Colleen’s Eyes

*******************************************

Colleen’s Eyes

Story Navigation Panel

Most Recent Blog Entry Jump To Entry Index Leave A Comment

***********************************************

Jasmine Was Our First!

When I got here, there was already an 8 yr old Rottweiler/Chow mix living here named Jasmine. She was about 80 pounds and although she was gentle as can be with the kids in the family, she was not always friendly with strangers and could be aggressive, and I was a stranger. After I moved in, she was kept in the basement. Steven tied her out in the morning, gave her a bowl of food, and some water, and there she stayed until he brought her in sometime around sunset. She was tied out back and I could see her from the kitchen window and from the back deck. So many times over those first few weeks, I stood just watching her do nothing but lie down. There was nothing else at all for her to do, after all. Watching her live her life of sad, quiet isolation was killing me, especially when this was such a crazy, active household. Finally, I just couldn’t take it anymore and knew I HAD to make friends with her somehow. Jasmine needed to be with the family, but she had only growled at me so far and she was big and scary. But one day, it was only the two of us at home and I had just taken oatmeal cookies out of the oven. As I was taking the cookies out of the pan, I thought maybe Jasmine would like one! What dog doesn’t love somebody that brings them a cookie, right? She was on a chain so I could easily get close enough to give her the cookie without getting too close in case she decided she didn’t like me in spite of the cookie, so down the hill I trotted with cookie in hand.

Jasmine slowly stood up when she saw me. The poor baby was so sad from being alone so much for so long that she was not aggressive, or even really interested in me. I got just barely out of reach of her, bent forward a little bit and started talking to her, but she didn’t move closer to me, and had started growling again. I sighed, and brought the cookie out from behind me, and offered it to her. She came forward hesitantly, sniffed it for a second, then decided it was better than her daily ration of dry dog food I guess, because she took it in her mouth whole, gave it a few chews, and then was sniffing around on the ground for crumbs. I walked sadly back up the hill wondering if we would ever be friends.

But I was determined. Jasmine was NOT going to live out the rest of her life merely existing in our basement and all by herself forever just because my daughter and I had moved in. So the next day, with another cookie in hand, I went back down the hill. This time I was surprised because Jasmine stood up, came right to the end of her chain towards me, and her tail was wagging! I was brave enough to lean towards her and talk to her, with hopes that she would not growl, and my heart skipped a beat when she didn’t. I was not brave enough to try and pat her that time, but she took the cookie with glee, and she even whimpered a bit when I walked away! Wow. When I checked on her from the deck, there she was, still looking at me with her tail wagging. It was like she had finally woken up.

The next day I went out to do something in the yard, I don’t remember what, but I was moving around and I noticed that Jasmine was at the end of her chain watching me, and when I looked over at her, the tail started going. Well, not her ‘tail’ since it was a nub. It was really cute when she wagged it though, because it made her bum wiggle! Anyway, I apologized for not having a cookie and kept working, and kept talking to her, too, every now and then. She never stopped stretching her chain towards me, and it just broke my heart thinking how lonely she must be. At that moment, I just gave up and walked over to pat her. I did it quickly before I talked myself out of it, and she was so happy that my fears just melted away and she even got some hugs from me! In the end, she had made it so easy to make friends with her that I apologized for not being brave enough to do it sooner!

That evening, I did not send Steven down to put Jasmine in the basement. There were a lot of surprised faces when I went out myself and brought her up the back deck stairs and right into the house! It was a happy reunion for all. I don’t remember how Alysia made friends with her. Maybe Jasmine just accepted her as part of the ‘crowd’ now, but I do know that Alysia was never afraid of her and played with her just like the others. Jasmine was the missing piece of this crazy, loud, and cacophonous family, and now that she was home and upstairs where she belonged, not only was our house full, but so were our hearts!

