* Back to School

August brings with it so many wonderful things.  Peaches ripen along with pears, plums, and apples.  For teachers, thoughts divert from the liesure of summer and begin earnestly toward the time known as "back to school".  Most teachers begin working in their classrooms August 1. Most mornings will find them arranging bulletin boards, removing loved books from storage, hanging the ever-present classroom rules along with the Pledge of Allegience. Teachers meet with each other in rooms and in the hallway to discuss the school year in as much anticipation as the students and nervous parents.

Over the summer custodians have been busy, working in the heat and humidity.  Buildings have been mended, walls have been painted and the floors have been waxed to a high gloss that will not be seen again until the beginning of the next school year.

But, there is absolutely nothing like the very first day of school.  Returning students, who know the rules and procedures, help direct the younger students who are frightened by the seeming confusion.  All students have brand new school supplies, brand new shoes and, most importantly, brand new crayons.  When the bell rings, students walk into the newly  waxed hallways and their new shoes squeak on the floor inspite of teacher warnings.  Sitting in their new classroom with their new teacher, they carefully remove all the newly purchased school supplies.  Crayons still have points, markers still have ink, pencils still have erasers and desks will never be as organized as they are the first day of school.

Of course, the school calendar is determined by departments and politicians who seem to forget child development.  In the heat of August, everyone is completely wilted by noon and all the students who looked so fresh 3 hours ago are now sweaty and tired.  And so, at the teachers' expence, popcicles will be part of the afternoon's activities.  Lights will be out for a while as children rest a bit and cool their bodies.  During that time the teacher will read a book which will become a favorite.  Most of my favorites were heard during "popcicle time" ~ Little House on the Prairie, Ramona the Pest, Sarah Plain and Tall, Wind in the Willows, Anne of Green Gables ...

I dearly miss the excitement and challenges of teaching.  I miss conversing with other teachers.  I miss the joys and hurts of children.  However, as you begin a new year full of promise and hope I will be thinking of you and watching from a distance.  God bless you all.

 

* I Saved The Last of the Raspberries for Margaret

As August approaches and peaches come to harvest, raspberry season wanes.  Each day brings less and less.  I cannot pass our patch without thinking of Margaret.  Last summer she enjoyed taking a walk to the briars, picking the fruits and eating them ... one after another.  This morning, I returned from church and noticed several ripe berries.  However, I also noticed most of the plants were bare.  Remembering how wee Margaret enjoyed the berries, I decided to save these last delicious fruits for her. I anticipate the time her sister, Helen will join us for berry picking walks.

The garden is producing vegetables at nearly break-neck speed now.  Beets, onions, potatoes, peas and green beans are harvested and preserved.  August is time for tomatoes and peaches.  A batch of salsa has already been made, with at least one more to made tomorrow.  There will also be jars of tomato sauce, tomato juice and canned tomatoes.  But peaches, ah, peaches ~ are my favorite.  Canned peaches, peach jams, peach jellies, peach pie ... and, of course, peaches for just plain eating!

Pears are on the horizon.  Next to peaches, I like pears best.  Tristan always liked pears and when I can pears, it is always with Tristan in mind.  This year, I am going to experiment with pear pie.

I confess when I am in my summer kitchen canning whatever produce there is, I am thinking to the future.  The spices and herbs I use are chosen with specific people and events in mind.  While I am cleaning jars and cleaning the produce, I am imagining various holidays, special occasions, everyday meals.  I am thinking about the people who will be eating my carefully preserved foods and their particular tastes.  I will make a batch of salsa very hot and chunky because Tristan likes it that way.  I will take care to use organic, non GMO ingredients for foods Ashley's family will eat because Ashley is conscientious about the quality of the foods her family consumes.  I will think about what spices and herbs compliment various holidays. 

Sometimes I sit in my root cellar and just look at the rows and rows of preserved foods on the shelves.  Let winter come ... my family is secured for the winter. It is so satisfying.  And Margaret & Helen, I have saved some special treats just for you.

* Margaret's Birthday

Celebrating Margaret's Birthday.         When my children were small, we celebrated birthdays all week.  We even had a hoky song I made up which repeated the line, "It's Ashley's (or Tristan's) birthday week!", over and over.  And, so it was with little Margaret.  She was not sure what a birthday was, but the days of fun leading up to it were exciting and she knew it was not a "normal" day. 

Margaret is particularly fond of "nicnics" (her term for a picnic) and she is equally fond of being playing by the lake.  Therefore, having a "nicnic" by the beach seemed the best venue for her 2nd birthday party.

