My son went to collect eggs today and found that they had laid them in such a way that they looked pretty as a picture. So he grabbed the camera! Our hens have great taste in egg design and placement.

A Boy and his Treasures

From the time my son was able to walk, he's been collecting things in his pockets. Rocks, bones, feathers, seeds... you name it, and I've found it in my washing machine. He's inquisitive, and ALWAYS needs to know the details of everything he finds. Once he learned to read, it opened up a world of exploration for him, and it gave me a small break from having to explain the intricacies of life to him every two minutes. He gathers up his "treasures", takes them to his room, and learns everything he can about them in books. Neither of my girls have ever had the urge to investigate the world in this way.

I'm convinced that God hard-wired boys to live for adventure, and exploration. I went into my son's room the other day to help him clean it, and was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of "treasures" he has collected. He has snake sheddings, rattlesnake rattlers, a squirrel skeleton, Indian pottery, arrowheads, craw-dad claws, and deer antlers in his toy box, all mixed in with G.I Joes, and Nerf guns. And don't get me started on the rocks in his desk drawer. The frustration began to mount when I asked him to throw away a dead baby bird in a cracked egg shell that he was keeping in a Ziploc bag. "But mom, it's sooo cool to see what a real baby bird looks like in the shell" he protested. At that moment, I realized that my disregard for his "treasures" was hurting him. By studying these things that I viewed as trash, he was getting an education. I immediately stopped trying to rid the room of the stuff, and I started asking him about it all. He told me that snakes shed their skin when they grow, and craw-dads were an invasive species in our lakes and streams. He began to identify his rocks by type, and told me about the methods Indians used to make arrowheads. He showed me how a squirrel's jaw moves, and made the rattling sounds of two bucks fighting with his antlers. He came to life when he shared his treasures.

Today we went for a walk, and he carefully followed the tracks of an unknown animal. "Mom, are those bear tracks? They're huge!" he said.

" I'm not sure, we'll have to look them up when we get home" I said.

" Mom, look at that tree that the woodpeckers filled with acorns! Awesome!" he said.

Ten minutes later he picked up a skull of some type of rodent.

"Check out the teeth on this animal! I bet it's a mouse. What do you think, Mom?"

Five more minutes go by and we're at the lake and he's picking up a dead craw-fish head.

"Son, put that stinky thing down!"

" Mom, I'm a boy, and that's what boys do."

He's right. That is what boys do. They also open their mother's eyes to the big huge world around her, and help her not to miss the details that I'm certain would pass right by her, completely unnoticed. I'm trying hard to stand back and let him be the boy that God designed him to be, and not to squelch his insatiable hunger for knowledge. It's best if a mom learns not to get in the way of a boy and his treasures.

Spike the Succulent

It was my senior year of college, and I had been dating my husband for many months. Things were getting "serious". I was sure it was L-O-V-E that we were in. Shortly there after, I met my Beloved's mother. On one occasion she broke off a stem of her Christmas Cactus, stuck it in some dirt, and gave it to me.

"What IS this?" I asked.

"It's a succulent." she said, matter of factly.

"A what?" I asked, trying not to show my ignorance.

"You know...a succulent, it gets water through the air. It needs humidity. It's called a Christmas Cactus." she informed me.

"Ohhhh right." I said.

I had no stinkin' clue what the heck a succulent was. All I could think about was this stick of ugliness in a pot of dirt. I panicked, wondering how I was going to keep it alive. I was convinced that this was some sort of secret test to see if I would be a nurturing, loving, attentive spouse some day. (I think I read that in a magazine somewhere.)

I decided, immediately, to care for that plant like my life depended upon it's survival. I vaguely remembered her saying that it needed humidity, so I took the pot into my tiny apartment bathroom every day, and sat it on the toilet while I showered, so it could have it's share of water vapor. I talked lovingly to it, and gave it a name. "Spike.... Spike the Succulent. Yeah, that fits
you well." I said to the potted branch. I think it liked me. It started to grow.

Before I knew it, it started to look like a real plant, and just as Spike began to grow, my budding relationship with my Lover began to spring forth, and we got married. A year later, we had our first child. Our boy quickly grew into a toddling terror who grabbed on to anything he could find and deposited it directly into his mouth....so Spike got relocated to the top of the refrigerator. "It's safer up here for you, buddy" I said. Fast forward 9 years and two more kids, and Spike was still living up on the refrigerator.

The unfortunate thing about his new home is that he got neglected. Out of sight, out of mind. Waterings got fewer and farther between. The artificial light was troubling to him. The lack of humidity was unkind to his leaves. Frankly, he was barely surviving. It came to a crescendo one year, when he bloomed for the very first time. It was not a "pleasant" blooming to show off his splendor. No, it was a last ditch effort to reproduce in what he thought was the end of his life. It was this unusual and sudden change in him that caught my eye, and I remembered him up there, all dusty, and unloved. I began to water him again, and rescued him from the throws of death. That was the one and only time he bloomed in eleven years.

