal: get family life in order, make the house clean and functional, as if I could do that in two weeks.  Most days I felt so discouraged. It seemed like I would never be able to keep up with day to day life and carve out even an hour a day to unpack the boxes, but by January I felt like I had made enough progress that I could start building my private practice.

 As spring came I became increasingly grateful for the days that I had no work and could focus on the family. Everything in my life felt like that neglected garden.  I started with the farthest corner of the garage and worked my way outside to the garden, down to Kyle and Grant's room in the basement, and then upstairs to the kitchen, just hoping that I could make our home feel organized and functional. I think that is so important to me because I have some form of ADHD...real, imagined, or just brought on by my chaotic circumstances.

This was the garden in June. It was my therapy every morning to go out there before anyone else was awake, and tend to it, or sweep, or write in my journal.  I know it looks humble here, but it was so symbolic to me of the blessing of persistence, the joy of improving upon my own circumstances.  Seeing the garden change changed how I thought about myself.

This is the garden now in late summer.  My tomato plants have turned in to monsters. I know you are not supposed to water them everyday, but I just don't think it is fair to starve the leaves to make better fruit.  The tomato plants and I have an understanding. We've had plenty of beautiful cherry tomatoes without having to make any leaves look ugly.

Sunday night we made ham and besciamella lasagna from fresh tomato sauce. We used some of our cherry tomatoes and some fresh store bought tomatoes. This was how the sisters in Padova taught my mission companions and I how to make it.  It brought back happy memories of P-day cooking lessons.

So I have been stuck on the homestretch of my cleaning/organizing project for months now: my bedroom and the girls' bedroom.  I started to pray for help that I could find the energy or motivation or time..whatever it was that was keeping me from finishing so I could move on to some other goals.  Last Sunday I left Sophie in my room watching Wallace and Grommit on my phone, and when I returned, as anyone might expect, it was gone.  All of sudden I was overwhelmed with the beauty of God's wisdom.  That was the two fold  answer to my prayer.

I could feel His gentle chastisement. It was true; I had become a Twitter junkie, obsessing over election commentary in a way I never reveal here, or anywhere outside of immediate family, lest I loose all my friends. I just see my phone and my hand reaches for Twitter like a big bowl of gourmet kettle corn. So there was the motivation and the time. I stayed up until two in the morning hanging up and folding laundry hoping to find my phone under the next pile of clothes.

 My room has been ground zero for months. This is so depressing.  

There is nothing fashionable about this solution, but it is better than all over my floor, and I feel so happy to go into my room now.  Ben said my bathroom looks like a hotel.  Happiness!  So after I made this improvement still no phone. I had to move on to the next disaster, the girls' room.  Friday afternoon I found my phone tucked purposefully in a Dora the Explorer shopping bag.  After a week of no phone there were an underwhelming amount of messages.  Thank goodness for the dentist, or I would have questioned my existence entirely.  The upstairs is still a work in progress, but I am finally considering asking the universe for my next chapter.

smilish

I love this picture of Caitlin and her beautifully sculpted ice cream.  This was at Chuck-a-Rama last Thursday, my second biannual promise to take the kids out to a buffet if they sit through all four session of General Conference.  We did better last October.  April session I had to add a day of hard labor around the house to the arrangement, since we had some fairly intense fighting among the big kids during more than one talk, no doubt on charity, family relations, or forgiveness.

I love that I could put Sophie in a high chair for the first time at a restaurant so she didn't have to get lost in her car seat under the table or trampled by the kids in a food crazed run to the buffet table.

I love Sophie's personality.  Everyday I pick her up at Grandma's house and put her next to Caitlin in the van.  She kicks her legs with excitement and laughs when she sees her big sister.  Caitlin says that Sophie is smile-ish.

I love when I'm going through my day and I find some random thing that reminds me of how unique and wonderful each one of my children is.  I just saw this in the picture files.

This says "Kyle was here."

Speaking of Kyle, I forgot to mention that one of the parakeets died Thursday morning.  It's so sad to find a fallen bird.  This was the one (I admit I can't keep their names straight) who had really bonded with Kyle.  She liked to walk around on his head and shoulders.  The kids said they wished the mean blue one had died.  We were all sad but then we had a good time going back to the pet store to find another one.  I got a wish list as long as my arm for this exotic animal and that one.  Everyone thinks they need a new pet for their birthday.  As you may know,  I am a problem includer.  Does anyone have any experience with Chinchillas?

Here is our new parakeet friend.  His name is Frank Moses.  I had nothing to do with that.

Here's something.  I have days when I feel remarkably peaceful and happy, and days when I feel like crying all day. I can't remember what I did to entertain the kids Friday, it was spring break after all.  I am afraid that I did nothing but feel sad and wander about multi tasking to the point of not feeling like I had accomplished a blessed thing.

