Category Archives: family

Fresh crackers and paint.

March 2017

It’s an exciting week for me, because many dinged-up walls and doors in my house are being painted, along with the black metal stair railings. These were set to be done several years ago, before the workers were interrupted by wildfires, then by covid. When normality returned, I didn’t seem to have the wherewithal to get started again. But now my new handyman James, a friend from church, is doing the work. During son Pathfinder’s visit over the weekend I was encouraged just to have him to talk with about colors. Now things will be so lovely and clean.

Pathfinder and I did a satisfying amount of work in 24 hours, including a big tidying-up of my utility yard and all the scraps of wood I keep there, which I turn into kindling. There are always pieces that are too long for my stove and need sawing up, and I don’t want to use a power saw; he took care of those fast. He even cut my old manzanita stump into a few pieces to take home for his own wood stove, because he heard that it burns nice and hot, and wants to find out.

We cleaned the fountain together, and Pathfinder leveled it perfectly afterward. The easy way to drain the green water from it is by siphoning it out with a garden hose, but that takes two people to manage.

It’s has been wanting a good clean-up for months, and I had been hoping for this family assist. We managed to do all the tasks before the rain began, which was the morning that he left.

Today it poured, then the sun came out, then the wind blew rain in again. Between downpours I was able to go out twice and gather fallen pine needles enough to fill the big green bin for trash pickup tomorrow. The zinnias watched me with their bright faces as I walked by, so I came back and picked another bouquet of them. These wet blooms don’t last as long as the sun-washed ones, but they are cheery as long as they do. My fingers were all wrinkly when I finally came indoors again, because everything I’d been handling was sopping.

While picking up blankets of pine needles off my plants, I discovered that the Sweet Box, Sarcococca, has shiny red berries on it. I haven’t been impressed with the scent of that shrub’s flowers — it isn’t very potent. But these berries are lovely.

The flax crackers I was working on last week turned out pretty good. I had to leave them in the dehydrator about 28 hours. They need more salt and fewer pumpkin seeds, in my opinion, but I’m enjoying them, and gave some away. I’ll make a new batch soon, with improvements, and eventually will share the recipe here.

Today I made two kinds of soup with various leftovers in the fridge, and I like them both as well. Soup and crackers are just the thing for rainy November days.

We and the trees change over time.

I’ve returned from my short road trip, to the land of my childhood. I stayed with my sister two nights, and then switched to my brother’s place for two nights, which is the very house we all lived in for years, years that went by in a flash. I went away to college when I was eighteen and never lived at home again. Even though my brother has changed a lot of things, the “envelope” of the house our father built remains the same, and the giant oak tree still towers over the back yard.

It also has been pruned recently, its canopy made much more compact, and it looks great. I wandered around the property taking in everything, but I forgot to go back with my phone later to take pictures. I was too busy focusing on the people, my people, so I have found some older images of the countryside and people that I visited, to illustrate my musings.

Wall art that has seen better days, and that we “let go.”

The day before I started out on this journey, I was glad to feel the leavinghomesickness depart and be replaced with happy anticipation at the meetings I would soon have. Just being with these dear ones and also talking about the experiences we’ve shared over the decades has filled me to the brim with thoughts and feelings I don’t think I will be able to sort out. 

Nostalgia is a “sentimental longing for the past,” so it’s not that I’m feeling, but just plain wonderment at all the days and years of my life so far. I would not go back in time, and I know those times were not ideal, but looking back I am amazed at how wholesome they were. I was blessed to live through them with several people who remain, and still care about me, which is all a great gift.

The picture and the memory are blurry, but solid.

Over the course of four days, I had long visits and conversations with twenty people, counting the six little children who are my nieces and nephews; four of those children I hadn’t met before. I saw both of my sisters and my brother, and their spouses, and children’s families. Various of us told stories that others of us had never heard, from the distant past or from relatively recently.

I had lunches with three friends, one of whom I’ve known since first grade, and two since about eighth grade; between bites we fell into telling anecdotes about each other’s mothers, may God bless their memory!

The linoleum floor of our childhood has since been replaced.
cousins
We were small Brownies, and the orange trees and rosebushes were small, too.

As I drove back and forth through the orange groves between town and country, I restrained myself from stopping as often as I’d have liked to, to take pictures of the hills and the orange trees. It had just rained, and the mountain peaks were dusted with snow, but the hills are still showing golden and not green. The picture below was taken by my sister Nancy some years ago, later in the season.

When rain clouds are gathering and precipitating and rearranging themselves all over again, it is like watching a huge theater screen from my private box (my car), as I’m driving down the interstate.

