The "Bless Her Heart" Gardener

Around the first of the year I got riled by an article I read that disparaged the making of "New Year Resolutions". It characterized the making of resolutions as a masochistic exercise in failure guaranteed to produce nothing more than low(er) self esteem.In fact, it spurred me on to fulfilling more of my resolutions for THIS year than probably any year to date.

I had "primed the pump" for one justification of our counter cultural move FROM a wonderful condo back into a big house last fall. While our focus was on remodeling the interior of our new digs, I knew myself well enough to take action's last fall outside to hold myself accountable to resolutions this spring. In November, my friend, Donna helped me dig out a huge patch of lawn taking the first step to putting in my first vegetable gardens in twenty five years.

Good plan. When Spring rolled around with trips to California and weddings and new grandbabies arrivals, had it not been for that indicting patch of raw earth threatening to go to weeds, I'd have procrastinated and rationalized supporting the Farmer's Market instead.

I pored over Mel Bartholomew's "All New Square Foot Gardening" book, purchased recommended, recycled plastic raised bed kits at Costco, and we were off!

I am having so much fun!

I felt such accomplishment when the planting itself was completed...as though, 'There, that's done!' DUH!

We've enjoyed salads from our garden for a month and a half as we watch and wait for other things to begin producing....and here it comes!

If blossoms are an indicator, I may have to open my own booth at Holland Farmer's Market...or perhaps a give away table!

Mel Batholomew says he guarantees you will plant your gardens differently NEXT year. I am already looking forward to getting seed catalogs and planning my gardens while the snow swirls outside my windows.

"Bless her heart". I love the south; love the civility and charm....and that sweet, kindly phrase.

The other day I read a delightfully sarcastic article that revealed the translation of "Bless his/her heart" for northerners. The author asserted it's true definition as "idiot".

Bless my heart: I planted Ichebon Eggplant only to later find it described as a "massive producer". Anyone have some good eggplant recipes?

Bless my heart: I didn't even start liking tomatoes as anything other than catsup until about five years ago. The plants are 4' high and covered with blossoms.

Bless my heart: some beetles are even bigger basil lovers than I am.

Bless my heart: I look out my kitchen window and spy cucumbers that seem to materialize hour to hour.

Bless my heart: from four little Mesclun lettuce transplants I have bulging bags of salad greens, far more than two of us can eat.

Resolutions made in the dead of winter, FULFILLED:

freezer full of strawberries and bottles of freezer jam. freezer full of fresh, Michigan asparagus. freezer full of 25# of blueberries from the wonderful farm across the street from our new home.

Summer in Michigan may not last long, but it's ...so fulfilling.

How Much Good Stuff Can You Cram Into One Day?

There have been several days out here when we've been amazed at how many different activities have been crammed into short periods of time. Saturday was one of those. We got up very early to throw ourselves onto the freeways again. "Merging" onto the freeway system reminds me of the carefully orchestrated, rhythmic leap in your moment of opportunity to enter the open ropes of "Double Dutch" jump roping. There is NO opportunity provided for hesitation. "He who hesitates is lost".

Anyway, we were on the roads early to pick up Christian and Emily in Claremont and drive to the Azusa Pacific campus where the School put on a wonderful breakfast for graduates and families before heading to the stadium for Commencement ceremonies. Pomp and Circumstance played as graduating students filed into the palm tree surrounded space with the San Gabriel Mountains serving as background for the stage. Surreal...it is all surreal out here.

After graduation we wandered around the beautiful campus, oh-ing and ah-ing at the blooming exotics. Then we hopped into the car and headed south to San Juan Capistrano. We celebrated Christian's graduation with our second, great, authentic, Mexican meal in less than 24 hrs. Really, Margaritas in San Juan Capistrano...does it get better than that? We headed over to the Mission after lunch to discover that YES, it DOES look totally different in May than in January! The place is one big incredible garden. We all wandered around the spaces enjoying the history and the beauty and the heady smells of flowers. The Lantana that are sprigs in Michigan summer floral planters are hedges out here. There are huge, volently blooming Jackaranda trees here and there that look like giant purple bouquets. But along with the breathtaking beauty there is a reverence and peace to this place. We talked about how relaxing and peaceful it felt. An Oasis where the push push push of the freeways and schedules seemed to melt away.

We finally made our way outside and re entered the real world with coffees from the Starbucks across the street and headed back north to end the day in Claremont helping CJ and Emily with wedding planning details, then back onto the freeways to sleep....before getting back on the freeways to start another big day here.

Just Lunch at the Local Mall

Whenever I travel out here I understand why people put up with ...well, what they put up with to live here; the freeways, the mind boggling traffic traveling at such a break neck pace. It is breathtaking for me to be in sunshine all the time. To someone from the Midwest STILL awaiting Spring at home, the vegetation here is simply unbelievable. May in California IS very different from January/February. If you see a hedge...it's blooming. If you walk outside, you smell the blooming of the exotic, everywhere. I find myself being stopped by intoxicating smells to look around and identify it's source. I've never experienced this anywhere but here in Southern California. ( except for the grape myrtle in Nashville)

Yesterday my friend, Martine picked me up for lunch at Panera. Everything here seems an adventure, even lunch at the mall.

Unlike our malls, finding a parking space here is more of a challenge. The traffic in the parking lots is crazy and reminds me of the bumper to bumper gridlock of people leaving a concert or something similar. I am sure this makes me sound like some kind of "country bumpkin" out on the town or something but SERIOUSLY life is so different here! I think the biggest "game changer" is the weather. I love things here that could not exist, at least not without substantial compensations to the concept, back in Michigan. To have lovely, expansive outdoor "living rooms" in stone courtyards complete with comfortable upholstered cushions, large metal coffee tables anchored by huge, hearthed , free-standing stone fireplaces...just leaves me, well, coveting. I want to grab a cup of coffee and sit on an outside sofa in front of a fireplace outside. OH, but there is that one other thing that could be a deal breaker. There are no BUGS here.

If it weren't so potentially embarrassing I would be taking photos all over the place to document all sorts of UBER creative landscaping to emulate in my gardens back home. If only I could get some of these more exotic things to grow in my climate, like the heavenly low growing eucalyptus grouped with heliotrope. Well, and all these beautiful varieties of palm trees.

