There seems to be something almost magical to me about sunflowers, and for the life of me I can’t put my finger on what that is. They’re so tall and majestic out in a field, and give such sustaining life to birds throughout the Fall and Winter. Having them on my dining room table always fills me with joy. These were a birthday gift from my daghter, Allison, last May, but we don’t have to mention which birthday, do we?
Early in September each year I begin to waver ~ do I enjoy the flowers on the bushes, or do I cut them, probably for one last time, and put them in a vase to enjoy in an entirely different way? It’s always a struggle, because I know this is the last of the flowers, and they won’t be flowering again until next summer.
Usually, my struggle lasts only seconds as I snip one flower, then more, then all, and before you know it, I have a lovely bouquet. Somehow I tell myself that if I take a picture I get to keep the flowers with me until the next season. And I did that very thing this morning with the last of the summer roses.
The vase, given to me by my daughter, Allison, is one of the prettiest I’ve ever seen, maybe because it’s mine and it came from my daughter, but I do so love the way the light plays around beneath the horses on this vase. No wonder I always decide to cut the flowers and bring them into the house, or put them in a vase on the patio table. Makes me smile every time I look over at them, savoring summer all over again.
Whenever I go to my mailbox and find a box from my friend, Gail, in Riverside, CA, I can’t help doing a little happy dance. It’s books. Books she’s read and loved and can’t wait for me to read and love, too. How many people have such an endearing friend in their lives?
Right now I have this box of 7 new books to read, with 4 more I’ve just finished in a bag in my car to return to Gail’s daughter, Linda, who lives here in Spokane. When Gail comes to visit, she usually packs them back home, or not. Either way, we’ve got a great thing going.
As we age, believe me … I am more grateful than ever for my friends, and my own children and grandchildren. I honestly can say they’ve all given me book titles to look up, things I want to read, or issues to think about. It’s times like this when I understand what a fortunate woman I really am, and what a blessed life I live. Sometimes I think that books are the common denominator for the people in my life that I love, regardless of age. And for me, this is a really good thing!
This sweet whimsical vase was a birthday gift one year from a very good friend. I loved it immediately, named it Emilene, and have no earthly idea why, but filled it right away with pussy willows from another friend’s yard.
Everytime I walk into the kitchen I smile at Emilen, tell her good morning, and wish her a happy day. I hope she knows how much joy she continues to give me. When I look at this vase in a certain light, early in the morning, it almost seems as if she has an aura about her. I’m sure of it.
Dennis and I like the pussy willows so much we planted our own pussy willow bush out in the front flower bed, but so far it has a multitude of green leaves, but no pussy willows yet. We’re still hoping. Until we manage to grow our own, Emilene will just have to make do with the pussy willows she’s been given until new ones arrive.
In some strange way it reminds me of life. Sometimes we hope for new things. Sometimes the new things we’d like to have float into our lives, but sometimes they do not. Luck of the draw, I guess. But I do know it’s best to appreciate what you already have in life, instead of waiting for something new and different. Emilene and I are happy just the way we are.
Here in Spokane Fall is just around the corner. Tomato and raspberry plants are beginning to dry up, their time is done. Leaves are just beginning to turn on the trees in our yard. Our front yard Maple, lovely green all summer, now sports two bright red leaves. This tree was a brilliant red when we first saw the house in October, six years ago. I knew I wanted to live here in this house even before we walked inside.
And yet, as slow as our red Sugar Maple is to turn now, this lovely Aspen I saw yesterday at the John A. Finch Arboretum was bright gold and magnificent. I don’t understand how this tree, in the same city, can be so fully turned already, when our own trees are only now beginning their Fall experience.
Regardless, I have to say that we have the most beautiful Fall in Spokane. I can’t imagine any place being more beautiful than Manito Park in all its Fall splendor, or the campus of Eastern WA University, Cheney, with colorful, ankel-deep leaves to walk through all over their campus. Since Dennis and I both have degrees from EWU, we always plan to go out to the book store on campus and buy ourselves EWU sweat shirts, but each time we go they are closed for some reason. We’ve tried twice. This year I think I’ll be smarter and call first to make sure the book store will be open. I think we probably didn’t care in the past, because walking through the fall leaves was our main focus in these mini trips.
The friend and I who visited the Arboretum yesterday, when it was still blazing hot here, decided we must have a re-do in October, when our cheeks are red with the chill and we can wander amidst even more colorful trees in this beautiful and peaceful piece of earth.
I so love cards from friends when the cards arrive like magic just when you most need a lift in your mood. Always works for me, but I realize I receive a lot more than I send, and I really should concentrate of sending more of them, myself.
These particular cards are from my dear friend, Gail, in Riverside, CA. She and I met during our early-marriage and first-pregnancy days as young AF wives at K.I. Sawyer AFB, Michigan. Years followed where we visited back and forth, and now one of her daughters lives in Spokane with her family, so we are able to squeeze in breakfast or lunch or a nice chat session whenever she and hubby visit their Spokane family.
How lucky is this? After 49 years of being friends … and still the very best friend that I have. Our grown children are now much older than Gail and I were when we first met. We are reminded how quickly time flies. We are also reminded, each day as we check in with our e-mails, that true friendships live as long as we do, and possibly even beyoud.
