Christmas tree gazing. . .

I am sitting in my darkened livingroom, a rarity these days since this is a room I hardly ever choose to spend my evenings in. It usually doesn't make sense to linger, alone, in a room that, in my mind, is meant for socialization. But tonight, the last night of this year, I felt drawn here, realizing this is my last opportunity for quiet Christmas tree gazing before the "magic" disappears. Everything is very still except for the motion of the anniversary clock on the shelf. The clock glitters with the reflection of the lighted tree and a trio of glass angels glows softly, adding a celestial aura to the room. In contrast, Mr. Grinch, who is seated on the floor in front of the tree makes me smile. His expression is entirely mischievous and his eyes seem to follow you no matter where you are in the room. Beside him sits Max, whose pathetic expression is just as realistic--exactly like the poor hound dog in the show.

Today has been kind to me and I am grateful. After several days of allowing myself to wallow a bit in a little self indulgence, I feel my spirits lifting and my perspective improving. It is my prayer that I will never become so self absorbed that I lack compassion for others when their days are not being so kind to them.

Moments in time. . .

What a beautiful day! The sun is bright. The snow is pure. The ground is blanketed under the soft white fluff and the trees are as still as they can be. Serenity. The only busyness going on is the ever-changing hovering of chickadees at the birdfeeder. Through the window near my desk, looking out at the snowdrifts surrounding the "Hobbit Hole," I see evidence of pending "peace on earth, good will toward men." It is an "all is calm, all is bright" sort of day. Oh, if we could only adjust these moments--pause the slideshow, so to speak.

I have always been intrigued by the concept of timelessness and tend to believe that it is as close as we can get to fathoming what God's time is really like. Sequential timelines, I believe, were contrived in our attempt to comprehend the incomprehensible and perhaps as a means for learning from our mistakes. But how could that which always was and always will be, what has no beginning nor any end, be contained in such a way?

There are timelines for everything. They measure days, weeks, months--eras and ions! They dictate our growing up and our growing old. They can be stifling or stimulating, depending on our attitude. They do offer an opportunity to retrace history in hopes of improving the future. How is that working for us, I ask?

A blank day. . .?

Lately, there has been something lacking in my emotional well being and spiritual growth. I haven't been able to pinpoint the missing ingredient, exactly, but I have begun to discover what I think it might be. The exercise routine I maintained so faithfully for so many years has gradually become low on my list of priorities and I think I am beginning to realize how such a routine can benefit, not only our physical health, but our mind and soul as well. This afternoon, I donned my walking shoes and set out for a power walk. I only walked a couple of miles but since I'm a little out of practice (and it included some pretty steep hills), that's enough to start with. I was pleasantly surprised to be able to maintain my pace and not feel "winded" at the top of the hills. I did notice, though, that my muscles were rebelling a bit. I'll probably feel a little stiff in the morning.

Sometimes we aren't aware of a change in routine until after the fact. In this case, I was fully aware of changes as they were taking place. My whole life had changed. Daily patterns changed. Responsibilities and workloads changed. Yardwork and home maintenance became my priority and were more than ample substitutes for Curves workouts. As for power walks--I simply lost the initiative. I'm not sure if I will go back to Curves but I definitely know I am craving the walking experience again and the meditation it inspires.

This morning, when I saw that my calendar had absolutely nothing written on it for today, I felt a little uneasy; like I was forgetting something. Now I see the "open" day as a nudge toward keeping an open mind and taking time to immerse in the "now" rather than to focus on the "next thing" on a to-do list. What unexpected pleasures there can be when we do this! There was nothing about this day I might have planned, yet it has been emotionally rewarding, physically fulfilling and spiritually nurturing.

Another day in the journey comes to a close. . .and my soul is well.

Excuses. . .

There has been quite a gap in my blogging activity. This usually means that I am experiencing one swing of my emotional pendulum or the other. That is, my life has either taken on an enthusiastic burst of busyness or, to the contrary, a case of depressing doldrums has set in. In each instance, the urge to write exists but the desire to follow through does not. I offer myself a variety of excuses. "I'm too busy" or "I'm too tired" being the most common. The irony is that, generally, I have my doubts about the validity of both those excuses. I think we all tend to use them too freely when we want to get out of tight spots that have come about by our own choices and poor planning.

Now, I've forgotten what I intended to write about! I would try to remember. . .but I'm way too busy and getting much too tired.