This is exactly what was happening on Tuesday, and I did take pictures of that show.

I was thrilled to see cotton on the plants in the wide fields, and I pulled over to look more closely. But I couldn’t get a good view, because mud:

So I went along and along, and saw a rainbow pancake of light on the northern horizon, a very slim break in the clouds way beyond a field of melons.

By the time I got to Nancy’s, the storm was abating,
and the dust had been washed off of all the trees.

So there, I’ve put the beginning at the end of my tale. But don’t you think it’s hard, not to get the times mixed up when one makes a trip to the past? In many ways it is still present –definitely all these people I saw still are present — and may even be future. I feel the need of a pertinent quote… and the one that pops into my mind is:

The past is not what it was.
-G.K. Chesterton

 

I have been to the wedding.

Last week was my granddaughter’s wedding, and a glorious event it was. Christ was honored and thanked and adored. Two families were joined, and I was happy to be there as one of the several grandmas (there were grandpas as well) whose grandchildren were pledging their lives to one another.

I flew to Wisconsin a couple of days before the celebration, and was mostly at my daughter Pearl’s place, not far from Milwaukee and Lake Michigan. My great-granddaughter Lora was in town with her family for nearly as long as I, which was sweet. All of Maggie’s brothers and their wives were present, and I was in awe of how everyone has grown up, and how God has poured His Life out on us. He is the Love Who is sustaining us through our various heartaches and trials, so that we can have joy in the midst of them, and rejoice with Maggie and her husband (I forgot to pick a nickname for him, but I will work on that soon.)

Lora and her Grandma

The venue was a farm, with a big house where all the wedding party could prepare, for the ceremony and reception that were outdoors on wide lawns, with apple trees all around. We were under the sun for the ceremony, and under awnings for a meal and dancing. The weather was warm and humid.

Getting ready took a long time! I hung around the spaces where the bride and bridesmaids were getting their hair and dresses and everything the way they liked, and was able to be of help once or twice with a safety pin or an opinion. The host of the venue contributed by being the cobbler for the girls.

Because Maggie is the first (and only) daughter of my own first daughter, feelings and memories of Pearl’s wedding almost thirty years ago filled my mind throughout the evening. After dusk, while some people were dancing, and the bride played chase with the flower girl on the green lawn, a gibbous moon rose above the horizon, and continued to rise and brighten the landscape for the rest of the night. For hours dry lightning flashed in the clouds above, while we listened to heartwarming speeches, such as by the bride and groom about their praiseworthy parents ❤ Everyone was in love with love, and Love.

Congratulations to the newly married, blessed by God.

Grandchildren are growing up.

I recently had two of my grandchildren staying with me for nearly a week. Most of the days and nights I had either Ivy or Jamie, but one day and night in the middle of the span I got both of them together. It was the first time we’ve had so much one-on-one time in a short period, and now that they are 10 and almost 13 years old, our options for how we spend our hours are expansive. We never ran out of books to read together, music to listen to, or things to talk about — including those books, and the music.

For example, Jamie and I listened to The Story of Beowulf, and The Eagle of the Ninth; sometimes he drew pictures while listening. Ivy played her favorite U2 songs for me, and I showed her videos of her late Grandpa Glad singing — she was only two when he passed.

We took many walks near and far, and shopped and cooked together, making lemon curd, boba tea, Greek tzatziki, and plum cobbler.

Stirring tzatziki.
Chai boba tea

They both helped me in my big project of removing gravel from the plot where I’m going to plant my new manzanita McMinn. And the day we were all three together, we went to the beach, where it was overcast and 60 degrees all afternoon.

Greater Moon Jelly with sandy great toe for perspective.

Twice Ivy and I walked as far as the library and on to the grocery store, and with Jamie I went on a long lake stroll for which we drove a half hour to the trailhead. They both liked just rambling along the nearby creek almost daily, and remembering all the times they have done that before. Jamie wanted to find the rope swing that has been down there “forever,” but we never found it, and on the way back when we saw my neighbor watering his garden, he told us that the city always takes it down, and someone always puts it back up, but no one has put it up again for a few years.

We visited my friends and their chickens, went to church, painted, did housework together — and played Bananagrams more than once.

Ivy’s winning board

One thing we didn’t do was sleep overmuch. School does not start for them until after Labor Day, so they can catch up over the next couple of weeks. I don’t feel bad about neglecting sleep, as we were taking advantage of our unhurried and summery time together, which will never come again. It was restful to our souls.