Joyous Spring! Flowers and Balboa Island

Happy spring! How I love it! You can almost feel the energy of new life vibrating and expanding, plants starting to burst with new life and birds happily singing and enjoying the skies. My orchids have been blooming like crazy, freesias bloomed weeks ago and are almost done, a random sweet pea popped up, geraniums are blooming (I love their beautiful red!) and the roses are leafing out and have buds. The time change always triggers a burst of excitement and energy for me as the days (finally) don’t get dark at 5:30 and daylight just seems to linger deliciously. Longer days equal more fun!

A friend and I went to a seminar last week at a local quality garden center. It was fun and interesting! They showed different plant types for 4 types of gardens: formal, drought-tolerant, shade and cottage. They stressed "easy" cottage because cottage gardens require the most work, with all the deadheading and maintenance required when you have a lot of flowers. We had a great time! It was very warm and sunny; I had sweat running down my back even though it was only 10:30 in the morning. I allowed myself to spend less than $10 and bought two sweet pea seedlings that I'll plant later this week. 

         

Pics of my garden right now:
This beautiful sweet pea just decided to pop up this year. (Probably reseeded itself from last year.) It’s so sturdy and so fragrant. Sweet peas have always been my favorite flower.

Another volunteer: a yellow freesia that decided to pop up from the 2nd row of the planter wall. (I didn’t plant freesias this year, either.)

Cymbidium orchid. I do nothing but water this very giving plant and it just blooms and blooms despite my benign neglect.

Kalanchoe (which really needs a bigger pot) with freesias hanging down in them. Next to it is a mix of red and white cyclamen that I planted for Christmas a few years ago. (It could probably use repotting as well.)

     

Can you spot the little green siskin on the side of the garden hook? He came to play and splash in the fountain. My fountain is old and worn, but has a top basin that’s perfect for the birds to bathe in.

Last year, I took my grands to Balboa Island on the first day of Easter vacation. We explored, had lunch, walked around the harbor area and checked out all the cute houses. And, of course, we decided we’d love to live there in cute little cottages, too. Bri decided that we should do a “Balboa Day” every year on the first Monday of Easter. Their family headed to Utah this morning, though, so we had to revise our plans and we went for a short visit last Friday. I picked up both girls after Jas got out of school and we headed down to stroll a bit and get Balboa Bars (delicious ice cream bars, famous on Balboa). We admired the cute cottages and spied an older couple sitting out on their tiny front porch, reading the newspaper in their Adirondack chairs and having a chat with friends who strolled by. Perfect scene of contentment. (Jas had to go for an MRI on her shoulder right after this; persistent problems made worse by water polo and swim team. We hope the issue can be resolved. It’s causing her a lot of pain.)

My beautiful grands!   

                     

Lovely cottage border garden on the island.

If spring hasn’t come to your area yet, it will! I hope it’s a beautiful one for you, too!

Garden Visitors

I fed the plants in my little courtyard garden earlier this afternoon. As I stood there watering, feeling the warmth of the summer sun on my skin, relaxing my muscles and mind and spirit, I noticed the white butterflies that floated softly from plant to plant – from the roses to the society garlic, to the salvia and  mandevilla. I noticed the spiders busily weaving their webs among the plants, hoping for their catch of the day. As I bent down to clean out a few leaves near the jasmine and the fountain flowing next to it, my arm brushed a transparent web that I didn’t see before. A couple of wasps busied themselves, hunting amongst the flowers.

My little courtyard gives me quiet, meditative time, looking up at blue skies, watching the clouds blown out by the ocean breeze as they spread wispily across the sky, feeling warm rays on my skin. I enjoy the aliveness of my garden with flora growing and changing, insects making their homes, everything alive and vibrant. Later this afternoon, I heard mourning doves calling their gentle coo and looked out to see a pair perched atop the garage. Ah, summer …

simple moments of heaven

There are those who feel that heaven is not some far-off place with winged angels up there among the clouds, but that heaven is all around us and that we encounter angels every day. I tend to agree with them. I get glimpses of heaven in moments throughout my day; moments of bliss and ease, where I feel at perfect peace and contentment. And angels! I think we encounter them more often than we realize. My mom taught us to notice them; when a good samaritan once helped push our car out of a deep puddle during a downpour and then disappeared, I remember her telling us that he was one of God’s angels and we prayed our thankfulness for the help we received.