Having lunch with Martine was a wonderful way to begin my first full day here. I LOVE laughing with her. There is something about our getting together that always ends in hearty laughter...to tears, giggling, and yesterday, at least once I know I involuntarily snorted.

Thanks, Martine for the gift yesterday was for me!

Cinco De Mayo:"Home" Again in Santa Ana

Winter never challenges summer in this place. There are magnolia like blossoms the size of dinner plates blooming on a tree outside this window, and white doves circling the "mission style" hotel. I will re read the earthquake instructions ( because I am me) and then get on with vacation. We are actually calling it vacation!

Steve gave me my first Mother's Day gift yesterday. Delta upgraded him to First Class on the two longest legs of our flight west and he gave ME my first experiences of that pampering while he sat back in "steerage".

WHOA! It almost made me forget being the one person the pimply, 49 ish, geeky TSA agent singled out for special surveillance. "Female Surveillance Assistance needed" he yells, after snarkilly barking "Ma'am. Over here!" to me. He literally pointed to a spot on the floor at his feet as though directing a dog to "sit"! If I had verbalized what was going through my mind I'd be in a jail cell in Grand Rapids....for a long time. I had been thinking to myself how nice the GR TSA agents were compared to agents in other airports I have experienced. Then I ran into this jerk. It was impossible to look at him and listen to him and NOT feel he'd been a nerdy kid bullied his whole life and NOW he had a uniform and some power. DUH!

All was soon forgotten as I nestled into my first class seat with it's cheerful red blankie and little pillow and was introduced to my new friend, a 70ish woman who was more than willing to share wine, her wisdom ( she a psychologist practicing with her psychiatrist husband for 30 years in Vermont. That fed my psychology "junkiehood") and her indignation at what a pain travel had become due to the TSA. She knows what she is speaking of as she told me over the hours in the air of their travels all over the world. The conversation began with her very casual mention of politics in Mali experienced on their boat trip to TIMBUKTU! That was the beginning. As she began to warm to her subjects, not to mention her third glass ( and it was a GLASS) of Argentine Pinot Grigio, I heard about their canoe trips to visit her husband's brother, an Irish Catholic priest whose mission on the Amazon extended 1000 miles to the edge of Venezuela; of how the Bishop had a dinner they attended which featured PIRANHA cooked 28 different ways! She said it is a firm, white meat, pretty good taste and gestured with her hands the variety of sizes of piranhas. She said they'd swim with them and that unless there is blood in the water ala sharks, they don't bite. Good to know. As she talked freely of her family , of the two nannies she had had for her four children as she worked, I was pretty certain that flying first class was NOT an airline upgrade for this couple but rather the way they ALWAYS travel...when not in a canoe on the Amazon or on a boat to Timbuktu or on an Air France plane suddenly diverted to a small airstrip in North Africa where with no explanation the plane took on a group of white robed men wearing lots of jewels before taking off. ( They never could get information on what they'd seen from Air France but believe it was France helping air lift these leaders out of a military coup...no doubt to France where they could begin to live off siphoned monies deposited in Swiss Banks.)

It was a surprisingly smooth flight. The Cabernet MIGHT have had something to do with it but obviously, sharing hours of flight with this woman was a most excellent distraction for someone who hates to fly.( and these anecdotes are only the tip of the conversational iceberg which rambled from her husband's upbringing in Ireland leaving a pub five minutes before it was blown up by the IRA to her early visits to Salt Lake when you couldn't get a cup of coffee because Mormon's don't drink stimulants ,opinions on polygamy...and politics. Politics. Oddly, for some reason, this woman assumed that our "politics" were the same. WHOA! TWICE in one day I had to keep my big mouth shut! My delightful travel companion was a flaming liberal, a rabid Democrat and I would never have thought of sacrificing a second of our wonderful time by doing anything but nodding and nodding as I sipped and sipped my first class wine kindly refilled and refilled by the handsome, fliratious and well tanned male flight attendant. I do not think it was my imagination that in the first class cabin I noted the flirtatious and very attractive blonde female attendant served all the men and the guy with the dazzling dimples plied the females with drinks ( "Oh you' re not driving let me fill your glass again!") and chocolate, and hot towels before our "inflight snack". It was only a snack he said rather apologetically as he offered our menu choices. This snack was something I would be proud to serve for my next dinner party. It was PERFECTLY prepared.

My travel mate even provided free psychological insights into dealing with my lack of enthusiasm for flying, gave me methods to use and suggested goals to get a passport and travel more before we parted ways.

"Just HOW MUCH does it cost to upgrade to first class when one flies?" I asked Steve when he finally de-planed several minutes after me in Salt Lake City.

The Italian Widow Travels...but not lightly.

Here I am at Gerald R. Ford International airport ready to begin our California adventure. Normally, I accompany Steve to So. Cal. on his annual meeting each January or February. I gobble up his frequent flyer miles and sit in the hotel in complete silence for a week while he is in meetings for Open Doors. Sometimes I revea my identity as one from the Midwest, land of long lingering winter, by sitting, SOLO at the pool, my pale whale belly legs exposed for all to see. Last year I was joined by a sole middle aged man who displayed an equally white but quickly pinking body as he actually swam in the pool. ( I could feel the Californians sneer!) But hey, it's the SUN!!!!
I have always been mystified by my Californian friends' comments, apologies really that what I am in awe of blooming in February is their dead winter. I have been told that this trip in May will open my eyes to real southern Californian vegetation. Like. ( ...that's as close as I get to facebook.)
Recent weight loss coupled with the switching of seasons has had me on the hunt for clothing. I've had problems lately with the grandbabies ( the one's who can walk) grabbing at my skirts and the skirts sliding down my hips. not cool. This hunt revealed again my seemingly irresistible , magnet pull toward any clothing of BLACK. I hit the jackpot early in my search finding newly tagged Clearance merchandise in a downtown shop and had piles of chic but newly cheap clothing stacked ready to be tried on in a dressing room. The helpful clerk, eyes half closed, quietly mentioned, "It's looking pretty BLACK in there..." Well, no surprise to me; the Swede disguising herself as the Italian widow....without a babushka.