Our family that first summer consisted of Dennis and myself, 6 kids aged 3 to 17, a cat that refused to come in the house until the noise died down, and Jasmine. The kids had been in the house for a year before I got here, so they had friends in the neighborhood that were always coming by, and once Alysia was added to the mix, there were even more friends. Cacophonous is the perfect word to describe this household, and Jasmine did her part to add to it, believe me! Dennis had warned me that Animal Control had been by on complaints a few times because Jasmine kept getting out into the neighborhood on her own, so it was important to keep her in the house or tied up. Unfortunately, Jasmine LIKED being out in the neighborhood on her own! And she sure didn’t let a screen door stop her. I clearly remember one day early on, when I brought her into the house up through the basement, and realized one moment too late that I had forgotten to shut the slider door to block the screen door. Steven was on the sofa playing video games when he realized she was making a beeline towards the door. He dropped his controller and was trying to get up as he said in kind of a sing-songy voice that “She’s gonna go through the dooooor…” We were both trying to head her off, but neither of us were fast enough. She took off at a run, the screen door popped right out slapping down onto the deck and she was gone! She ran right down into the woods and I was at the corner of the deck reaching towards her and screaming out “JAAAAAASMIIIIIIIINE!!!!!!” I must have sounded like Marlon Brando screaming “Stellaaaaaa!” I know I felt as much angst as he did!

I cannot tell you how many times that screen door got knocked out before I finally just kept the dang slider door shut! Sheesh! And bark, wow, could she bark. She was big, and she was loud, and she didn’t listen when we told her to stop. I am pretty sure the next door neighbors moved because of her! Oh well. I do know they put a fence up to block her view so they could put their own dog out and go in their own yard without having to listen to her bark at them the whole time.

And Jasmine did bite a few people along the way, but only the stupid ones. The running joke around here is that Jasmine bit all the right friends and boyfriends for us! Ha! But if you walk into a house you have never been in before, and you see a Rottweiler you have never met before, you deserve to be bitten if you walk right up and try to put your hand on her head. Duh! These stupid children wouldn’t even ask if they could pat her which would give me a chance to say “don’t do it,” nope, they just saw a dog and without even thinking, went over invading her space wanting to pat her!

We did have a neighbor friend of Steven’s that would never go near her and was deathly afraid of her. I am not positive, but I am pretty sure Jasmine scared him just because it was a fun game for her; but then, she was never friendly to him and would growl and chase him if he got close, so he gave her a wide berth. But this one day, Jasmine was asleep on the floor in the kitchen with me, and the boys showed up to play video games and somehow Jasmine didn’t wake up. And it didn’t dawn on me that we might have a situation if she did wake up.

One thing to keep in mind is that this is an open concept house. One room opens to the next around the central staircase so you can walk all around the house in a big circle.

So all is well, they boys are playing video games, I am cooking supper…and then it happens. Jasmine woke up, stretched, and sauntered into the family room. She sees the kid, the kid sees her, Steven stands up to block Jasmine, the kid screams and starts running, Jasmine pushes by Steven growling and barking and starts chasing the kid who has already whizzed by me from behind with Steven after him still trying to block Jasmine who is in close pursuit. I make a grab for the dog, but I can’t catch her and start running too. Can you picture it? The four of us running the circle around the house, one after the other, with the 2 boys screaming with fear, me screaming at Jasmine to stop, Jasmine barking and growling and not listening to me at all as she keeps chasing the kid, and my heart is pounding out of my chest! We went around twice when Steven got the brilliant idea to open the front door, and wait for his friend to come around again and shove him out, slamming the door behind him! Phew! I saw the kid nearly flip over the porch rail as he hit it at high speed before Steven slammed the door and Jasmine went skidding into it with her whole body which shook the house. Steven went outside to check on his buddy and I took Jasmine to the basement. Wow. There are times when I think back and it amazes me we never got sued by anyone!

Try as I may to prevent it, she spent the rest of her life managing to get out of the house on me. Jasmine was difficult to keep in the house, but she was not difficult to catch – if she could be found, that is. She loved to just take off through the woods, but in this neighborhood, if she went straight down through the woods, she would end up on one of the 2 cul-de-sacs down the road from us. So I would start driving the neighborhood looking for her. The first time I did this, I had a leash with me and a cookie to use as bait. I was driving slowly looking around when I saw this man walk out from the woods. He was a meter reader going down behind all the houses, and I asked if he had seen a big black and brown dog. Without slowing down or turning his head toward me, he said “You mean the one that’s been following me for the past 10 minutes?” And out comes Jasmine strolling behind this man at the same rate of speed that he’s walking. I felt bad for the man because she was a big scary looking dog, but I had to keep from laughing and wondering again if Jasmine just did this stuff to scare people for her own enjoyment. Anyway, I opened the car door calling her name, ready to do some fancy footwork to get her into the car. Before I could even get out of the car, though, she jumped right in over me to the front passenger seat! I was ecstatic and shocked as I tried to figure out how I got her in the car so fast! As for Jasmine, she was excited and fidgeting around, spotted the cookie, ate it without permission and then barked at me! Excuse me?? Then she licked my face to apologize and off we went. I found out later from Dennis that Jasmine loved to go for rides, so after that whenever she got loose and I spotted her while driving around looking for her, I just called to her and opened my door. She would come racing over to the car, hop in, and I would take her for a 10 minute ride as a reward. She was a good girl, she just didn’t like staying home all the time!