My life is good and I am abundantly grateful. All are well, all are loved, we are abundantly blessed even as we face life’s challenges. Life is simple and good. It’s these simplest of moments that reflect heaven to me. Simple moments of family gathered together, teasing, laughing, loving. Simple moments of a warm ocean breeze blowing against my skin. Simple moments of life growing in my garden. Some recent simple moments:

My granddaughters recently spent the night while their parents went to a party. We went to dinner, watched a movie and gabbed all night. Their parents came and spent the night after their party. I love the notes added to the whiteboard on the refrigerator; these sweet words light me up inside when I look at them each day.

 

The next morning, we walked down the pier to Ruby’s restaurant for a nice breakfast. Gorgeous—heavenly—day. Warm, sunny, the ocean bobbing with surfers, the pier with eager photographers aiming their cameras at the waves.

Looking toward land, we could see the snowcap of Mt. Baldy in the distance. (Approx. mid-center)

Looking the other direction out to sea, we could see Santa Catalina Island.

A day shared with the love of family, ocean, sunshine, warm breezes—peaceful, happy, heaven on earth.

The garden’s just starting to edge toward spring. Below, orchids and cyclamen are blooming.

The yellow/green orchid is ready to bloom, too. I’m really glad it’s doing so well. I split it into three pieces (sawed it, actually) last year, giving the other two to friends. This one came back in great shape and has even more stalks starting up.

And just check out the freesia in this one pot! Freesia naturalizes in surprising spots each year in my garden. coming back in the usual places, but also showing up in new places. I’ll have to stake these somehow; all of those blooms will be too heavy for these slender stems.

Family, ocean, flowers in the garden – surely this much joy and peace are true glimpses of heaven. Have a beautiful week.

Grandma’s 94th birthday!

Saturday was Grandma’s 94th birthday! I’m lucky she lives within 30 minutes of me so I popped over to her house in the afternoon with a birthday card and a geranium that I potted up from my garden. Grandma and I share a love of gardening; since the day I met her, I’ve enjoyed exploring her garden when I visit.

Grandma is actually my ex-husband’s grandmother. When my daughter was born, Grandma got a new nickname, Great G, to celebrate her status as a great-grandmother. After the divorce, Great G always remembered my daughter/her great-granddaughter for every birthday and every holiday, sending a card, a gift, always letting my daughter know how very much she was loved. Other than my sister-in-law who I’ve always remained close to, we didn’t have much contact with the rest of the family (for various reasons that really don’t matter after all these years). But Grandma and I exchanged cards and letters from time to time, keeping a bond of love between us. When my daughter grew up, married and had her daughters, I told her we had to go take the girls to see Great G. Oh, Great G just sparkled at seeing her great-great-granddaughters!

To meet Grandma is to love her. A little bit of nothing, she weighs less than 100 lbs. But she’s not frail or fragile in any way! Her hair is always beautifully coifed, as red as it’s always been. Her voice is strong and capable, her movements sure. She has trouble hearing and some sight issues, but nothing stops her. She demonstrated to me Saturday that her hands – even with arthritis in her right one – still have good gripping power for her garden clippers. On a bad day when her two arthritic fingers don’t work correctly, she just bends them around the handles and gardens away!

That’s the kind of woman she is. Never a complaint, never a mean word about anyone (at least to me). She’s resilient and resourceful. No car? No problem. She walks to where she wants to go. The grocery store, church – she gets done what has to be done.

And her stories! I love hearing her stories and Saturday over coffee I enjoyed one after the other. Grandma was born very early on a Sunday morning on October 3, 1915, on the family farm in Kansas City, Kansas, the youngest of her mom’s children. The doctor lived 12 miles away, but he didn’t have a horse and buggy so Grandma’s Daddy took his own horse and buggy to go fetch the doctor. Grandma’s mother knew the menfolk would be hungry so she made breakfast for them so it’d be ready when they returned. Then, at 6am, Grandma was born.

Life on the farm taught her to be strong and take care of what needed taking care of. Every summer there were fruits and vegetables to be canned. The meat was kept in the cold storage (they didn’t have a freezer or electricity) but if the weather warmed up, they’d have to take the meat and can it, too, so it wouldn’t spoil and go to waste.

She grew up, married, had her two daughters. Her husband, though, had a wandering eye and left the family a couple of times. Afterward, she said, he’d always summon her and she would go. (She shook her head with obvious regret as she told me this.) She finally divorced him and bought her home for her and her daughters, telling them that this was it, she wasn’t going to be moving any more. (She’s lived there over 60 years.) She worked at the market deli to support herself and her daughters. And she told herself that she wished he would call. Sure enough, he did, and this petite, strong woman gave him her answer: no, not this time, not ever again. Grandma was smiling and proud of herself as she told me the story, looking strong and young as she remembered.