I recall a special occasion as a little girl being taken to the "Tiny Tots To Teens" store downtown to pick a special dress for a birthday I think. My choice...( think '50's people) was soft turquoisy sheer fabric with black velvet polka dots and black velvet skirt. I loved it, instantly. I still recall how much my MOM hated it! My mother hates black clothing...especially on babies or children. I can still see that dress with it's little puffy sleeves and the black, patent leather Maryjane's and white anklets. PERFECT!

Fast forward to the '70's and learning the importance of proper presentation to Interior Design clients. Do Not distract or taint the true colors of the product you present to your clients with flashy dress. In other wards...wear black. I was in heaven. Did I tell you how much I like BLACK?
Unfortunately there is a price to pay...all those fabric books and sample lugging make an Interior Designer dressed in black a walking lint brush. truly.

So, now I can't seem to break the habit. Even though I purchased some colorful new pieces of clothing I have a humongous suitcase packed with black and white and a very little khaki. And five pairs of black shoes/sandals to cover every occasion: Lunch with a friend on Cinco De Mayo, our youngest son's Grad School Hooding ceremony and dinner following at Azusa Pacific University, adding to our collection of Presidential Library visits with the Reagan Library, dinner with bosses, and best of all, time spent visiting my favorite place, the Mission of San Juan Capistrano with Steve , Christian and Emily ( soon to be Mrs. Fredericks ).
What can I say?

Stillwater B & B Now Open For Business

Actually this room and it's bath were the FIRST rooms tackled in "the White House" (...the ALL white, all the time, everywhere white white white house). I always tell Design clients as they move into new homes to remember that they don't HAVE to hang and display every single thing they had in their former digs. Now I've lived that experience myself. It is difficult. I have big boxes of "stuff" earmarked for a garage sale this summer, but there are still some old favorite things I felt the need to have around me.

This room, the real, honest to goodness GUEST ROOM provided the space in which to cluster all those dear things together. Like... an old table from my Grandparents ( great Grandparents?) painted white used as a night stand; a wonderful desk given me by a dear aunt also at least a generation older; favorite bedding, long of tooth but still loved for what the blue and white palette always does for my soul.

There's the flotsam and jetsam of accessories that have swirled through our many different households; Antique plates gifted us by friends and family, hand painted lamp shades and an all time favorite delphinium fabric which has made a circuit from our Winter Pine Way home to a friend's home and now back to me again . ( THAT'S a friend!) A sampler wisely advising "Bloom Where You Are Sown" reminds me of the days when I produced one elaborate sampler a year...years when my eyesight was far superior to it's present state and babies were in bed by 7:30 p.m.

I LOVE the room. It is comforting and sweet. It was the first stab at new colors in the new, WHITE house. The walls are Benjamin Moore Beacon Gray 2128-60...doesn't look gray to me. It's light and cheerful and a new favorite shade.

If you're in the Holland area we've a sweet place waiting for you!

One New Thing.

"New Things" seems to be God's theme for us in the past year. I vaguely recall days and years when I was nursing and diapering babies... when days and months seemed to run together in much sameness and routine. I am no longer living in those times.

It was my intent to blog as each room in "the white house" we moved into at the end of last August was transformed. I never envisioned the whole house being changed simultaneously....but better to get it all over at once. What's alittle more chaos when you've been living with your belongings in a storage facility for two months as you progressively sell the roofs over your head?

So, for those who haven't seen it in person, here is "the big reveal."

In many ways, this "great room" was the most difficult because other areas in the house formed first and this big open space, the first encountered by visitors, really stymied me.

The room has so many windows that I found myself actually avoiding walking through it. It hurt my eyes when the sun was shining. The first inspiration was an already "tried and loved" favorite Benjamin Moore paint color on the two storey's of walls... "Sandy Hook Gray HC-108.

I like to pat myself on the back for spending months sifting through greys years back and finding this wonderful color years before it became a Pottery Barn favorite color this year.

Another interesting challenge was presented in that the buyers of our condo requested purchasing many of our furnishings. This meant less to put in storage for a still unknown home we didn't know would fit the old furnishings AND presented a truly "clean palette" when we finally landed wherever.

It was good until we realized we had nothing to sit on once we arrived here .

It's eclectic, and the acquisition of the elements in this room were without rhyme or reason. Interior Design ADHD to be sure! It is still a "work in progress", which my homes ALWAYS are, but with the addition of the grey washed thick wicker chairs it all "clicked".

It's eclectic alright, with the felt penny rug, my antique platter collection and Paula Dean's funky, over sized table. ( THAT was practical...on clearance and huge enough for our whole extended family with it's two giant leaves...LOVE it!)

I love the room at night with the lights on the garland ( which I MUST remove with Easter approaching ) and the light in my china cabinet. And the lamp on the antique chest lighting my sampler collection.

So, here is the Third Coast Colorista's first "reveal" for your viewing!

How To Get From There To Here

How shall I begin to blog again?

How DID I get here from there?

I've thought hard on this...not long, haven't had the time. As a former "24" fan I've often characterized the last four months of my blogging life as "going dark." I mean, I am sure that when Jack Bauer disappeared into thin air he also neglected the sending out of Christmas cards. I can't stop thinking about all those people we communicate with each Christmas who think we've fallen off the face of the earth, or those who've attempted to contact us to ask what's happened to us.

Maybe I will send Ground Hog Day cards and try to explain the story of our last nine months.

In a nutshell, after a summer of selling off our properties and storing the stuff not sold along with our old places, we spent three weeks living with our son and daughter in law before moving into our new home; the property which intrigued us with it's spaciousness, neighborhood and white on white on white interiors. For two days ( or was that minutes?) the Third Coast Colorista thought about what living in a completely white world might be like. Restful? Calming? Peaceful? But then I began to unpack the furnishings and boxes stored through the summer...and recall how vitally important COLOR is in my life.