Part of the fun is planning her cake.  Ashley does not make your typical box cake, nor does she depend on the local grocery bakery.  Each cake is unique and made from scratch.  This year Margaret's cake was to be a coconut layer cake with a hint of orange in the cream and topped with fluffy white icing and garnished with coconut.  When I say "made from scratch", I mean MADE FROM SCRATCH.... made from a coconut. There is no buying ready-made, grated coconut for Ashley.  Grandpa Canter carefully drilled the holes and all of us tried the milk.  Margaret was not really impressed with the drink.  Then the coconut was cracked and the flesh removed and grated.  It was a marvelous cake and Margaret was quite fond of it.

At the appointed time, we gathered at the water's edge and played with Margaret as Papa grilled the chicken and corn-on-the-cob.  Margaret, now being 2, displayed her own preferences and opinions.  She adamantly refused to wear a swim suit as she played gleefully with the water toys.

Margaret has a penchant for watermelon, eating at least 3 pieces ~ just WHERE does she put it?

The sun was setting quickly, and after we feasted we still had more partying to do, so all of us returned to the common for cake, home made ice cream and gifts.

After a quick clean up and a change of clothes, it was time for Margaret to open her gifts.  She was cute as a button as she walked across the grass in her new lady bug dress.  She quickly realized this exciting day was not over yet!  Not only were there balloons, but cake and things wrapped in pretty paper.

  

She was more fun than a clown carrying balloons and so completely adorable as she carried her butterfly bouquet around the common.

What an adorable flirt ~ so much like her mama when she was that age.

I am not sure who Ioved watching most ~ Margaret or Ashley.  Margaret is so much like her mother and it was complete joy for me, not only to watch the sweetness of Margaret, but to watch my daughter relish in being a mother and watching, with satisfaction, the joy her daughter was experiencing.  I could not take my eyes off Ashley.

 This picture says it all.  I believe I can say without doubt, a great time was had by all.  Next year, when Margaret is 3, I think she will have a better idea of what fun a birthday will be.

 

Wee Helen slept through the entire party!  

Thank you, Lord, for the gift of my daughter and the years of her childhood.  Continue to give her abundant grace as she treasures these years with her girls.  Bless them, keep them, preserve them.

* Stay tuned

I am playing with various templates to see what I like. 

* Remembering George

Days dawn, one after another, and quite suddenly a year has passed.  Today dawned gloomily and has been interspersed with bright rays of sun.  I suppose that is how I would describe our month of June one year ago.

Last June was a time of joyful anticipation as Tristan made it safely home after his tour in Afghanistan.  Waiting for those buses to pull in with our beloved son seemed an eternity.  When the marines finally marched onto the common in rather bedraggled form, they never looked so good.  I recall searching the many faces for the one face I was looking for  and being somewhat frustrated because in uniforms, they all look alike.  Then, suddenly, there was a marine with a familiar walk.  Yes, that slight shrug of the shoulder was no lie --- it was our marine -- home and safe.

Just days later our joy would turn to sorrow. Our family gathered in George's room as we took our last communion together and George ate a bigger meal than I had seen him eat in weeks.  He joked about  the girls in Honolulu when he was stationed there with his characteristic sailor humor.  Being tired, he fell asleep and in the early hours Ashley called to inform us that he quietly passed on to his Heavenly Father.

His red hair was no lie and he could have a temper.  However, it is the love for fun for which he is remembered in spite of his difficult childhood.  George came from obscure beginings. Not only did he come from "the other side of the tracks", but his mother died when he was 12 and it was George who discovered her.  His father had a difficult time finding work once the mines closed.  He remembered being forced from their home and eating mush every meal.  Although he had pleasant memories of school, he admitted to being spanked nearly every day.  George probably was not voted most likely to succeed by his teachers or peers.

After graduation, George did a 6 year tour with the US Navy and saw considerable action during World War II.  He was proud of his achievement of Chief Petty Officer, Permanent Appointment.  He took advantage of his GI Bill to complete barber school and opened his own shop in Parker, Indiana.  He became one of the pillars of the commnity ~ open handed and open hearted to all.  It was not uncommon for George to take toys to underpriviledged children at Christmas, knock on the door and run away. He was active in service organizations.

My children knew him as "Little Grandpa" and were enchanted by his witty stories and sayings.  They never tired if hearing the same stories over and over.  George just had a comical and humorous way of spinning a tale.  You just never knew how much of it was true and how much was embellishment.  His ready laugh and slight wink always left you wondering.
He died as he lived ~ calmly accepting what was before him, fulfilling his responsibilities and telling stories with a laugh and a wink.  George, you are missed.