Until recently, Grandma still hung her laundry out on the clothesline to dry. She had a retractable line in the backyard that she’d pull out from one pole and then pull it across the width of her yard to secure it to the pole on the other side. As she says, “it wan’t a bother.” She’d always done it this way and it’s what she was used to. She finally has a dryer now, though, and when we were in the kitchen fixing coffee, she grinned and told me in a conspiratorial whisper that she really likes how much easier it is to use the dryer. Ha!

She says she likes the church she goes to now, but that she sometimes has a hard time hearing the preacher. Grandma prefers the Baptist church she used to go to, where the preacher spoke more loudly and forcefully. She likes a church, she says, with her face crinkling into a smile, where she can shout “Hallelujah!” The old church is too far to walk, though, so she goes to the one that’s close by, walking to church on Sunday morning and getting a ride back home from a neighbor. I’ve never been in a Baptist church. I think I’ll give her a call in a couple of weeks, and see if she’ll let me take her to her old church. I’m looking forward to shouting a couple of Hallelujahs myself.

Happy birthday, Grandma, you wonderful woman!

Dad and Daughter

There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself. ~John Gregory Brown

Pic above: Dad's high school graduation portrait. He and the other boys in his graduating class each borrowed the photographer's jacket and tie for their portraits.

I spent a wonderful Friday afternoon at my Dad's house, just talking and being together (along with his wife), catching up on things, sharing memories, being present to one another. I count myself enormously blessed to still have him with us. He was born in 1929 and will be 80 this year. Mom crossed over in 1990, and we all miss her so much; I can't even think of Dad's crossing over without tearing up. I pray he lives many more years; he's had a couple of strokes, which have affected his memory, and as he says, he "can't hear worth a darn." He's been recently diagnosed with depression, probably because of his wife's own health challenges. He mourned so deeply when Mom crossed over and I'm sure he doesn't want to go through it again.

Pic above: Dad about 20 yrs. old

He's always been my hero, my champion, the most hard-working man I've ever known. He always worked two jobs throughout my childhood, rising very early, coming home very late, stopping home for a quick dinner between jobs. I had ballet lessons and piano lessons, one brother had trumpet lessons and a beautiful Besson trumpet, another brother played sports, paid for by Dad's long hours to ensure his family had what we needed to excel in life.

Pic above: Dad's ship, the USS Ernest G. Small. My youngest brother is named for the ship.

Dad's a quiet man with a wicked sense of humor and a multitude of catchphrases that always make me smile. My cousin Patsy's told me that when thinks of him, she always remembers his sayings, like "she looks like 40 miles of bad road."

His mom was half Apache and people can see the Native American in him. I asked him yesterday what his father was; "Good for nothing", he said, and left it at that. His father was an abusive man who did some pretty horrible things to all in the family. I think Dad's quiet strength comes as a result of a very hard childhood.

Pic above: Dad's Navy portrait

He loved being in the Navy, he's told me, and loved to be out at sea, away from everyone. I'm so much like him in that way, very comfortable in my own company, not one for big crowds and commotion, very calm and peaceful. I once painted an oil painting for him of a flowing river, because that's what he reminds me of: a smoothly flowing river, constant and calming.

Pic above: Some of Dad's medals and a letter from the Korean government commemorating his service in the Korean War.

As the only daughter, Dad may have spoiled me just a bit. For every ballet performance, he always brought me pink roses. When Mom would get frustrated with trying to teach me to cook or crochet or sew, she'd send me outside with a terse "Go outside and help your father!" My love of gardening developed because of him; I could spend hours digging in the dirt with him. Sweetpeas are my favorite flower because of the abundance of vines he grew against the chainlink fence in the backyard.

My Dad's my hero, my champion; a man of strong integrity, polite manners, a good, noble heart, kindness and gentleness, strong faith. I'm proud of him, and I adore and love him with all my heart.

Got some catchin' up to do!

You'd think that since I'm between jobs right now that I'd post more frequently, huh? I thought I would be, too - ha! Here's a quick recap of the last couple of weeks:

Intentions:

I set some health intentions for myself when I was laid off: walk every day, lose weight, get more fit, continue the 3x-4x weekly yoga practice, prepare more of my own food. (My ultimate goal is to lose sufficient weight to get off the blood pressure meds ... which make me gain weight, by the way. Nice.)

I love my morning walks, listening to the birdsong, saying hello to neighbors, seeing the neighborhood gardens. Initially, it was kinda tough with the fibromyalgia and my twisted spine/spondylolisthesis, but I strap on my brace each morning and I've been able to expand my route a bit (1.25 miles, which is awesome for me) and I'm not in too much pain by the time I get home, so yippee for that! On the downside, after seven weeks of walking I lost exactly zero pounds. Zip, zilch, nada. When they say it's harder to lost weight when you're older, they ain't kidding. Know this and pay heed.