After a period of creative paralysis, the remodelling plan and process burst through like that old television ad where the Drano pushes the plugging clog through the glass drain pipe. With Avery and Tawe's help the white white white white turned into Sandy Hook Grey, Semolina, Dark pumpkiny Dried Mustard, Beacon Grey, Pale Avocado, Oxford Grey and Soliel. Blues, pale and dense cadet, yellows, sunny and deeply golden, coppers and greys inspired by the beautiful little red breasted nuthatches and Titmice, and Chickadees eating all day just outside our new kitchen's windows. For a month and a half I personally experienced the process I have walked so many clients through for the last thirty years...up close and personal. I gained a whole new empathy for those people as I've lived through the dusts: drywall, wood, ceiling tile and others and the hot odor of soldering, scents of paints and flooring adhesives. My ears now ring with the LACK of cycling air compressors and although all the contractors who worked on the house were more than swell guys, it's kind of nice to dawdle over my coffee in my pajamas beyond 7am. Really I can't complain. In a shockingly short period of time, with guys sometimes working here late into the night ( or early into the morning...) we gutted and replaced the kitchen, finished off the lower level and repainted all but a couple rooms of the house. Amazing. Just amazing. We pretty much lived in the basement for afew weeks, and until a new stove was wheeled into the house with only a day or two to spare, Thanksgiving dinner looked pretty dicey. Even the contractors were shocked at the unheard ofturnaround from order to delivery/installation of new kitchen cabinets and Corian countertops, both arriving weeks sooner that the norm resulting in the impossible dream of pulling off the family Christmas with everything completed. Work was being done until almost noon on Christmas Eve and I literally pulled protective plastic off appliances and immediately pressed them into service.

Now the holidays are over and the dust is settling...AND blowing around (LITERALLY. We have to have the duct work cleaned for sure!). But I think the new "normal" is setting in. Pictures are hung, almost all boxes are unpacked, and cleaning the house is no longer a futile, counter-productive endeavor. I'm beginning to let my mind wander to what I will plant in the garden plot hacked out of the backyard sod late last fall and what shrubs and perennials might best surround the small courtyard patio we had poured as the first snowflakes began dancing in the air last November.

...and then there are those Ground Hog Day cards.....

Continuing to Live Life Spontaneously

September has arrived and while I am feeling myself crushed with our attempts to unpack our things in an unfamiliar place while being deluged with the start ups of all the activities and responsibilities we shed along with our sweaters and socks last Spring, I will delay a blog on the outcome of our BIG ADVENTURES in MOVING until my mind and body catch up with Two Men And A Truck . Instead I will tell a story about visiting a storybook like place called, "The Blue Dress Farm".

Five days after two truckloads and several car, SUV, and van's full of our "stuff" was deposited at the new house, ( It won't be "home" until Avery has had his way with all it's walls, but that's a different blog as well!) ...anyway, we found ourselves pulling ourselves away from our frantic search to locate THE boxes containing underwear, coffee, toilet paper and the like to take a drive to Benton Harbor for a look at a potential wedding venue for Christian and his Emily. They had actually set up an appointment for us with the proprietor.

It was H-A-R-D to tear ourselves away from unpacking after having all our stuff in storage for months, but it was a beautiful day for a drive and the coffee tasted good on the way down the road.

We arrived early and wandered around talking to catering people preparing for the wedding to be held there that afternoon. We took scads of pictures and met with the owner to talk about some of the questions Emily had wanted answered. It's a beautiful place, absolutely what the kids described they desired to gather friends and family to for their wedding and I was anxious to get home to send off pictures to California and maybe Skype that afternoon about the venue.

The caterer's truck had left and another vehicle came crunching down the gravel road into the clearing. It stopped and it's occupants stared at us.

CHRISTIAN and EMILY! They flew in from California to surprise us!! I am not a cryer... but I was bawling like a baby. Suddenly we realized why Megan had scheduled a family potluck BBQ for Saturday night only a week following her big 30th birthday bash. It was the best surprise... TOTAL surprise that we have had in maybe forever. A long time at least. Good thing. We are "getting up there" as my Dad used to say, and shocks like this might prove unsettling.

You know what? Keep the surprises coming!

Thanks to all the faces in this picture who helped us in all sorts of ways to maintain sanity and made it physically possible for us to survive so many aspects of the last several months . (Only Derek is missing from the picture because he was working.) WE LOVE YOU ALL!...MORE!!!

Vern and Eunice, Two Marys and a Joseph

It started with a sermon on putting your feet in the water, committing yourself to what you feel God calling you to do in your life. In a flash...SIX WEEKS ACTUALLY, we have transferred ownership of our homes and furnishings and gardens to Vern and Eunice, two Mary's and a Joseph. They are all thrilled with their new digs and accoutrement. I'm happy for them, really I am.

Yesterday I packed the last box, cleaned the last place to an immaculate status, left instructions to smooth the new owner's transition along with a bouquet of my garden's ( soon theirs) cut flowers and a bottle of wine to enjoy as they consider the killer view. We loaded the car and left Sandy Pines. Adam and Caity and Lola have taken us in for our three "homeless" weeks.

Three doors closing, one after another in rapid succession but soon, NEW doors opening.

Taking A Breath and a Quick Glance Back.

Got Mr. Kozak's for lunch...but got no table or chairs...or bibs?

NO PROBLEMO!!!!

This is a shot of the cousins sharing a tasty gyro on the floor of the empty dining room on our last day in the condo.

It seems SO long ago, but you could count it in days.

It is good to know that we survived that door closing...and the closing of the door as we sold our older place at Sandy Pines...

...just as we will survive as we pack things up and move them out of our sweet place on this little cove full of Kingfishers, Herons, and wonderful sunsets, leaving it to the new owners.

I'm happy that there are three sets of people that are SO excited about the new places they are inheriting from us.

I'm thankful that once again, God has accomplished a maximum of molding and adjustment in our lives in a remarkably minimal time frame.

I'm hopeful that in a month's time we will find ourselves unpacking our things in our new home.

We are blessed, truly blessed!

but God Meant It For Good...

After all the hubbub of the last two months we finally find ourselves with our whole family ( even Emily and Christian who flew in for the week from So. California) at the Fredericks' cottage at the "tip of the Thumb" of Michigan for a peaceful week of vacation on the shore of Lake Huron. And, as always, we spend time appreciating the gift that Steve's parents gave us in the wonderful summer times spent here for all these decades.

Things here have changed over more recent years. First, one winter a burst water pipe resulted in a lengthy and extensive remodelling . By the time it was completed, Nana and Papa were for the most part not able to live up here any longer.

These two circumstances have resulted in a different look here. Mom loved gardening and the window boxes dripped with annuals. Little strips of garden boasted her favorites, dahlias and snapdragons often cut and arranged with tall gladiolas purchased from the local grocery. For years and years, we'd dig out huge clumps of her ubiquitous varigated hostas and orangey red Gaillardia to take home to start gardens at all our homes.

Mom "deadheaded " her Gaillardia and pitched the heads over the foot low cement block wall separating the lawn from the sand dune shore of the lake.

Last summer FOURTEEN of us, three generations, returned for a week of vacation thanks to the graciousness of Steve's brothers who took over ownership after Mom and Dad's passing. We again marvelled at the spattering of Gaillardias flowering in the sand on the beach side of the wall along with the two " Baby's Breath" plants which at one time had been true "specimens"...tall and broad, more easily considered shrubs than a flowering perennial plant, now all surviving rooted in sand with only an occasional drink of rain. We commented on the miracle of their subsistence....and were crushed when the landscapers hired to mow the lawn methodically moved to the beach side of the wall, turning these brave "volunteers" to sand and close cropped stubble.

Imagine our surprise to be greeted upon our return for a week THIS summer by a thick garden of orange and burnt red flowers periodically studded with healthy Baby's Breath plants! It's a powerful relearning of the concept of pruning of plants and people. It always seems so painful and harsh...but the longer term rewards are stellar!

I found myself thinking of the Biblical story of Joseph, now powerful and ruling Egypt, reassuring his brothers who feared his retribution for selling him into slavery in Genesis.

God is in control. There is NOTHING He does not either allow or ordain. He promised ALL is ultimately for good.

"What you meant for evil, God worked for good!"

Genesis 45:5

And...That's That AGAIN

Ten days after our closing on our home in town, we found ourselves sitting in another closing at Sandy Pines. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I am getting used to this emotional upheaval, but I did sense a certain numbness as we walked through "K4" on Sailboat Cove for the last time; at least as it's owners. I really like Mary, it's new owner. I am so happy that she and our wonderful old neighbors are getting EACH OTHER.

I liked hearing her say that after being shown twenty other places she "fell in love" with mine. I am so happy for her excitement to move her vanful of things into my dear little yellow "cottage on the lake" ( we hesitate to use that "T" word) and for her looking forward to her family coming to visit this weekend. It makes it all seem as though it is exactly the way it was always meant to be.

After driving over to our old place to turn on lights and get everything up and running for the new owner's "walk through", we returned to the only roof remaining over our heads to find a park sales agent just finishing a showing with a prospective buyer.

It's a good thing to remember GOD is in control. That there is NOTHING HE does not allow or ordain in our lives.

For today, we look forward to a dinner at Uccello's tonight to celebrate paring ourselves down to one car, one elderly motorcycle, two storage units full of "stuff"....and only ONE trailer on a man-made lake in Allegan County. LIFE IS GOOD

And That's That.

And then, suddenly all the packing was over; the mountains of boxes all transferred to a storage unit...OK, TWO storage units, a mile from home.
NOT our home anymore.
The parting was made slightly less jarring by the new owners purchase of the larger pieces of our furniture on the main level, so the place wasn't so entirely, sterilely empty when I closed the door for the last time.
But I know that already my former space is being filled with stranger's things...it's THEIR home now, afterall.

We've moved more than most and my leave takings have usually been hasty retreats, no backward glances only itching to start unpacking at the eagerly anticipated new digs; new homes whose walls often began as pencil scratchings on my sketchpad.
Not this time.
This time is different.
This is obsessively poring over the MLS between packing marathons. Trying to imagine our things in....a 1923 farmhouse with a small barn and chicken coop. Or a 1956"Jetson" house...which was one day quite stunning, but not alas, today. There are new houses with the shockingly hard colors and black brown cabinetry we started out with in our very first home in 1978. I think I've been there and done that. There are dear old, hopelessly outdated homes that I long to revive...I feel their sense of rejection "How long have you been on the MLS? How many changes of Realty agents ?"....but I'd love to do that transformation for someone else, not for me!
There was a two story "barn", 30'x60' down a winding road in deep woods that a builder tempted us with a creative and practical reworking of space. But taking down the trees necessary to get a yard and some sunshine would yield enough firewood to last us years but tree felling and stump grinding would gobble up a budget.

On the Internet, two houses made my heart go pitty pat. They were both filled with wonderful "creature features" and the MLS photos looked great...but Onsite visits revealed that these homes had broken their family's hearts...water damaged and filled with black mold they sat empty and abandoned; just existing to disappoint MLS mavens who think they've finally stumbled upon "THE" new home for them.

On Tuesday, at 7:50 am, the moving truck pulled up and eight hours later I found myself all alone in my emptied and spotlessly clean FORMER home. Really, it looks like a brand new home. God gifted us with a beautiful, cool day. The breezes grabbed my pretty Martha Stewart lace curtains...I know it sounds hokey but it was as though they were waving goodbye. I AM going to miss them. I WAS tempted to "forget" that they were included in the sale....but if that had ever been a serious thought, which it wasn't, at our closing on Monday, their new owner asked once again, for good measure, "...and the window treatments are all staying?" yes,theyallstay.dang

...but I digress. It was so quiet. No one but me and the waving laces and the ceiling fans swirling lazily. I lingered. After so much rushing around running from detail to detail, I lingered, alone. It was difficult to leave, but I turned off the fans, latched the windows, denying the sweet breezes. I thanked God for all the blessings I so don't deserve, and I locked the door and drove away for the last time.

The Full Moon and Peonies, Saying Goodbye.

It's always been one of my little secrets. I ascribe human characteristics and emotions to inanimate objects. My perennials have always been personal "friends" welcomed back each Spring, mourned in their winter sleeps. I have a heart for "adopting" abandoned furniture and old dishes. I have offered to forego payment for design consulting services receiving instead, furnishings my clients were ready to "kick to the curb"...or a dear but partial set of old, crazed glaze Homer Laughlin dishes some young bride was so proud to display in 1898. I tell myself that I am providing them with a home...maybe even cherishing them more than any previous owner. Sick! I know! Don't start with the sermons, I've run them all through my head.

