Flowers in our Garden

July 25th, 2012

Blue hydrangea. . .what is it about a blue flower that draws me?

Purple and deep pink, a lovely combination.

Nana silvermound, THE softest plant I've found. 

Pretty little pansies in a planter. . .looks like they need a drink of water.

My baby shamrocks are all grown up.

Auto Change

My car, a 1996 Chrysler LHS, hit sixteen years old this year.  We affectionately called it "das boat" because of it's size.  Getting into and out of our cars while both are in the garage forces a pretzel like shape which is becoming harder for this 65 year old to accomplish.  So, a couple months ago I began to search for a luxury car 70 inches wide or less.  The only one I could find was a Mercedes.  Then last week I noticed a new Acura, a 2013 ILX.  We decided to go look and drove home with a silver car on Wednesday.  It has the tech package, so I need to learn the language for voice recognition, playing Pandora and playing music through my mp3 player.  Fun, IF I can do it.  If I can't, Larry at the Acura dealership is available to help.  I am almost as excited about the purchase of a lighthouse license plate.  Eager for it to arrive.

Forth of July Festivities

The weather turned sunny and warm just in time for Independence Day.  Temps got up to mid 70s, perfect weather for this light-skinned lady.  We put on our red/white/blue clothing and drove six blocks over the hill to the Merrill's home.  We took strawberries dipped in white chocolate and blue sugar.  They tasted as good as they looked.

We also took some candies, rolls, wine and beer.  The Merrills are incredibly generous to host this great holiday.  Mark made brisket, tequila chicken, barbecued pork and the guests brought their own pot luck ideas.  Mike enjoyed the crab macaroni and cheese, the baked beans with bacon and beef, and the potato salad. 

Our son spent the day with a friend home from Afghanistan.  He texted us "Happy Fourth" early in the evening.  My heart swells with pride when he connects with us while partying.  A small thing, you might say. . .but to know you are in someone's thoughts is an honor and should never be taken lightly.

Our country is showing itself far from perfect, but I gazed out at the harbor and thought about those folks over two hundred years ago who risked their lives to begin something noble, fair, and free.  We so often take it all for granted.  Maybe we should just close our eyes on this day and give thanks for all we have, for all we have learned, for all some still do in service for America the Beautiful.

A New Keyboard

I ordered a new keyboard using the excuse that two of the letters on my old keyboard were rubbed off.  I now need to get used to a different touch, which, as I type this, means a bit harder touch on the keys to prevent my long finger nails from getting in the way. 

I notice these pictures next to the "F" keys.  Have only used the volume up and down keys.  I will now find out what the other picture keys do.  Fun abounds around every corner. 

88 Keys are Calling Me Back

I began piano lessons at age four.  My cousin, Kay, gave lessons.  I had a bit of a gift, a natural ability to play and feel the music.  Two of the first pieces I learned were "Diane" and "Charmaine", singing along, much to my mother's chagrin, I fear.  Some folks get their emotions out by throwing ice cubes at the trunk of a tree; I sat down at the piano to bang out a tune and sing loudly to get the mad or sad out.  The hardest piece I ever learned was Bumble Boogie.  A Couple of my favorites will always be Indian Love Call and By the Sea. 

When I married Mike I gained a family that loved gathering around the piano to sing old favorites.  Memories of those times are the fondest of my life.

I've grown away from the piano in the last ten years.  I need to get back to it.  It fills and gentles my soul, it's good for my brain and fingers, and it provides a good role model for my son. . .to see that it's never too late to learn something new. 

Father's Day 2012

Our son has a lot going on in life at the moment, so when he didn't commit to coming down for Father's Day, though we were disappointed, we understood.  I called in to Mike the morning of Father's Day having received a text from Brandon at 10:30 a.m. that he was coming down and wondered if his Da would like to watch Holland plays soccer in the Euro 2012 games.  I called in to Mike from the kitchen, but all Mike heard was my question about watching soccer.  I walked into the living room and Mike had tears in eys - tears because I'd suggested we watch soccer.  I think he was missing his son.  Our day was fabulous until the last 30 seconds.  Brandon walked in around 11:30 a.m. with Heineken (Dutch beer), Dutch apple pie and two mini apple pies, and a lovely card for his Da.  In the pub, we watched The Netherlands lose the soccer game,

went to dinner at Paddy Coyne's (can you guess who had what?),

stopped by a new sports bar on the way home for bacon deviled eggs, and came home to enjoy the Dutch apple pie and play Apples to Apples.  The day was filled with laughter in spite of recent painful decisions in our family.  After I won the Apples to Apples game, Brandon took my phone to help me try to get a new ringtone on it, found a text from Stacey thanking us for the flowers we sent for her last day of school, stood up and put his coat on, saying "It's just so damn sad".  He gave his Da a big bear hug and walked to his car with me calling "We have a surprise for you this week", my frantic attempt to bring the former carefree atmosphere back to my son's heart.  We've ordered him a dining table, extra chairs and a tablecloth and will take it to his Renton house and set it up as a surprise.  In bed that night my head was filled with a lot of self-talk, determined not to let those last 30 seconds ruin the wonderful six hours prior. 

Our son is an extraordinary young man in spite of all our parenting mistakes.  He cares deeply, lives with wisdom and kindness and shows often that he loves his parents.  He told us today that a former girlfriend contacted him; she has cancer and wanted to touch base with people who had been important in her life.  She told him he was a great guy and she just wanted him to know that.  A great guy.  That he is, that he is.

I think.  .no, I know, Mike had a fun-filled Father's Day.  My heart is thankful.  He deserves it so.

Kitchen One Year Old

Our kitchen is one year old.  We are so pleased with Renewal's efforts.  Putting the pieces together, choosing so many different parts, you're never completely sure it will all go together. 

You wonder if it will wear well.  The flooring is a new experience.  Cherry cabinets are supposed to darken quickly.  Quartz is a substance we've never dealt with before.  Induction cooking is definitely a different experience from electric.  For several months we weren't sure where things were.  Comfort and familiarity come quickly, though.  Now I turn to the left to put dishes in the dish washer, pull plates from the plate rack, adjust to the microwave drawer coming out into the aisleway, and turn to the left to get something from the fridge. 

As we sip coffee and watch the news in front of the fire looking out at our garden we sigh with contentment.  A long, arduous project returned a cozy result.  Way to go, Renewal.

Protecting the Homefront

Now here is an unlikely picture, but somehow chosen on this Memorial Day.  I'm not a gun person.  I was even surprised to find it among the boxes I'm going through in the rec room.  My dad took me to Clear Lake when I was about twelve. . .to shoot ducks. . .I cried so hard he never again asked me to shoot anything.  And he didn't hunt anything either. 

We talked about going to the cemetery today.  Tomorrow is Memorial Day.  If our son needs our help tomorrow, that's where we'll be.  Protecting the homefront, the family.  No guns, just loving hearts, puzzling over some of Life's events. 

"Cottage" storage shed??

Back yard. . .winter time. . .place for a shed.  But I don't want it to look like a shed.
      So we talk to Andy and Dan. . .I want a "cottage" look because this area is visible from the kitchen and living room.   I want shakes, a curved roof, stone, shutters, a pointy/cute door and a brick path leading to the door.  Andy and Dan don't blink an eye, but get right to work.

Though I'm nervous. . .not knowing how all my ideas will come together. . .I take them pink lemonade cupcakes, chewy brownies, chocolate chip cookies, coffee and milk. . .biting my lip and crossing my fingers it turns out close to the picture in my mind.  More pictures soon to come.

And now, a month after the above picture. . .though it still needs a doorknocker, doors adjusted and a brick pathway. . .a storage shed. . .uh, cottage. . . . . .

Can a refuse "blind" be charming?

The alley entryway to our backyard is through a gate alonside our brick garage.  A large flowering plum tree sits just inside the fence giving us a pink lawn when the wind blows.  An arbor with wisteria and climbing jasmine stands over an outdoor fire pit.  Up next to the garage for the last 30 years, right in the path to the entry of our back yard sits three large city refuse bins.  Our favorite contractors, Andy and Dan, just finished replacing cross bars on our fence.  I asked them about throwing up a couple boards and a door to hide the refuse bins and move them around to the back side of the garage.  They said they'd be glad to build us something. . .well, build something they did!  It's like a little cottage, complete with curved beams, shakes, and black iron hinges.  They are starting on a larger shed on the other side of the back yard.  Can't wait to see what it turns out to be. 

Now, thanks to Andy and Dan, the entry into our back yard is clear and Zen.

Old Pictures

A fav pasttime:  looking at old pictures.  Look at that console tv!  And how do I get back that skinny body?  My memories of times gone by are wonderful. . .small house in a small town, a pervasive feeling of safety and warmth.  No restlessness I hear about so often in books or personal accounts of teen years.
My father was a farmer, my mother a homemaker and often helped out in the hot houses, cutting leaves off the rhubarb and boxing it for dad to take to market.  I was a good student, not great, honor roll, but no 4.0s.  Dad was on the school board and made sure when graduation came round that he was the board member passing out diplomas.  His kiss when he handed me my elementary school and high school diplomas meant everything. 

Growing up in the sixties certainly shows in the dress of the day, doesn't it?  Bouffant hair styles, skirts just above the knee.  I was asked to kneel one day and sent home to change because my skirt didn't touch the floor.  Scandalous!  We had one of the first tvs in town, a Zenith with a light all the way around the screen.  I watched Howdy Doody, Sherriff Tex, Gene Autry, Roy Rogers and Soupy Sales on those old consoles.  Mom read romance novels and did crossword puzzles.  Later, when she lived in an assisted living facility and her mind was fogging up, the nurses had her sitting near the nurses station and when they were doing crossword puzzles and reading the questions aloud, Mom would often pipe up, they told us, with the answers.  Memory is a funny thing.  She may not be able to remember where she is, but she remembered enough to fill many a word across and down.

Family Angst

When someone in the immediate family is at a painful crossroads, doing nothing is not an option.  Mail with encouraging words, meals dropped off, a cheerful attitude when you're together, and letting the hurting know you always offer a soft place to fall are all options that help you keep your sanity and, hopefully, help things a teensy bit. They must find their own way, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, life is not a bowl of cherries. . .all those cliches may be true, but seem trite when days are dark and sleep hard to come by.  I do often think of the bible quote (and Richard Chamberlain movie) "Joy cometh in the Morning".  So I tell myself to hang on, time will pass, occupy yourself with soul filling things - and try not to process against hubby's ear too often.  Learn piano pieces by heart, try learning to play the guitar, read books, take walks, take pictures of flowers, and concentrate on someone else.  I have a friend in Texas closing up the house of her recently deceased father; another friend is on a 32 day cruise of Europe, a family member is finding retirement a challenge, yet, another friend is trying out her teaching skills in Doha, Qatar, and a devoted husband provides me a safe place to fall every day.  Life is truly an adventure, sometimes a 1, sometimes a 10.  Here's to working back up to that blissful 10 for all my family. 

Here Comes the Spring!

This tree in our backyard tells us, just like the song, Spring will be a little late this year.  One of my favorite plants is the dwarf Nana Silvermound and they are coming out now.  They are so soft to the touch, it's surprising.  We're ready, Spring.  Bring it on!

Banana Bread virgin

Sixty-five years old and my first attempt at baking banana bread.  Wow!  A little slow on some things; but the bananas were ripe; my taste buds were salivating, so today became a baking day.  And just like I told my mother the first week after my wedding and the jello turned out okay, "Mom, my banana bread turned out okay!" 

Birthday Beignets

I have a favorite desssert at our Zen Place, Pour at Four, THE BEST wine/tapas place on Earth.  Beignets with lemon curd.  They've been serving the doughnut-like dessert for many months, starting with a lemon curd dip (my favorite), then changing to raspberry dip, and now a delicious caramel dip.  When I walked in to Pour tonight to meet two regular patrons for dinner, I was surprised to see a large balloon tied to my chair. . .I say my chair, because it's my favorite place to sit, right by the piano, close to the bar, kinda tucked back in corner, where I can see everything.  My next surprise was the offer of patron. John, to have this evening be on him.  What a generous thing.  When the dessert arrived, it was a double order, with a candle in one beignet, and sparkly sprinkles around the plate.  When someone, or several someones, goes to this much trouble, it touches me deeply.  Oh, and did I mention, the dip on the plate was lemon curd. . .which the kitchen fellas put into a tub for me to take home and added a smiley face made out of sprinkles on top.  A beautiful Saturday night at Pour at Four.  Life is good, very, very good. . .even at 65. 