I'm writing all this to tell you that this January I renewed my commitment to my first plant. I took the time to look up his care needs, and have faithfully watered and humidified him every Wednesday morning for the last 3 months. I have fertilized, and removed the dead parts, and for the first time in 10 years, he is growing again. I think I'll celebrate by buying him a bigger pot. I now know that in order for him to bloom, he must stay dark, cool, and rarely watered. I think I'll try that next winter. Until then, I just want him to spread his little branches, and grow like he's never grown before. Spike, you are loved.

The Loot and the Problem

Hello, I am a full grown woman with three children of my own, and I still get an Easter Basket. Yep, not only do my parents still get me an Easter Basket, but my husband gets one too. And we fight over the candy, and don't share well with others. And all of this shameful behavior occurs on the day we celebrate Our Blessed Savior's Resurrection.

I'm not talking about a few peeps, and a chocolate bunny. I'm talking about POUNDS of candy. Every secret indulgence is in my basket. Every candy that I long for but can't find other times of the year is in there. Here's the loot.

Now here's the problem. My brother just got engaged, which means there's gonna be a wedding, which means I'm gonna buy a dress, which means I need to get in shape. My mother, the one who hand selected the above, aforementioned candy, asked me to be her "exercise accountability partner". She asked me, knowing that I would be receiving this bounty of sinful delights the very next morning. Is that fair? Couldn't she wait until after I devoured my bag of Reese's peanut butter eggs? How can I possibly enjoy every last morsel of my candy, knowing that I have to "jog them off".

But the See's Chocolate Butter Creams?

I'd gladly jog a hundred miles for a box of See's Chocolate Butter Creams. In fact, I think I'll devour all the Easter Candy, and just have my "30 day Shred" workout video playing on a continuous loop for the next 4 months. I'll stash a few pieces of candy in my cheeks, like a chipmunk, and lace up my jogging shoes. Any calories consumed while jogging are immediately canceled out.

She said YES!!!!!

My little brother FINALLY asked his precious girlfriend for her hand in marriage, and she said YES!!We were waiting impatiently at my parent's house, knowing that the proposal would happen any moment! We all cheered when they walked in the door!

Here is a picture of the engaged couple.

A champagne toast for the occasion! (The kiddies had Mtn. Dew.)

This picture of the ring doesn't do it justice! It's beautiful, and sparkly, and HUGE!!!

Congratulations Little Bro, and congrats to your lovely bride-to-be!

The Annual Spring Dispute

I've got a really bad case of cabin fever. It's contagious in our parts, and leads to irrational behavior, unjustified spending, inexcusable grouchiness, and hair loss. On the day the calendar says it's officially spring, winter decides to put a choke hold on my part of the world. While the Better Homes and Gardens Magazine shows visions of lush flowerbeds, pristine green lawns, and sunshine, the wind howls at my door. The seed catalogs in my mailbox show vegetables, trees and shrubs in all their glory while the snow pelts my dead brown grass in the yard. The cover of Country Magazine shows an orchard bursting with apple blossoms while my bare naked tree branches shudder in the elements. You get the picture. Amidst the fury of bad weather, a ray of warm sunshine will show it's face for one measly day to torment us even more.

Then, ever so slowly, winter will release it's death grip on the land, and new life will spring forth from it's soil. While we wait for this transformation we do the following things:

1. Curse the wind.

2. Wear shorts and flip flops in 35 degree weather and when people give us funny looks, I say, " It's 85 and sunny in my mind."

3. Buy enough flower and vegetable seeds to plant a 5 acre garden...even though we only have a 1/4 acre plot.

4. Evacuate the area as much as possible on the weekends to chase the sunshine and warm weather.

5. Make BIG plans. Outlandish plans. Plans about building new decks, creating water features, adding a second story to the house, and converting the garage into a master suite.

It is during this time of emotional and mental instability that "The fight" occurs. My beloved and I argue like vicious wolves over nothing other than the planting of vegetables. We have both a traditional garden plot and 4 raised beds measuring 4'X10' each.

He names his demands: "10 rows of sweet corn."

I counter back: "5 rows of sweet corn, 2 rows of sunflowers, 2 rows of green beans, 1 row of zucchini.....and I get to plant all four raised beds with whatever I want."

"Sunflowers are worthless!" He retorts. "And 2 zucchini plants are more than sufficient. No one eats that much zucchini."

"Sunflowers are gorgeous, and attract pollinators...besides, your corn shades my green beans." I say with my eyes in a razor like position.

" Sunflowers will not sustain us in the event of a natural disaster...corn will", he smirks.

"Your corn will get eaten by the squirrels, and ear worms!" It's a low blow but I feel like I'm losing ground at this point.

He slaps the table,"10 rows of corn, and you can have all four of the raised beds."

I throw down my "Hail Mary" offer. " If you let me plant 2 rows of sunflowers and 1 row of beans in your corn plot, AND give me the raised beds..... I'll make your favorite cookies."

"Done" he says, and the battle is over.

Flowers from my Love

My Lover brought home the most beautiful Tulips for me. Even though the wind and snow is howling out my door, it feels like Spring in my kitchen, and that puts a spring into my step!

I have an old farm style kitchen, and I found the most lovely old wooden tool box painted in my favorite color: Barn Red. I added some old mason jars, a little water, and voila..... a spring centerpiece for my table.