And so I am finding myself in an emotionally precarious place. Packing boxes that up to this moment are going...nowhere?...a storage facility (location also unknown)...a new hobby farm, forest retreat, suburban tract house. We've never been confronted with the offer to buy our furnishings before. It is sensible. They "make" this wonderful home we are leaving and may well NOT fit in our new home. I know the new owners to be extremely kind, already appreciating these (let's get real!) THINGS!

I am sure it's my imagination. NO! It's real. My peonies outdid themselves this month. They appear to be triple petalled and nary an ant on the counter below their immense bouquet. It's as though they are saying goodbye in the best way they can.

It's that time of "the lasts": a game I play whenever I move or we go on a big trip. This is the LAST shower I will take before leaving. This is the LAST time I will clean out these drawers. This is the LAST time I will watch the raccoons wrestling at my bird feeder at night. This is the LAST time I will bake a pie in this oh so well designed kitchen. This is the LAST time I will drag a pillow and blanket from the bedroom, open the windows to crisp breezes and fall asleep watching the full moon and bright stars from my dear, dear sunporch.

ANTIDOTES:
To be used to counteract the sometimes irresistible desire to look down, panic, and sink as I "walk on water" in faith:

* Accept any opportunities offered for coffee with friends and family.
It's so easy to say I have no time ( and I probably don't) but spending time with friends to vent and hear what's going on in their lives is a calming island of sanity in the unsettling maelstrom my life has become.

* Strive to NOT procrastinate, but rather methodically pack and dispose of STUFF in a timely fashion to head off any "marathon of panic" on June 29th.
Identify afew favorite things: a coffee mug, a favorite blanket,book, kitchen wares to take with me in the interim. The comfort of alittle "familiar".

*Focus on all the ways, some quite miraculous through which God has clearly affirmed this adventure of ours.

* Stop myself from the obsessive compulsive practice of going over the Multilistings online over and over again in hopes something will change. Make a physical list of criteria for our new home so that we are not susceptible to the constant temptation to find a HOUSE in order to have an address as quickly as possible ( and a home for all the boxes)...but fall short of fulfilling the perceived needs of this move.

* Kiss and hug on Grandbabies whenever I can and remind myself that they will NOT go in boxes but will be the best comfort in the coming months of exodus.

*MOST importantly. Make time alone with God to talk to Him and LISTEN for HIS guidance in this unsettling and unsettled time.

Eighteen more days of "Good Byes" to 1620 High Pointe Drive.

Taking A Step Away From The Third Rail.

As the shock of the warp speed sale of our condo begins to couple itself with the rapidly approaching closing and potential move out date, I finally raise my head from a half packed box. It just may be time to consider a question many are posing, namely, WHERE are we going?

Organizationally comforting and familiar to me, I had eagerly launched into the packing,cleaning,packing ploy....the perfect distraction from that nagging, persistent query...where ARE we going?
Although God has moved the majority of our homes in this manner; that being, receiving generous offers to often the first people to walk through, we have personally always had an idea of WHERE we were going. This time is SO different!...and this mountain of packed boxes has to ultimately go SOMEWHERE!
Our initial plan is to store our things and move out to Sandy Pines for the summer. When you think that we don't have to move anywhere until they turn the water off on October 15th, you can be lulled into sense of there being no real rush. But I tend to forget that in the middle of the night when I have trouble sleeping. When I WILLFULLY forget the miracles God has already done in this housing situation.

We've picked up the "Old People" habit of going for drives. We drive and drive looking for FSBO's and Realty signs in the areas we think we are interested in. I really wish God would just put an address on a slip of paper inserted in our mailbox. THAT would be sweet. I scour the Internet for house listings, old and new. We check out new leads which so far have been eliminated for one reason or another.

THIS WEEK'S MOST PROMISING CANDIDATES:
A surprise in the running, a REAL paradigm shift for us, my eye kept falling on a "short sale" listing of a low, brick, "Mid Century" home in a nice Southside neighborhood. The more I looked at it, the more I thought of creative ways to transform the sow's ear to a fantastically appealing "silk purse". We gathered with our realtor in the backyard to discuss the obvious...an in ground pool. This be COULD be fun, not to mention a terrific Grandchild magnet. We could do this!...then we stepped inside. The new roof and aluminum fascia work belied the disaster within. Too suddenly I understood why the owners had "walked away" from this "beauty". I had had such sweet plans and they were dashed, I tell you! You would have had to rip the entire house down to the studs and you'd never ever get the investment out of the property.
(A note about those "studs". After we left and I glanced at the disclosure page of the listing just handed to us I found TERMITES and STANDING WATER in the basement "disclosed". Really sad...I had such hopes to score on this 115K "beauty".)

Then there is the idyllic, 8 acres overlooking rolling farmland. Unfortunately the house is perched at the edge of the rolling part and has no..."front", just a double garage door with a service entrance. Nope

And what ABOUT living in the country for the first time, speaking of "paradigm shifts"? We are truly "city folk" and not "handy" at that. (Insert Butterfly McQueen from "Gone With The Wind" here) "We don no nothin'bout propane tanks...or septic fields or wells..." Steve came home with a great idea the other day, one with the potential to make the re-entry shock of going from a condo where we have enjoyed landscape care as a SPECTATOR sport to something less painful. "Let's plant dune grass!" I actually kind of like dune grass but have heard stories of vermin setting up occupancy, not to mention I doubt a neighbor would accept the alternative. But I digress...

Yesterday, though we felt we were "beginning to follow the light" to center our thoughts on a house plan and finding an appropriate lot, we arranged for a showing of a home that sounded interesting. (You KNOW it had to have some positive attributes to make a proud MSU fan even consider setting foot on Wolverine Street!)
Well, it DID. And let me tell you, a lovely garden turned this girl's head big time! It was not our style in almost ANY way EXCEPT for those gardens and the fact that it was immaculate. I was ready to sign on the dotted line...my mind running ahead to ways to "make it ours" (...just how DO you soften a contemporary into "cottage" and might this be,afterall, a matter for an Interior Design Board of Ethics???)
It was a potent brew seeping into my mind: The challenge of recreating this home to make it ours, the irresistible temptation to NOT have to double move and pay storage fees and live in limbo for months. We were getting excited, creative juices gushing into replacing "medium oak" with glass fronted creamy cabinets, bead board here there and everywhere...punching MORE skylights into the roof.
Pause.
Suddenly I saw Jimmy Stewart enjoying the cigar, sitting across the desk from Old Man Potter when that smallest shaft of light, that "too good to be true" hits his consciousness.
The longer I stood in the house, the longer the liability side of the ledger got. Not for my husband who has always and often proclaimed that he could live happily in a double wide. But for me, who NEEDS light and lots of cross ventilation, for me my decades of doing this for other people refused to allow me to ignore the pool of dread beginning to spread in my gut. Listen to the dread...listen to the dread.
the small windows and lack of A/C...the realization that sunlight doesn't flow into this house save through a few skylights. Can't do it. Sad Sad Sad but good bye to rising hope, again.

So here I am. A wise and dear friend reminded me this week of how easily we shake our heads at the thankless Hebrews of the Exodus, so quickly forgetting the miracles of God's repeated and dramatic provisions for their deliverance and sustenance. Yet in a few days they were shaking their fist at Him and asking why they ever left Egypt.

Time to take a break from the frenetic scramble to "find" the place and "find it NOW"...and also from the distraction of mindless packing and cleaning, to spend some quiet time focusing on gratitude and faith that in HIS perfect timing He WILL reveal our new home. Having one and two year old sister's for their first overnight away from Mom and Dad should also prove an adequate diversion from my misplaced frettings.

"She said,YES!"

I was jolted by my cell phone ringing later than usual Sunday night. After locating and retrieving the black covered phone from the "Black Hole of Calcutta" which is my purse I rushed to make contact with whoever was calling before it went to voicemail. The response to my "Hello?" was an exuberant voice..."SHE SAID,YES!"

On Sunday afternoon, at Joshua Tree National Park in Twenty Nine Palms, California, my baby boy, Christian John got down on one knee, pulled out the beautiful ring and asked his sweet Emily Kay to marry him. WOO WOO!!!

It was so fun to listen to them both bubble over with such delight. Emily said she was so excited that she was now going to become a "real" member of our family. Truth is she's been one of us from the start. When I mentioned that she was going to become Emily Kay Fredericks, she exclaimed that she hadn't even thought about that!

Emily and Katie were the girls' names in the running for our last two babies, which ended up Adam and Christian. The furthest thing from my mind in those days of managing four little ones five years and under was that these baby boys would bring an Emily Fredericks and a Caity Fredericks into our family. I am getting my Emily and Caity afterall! God is SO good, all the time He is good. These sweet young women are such blessings to our whole family. They and Becky's Derek and Megan's Avery are wonderful "gifts" to our family we could never have imagined back then.

Oh, oh, oh...now the planning begins...even for the beige-clad Mother of the Groom.

Congratulations to Christian and his Emily Kay!

On the Road ...again.

I love analogies. For me,analogies have always seemed the most effective way to more accurately convey a thought. Not unusual to have had one pop into my noggin to provide a starting off point for this posting....Not that it will make our newest adventure seem any less crazy to all those in our lives who are, once again, shaking their heads at our latest "adventure".
Do you know what it's like when your radio is on the outer edge of reception for a station? You carefully turn the knob ( OK, I am old!) to the right and left trying to get a clearer signal. THAT is how a nagging "nudge" has seemed in our lives for the past couple of years. The spiritual "poking" seemed to tell us that we should leave our beautiful, comfortable home. We resisted the continuing nudges.(..it is a beautiful home that "works" well for us. It is very comfortable...did I tell you about our sunporch? The Tempurpedic bed? right..)But the taps on the shoulder kept getting more persistent.

We had been drinking in eight weeks of teaching by Ray Vanderlaan on Sunday nights at Central Wesleyan Church. His topic, "Let My People Go", a deep and fascinating preaching /teaching on Moses and the Exodus, of God leading the Hebrews out of Egypt. One Sunday night Ray taught on Exodus 14:15. The Hebrews of the Exodus were at the shores of the Red Sea with Pharoah's Army of chariots pursuing them at full speed.TRAPPED.

"Then the Lord said to Moses, "Quit praying and get the people moving! Forward march!" Exodus 14:15 (Life Application Bible)
RVL taught that God was saying," Show me YOU are IN the water"..and then watch for my mighty works.

This is what I wrote in my journal ( Do YOU journal...you should!!!) just below in my notes on that Sunday night:
? Are we waiting for God to act when WE haven't stepped into the water?
We talked about that.
We called our Realtor.
We listed the house late on a Tuesday afternoon
....and it was sold on Friday of that week.

We We We. Another thing RVL taught about was the habit we have of talking in terms of what WE are going to do or have done, completely neglecting the reality that GOD is totally and absolutely sovereign in all aspects of our lives. NOTHING happens that HE does not allow or ordain. The circumstances of this sale are certainly validations of those concepts. The market has plummeted. Several condos have been for sale in our small development, some for over a year, with no actions other than price reductions. How else can we account for an immediate sale for more than we were told to expect with terms that would not require a bank appraisal. It is GOD'S work. "We" sold nothing.
Then, just like Peter stepping out of his boat to walk on water, I looked down and began to "sink". We have no plan where are we going to go where are we going to live have I already forgotten what a pain moving is and how I was going to try to never do this again and by the way where are we going to go?...in one month why do I continue to be in bondage to all this stuff I surround myself with?pant pant gasp gasp...(Please insert picture of chicken running in frenetic circles squawking here.)

Yesterday the new buyers came to visit with us. They are wonderful people and before we knew it, four hours had passed. Here is their story:
They'd been looking for the right place since last fall, finding several places that "worked"...but just didn't seem to be "THE" one. The wife said as she walked into our foyer she told her husband, "this is a happy home" and knew it was "the one." That's right, Blog readers. Throwing all "Flip this house" rules to the curb, God brought someone who loves my "American Cheese" front room, my "Red Pepper half bath/laundry room and my softly chartreuse "Pale Avocado" sunroom with the pretty Swedish blues running between them all! She said she was surprised after her first visit that she couldn't recall any specific things she was going to check out about the home, but simply knew this was it.
But the most incredible thing these people shared with us was this: As they prayed and discussed whether to put an offer in on our home, whether to commit themselves to relocating here from another state and the comfortable home they built for themselves over three decades ago...the scripture that came to them was this same passage in Exodus and they determined that they were to "step into the water" and purchase this condo.
The squawking chicken is sitting quietly in a corner now. People still are shaking their heads, think we're crazy. We still have no clue as to where we will be living long term, but we are ABSOLUTELY certain, as we stand in the water, that GOD knows exactly when and where we will be moving.
Don't you just love Him?