Always learning and teaching. . .

"The Lord won't take you until you've learned all you're supposed to learn and you've taught all you're supposed to teach." I remember a friend of mine saying those words a long time ago. At the time I felt very secure in this life because I knew for sure I had a LOT to learn yet. Back then, I guess I thought we each spent part of our time here learning, then the rest of it teaching what we had learned. In other words, by admitting my ignorance, maybe I had discovered the "secret" to controlling my own longevity. Since then, I've thought of my friend's words from time to time and have realized that, as in all things, the relevance is God's time--not ours. We never stop learning, even if we try. As for our teaching--neither is there a start or end to that. There is always learning and teaching left undone. Or so it seems. However, according to God's time--maybe not so much. His plan is perfect.

I'm thinking of someone I have known whose life wavers, right now, between this one and the next. I believe he epitomizes what it means to have lived a life that has been purposely and spiritually driven to teach what God's nudges have directed him to teach. There will be an irreplaceable void with his passing but the gift he leaves--everything he has taught--will live on through all those whose lives have interwoven with his.

There is something very special about a man whose favorite outfit apparently includes a "Grandpa" sweatshirt, lovingly decorated with hand prints in many sizes and various bright colors.

Photo album personalized with Smilebox

When all else fails - laugh. . .

Oh, dear. It's one of "those days." The kind that feels like I'm tagging along behind myself, trying to catch up but never quite making it. I got up later than usual (for a Sunday) and couldn't seem to get out of "early morning" mode even though I knew better. I used added time doing extra little odds and ends around the house that really didn't need doing. Why, I have no idea. I was late meeting with choir before church. Then, as I was following along in the bulletin to keep track of the music line-up and even though I had done the typing, it was like I had never seen it before. That, coupled with my deteriorating hearing and the fact that it is a strain to hear from the choir loft to begin with, made for some tensely humorous moments.

At one point, I noticed one of the little portable hearing devices was handy so I thought I'd give it a try. A word of advice: Never stick one of those little pods in your ear without first checking the volume setting! Once adjusted, I have to admit, it is quite helpful. But only with what is being fed directly into the (primitive) sound system.

Oh, and I also totally forgot about it being Grandparents' Day. We were supposed to bring pictures and I very dutifully reminded everyone I saw, all week.

Then there's the organ, that (literally) keeps me on my toes. Or, at least keeps my mind on my toes. Some time ago, when playing a good ol' hymn in the key of F, quite to my dismay, I discovered the F pedal I wanted to use did not work. Until I caught on to what was happening (or should I say wasn't happening) there were big "holes" in the accompaniment. So now when I see key of F, I know I will have to calculate substitutions, depending on what the song is. Either that or I might choose to leave out pedals all together. Sometimes that's easier. Some days it's hard enough for me to keep track of what my hands are doing, let alone my feet.

Such was the case today. My mind was not entirely absent (I don't think) but it refused to make any correlation at all with what I was doing at any given moment. What concerns me is that I'm not finished for the day. I have several commitments yet that deserve my undivided attention. At least none of them require the use of my toes, specifically, so maybe I'll be able to "stay on them."

Life surely is an adventure. God is good. I'm especially thankful to know God not only grieves our heartaches along with us but also invites us to share the gift of humor. Oh, my! What ever would the world be like without laughter in it?

Deskwork. . .

This has been an odd sort of day. I'm not sure that I have even spoken all day. Maybe a rhetorical question here or there to the cat or dog. Are you hungry? Do you want to go out? Do you want to come in? I don't think I had any phone calls either. Well, one. But I'm not counting that since it was just a recorded political message.

I got up this morning, took a shower, put on make-up, styled my hair and picked out an outfit to wear. Then I sat down at my desk and began to tackle the summer's worth of paperwork and mail that has been accumulating since early June. And there I sat all day and into the evening. Just now, as I was taking off the make-up and changing out of the outfit I was wearing, I wondered why I had even bothered with all that. What was the point? Habit, I guess.

Thank God for online banking, automated bill paying and Quicken! But even they don't help with all that mail! I don't know why I feel obligated to open everything and at least look at it, even what I know is junk mail that I'll be throwing away. The wastebasket is overflowing. There's just a small pile on my desk to sort and prioritize tomorrow. It will feel good to be caught up again. Until the next time.

Excuses. . .