WIT AND WISDOM OF GEORGE:

*  You never want to tell everything you know.  Then they will know what you know and what they know and that will make them smarter than you.

*  AW ... BUG FEATHERS!

*  I had an occasion to be..... (if he started a sentence this way, we knew a good story would follow.

*  That's singular!

Stay tuned --- Ashley and Tristan will have to help me with some of the rest!

*A Visit to the Faerie Garden

One sunny day in June, I was invited to the Teddy Bear's Picnic.  We had a splendid time.  We ate cucumber sandwiches. They told me about a Secret Faerie Garden.


The Teddy Bears told me that I was to wander in the woods until I found the Cathedral Window Rose.  The roses did not always bloom, but there would be other clues along the way.



Tucked away in a tiny corner I found a stone.  I looked very carefully and I found some writing on it.  Yes, sure enough, there were the words ~ SECRET GARDEN.  Could this really be the Faerie Garden I was looking for?


I wandered through the narrow path and found a hitch for my unicorn.  The faeries have a fancy for unicorns and try to get them to stay there.  Unicorns like to roam free.

There was a creaky bridge to cross.  I was nervous for I had been warned that elves live with the faeries and they often watch under bridges.  I kept my eyes open and looked all around.  I was even a bit scared.

Sure enough, there was one sitting by the bridge post.  He looked as if he was writing.  Was he writing a book?  Could he be a watchman for St. Nicholas?  I decided it would be best not to disturb him and walked on.




Once across the bridge, there was a wonderful sitting area with chairs just my size.  It is as if the faeries were expecting me!





Shaded by the weeping cherry tree I enjoyed a brief respite.  I could hear the birds twitter and the bees buzz.  However, I thought I could hear tiny voices ~ like faint singing.

Yes, just beyond the sitting area, I spied a faerie village.  Tucked amongst the foliage were little faieries working and playing and dancing.  They were not afraid of me at all and invited me to stay with them a while.

At first I thought the sister faerie had locked her brother in his room and would not let him out.  However, that was not so.  They were cleaning windows!  I did not know faeries cleaned windows.

Further in the copse, there were two more faieries.  They were busy planting flowers.  Faeries are partial to violets and pansies.  They have a passion for peonies, but those flowers are much too big for faeries.


The last fairie house was funny.  The little boy was sitting on the porch.  He was pouting.  His little sister was trying to put him into a better mood.  So we all had faerie tea and cookies together.  They day continued on until dusk was on the horizon. I waved "good bye" and made my way home ~ hoping to visit the faerie village again soon with my special friends Margaret Rose and Helen Grace.

* "Til death us do part"

June 10, 1978 was a day much like June 10, 2010.  The day was sunny and the temperatures were mild.  The difference is that I was a very nervious 21 year old, about to marry a seminary student from Asbury Theological Seminary. We had carefully planned the day.  Special friends and family had been chosen for various roles in the wedding and reception.  After the minister declared us "husband and wife" ~ life changed  forever. 

   My gown was one of a kind.  After visiting many bridal salons and being shocked at the price, it seemed obvious that my mother was going to have to make the perfect gown for me.  She patiently pieced together patterns which represented all of my ideas and worked hours upon hours with all the heavy satin and delicate lace.  The result was exactly what I wanted to wear when I walked the long aisle of Faith Memorial Church to my waiting groom.

We have been asked if our wedding party consisted of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.  No, but, as you can see, it was quite a production.  I can truthfully say, that I had to keep up with Bill in attendants, and not the other way around!  However, our day was wonderfully celebrated with family and friends who were bridal attendants as well as hosts and hostesses at our reception. 

       We like to tell people that the reception was held in our first apartment!  However, most people will recognize the Georgian.  Notice the cake ~ not only did my mother make my dress, but she designed and baked the cake!  She is pretty talented.                               

Bill was a perfect gentleman with the wedding cake and has remained a perfect gentleman ever since. 

The years brought us two wonderful children.  Ashley is beautiful with a gentle spirit.  She married a wonderful man and the two of them have given us two granddaughters who are pure joy.  Tristan grows into a fine man with the values and traditions of his fathers.

Today I live in the house of my dreams on a little piece of land which is like paradise.  We make the dream come true together.  Planning and working our home and gardens is one of my favorite activities.  We often sit on our back porch commenting on how perfect life is. Bill is the love of my life... and I look forward to the next 30 years.  And so we shall go on ~ planning, dreaming, hoping, loving and living ... until,at last, one of us shall lay the other in the arms of our loving God.