When I get home, I usually head to my courtyard garden, cutting sweetpeas and roses, deadheading geraniums, enjoying all the blooms. Yesterday morning, after watering, I spotted a hummingbird wiggling around on the leaves of the camellia like he was washing himself. So cute!


I also set some project goals, which aren't going so well yet. I have to-have to-have to finish up the bathroom and the office. Bathroom: remove uber-stubborn silicone adhesive remaining from border removal, touch up paint, rehang fixtures. Office: Paint, arrange furniture, get twin bed, hang shelves, bulletin board, touch up chalkboard walls.

Speaking of the office, the jasmine in the courtyard below is blooming like crazy and just fills the entire house - top and bottom - with fragrance. Intoxicating! Here's a shot from the office window showing the jasmine and how it climbs over the pergola directly below the office window; all that scent just wafts dreamily into the office:


Work: I've also been very busy the last couple of weeks helping friends with some Web and writing work. It's been great fun working with them! Time to get back to my own projects now.

Job Intentions: There's been some interest in my resume and I've had an interview for a wonderful opportunity. Mutual interest on both sides. We'll see what happens there. I've also submitted my resume for a couple of other companies with really solid work in interactive marketing. I have a preliminary interview scheduled this coming Monday with one. I hope it goes well! I really like their broad client list and the fact that they do one pro bono project a year for a non-profit organization. That shows the kind of heart that I can relate to.


Funeral: A close friend's mom passed away last week. It seems like I've written a lot of posts about deaths, doesn't it? This is the third one in three months. I hope it's the last one for 2009. The service was beautiful. She'd served as a military nurse in WWII and was given full military honors. As the honor guard was carefully and meticulously folding the American flag, I was impressed how there was no rushing, no sense of urgency; they were completely focused on the task at hand and nothing else mattered. I think the world needs more of that instead of the constant maddening distraction of cell phones and computers alerting us to the next thing. We rarely have time to just sit and daydream. Daydreaming is where we create and re-create, where we re-charge our batteries and refresh our spirits. Watching those young men honoring this woman with their full undivided attention as they carefully folded and creased, folded and creased made me breathe a little more slowly, slowed my own pace in my spirit. Slow me down, Lord.



Memorial Day: On Monday, Memorial Day, I went to the cemetery. I learned earlier in the week that we have 13 Civil War Veterans buried there. As I drove in, I saw all the American flags waving across the hills of the cemetery, a stirring sight. So many who have served our country with honor and dignity. After I polished my mom's headstone and cleared away some overgrown grass, I knelt to pray, thinking of my mom but also of the many lives that were being honored by the presence of those flags fluttering in the ocean breeze. I was glad that these people had graves and hadn't been cremated because I would miss seeing the flags on Memorial Day, a reminder of people and places and events bigger than me.


Namaste

Cinderfella, plus some garden pics

I read that Jerry Lewis was to receive an award at the Oscars tonight. I loved Jerry Lewis! His characters were goofy, sweet, vulnerable, funny. And in a couple of movies (Cinderfella, The Nutty Professor), we got to see him morph into another version of himself: suave, sexy, appealing on a different level. In the Cinderfella clip, he confidently snaps his foot as he takes the first few steps down the staircase, all eyes on his every move. Such attention to detail. He was also a technological pioneer in the movie-making industry. And of course everyone knows of his tireless telethon work on behalf of "Jerry's Kids."

I love movies of this era, late 50s/early 60s. There's a hopefulness in them, a sense that - despite obstacles - we've just got to keep our chin up and figure out how to make the best of things. The kind of Lil' Rascals "C'mon kids, let's put on a show" cheerful optimism or the Pollyanna "Glad Game" resilience to tragedy that movies had then. I don't watch violent movies, action-packed movies, car chase movies, Ben Stiller/Jim Carrey; they're just not my thing. Give me a movie with a decently entertaining story of goodness and integrity, throw in some laughter, add a dash of a love story (but keep everyone's clothes on), add in a fun twist ... and I'll get the popcorn started, tea brewing and a blanket at the ready.

Jerry Lewis made me smile, he made me laugh, he made the days lighter and brighter. And no, I'm not French. :-)

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I promised Carol-of-the-frozen-ground some garden pics. These first three, though, are the lilies my friend Ryann gave to me. The scent just filled my home when I came home each day.

Cymbidium orchids in the courtyard:


Lavender:

Freesias: