Midge's Garden

Feverfew

A month ago, July 4, 2011, George and I spent most of the day preparing a garden bed for various plants, shrubs and flowers. The combination of the varieties I chose were inspired by my friend, Midge. Midge's garden is a well-established perennial haven full of color, birds, squirrels, chipmunks and a cat named Puffin. Planted in my garden today were the dark pink Spirea, lavender-flowering hostas, pink-spiked Astilbe, Coral Bells and Feverfew.

   Astilbe 
  Coral Bells

The Feverfew will be my favorite because it was given to me by Midge. When I visit Midge, I always admire the way her garden seems to naturally thrive as if everything just sprouted up on it's own accord. It doesn't looked like it was planned as much as it was just meant to "be." In Midge's garden, she has rose bushes that she named after the people who gave them to her. One is named after a handyman and one is named after her daughter, Suzie.

Now, I close my eyes and envision my garden resembling Midge's, but I'd never have the talent or time to accomplish what she so flawlessly has. I've had the opportunity to meander through her pachysandra lined paths, under the huge locust trees. past the bird feeders and wren house. It is peaceful and serene. I wonder how she felt when she was able to walk with ease through her yard and enjoy God's, and her, handiwork. Unfortunately, I know how she feels now that she can't.  Everytime I visit Midge, I learn something new about nature, life or how to gracefully live out the end of one's extremely talented life. 

Whenever I look at my garden, I will remember Midge. She was my inspiration for the planning portion and my renewed fervor for the beauty of nature. I have decided to dedicate my garden to Midge. It shall be called "Midge's Garden."

Rude Awakening

I had always wished for a daughter due to the fact that I lost my mother as such a young age. I guess I had wanted to recreate my childhood through my daughter and be the mother to her that I wished I had. The loss of my mother was a tragedy that scarred me, created a “line of demarcation” in my life, and is an event that I have allowed myself to never get over. 

For years I have been selfishly wrapped up in my needs and that ridiculous "want" of a daughter.  However, today, I had a “rude awakening” which made me stop short and look at the woman/mother I have become.  I realized that even though I did not have a daughter, I am the mother to my sons that I wished I had. If my mother had lived, she would have loved me as much as I love my boys. She had always selflessly given unconditional love to her children and I followed in the few footsteps she left behind. I don’t remember much about my mom, but do remember feeling her love. As one of Rascal Flatts’ song lyrics go, “Some of God’s greatest gifts, are unanswered prayers.”  It was probably best that I didn't have any daughters to try to replace that lost "relationship."  What I ended up with my sons are relationships forged over time, taking their natural course - a progression over time with love filling and overflowing, endlessly.  After I am gone, I hope the thing my sons remember most about me is the fact that they couldn't have been loved more. 

Spending time with the family

Today, Good Friday, I began to prepare for the large family gathering that I will be hosting this year.  I will be surrounded by family, friends and traditions based upon faith and love.  I know memories will be made and recorded through photos that will be taken on Sunday for those of us today to remember, but most importantly, so those of tomorrow can have the proof of Traditions!  Famiglia!  Carrying on legacies is a responsibility and by repeating certain traditions, we keep those we have loved and lost close at hand, as I witnessed today.  For the very first time, I decided to pull out a recipe that had been my grandmother's, but my mother inherited it and made it every Easter.  It is called Sweet Pie.  It is made with ricotta cheese, eggs, chocolate and maraschino cherries and baked in a pie crust.  I fondly remembered helping my mom make this pie.  My chore was to dice the cherries.  I also got to watch the pink mix master bowl spin around and around as it blended the cheese and eggs.  She skillfully made her own crust for the pie and rolled out the dough with ease.  She would have flour in her hair and on her forehead.

Today, as I worked in my kitchen, I could feel her presence all around me.  I felt as if gentle hands were guiding mine to cut up, mix up and blend it all just so.  I felt the presence of my grandmother, as well, helping me lift the heavy pink bowl to pour the batter into the pie plates.  Yup, the very same one my mother had used.  Everything on Easter Sunday will be loving prepared for my family just as I had been taught.  Life goes on, things change, we grow up, we grow old, we nurture and continue to show our love.  Some things will never change or be forgotten.  What a great day I had with my mom and grandmother today.  Tonight, I continue to scrub my fingers that were stained by the cherries and smile as I remember doing that many years ago too.  Today, it finally dawned on me why my mom gave me the job of cutting up the cherries! 

Sunday, I will sit back and watch my family enjoy what I have enjoyed for so many years: edible love!  Happy Easter. 

Retired

According to The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition copyright ©2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company, updated in 2009, published by Houghton Mifflin Company, all rights reserved, the following is the definition of the word "Retirement:"

re·tire·ment



Emily Dickinson, recluse



n.

1. The act of retiring.

2. The state of being retired.

3. Withdrawal from one's occupation, business, or office.

4. Withdrawal into privacy or seclusion.

5. A place of privacy or seclusion; a retreat. See Synonyms at solitude.

Some other words and phrases that fit the description are: hang up the ax, swallow the anchor, call it a day and put out to pasture. 

In light of the aforementioned descriptors, I will choose number 5, "A place of privacy or seclusion; a retreat."   However, after I looked up the synonyms for solitude, I came across these mostly depressing words:  "confinement, desert, detachment, emptiness, isolation, loneliness, loneness, lonesomeness, peace and quiet, privacy, quarantine, reclusiveness, retirement, seclusion, separateness, silence, solitariness, waste, wasteland, wilderness, withdrawal."  Wow, whoever is writing these things about retirement is surely trying to scare anyone away from making that big decision to leave the active workforce.   Thankfully, I didn't look up the word before I chose to "remove myself from employment!" 



I have been retired almost one month now, but have been out of work due to surgery for almost three months.  I have worked since I was 14 years old and, for the last 25 years, as an "Administrative Assistant," (AKA secretary) for the local school district.  I have yet to become bored, confined, detatched, empty, isolated, lonely or silenced.  I haven't experienced waste, wilderness or withdrawals.  So far, I am quite enjoying this moment in time.  I cherish each morning I awaken to a new day full of things to do, but soon I realize that I can always do them tomorrow.  That's when I make that second cup of coffee and watch the birds and squirrels in the backyard, brush my cat, check my emails and perhaps soak in a long hot tub.  After the bath,  I need to check the calendar to figure out what day of the week it is, and then I decide upon what I will actually undertake for the day.  It might be to cook a meal for a friend, bring items to donate to Little Orphan Animals, run someone to a store, meet a friend for lunch or dinner, or cook a huge meal.  No one is asking me questions or looking for answers. 

I love, love, love taking care of the house, my number 1 best friend and love, and my cat, Lucy.



My #1 guy



Actually, I am enjoying the antonyms of solitude:  "companionship, friendship, togetherness."  As soon as I get bored, I'll blog about it.  But for now, Tuesday, March 22 (or is it the 23rd???), Life is Beautiful, just like Miss Lucy Lu. 

Miss Lucy Lu

Spring has Sprung

I heard my first robin a couple of days ago and thought it strange that it was still quite cold for the first "sign of spring" to be making such an early appearance. But, low and behold, I saw two of them today, wandering around the yard, looking to see where I've moved all their food and water sources. It is so interesting to see how the robins pair up and stick together throughout the mating, nesting, egg laying, hatching and feeding stages. Their teamwork is something most humans should emulate.

As much as I love robins, my favorite species of bird is the finch. Finch are around all year long. In summer, some are light greenish-yellow to bright yellow. In the cooler weather, they fade to a brownish green. Their sweet sound and diet preferences make them a welcome addition to my backyard. Fince mainly eat thistle, which most other birds, except for junkos and mourning doves, do  not eat. Since I don't offer wild bird seed, I limit the more aggressive birds, like jays and crows. Now don't get me wrong, I have a great respect for those tough, canabilisic types, but I really don't want them ravishing the robins' nests or bullying the beautiful finch. Not in my backyard!

The finch brighen up the back yard and their small and dainty appearance are a delight to watch. I love the way they fly up, up and away. I even read that aviators study their flight patterns, which, if you catch a glimpse, are quite facinating. Remember to stop and smell the roses and while you are at it, look up to watch the birds soar.