Being a good daughter, sister, aunt, wife and mom are all reasons for trophies if you ask me, but so is being a really good, lasting friend, through good times and bad. We send books back and forth through the mail, with Gail’s daughter becoming our ‘docking station’ for books that have been read, and have pretty much become a Gail & Ruth Book Club of Two. We would never have imagined this so long ago.
Gail and her husband even met my 94 year old mom in Michigan, when my mom was younger then than our oldest children are now. And they’re renewed their acquaintance with my mother’s 90th birthday party at a salmon BBQ here at our house.
A lot of beautiful water has passed under this particular Friendship Bridge, and I am so lucky to have this beautiful person as my long-time friend. And like I said, these friendship cards seem to arrive right on que, and they always hit the spot. Real friends always seem to know exactly what you need, and when.
Every single morning I have a cup of coffee at the breakfast table, catching the latest on CNN, and get to walk by my Grandmother’s Corner, which I pass each time I open the blinds on the sliding glass door, or go outside to the patio.
It all started with the sun hat, which daughter, Allison, brought to me for my birthday in May. ‘Where will I hang this hat?” I asked, and she said, “Right by the door so you’ll remember to put it on when you’re going out in the yard on a sunny day.” What a great idea.
And then we went to a new gift shop opened by friends in our neighborhood, where I found the delightful plaque that says – Grandchildren complete the circle of love – and had to buy it, of course.
I took her advice, hung the hat and later that day the new plaque, and realized that the corner now seemed complete, since the bird pictures were from my own grandmother, Ruth Peek Ellis, born in Louvale, Georgia, in 1898.
Funny thing is, the bird pictures were already there, but always struck me as being sort of lonely. Until the hat and the plaque joined the corner, and somehow it seems complete now. Must be that circle of love at work. Or maybe that I entered myself into the equation.
Who doesn’t like fresh summer peaches, raspberries, blackberries and strawberries? Times like this always call for a fruit cobbler at my house, and that makes me miss my maternal grandmother, Ruth Peek Ellis. Mama Ellis was a Southern lady always up early mornings, apron tied around her, and baking something delicious, or peeling a bushel basket of fresh peaches. Funny how the foods we cook remind us of people in our lives that we’ve loved. This is probably the reason my mother’s old recipe box means so much to me now.
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All of the home owners in our neighborhood moved into new homes a few years ago and promptly over planted the yards, planting trees that were to grow beyond expectations, and planting most of them too close to the fences. We were no exception.
But how do you ever get rid of lovely Aspen trees? Who doesn’t rejoice at a neighbor’s Aspen volunteers? We understand they want to grow into tall, strong, flowing Aspen trees themselves, but they are now in our yard, getting taller all the time. Our decision this fall is to keep them pruned into bushes, so we can enjoy their beautiful yellow leaves this fall, and hopefully delay their eventual growth into magnificent trees themselves. In years to come we might have to move the fence, but hopefully not the Aspen.
As for our own over planting, we have three trees that are going to be incredibly big. We have a River Birch, an Ash and a Blue Spruce, all in a small, busy yard. We have already pruned low branches of our Birch so we can mow under the tree, and the Ash (which grandson Asher believes is named after him) is getting taller, wider, and bigger every day. We look at the trees in the photo album when they were planted and marvel at how well they’re doing, but now we’re beginning to be alarmed.
“You know, the tag on that tree said it would reach 40 ft., remember?” We shake our heads, not believing the hype at the time. How many things ever live up to the ads about them? The coffee isn’t as remarkable, the cars really don’t get that gas mileage, and the trees never grow that tall .. except the trees do grow that tall. And wide. Especially if they are planted too close to neighbor’s fences.
It’s OK, though. Our neighbor’s lovely Aspen tree has encroached into our yard, but our River Birch hangs over his fence; our Clematis vine has enchroached into his yard, and another neighbor’s plum trees and their Verigated Dogwood reached over our fence this summer. Our Ash now resides in his yard as well as ours. The raspberries that thrived beyond belief in our yard, from a mere five plants five summer ago, have supplied a healthy raspberry batch to another neighbor’s yard, and their Clematis vine by their kitchen window began to creep over our fence this summer.
We’re fortunate that we love Aspen and plum trees and the many Clematis vines. And we’re also fortunate that our neighbors enjoy our River Birch and the Ash, and that they happen to like raspberries. It seems that in this neighborhood we’ve begun to re-define the true meaning of the word neighborhly.
I know it’s early, but I can never wait for Halloween.
For years I made costumes for the kids, bought candy, waited, waited, waited, and finally .. it would be time for the costumes to come out. I baked big dinners for Halloween night, or put on a crock put stew, so we could eat quickly, getting ready for the big night with ghosts and goblins around our door, holding plastic pumpkins or old pillow cases for candy.
And now, all these years later, I have to admit, I think I was probably the one who loved Halloween most of all. Because now the kids are gone and I still urge my husband to go hang out halloween lights on the front porch, put a big orange bulb in the light fixture next to the door, and always, always buy far too much candy, in advance.
Yup. I’m the culprit here. Some things we can’t quite leave behind.
beeconcise 