Just so you know it's all true...

The ad on TV says, " Ask your friends. Check it out on Facebook and Twitter."I don't know why I feel the need to do this, but everytime I see the ad on TV, with the small army of people saying "Ask me!" I want to jump up and be counted, too!
Everytime I see a Tempurpedic mattress advertisement on TV I find that I stop what I am doing and watch it. Maybe it is because with all the hyperbole and political rhetoric ricocheting through the media these days it is a relief to hear something I KNOW to be absolutely true.

It all began several years ago when our oldest daughter and her soon to be husband invited us to go mattress shopping with them ("We don't know anything about these things and it's a big investment and you and Dad have purchased mattresses before") Well, if you know me, I would never turn down an invitation to walk through a furniture store! As the kids wandered the bedding aisles and were being serenaded with "Mattress 101" by their salesman, I found myself standing in front of the Tempurpedic. Normally I would feel self conscious, but no one was around and so I laid my body down.
Life stopped.
In a split second I realized that I had grown accustomed to the chronic aching pains of my Fibromyalgia...and that when I laid down on that mattress, suddenly, nothing hurt. Bang.
I went from being self conscious about laying on a mattress in public to Ally McBeal imaginings of salespeople forcibly removing me from the mattress and the store at closing time.
....When I was a little girl I remember "The Loretta Young Show" and in one drama she played a model whose job it was to sleep in a bed in a atore window...Maybe I could convince ArtVan that people viewing my enjoyment of their sample mattress would be good for business?
....Also when I was a little girl, my parents would take us girls to the local toy store before Christmas in order to gauge our "wish list" for Santa. On one such trip my younger sister took one look at the stuffed "Zippy the Monkey" and threw such a tantrum at the thought of being separated from it that they bought it for her on the spot....but the Tempurpedic is ALOT more expensive than a Zippy and I didn't think the tantrum thing would so much work with my husband.
So, with reluctance and a couple looks over the shoulder, I got up and walked away from this newly revealed obsession.

Fast forward afew years. I had come to realize that sleeping on the sofa wasn't as painful as our bed and though still hobbling each morning, more or less took my nights on the sunporch couch. Both of us were dealing with stiff necks and chronic backache and then, it happened.
One day, Steve returned from running an errand with a receipt and date for delivery of our own Tempurpedic! As the Dutch say, "Oh, Oh, Oh!"WHAT a husband!
This is our testimonial: EVERYTHING they say on those ads....it's TRUE. You will notice the ads themselves are soothing and relaxing and that is how I feel when I even think about that mattress waiting, serenely in the bedroom. As it gets later in the day, I begin to look forward to crawling into that bed and when I wake up in the morning, I am conscious of how absolutely comfortable and soothed my body feels and how much I hate to get out of it. With our old mattress I literally had difficulty walking upon getting out of bed and would grab at furniture and walls for my hobble to the bathroom. I pop out of that Tempurpedic like "Mighty Mouse" (...also from my long ago youth.)
It costs a "Kings ransom" but it is one of the best purchases we have EVER made because when you sleep this well, as in no more waking multiple times per night, waking refreshed and relaxed and painfree...other parts of life seem to go better.
We miss it when we're gone from home and have actually verbalized, TO THE BED, how happy we are to return to it after a trip.
Believe it. BELIEVE IT ALL and begin to save your pennies.
Those Swedes know how to make a wonderful bed.

On Guard While You Sleep

I have always loved a powerful painting by Christian artist, Thomas Blackshear II called "Watchers in the Night". It portrays a young boy in bed asleep in a dark room with a guardian angel towering over him. The angel is massive, strong and handsome. He has beautiful and huge wings that protectively curl around the boys sleeping form. The spear held in the angel's left hand leaves no doubt he is there to protect, and a flame, representing the Holy Spirit's presence, hovers above the angel's cupped right hand. At times when I have been afraid, this painting comes to my mind and I am comforted by the promise that God is watching over me...and I recall the times in my life when I have been amazed at how HE grabbed me by the nape of my neck and plucked me from all nature of dangers...because HE is ALWAYS that close beside me!

Over the last four years we have been aware of a sweet example of "guardians" in our little dogs, particularly our little female, Idgie Threadgoode, named after a favorite character from, "Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe" by Fannie Flagg. Our Idgie really has the opposite character of the heroine she was named for. She is slow, pudgy, extremely timid and gentle. When the grandbabies started coming we noticed that she took on a new role. She seems to feel the need to protect the youngest. We have five grandbabies now. The oldest just turned four and the youngest is a month, so there are lots of babies to keep sweet Idgie busy.Though reticent and withdrawn (sometime under the couch) around strange adults and other animals, she is comfortable approaching the little ones at play and often seeks out the youngest to snuggle next to during "tummy time". As they grow old enough to sit upright, she changes her position to curling protectively behind their little bodies like some fluffy, furry little Bumbo seat. She very patiently allows the little ones to touch her nose and eyes and play with her tail and doesn't seem phased by alittle pull or poke here and there.

When the babies take naps at YaYa and Boppa's they sleep in the Pack 'N Play in the bedroom. I have long ago learned to be watchful. Idgies aim is to silently, lest we adults notice, sneak in behind us and stay with the babies. I have often discovered the "missing" Idgie sleeping on the floor beside the napping baby's crib. Denied by the adults in charge, she sometimes stays as close as she can get...snoozing on the floor outside the closed bedroom door.

After naps or for special treats, we have movies for the kids. (Ask me for ANY line of dialogue from "Finding Nemo" which, really, is a favorite of mine). As the kids scramble up into their "theatre seats" on the sofa the dogs stand in line waiting their turn to join the little ones for the show.



And their only compensation?.... the occasional Goldfish or Craisin "escapee", the orts (word of the day for all of you who don't do crossword puzzles) landing in the overspray perimeter of floor beneath the highchair. There is no hazard pay for the occasional pinched paw. One thing for certain, I know that after a day around the grandbabies, these hardworking guardians sleep soundly through the following day. Shepherding little children is NOT an easy task!