I have been mulling over today's message ever since this morning. This may seem like an odd statement given the fact that I really can't remember anything specific of what was said. A significant positive thought process has been initiated, however, that I know will be instrumental in my own personal enlightenment and spiritual growth. In my mind, a "good" sermon is one in which we grasp a truth we can readily identify, then expand and apply it until it becomes interwoven in our very being. I think the meaning (or essence) of words remains with us long after the words themselves are forgotten. Then again, maybe that's just my excuse for not remembering things.

That was the title of the message this morning: Excuses. There were, of course, some of the obvious examples given. But beyond that, I've been thinking about how our perception of any particular excuse changes to accommodate our own comfort level. In other words, our perception depends on whether we are on the giving or receiving end of the excuse. If we are really honest, we'll see that many of the "legitimate" excuses we give and the "flimsy" ones we receive are exactly the same.

These wise words come to mind: "UNDERSTAND before you ask to be UNDERSTOOD." (Easier said than done.)

Alone at the Fair. . .

I went to the Walton Fair today. Alone. It was a peculiar experience filled with a wide range of thoughts and emotions. It's hard to believe this is the third Fair without Bob. It was such an "us" thing that I had to keep reminding myself that today it was just "me." Last year, Cindy, Michael and I went. The year before that, I went with Jenn and the boys. I couldn't have gone there alone then. I think it was a good idea that I went by myself this year. I was able to focus on some deep analysis while busying myself with (what I call) "surface activity." Everywhere I walked at the Fair today, I had a real awareness of how I continually make comparisons between the way things used to be and the way they are now. I don't expect that to change nor do I need it to. There's the realization, for instance, that there will be no one to steer me around the grounds and that I am the one who has to remember where the car is parked. Bob was the one with the keen directional sense. I certainly am not and never had to think about it. We each contributed what came natural for us. That's how we were. We compensated for one another. Since our interests were not at all alike, we were naturally drawn to look at different things. In the early years, it was a bit of a tug of war but later on, we developed genuine respect for each others passions. Today, while I was taking my time looking at the artwork, I smiled because I could just see Bob standing there, waiting patiently. But with his ear turned toward the hit-and-miss motors. I didn't mind. It made his willingness to wait all the sweeter which, in turn, made me want to get to the motors, too. I did not look at the motors today. That would have been just too hard.

As time goes by. . .

It sure was nice having help and company today. John has reached the age (and strength) where he is more adept at some things than I am, no matter how hard I try. While he was here, he also found out that a person doesn't necessarily need to like zucchini in order to like zucchini bread. Ray Road's sagging flagpole has been repaired so it's worthy, once again, of displaying Old Glory. The hill in the apple orchard is freshly mowed, a small area around some tree roots has been re-sodded and some touch-up mulching is done, thanks to John. I spent some time examining the trees in the woods surrounding the yard, trying to remember which ones Bob planned on cutting, for safety reasons. I was surprised I was able to recognize some of them. I guess I shouldn't be, though, since we had many conversations about them during our routine walks around the property. "Nature walks," I called them. I still do that even though it's not the same.

Thinking about that reminds me of a discussion I participated in yesterday. It was about the discomfort we (who grieve from the loss of someone close) can sometimes sense in others when we talk about our loved one. Particularly, as time goes by. I think I understand a little of why that is but it is a bit stifling just the same and sometimes even hurtful. I realize the reactions I'm talking about are involuntary and I hope I am not insensitive toward other individuals' needs when this happens. Still, I need the fulfillment of settings where I don't have to filter Bob from conversations and by the grace of God, I have them - abundantly so, over and above that which I could possibly deserve. I am so very grateful! It's important, I think, to understand that inevitably, people we love die but the relationship does not. We continue to learn and grow and to be nurtured by the relationship with that person.

Lost time . . .

I used to refer to a day like today as a "lost day." The kind of non-productive day that seems to allow for little or no accomplishment until, finally, I am forced to throw up my arms, surrender in frustration, and vow to start fresh in the morning to make up for "lost" time. Well, I've learned a few things over years of observing patterns. Patterns can be very revealing but only if we contemplate their worth and take the time to absorb what they quietly unveil. Although these periods of dormancy have the look and feel of regression or sloth, I believe, in actuality, they are plateaus (little rest stops) in our onward, upward, ever-progressive lives.