 I do remember that a high point came in the evening when Caitlin shared her artwork with me, of which, at that point, I felt entirely undeserving.

Saturday was much better. We had fun plans, that's probably why.

It was a gorgeous day. We all walked over to the movie theatre where we met Grandma. The big kids went to something that I won't admit I let them see because it was too violent. Grandma and I went to Hop

with the younger set, which I will admit I really enjoyed. Grandma and I both loved the first scene of  E.B.'s passionate, meditative drumming on a cliff over looking the ocean and Easter Island.

I like Russel Brand. Walked home loving the white and pink blossoms on trees.

Here's my very humble flower patch. Hopefully it will look more abundant next year when the bulbs divide.

I love daffodils.

Still waiting for the tulips.

Here's William threatening to rescue that pink bunny from the garden.

Here's a picture of a cookie that Olivia frosted.

Here's Sunday in the kitchen with Bethany.  Olivia and Bethany made peanut butter cookies.  Bethany helped me with dinner too.  That's what happens to mashed potatoes when you boil the potatoes then it gets too late to cook them so you put them in the fridge for two days before you mash them. The bowls are not so elegant.  I agree that I need to work on my presentation.

march wind

 This morning I got an e-mail from my sister in Colorado.  Spring coming feels like a familiar discussion. This year I am happy to be able to visualize her Mount Blanca and the old black train that runs by every morning and afternoon.  She said her sage is turning green but this morning a cold wind was blowing.  I can imagine how brisk that wind would feel across those plains that surround her. I'm remembering that tent we lost to the wind there last summer.  You can click here for the archive.

Did you ever read a childrens book called A Child's Calendar by John Updike?  I'm thinking about what he wrote about March...


In March the sun is like a kite that cannot keep it's own string tight.

Spring teaches us so much about anticipation.

The first buds are coming up in my planters. I underestimated how much the kids would enjoy watching them arrive.  I'm not sure which ones will be appearing...the crocuses, daffodils, tulips, hyacinths. Daffodils are my favorite and I love the fragrant hyacinths.

Can you guess which one this will be?

Sunday afternoon we drove up to visit Grandpa Bob and Grandma Julia.

The kids were happy to see them and happy to think about fun memories from last summer when we stayed there.  I couldn't help but think about how much life has changed since then.  Look at how the apricot tree has changed since last summer.  Sam and Ben look like giants!

Monday morning I was so grateful to wake up to no snow.  It just rained.  And rain is good. I'm remembering how green the mountains were last summer. Unusually green.  Monday has been a bit lonely.  It is the last week of this, my attempt at being a  WAHM.  The kids are at daycare and with Grandma and the house is just too quiet and I feel too isolated...hence the blogging...  Now I'll go back to reading about internet business, if I can convince myself...

old times big picture

It  seems that I touted too soon my camera reconditioning abilities.  Friday morning I watched Bethany participate in the school spelling bee.  She studied hard and I'm proud of her for being courageous and diligent.  So standing in the back of the auditorium, trying to get a better shot of Bethany, I realized that the offending piece that I tore off with abandon was actually responsible for the zoom-in.

The universe might be telling me to buy a new camera, with a more sophisticated, or changeable lens, but my budget is telling me to keep looking at the big picture.

I love to walk through the halls and see the kids' artwork displayed, especially seasonal. It brings out my inner elementary school student. Olivia was excited about the 100th Day of School this week.

I found the 100 Hershey's Kisses that she brought.  That doesn't really look like that much...maybe I could eat those myself.

Last week warmed up to feel like early Spring.  Here's Thursday. I was outside planting the daffodil, crocus, and hyacinth bulbs in our little flower bed. I wish I could do something with that pipe. I should really create a more attractive border as well. I'm just not gifted at decorating... I'm substance without form... May be one of my mental issues.

I thought I would make a perfect mom moment out of the gardening time by including the kids, but ended up being the tyrannical mom and sending the guilty inside crying when one brother hit  the other with a little trowel. I hoped no one was watching...

Friday afternoon the girls were running up and down the street planning sleepovers with neighborhood friends. We had two friends here Friday night. It felt like old times.

Grandma Martha brought supplies for making Valentines.

Sam requested that we make homemade pizza.  I found pizza pans on sale two-for-one. I'm grateful for small blessings.

I couldn't find pesto at the market where I shopped Thursday evening, so I improvised and picked up a few packages of Alfredo-pesto sauce mix.  It turned out to be creamy, and delicious with Parmesan cheese grated on top.  Sam called the mushroom and tomato side "the politically incorrect" side, as he knew Bethany wouldn't approve.