Another Birthday Down

My Medicare birthday has come and gone.  Sixty-five. . .is it possible?  Why does it seem only yesterday I was walking to kindergarten with my neighbor Stan?  It was a good day.  Good report at the doc's appointment in the morning and a wonderful dinner with our son and daughter-in-law at Sullivan's in Seattle.  Two great bottles of wine, steak and deelish desserts in a lovely steakhouse.  Time spent with son and daughter-in-law always flies by and always a highlight in our month. 

My son's birthday is two days before mine, this year his 33rd.  Proud of him to buttons busting.  He has a high moral fiber that makes me smile when I detect it in his life stories.  I am still too free with advice, which isn't asked for and shouldn't be given.  My mother was so wise about that, just lending a loving ear whenever I shared a frustrating situation with her.  I want to be more like her.  Something on which to work. 

I feel lucky to have reached this age.  It's an age where I turn away from schedules and appointments, thoroughly enjoying the freedom of time.  I love staying home, not unlike Miss Haversham who never left her web covered rooms.  My wise daughter-in-law reminded me that Miss Haversham was filled with evil and selfishness, so we don't want to carry this example too far.  I am guilty, however, of having Great Expectations for my son and myself.  Always room to grow, learn and find a kindness to offer someone along our way. 

Thinking of a John Lennon song

Today is our son's thirty third birthday.  Our only child, you'd think parenting would be simpler than it would be for parents with, say, five children.  Yet, we make it more complicated by worrying over the idea of when to get involved and when to step aside.  With five children do parents feel relieved when their kids ask them not to get involved?  I don't know.  I only know it was good to see and hug him today outside his office building as we delivered birthday brownies and a gift basket.  He seemed genuinely glad to see us.  Hope so.  We never want to be a nuisance, add one more thing to an already full plate of Life.  We hope he knows we offer a soft place to fall should he ever need it.  He is the light of our lives.  And the John Lennon song?  Beautiful Boy. 

My dad was a farmer.

Ahhhh, childhood memories.  My Father was a hothouse rhubarb farmer.  I loved the strong smell of Earth in the dank, dark hot houses; Dad had two on a small ten acre farm just outside the city limits of our small town in Washington State.  Now and then I would help cut, grade and box this beautiful vegetable.  Yes, it's categorized as a vegetable, though it is most often used in the way we use fruit, in desserts, jams, and sauces.  Dad would dump a big box of rhubarb onto a large table and Mom, Aunt Glady and I would take one, whack off both ends (the leaves are highly toxic) and decide the grade:  fancy, extra fancy, or cull.  Mom stood on that hard concrete floor all day while I was at school.  I think back on that now and how hard that must have been on her feet and legs, but nary a complaint was heard.  Dad tells of breaking off a stem from the root ball and eating it then and there.  Pretty acidic little guy for my taste, but Mom made THE BEST rhubarb custard pie you've ever tasted.  Mmmmm, memories.

My father was also the foremost hop dryer on this side of the mountains, maybe in the State.  Another strong and enjoyable sensory memory is the smell of the hop kiln filled with hop dust you could see in the air as the sun rays filled the room.  The floor of the room is slatted and covered with burlap.  Dad would take a hop flower in his hands and crush it determining by the scent if it was ready for baling. 
     Two plants, one red, one green.  Very pretty.  Very unique.  Very important to my childhood. 

Birthday Week

Walked into the kitchen this morning and found this lovely glass swan rose on the island.  "An early birthday gift", my husband told me.  Awwwwwwww.  It helped soften my mood as I brushed my teeth twice, flossed longer than usual and gargled three times in preparation for my visit to the dentist today.  I'm back home now and it was the easiest cleaning visit I've ever had; less pain, shorter time, compliment on the lack of plaque.  I do have to go back some time soon to have four silver fillings replaced with enamel fillings.  Hubbie needs to have a crown first.  Hmmmm, wonder how long it will take to make that appointment? 

An early birthday card arrived from my friend, Marci.  Isn't this the sweetest picture?  I will email her this afternoon to tell her what a great choice it is.



A Peek at Spring

Ahhhhh, finally that warm feeling when you step into the garden and know that Spring is just around the corner.  I noticed several pots that need replanting.  My father was a farmer, but I'm not much of a gardener.  Wish I'd spent more time learning at his knee.  I gathered all the pots I could lift near the back gate.  Two lovely blue planters sit just outside the arbor and I'll find something colorful and pretty to put in those.  An April in Paris rose grows just below the dining room bay window; can't wait for it to bloom.  It was given to us by special friends at my Mom's celebration of Life two years ago. 