We had a lot of crazy, chaotic times with our Jasmine, and we had her for an especially long time. She was 8 when I got here, and she was with us for 9 years after that. Her body had broken down over time and we finally had to have her put down. We probably should have done it sooner than we did, but it was hard to let her go. We were with her to the end, and I knew the moment she left us. I was talking to her and looking into her eyes when I saw the light go out. Our poor baby Jasmine was gone. We sure do miss her, and all the trouble she caused! Just thinking about her makes me laugh right out loud at all the crazy stunts she pulled. It was never ending, and frustrating, but she was a sweetie pie, and she was Mama’s baby girl. She has been gone 9 years now, but I will still call one of our dogs ‘Jasmine’ by accident every now and then.

I don’t have many pictures of her though. She was notorious for hating the camera. Most pictures I have are of her heading out of the room because she has spotted the camera. But I have a whole lot of memories, and I have mementos to remember her by. One of the kids got me a small stuffed animal that looks like her and it is front and center on my bureau where I can see and smile at it every day. And she is with us for Christmas every year since we have 2 ornaments that look like her, one even has angel wings. It has to go up high on the tree though, because it’s breakable and Buttercup’s tail is lethal. The tree goes up in front of the window and anything Buttercup sees outside causes that tail of hers to start going so everything on the tree from the height of her tail down, gets knocked off or broken where it hangs. *sigh*

Dogs! Here we go again, but we wouldn’t have it any other way!

Jump To Top

***********************************************

Presentation Is Everything!

A few years ago while I was up north visiting family, I was at my sister’s house and spotted our mom’s old covered pink casserole dish in a metal stand. It was something our mom had gotten for her wedding shower back in the mid 50’s, and I had always loved it. After I was finished exclaiming how glad I was that it had not been lost in all the family moves and was safely with her, my sister offered it to me! I knew she was downsizing and cleaning out and all, but still, I couldn’t take it knowing how much she must love it, too. “It’s covered in dust, Colleen. Obviously I don’t use it. If you want it, take it.” My eyebrows shot up at the truth of that statement as I kept looking it over and decided I should take it after all. I was ecstatic! I wrapped it up, tucked it into my suitcase, and off it went back to NC with me. It was proudly displayed on my baker’s rack, and I used it for every family dinner. I had other run-of-the-mill dishes to use, too, but realized pretty quickly that one fabulous 50’s vintage dish made the rest of the dishes look drab and I needed more fabulous vintage ware!

Now, I am not a collector. I am sentimental, but only to a point. I will keep a few things out, mostly pictures, or mementos to put on my dresser and such, but I will not gather things around me if I cannot use them since I do not need another thing to dust. In my younger days, I would buy lots of stuff that I ended up never using. I had good intentions, but for whatever reason, a lot of it just sat collecting dust and taking up room. And then it all built up to the point where I had no room for the stuff I actually used, so then I would have to clean out all the stuff I figured out wasn’t getting used, and whatever that was, ended up being stuffed into the overstuffed basement. And because it took me so long to figure all this out and finally quit bringing stuff home, the basement is now an obstacle course to get through, and is overwhelming just to think about cleaning it out. So now I think long and hard before I buy anything because we have hit our limit for stuff in our house!

