Our Tiny Garden

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Having grown up in an apartment, I did not get to experience the joys of planting, although both of my parents knew how. Daddy had a great knowledge of vegetables and Mama, flowers.  And so I have been trying my hand (or green thumb) at both in the eight years since I have been married and lucky enough to own a home.  It took me until a couple of months ago to muster the courage to try planting an organic, raised bed for tomatoes, basil and onions.  We had a little ceremony and all planted them as a family.  Frankly I had no hope of anything really appearing despite my research on sun and planting positions, regions, time of year, and companion plants.  The other day Burk came in and excitedly announced we had our first tomato.  “What?” I said in disbelief.  “Mommy let’s go see!”  Lo and behold, in all its glory was a tiny, orange tomato about the size of a quarter.  But it was perfect — and we grew it!  I am embarrassed to be so far removed from how food is cultivated and I want our daughter to learn along with us.  I reached up to touch the little thing and it plopped to the ground.  But she seems to have some bigger cousins coming in that are still green.  And so we wait and watch with hope and wonder to see what the fruits of our small labor will yield.  I found this quote by the English poet Alfred Austin which I really liked:

“The glory of gardening:  hands in the dirt, head in the sun, heart with nature.  To nurture a garden is to feed not just on the body, but the soul.”

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Still Sexy

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Some days I feel I do better than others.  It seems if the house looks great I look horrible from having cleaned it.  Or if I look great for some special occasion then the house has gone to pot.  If I was a great mother and painted with our daughter and read a lot to her the animals may have gotten a little shortchanged.  If I cooked a great meal for my husband I let our daughter watch TV so I could get it done.  But today was one of those rare days when I was on a roll.  To start with, I wasn’t simply sanitary; my hair was curled and I wasn’t wearing my customary uniform of sweat pants and the hub’s undershirt.  I was actually dressed … and somewhat coiffed.  I got up at my usual 6 AM, made coffee, fed the wolfies and the turtles, then waited for Maris to come down and help feed the gatos.  I didn’t get in my walk but I got our little one dressed for Chapel and to pre-school a hair early.  Her nap mat was clean, lunch neatly packed, and I could feel a sense of accomplishment already.  I didn’t have any rounds (I have owned and operated a pet sitting business for fifteen years) so I set to work on the house.  I got the beds changed, laundry (mostly) done, grooming appointment booked for Cheyenne, Dakota and Chin Chin (our one-eyed Shih Tzu), checks written (which I rarely have to do anymore,) dishes cleaned, fencing guy scheduled, organic fertilization of the lawn on the calendar, mail sorted, and — best of all — a trunk load of items purged to donate to Operation Kindness.  After checking the time I realized I needed to pick up my daughter.  I was running out of steam and Starbucks is a newly discovered guilty pleasure.  So I grabbed my reusable cup and headed out to get a little jolt of java.  “I’m sorry, I cannot remember your name,” the girl said as she scribbled hieroglyphs on a little tab.  “It’s Laura.  But you know what?  You can just call me ‘Sexy.'”  “Right on” she said as she scanned my Apple Watch for payment.  Imagine my surprise when my frappuchino came up under that moniker.  There was another girl who served it and she was playful enough to say it with feeling.  Everyone turned to look and we all grinned.  Such a silly, trivial thing but it made my day.  I got Maris shuttled to karate early and sipped my frothy concoction, having left my “Sexy” label on for pure enjoyment.  Singer-songwriter Suzanne Vega said, “I think people are sexy when they have a sense of humor, when they are smart, when they have some sense of style, when they are kind, when they express their own opinions, when they are creative, when they have character.”  I’ve still got it.  😉

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Walks Around The Creek

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One thing my husband has gotten me into trying to make a habit of is taking a daily walk.  We live around a wooded area with a creek and it is always glorious.  In the early mornings you can still hear crickets; at night the occasional hooting of an owl.  We have two wolf hybrids who need the exercise and crave the walks.  When we had a baby it really became our little family time.  An agreed upon rule is no use of electronic devices (except I track our miles on Runkeeper from my iPhone and I like to get my heart rate up on my Apple Watch.)  But we talk to each other.  Sometimes we plan about the day ahead; others we reflect on what we did.  And so the seasons change, and with them our little girl is learning what that feels like and smells like and sounds like.  She knows summer is over when the cicadas stop their song.  Autumn is my favorite season and so short in Texas.  Mostly it’s pizza oven hot.  But each day holds its treasures.  And I have never regretted my husband coaxing us all out for a walk.

“There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more.” ~ English poet Lord Byron

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The Mall

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When I was a little girl, some of my happiest memories were going to the mall with my parents.  There was a huge, lit fountain I would watch for seemingly hours.  Mama and Daddy held hands as we walked around.  We couldn’t often buy but it was fun just to go.  In college I worked at that mall for Lord & Taylor, which is now gone.  I would save my money to eat at La Madeline and speak French with the cashier Jacqueline who was from Paris.  Now I walk that mall holding hands with my husband while our little girl gazes up in wonder at the same huge, lit fountain.  They have added restaurants, a movie theater and a park but it has still retained the same feel.  It IS great to be able to buy more things like new clothes or cookies as a treat.  But I want our daughter to know there is joy in simply walking around and spending time with each other.  We don’t ALWAYS need to buy something.  Happiness is what you make of it.  Growing up I always knew we were poor but very rich because the three of us had each other.  A Pastor named Charles Spurgeon once said it is not how much we have, but how much we enjoy, that makes happiness.  Now God has graciously allowed me to have a husband and a child of my own — and there is no price that can possibly be put on that.

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Prayer

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My parents taught me to pray before every meal and at bedtime.  Since we were very close the three of us were often together and we all held hands and heard each other’s prayers.  Now my husband and I do the same with our daughter.  I especially love the complines as I find them peaceful.  The matins are wonderful for starting your day with positivity, hope and direction.  I believe the sweetest prayers are often from children.  Our daughter just prayed for the little plastic hedgehogs that go in the dryer to soften clothes!  So God bless Spike and Tumbleweed.  And God bless you.

The Lord bless you and keep you;
The Lord make His face shine upon you,
And be gracious to you;
The Lord lift up His countenance upon you,
And give you peace. ~ 
Numbers 6:24-26

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Faith

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Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. ~ Hebrews 11:1

It was my father’s favorite scripture.  And it became mine.  I find it interesting that “faith” is both a noun and a verb.  To me they are intertwined; you cannot have one without the other.  The one time I lost my faith was after our second round of in vitro.  The doctors said, due to an error on their part, it was almost impossible for me to conceive.  We had no problems other than we were older.  I was so sure if I ever had a little girl her middle name would be Faith.  When I did get pregnant my endocrinologist begged me not to tell anyone even after I had passed my first trimester.  I had a wonderful, easy pregnancy and she was born on my late father’s birthday.  Her middle name is Grace because in the end it was by the grace of God when I had lost my faith.  She is a daily reminder of God’s goodness and I strive to be better because of her.  My parents are gone but she lives on in them.

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