Here's a before picture of one part of the garden.  I'll post an "after" pic when blooms are abundant.

And here is the Spring picture in bloom.

The arbor wisteria is in bloom and the wheelbarrow loves sitting under the arbor.

Easter Sunday

I awake this morning with a kiss on my forehead and a soft male voice saying "The Easter Bunny has prepared breakfast for you."  I'm not ready to wake up yet, but how can I not honor this lovely offering.  I throw my legs over the side of the king sized bed, choose a pink top for this Spring holiday morning, run a brush quickly through my recently permed hair, wash my face and hurry downstairs to see if I could yet help the beloved chef.  The Easter Bunny is sitting in a chair in our newly remodeled kitchen watching a sports channel on the tv over the new gas fireplace while he works in a Sudoku book.  He jumps up when he sees me and says, "The hashbrowns are ready, I'll do the over-easy eggs now."   When I look into the frypan, the hashbrowns are the perfect shade of golden brown.  I go out to the porch laundry room to start the coffee, Vanilla Nut Royale this week.  I send back East for my coffee.  I can't be described as a coffee lover; I drink coffee every now and then, mostly as an after dinner treat when dining out and occasionally in the morning at home.  This Easter Bunny has lived in my house for 44 years this coming August.  He is my soft place to fall, my hero, and my irritant when he can't find the clothes hamper which resides at the foot of the bed.  I have such respect for this man, especially in the way he fathers our only child, a son about to turn 33 years of age, two days before my Medicare birthday this month.  I know for this treat of breakfast on Easter Sunday, I will return the treat tomorrow morning with something special:  probably Irish oatmeal and blueberry muffins.

     This is a sad Sunday as I watch the news and learn of the deaths of Thomas Kinkade and Mike Wallace:  one a surprise and too soon, the other in a golden year and part of a long goodbye for his family.  Leaving this Earth has become a more frequent subject for rumination after experiencing the six year decline of my beloved mother who reached the age of 97 with such grace and kindness.  It has taken me two years to reach the place where I can let the bubble of my personality return and remember Mom with the joy and respect she deserves.  I will remember Mr. Wallace and Mr. Kinkade today as I work the last stitches of my afghan and prepare deviled eggs for an afternoon snack. 

Geek Squad to the rescue!

Computers could very well be an enemy plot to drive us mad.  When they work, it's bliss.  But they go "wonky" so often, it gives one pause to wonder if something isn't afoot, as Sherlock Holmes was heard to utter.  The Geek Squad guy is due any time between noon and 4, so it's a waiting game.  I cleaned off my desk, a bit; it is still evident a woman works here:  nail file, heart shaped earrings, hand cream, stationery (sparkly roses), bag of jewelry, and a miniature sequined purse I just couldn't resist which holds a flowered pin and a leprechaun key ring at the moment - all adorn my Hooker computer desk.  Maybe this is a perfect time to remove more items from my desk; decluttering is always a good thing, yes?

Fun Friday

Hair washed, no appointments today.  Sun is peeking through puffy clouds casting branch shadows on the back fence.  Choices for the day:  watch tv, listen to Pandora, crochet, organize years of pictures in bins in the basement, read Hunger Games part 2, go out and see Mirror, Mirror, ask husband what he wants to do.  All lovely choices.

April in the Village

I look out my window and see the branches of the Himalayian Cedar swaying slightly in the gray April day.  We all hunger for Spring in the village.  Even, I, who don't mind the winter months.  I've always thought dark days make the inside appear cozier.    We're talking about building a shed in the back yard.  We await the bid from our marvelous handymen duo, Andy and Dan.  I'm crocheting while I watch the beginning of Season Two of Game of Thrones, really too violent for my taste, but I want to be able to discuss the episodes with my husband. 
     Hmmmmm, wondering how I add photos to my blog.  I would like to put up a picture of the afghan.  Have some research to do.

Day 2 Blogging

My second day as a Boomer blogger.  Called hometown to transfer ownership of cemetary plot.  Definitely something a Boomer might do.  Found Mom's will, called for appointment.  Will spend eternity next to my dear parents, a lovely thought.

Neophyte

Today is the first day of my first blog.  Kinda scary, putting thoughts out into the universe for strangers - or friends - to read.  Reading other blogs has my interest piqued so we'll see how this goes.  A Boomer joins the Blogging World!