Ahhh, but my vintage ware…That seems to be my weakness and I have had to stop myself buying more even though I just love the stuff. It is a small collection and nothing fancy, but this eclectic gathering of vintage ware makes me smile and is ‘eye candy’ to me. When I am looking to add a new piece, I am not looking for perfect, I am looking for something that was part of another family before ours; something that was woven into the everyday life of whichever family owned it first. It’s the look of it and the history of it that fascinates me. It just makes me smile to see it all sitting on the rack, and I get a kick out of deciding if the potatoes will go in the funky yellow bowl, or the spaceship shaped green one, and so on. I really do enjoy, and use, the collection, but as much as I would love to just keep adding more pieces, I simply have no room for it. What fits on the baker’s rack is all I will allow myself since how much is there is how much I need for family dinners.

It was a learning process that surprised me when I started trying to find and buy other pieces. Surely this would be a cinch to do since who else would be looking for vintage casserole dishes, right? Ha! When I got to eBay, I found out that there were a whole lot of people wanting the same thing and willing to pay a whole lot more than I could or thought was reasonable. I dove into it though, and found myself learning about the different makers and designers, learning what a reasonable price for a piece was but keeping in mind that doesn’t matter if someone else wants it bad enough, wondering why people are absolutely rabid over fiesta ware, searching for that close up photo to see if there was too much crazing, and every now then, suddenly coming upon an item for sale that would make me gasp and sit up straight, only to be totally deflated at the over-inflated price! Not every single time though. Sometimes, it was all just right. Sometimes, the planets aligned so that it was my turn to win the piece. I don’t do the bidding. I leave that to Dennis, and sometimes he makes a judgment call that I wouldn’t have, to pay just a tad more in order to get the piece for me. He knows I will fuss at him if it’s too much, but it all gets forgotten when the piece shows up in the mail. Then it feels like Christmas and I am excitedly hoping the piece is as entrancing as the picture of it was! I have not been disappointed yet, I am glad to say! It has been a couple of years since I’ve gotten anything new, and I don’t even go into eBay knowing I would start someplace else, but end up in vintage ware, and there’s no need for pining after something I can’t have.

Just yesterday, though, when I was cleaning and dusting the baker’s rack and vintage ware collection, I noticed that one piece has deteriorated to the point of being retired. I knew it was crazed when I bought it, and went against my judgment and got it anyway because I loved the design on it. After just a couple of years of use though, it has started to darken in the crazing, and I even noticed an odd odor to it, so out it goes. And now there is an empty space that needs filling! Oh, the excitement of finding just the right piece! Will it be a Homer Laughlin, perhaps a Salem pottery, maybe even an Eva Zeisel, a Stanford Sebring, a Hull, or a California pottery…oh the possibilities are endless! But!, whatever it ends up being, it has to be the right look, the right color, the right condition, the right size, the right age, and the right price. Hmm, this could take a while…. I’ll keep you posted! 🙂

Jump To Top

***********************************************

Just Another Day In The Kitchen

When I am at a loss at how to spend my time, I naturally gravitate to the kitchen. And when I am at a loss at what to make once I am there, I start foraging in the fridge for inspiration. In there, I found one squash, one zucchini, leftover cucumber, red onion, cherry tomatoes, and some feta cheese. Hmmm.

Yes, I could substitute the yellow squash for a zucchini and make zucchini bread…yawn. And I suppose a run to the grocery store for lettuce would help turn the veggies into a nice salad, but my nose was wrinkling in distaste at the thought of wandering into the lowlands where the grocery store is located. So I sighed deeply, grimaced at the contents of my fridge and shut the door. ‘Well!’ I thought to myself, ‘let’s go see if there are any recipes in my books or online that might interest me!’

First off, I found a basic pasta recipe in my own cookbooks, and improvised a Greek version using rotini pasta, Greek vinaigrette, all my leftover veggies along with some chopped olives and shredded mozzarella cheese, all mixed up well, and just for good measure, another generous splash of the vinaigrette, all the feta, and even some shredded mozzarella that was kicking around, too. I tasted my improvised pasta salad and thought it was out-of-this-world good, and was gobbling it up! However, when I gave a taste to my hubby, he was blasé at best. He then proceeded to salt it, proclaiming it improved, ‘but let’s see if it’s better when it’s chilled,’ says he. I collected his bowl and tasted it with the salt as he asked me to, and I nearly gagged. No, this one we will not agree on! Ha! But then, I should have remembered that while Dennis loves potato salad, and all kinds of green salads, he is not a fan of pasta salads. Oh well…on to the next experiment lined up for the day!