I should make it quite clear that these thoughts are not meant to provide a readily available excuse for pure laziness! That would be putting "cause" before "effect" ... "cart" before the "horse" ... "egg" before the "chicken." On second thought, let's forget the chicken and egg analogy since I'm not sure if that theory has ever been resolved.

For me, the plateau pattern has become predictably reliable. That is, I can rest assured it will be a transitional time with some significant learning evolving. It was through music lessons that this concept was first introduced to me. Frustrated, I would begin to lose confidence when periods of progress were interrupted by these plateaus. That's what my music mentor called them -- plateaus. Her eyes would widen and sparkle with excitement as she said, "This is when the learning is happening!" She knew this as a result of her own experience and I believe that's why she seemed so eager to pass it on. I found the wisdom of her words to be very true. Not only as they applied then, to the violin, but later, to life in general.

Over time, I have come to value these interruptions in the flow of things, although admittedly quite impatiently, at times. Each one is like a little rebirth ... a step forward ... leaving the familiar for the unfamiliar ... no turning back. What an adventure we are in for when we come into this world and live this thing called life! Sure, it includes heartaches. But even they are "plateaus" where (as my wise mentor once said) some very serious learning is happening. How marvelous, how awesome, are the delicate intricacies of day to day living! How honored I feel to be part of this Grand Masterpiece and to have time to take in the view from each plateau!

Hobbit Door, at night. . .

Some of the lighting is done - electric on the inside, flickering solar on the outside.

Hobbit Hole. . .

Door updates...

The Hobbit Hole gets a door. . .

The Hobbit Hole gets a door. . .

The "Hobbit Hole"

The reconstruction of the root cellar (or Hobbit Hole as we like to call it) has begun. This is going to be a bittersweet endeavor since it will complete one of the projects Bob had hoped to finish. We had a vision, he and I. At first there were two but after while they began to mesh and finally our two ideas became one. His was practical; he needed a root cellar in which to store the apples from his orchard over the winter. As usual, practicality was not my priority at all. My vision was something more along the lines of what you might see illustrated in an old book of fairy tales. A vine-covered door, giving the appearance of an entrance to an enchanted forest. Now, a doorway to a pretend forest was a stretch for a guy who only wanted a place to keep his apples but, true to form, Bob set out to create a reasonable facsimile. Sadly, this was one of the many plans in his mind's eye that will never be shared.

But life is filled with unexpected gifts and they come to us in many surprising ways. Often through friends. Such is the case with the "Hobbit Hole" and a very creative friend. I am peacefully assured that Bob would appreciate how we are completing his project.

The doorway is taking shape:

What begins with A?. . .

C. S. Lewis came to mind this morning. His book, "A Grief Observed," was one of many lifelines that assisted my walk through a very tender time. For one thing, I was astounded to find many of the passages contained in the book were either thoughts I had had or words I, myself, had spoken. (It is reassuring to feel one's own so-called *"strangeness" validated in this way.) Secondly, I thought about Lewis' seeing the need to explain why the title of the book is not "Grief Observed" but "A Grief Observed." The first generalizes (here's how to do it); the second personalizes (here's how I am doing it.) One is up for debate; the other is not. With that in mind, I think I should change the title of this Blog to "A Life's Journey Observed."

Word association: "Big A...little a...what begins with A? Aunt Annie's alligator! A...A...A!" -Dr. Seuss

*I purposely used the word "strange" rather than "unique" since "unique" implies (to me) a certain element of confidence that I do not own. Thus, my need for validation.

Life after "no". . .

There's no easy "yes" but there is life after "no."

Yet another profound instance of synchronicity occurred this morning as I took in this morning's dose of spiritual nourishment. These coincidences are not so rare anymore but I am no less awed by them than when they first began. I should say, "when I first began to notice them," since my guess is they always have been there/are there/will be there.

These are some of the words I read this morning: "The fluffy take on some pretty serious verses that try to tell you, 'All you need is faith' and you'll get what you want. 'Just believe and the Lord will provide.' 'Ask and you shall receive.' I wrestled a long time with this new God of my 'no.' But slowly I discovered that His answer didn't dismiss my loss. Not if I saw it in the context of His ability to understand and respond to that loss."

And: "That is where He met me. At the cross-roads of His decision and my acceptance of it; He led me out of my heartache and into a season of redemption and beauty. All without changing His answer. Instead He changed me."

I revelled in the fact that what I was reading followed right on the heels of a very recent conversation I'd had; the heart of which was validated so clearly in the words I have quoted here. In that conversation, I had tried to describe a personal spiritual understanding I have reached as a result of all the mountains and milestones along my journey thus far. I groped for sufficient words but they were as evasive to me as usual. Well, I found them! In print!! They were waiting right here for me this morning: "For I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through Him who gives me strength. Philippians 4:11-13 NIV" If I were to personalize further, I would add: "I know what it is to have the worst thing I could imagine, happen ... and to emerge on the other side of that (hurting, yes) but moving forward through the crossroads with faith intact and unfaltering acceptance that His answer was "no."

As I unravel the intricacies of the woven paths leading up to here and now, there are specific words that come to mind repeatedly. Oddly enough, the words are my own! I first spoke them aloud in a small group study during a discussion that was taking place. As I heard various accounts of "answered prayer" (meaning the answer had been "yes"), I realized how often I'd heard the expressions, "There IS a God!" or "God DOES answer prayer" when an outcome had been what was wished for. I understand they are both merely expressions but nonetheless, I always found myself feeling somewhat 'twitchy' whenever I heard them. I would remember my parenting days and how often I had stated very clearly, "Sometimes the answer is no." Why, I wondered, would our Parent respond any differently to us? One evening during the study group, I finally posed the question: "What about when the answer is 'no'? Is there still a God?" And added, "sometimes the answer is no." I cannot recall the immediate response and that's not even relevant now. What is important is the fact that I came to realize that my question ... those words I spoke (and believed then and do now) ... were for me; so I would have them readily in mind in the weeks and months to come and therefore, embrace acceptance more readily.

And ... sometimes the answer is YES! But how could we possibly know the joy of 'yes' if there were never a 'no'-? How would we know the difference?

Living in the moment. . .

I almost always have my camera! Except at 6:30 this morning when I drove John home for chores before school. Three deer were gracing the far side of the misty pond, the sun was beginning to flicker through the treetops and all reflected perfectly in the water.

I used to bemoan those missed opportunities to capture a special moment in time. Over time, though, I have learned not only to accept these evasive photo shoots but to embrace them as personal God times when I am being spiritually nurtured and gently nudged to live in the moment.

In the Garden. . .

"I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses, and the voice I hear falling on my ear, the Son of God discloses."

"And He walks with me and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own; and the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known."

Favorite kind of day. . .

My favorite kind of day. . .working in the yard, smelling the campfire smoke. There's something soothing about an outdoor fire. When I need a rest from the yard work, it's an inviting spot to retreat to for a little while and gaze at the flames and coals. It's as mesmerizing as a kaleidoscope; always changing, never the same.

Michael came and helped out with some chores and John weed-whacked the grass on the bank around the root cellar. Michael is spending the night. He and I ate dinner outside at the umbrella table. The dinner conversation was fascinating, although now I can't recall what it was about. I grilled on the new hibachi and I think I'm going to like it. I was always a little afraid of the gas grill.

Tomorrow, I hope I can finish arranging and decorating the porch in readiness for summer living. We'll see what tomorrow brings.

Emotional healing. . .

I love synchronicity. Some call it coincidence or fate. I like to call these occurrences God times. So often in the midst of obstacles, they happen and, depending on the circumstances, I might smile knowingly or I may be jolted to pay closer attention to my priorities. Either way, I know I have received (what I call) "the nudge."

At our church service on Sunday, an invitation was extended for healing prayer requests. Since I had been feeling somewhat drained of spirit and emotionally fragile, I asked for prayers for emotional healing. Today I smiled when I read the title for one of this day's devotions, "How to Recharge Emotionally," by Rick Warren. He mentions three habits to help us recharge, emotionally. 1. Solitude. (Our emotions are like a battery. If you plug one light bulb into a battery, it will last for a fairly long time. If you plug in 100 lights, the battery will drain very quickly.) 2. Play. (We each have different activities that recharge us because we're all made differently.) 3. Laughter. (Laughter is good for our health. Humor is God's gift to us.)

Today I'm especially grateful for little unexpected pieces of synchronicity.

An open mind. . .

I am feeling a little melancholy today and am not sure why. Maybe it's the process of coming "down" from the emotional highs of the past few exceptional days. Maybe I'm just tired. Or perhaps I'm just having a bad-hair day.

I know I'm contending with a three-way inner conflict. A battle of wills, I call it. There are the "wants," the "shoulds" and the "need-to's." I WANT to put on old clothes, go outside, dig in the dirt and plant things! I SHOULD be sifting through the mountain of mail and paperwork that never ranks as high as it should on my priority list. Instead of either of those, I NEED to fulfill an obligatory commitment this afternoon. In fact, I should be on my way there right now. So. . .off I go, grateful for God's gift of an open mind that will accept His will and not my own.

I feel better already.

A day to treasure. . .

It has been a good couple of days.

Yesterday, for the first time in almost three years, I found myself opening my violin case and playing a little bit. Something I haven't been able to do since Bob's illness. I'm not sure what to expect from here but we'll see.

Today has been what I like to refer to as a "Hallmark" day. Michael and I spent wholesome time together and even he remarked several times that he was having a really good day. After some leisure time this morning, we went to his house so he could do his chores. I enjoyed watching him go about the business of caring for the dogs, collecting eggs and feeding the chickens and ducks. I was wishing I had my camera when I saw him from the distance across the pond, the ducks swimming to meet him, the dog bounding this way and that and with the woods as a backdrop. For a moment it felt as though I had stepped from reality into a painting that once hung on our wall.

Then, at my house, we worked on all sorts of tasks. We dug up shoots from a variety of ornamental bushes and planted them as a hedgerow at the end of the orchard. In the process, Michael learned how to cut and remove sod in sections and before we were finished, he had mastered the procedure. We pruned the nearby spruce tree and inspected it for disease. We made a mental note of where we saw strawberry blossoms and where blackberry bushes were beginning to bud, in hopes of getting to them before the birds do. Over lunch, we made plans to create a walking trail around the property; something I've had in mind for awhile. But...no fun, alone.

Before long, it was time for Little League so off we went. Michael had a good game. He got on base several times and made it to home plate a couple of times too. When the game was over, it was time to pick up Rachael at her friend's house. Michael wished aloud that we could just leave her there and when she was invited to spend another night, he was delighted to point out that his wish had come true. Ah, yes...siblings!

I do treasure days like this and never, ever take them for granted.

Look for the gifts. . .

Several hours ago I put a homemade frozen dinner in the microwave for lunch before mowing the lawn. While it heated, I made the mistake of taking something to the garage to put away. I ended up cleaning the garage; a job that needed doing but not necessarily today. I try to look for God's purpose in all things, particularly the unexpected. Sometimes it is very clear and others, not so obvious. Today I realized that it is getting more comfortable for me to be in Bob's "spaces" for longer periods of time. (It's true what 'they' say; that grief does not go away but we gradually learn how to experience once again the full realm of other feelings simultaneously. Or, as I like to say, "along side of it.")

As I sorted, rearranged, swept and vacuumed, I was flooded with warm memories. The story of our lives unfolded in front of me as I noticed grandparents' tools and other items that had once belonged to grandparents and parents. The most vivid recollections, though, were triggered by the paint drippings and, in some cases, old spills. The paint trail is a tell-tale sign of the many projects that were 'born' in that garage over the years. The John Deere green and yellow are the more recent 'drippings.' Some splotches that go back 20+ years are the silver & blue from a Jr. Prom project that was assembled there. (Although...I don't believe those colors got there by accident.)

That has been my unexpected gift for today. The Gift of the Garage, I shall call it. Just think, we can just as easily miss those gifts. One way we miss them, of course, is by proclaiming ourselves "too busy." Another way would be to require such perfection that those symbolic 'biographies' are quickly erased because we look upon them as blemishes. I, for one, am so very thankful to have learned to recognize their poignant value as they were happening.

The gifts are there. We just have to look for them.

A good day. . .

There is nothing quite like the peace one feels having spent several hours outside in the company of lilacs phasing out, lily of the valley phasing in and an old dog. Such is life.

I worked on some more edging and was happy to see that after a little churning of the old mulch, I won't need to replace nearly as much as I thought. Very tenderly, I pruned dead branches out of the old fashioned rose bush that came from the farm. Bob's mother called it "seven sisters." I rescued a few lambs ear plants that had spread out into the grass. The loose sod that comes from edging works good for filling in bare spots here and there. The yard is vast and there's a lot to do but it is one of the pastimes I enjoy the most.

I would say this has been a good day. There is always, always something to be thankful for.