I came across a recipe for a cinnamon-y zucchini cake-like cookie with a lemon glaze which struck my fancy. Strange thing happened on the way though. First I substituted a yellow squash for the zucchini. Then, as I was mixing all the ingredients, I got to thinking that this recipe would be better as a pan of bars instead of cookies, so I omitted the baking powder and cut the baking soda in half. Then I didn’t feel comfortable with the cinnamon in the recipe for some reason, so I used nutmeg instead. The batter didn’t look quite like I wanted it to, so I added another egg and another 1/2 cup of flour since I was looking for a brownie-like batter. Got that into a brownie pan, and then into the oven, and was really very happy with how they came out, and fully expected Dennis to love them immediately. I did not expect him to stare at the pan while chewing and ask if there was supposed to be a topping. Huh? So we go back and forth about what a suitable topping or addition would be. He likes the idea of raisins as the original cookie recipe called for, but I am not sold on that. Neither is he sold on a coconut or oatmeal and brown sugar topping. Finally I remember the cookie recipe had a lemon glaze, so we settled on that. Now we both like the bars. Okey doke then! There’s a new bar recipe for the books!

Next up is doing something with the leftover zucchini, and there was a very interesting recipe for Tuna Zucchini Cakes online. As always, the recipe was only a guide since I had 50% more zucchini than it called for, and about 50% less tuna than it called for. There were very few ingredients after that, but I did not have any fresh parsley. Hmm, my fridge foraging came up with fresh cilantro though, and you can’t use lemon juice with cilantro when you’ve got lime juice in the house, so that all got changed too. Got the cakes fried up in the cast iron, took a bite, and just like the first 2 recipes, I figured this one was a winner! Out I went to give Dennis a taste and held my breath, and finally got the reaction I was looking for! He loved these cakes and gladly ate the rest of the cake when I offered it to him! Baking and cooking is hit or miss when I am experimenting, and I can get pretty disappointed if all I get for my efforts is a recipe that is ‘okay’ at best, or just an all out flop. But when I can hit the mark and come up with a winner, it makes my day to see Dennis excited and enjoying something I have made! And now we also have a couple of new recipes for our books, too. Life is good.

So this morning I started out with a bunch of leftover ingredients, and a recipe for pasta salad, but ended up with a Greek vinaigrette pasta salad with fresh veggies and feta cheese. It is great, but I will probably never make it again since I would be the only one eating it. This recipe is a draw.

A recipe for cinnamon zucchini cookies ended up being yellow squash and nutmeg bars with a lemon glaze. This recipe was a contender. It was really good, but not quite there. Once we figured out the glaze though, it’s a winner in the second round!

And finally a recipe for tuna zucchini cakes with parsley and lemon ended up being more zucchini and less tuna with cilantro and lime. This recipe is a winner right out of the gate and is going in the books! Woohoo!

Life is good.

Jump To Top

***********************************************

Grammy Nellie Is Still Showing Me The Way

I was going through “Colleen’s Kitchen” here on our website to see which recipe should go up next, and realized that there seems to be a story with each one. That got me to wondering why each recipe seems to stand out somehow to me. At my age, it seems that all my recipes should be well established and pretty much rote. My maternal grandmother didn’t even use recipes. When asked why, she explained that she had become a young wife and mother in the depression when people cooked with what they had, which wasn’t much, and what there was in the 40’s was rationed. This is the awesome lady who helped teach me how to cook without either one of us even realizing it. Looking back, I can see she taught me just through our conversations during visits on a Sunday afternoon, or while cleaning up after dinner together. Tips and hints would come up while she was cooking, or while we were talking about old family, or about days gone by. Or when I would peek over her shoulder while she was making jams and she’d say “Always put a little pat of butter in the jam during a rolling boil to keep it from boiling over.” She would still visit and chat but would also be constantly stirring a batch of fudge on the stove, and then take the pot and set it into a sink with some cool water. “That’s my secret” she would announce conspiratorially, “to put the pan in water right from the stove and keep stirring! Everyone says to let it cool first, but I don’t!” Grammy was just visiting and talking, but evidently I was taking it all in, even though all that glorious information was of no use to me at the time.

After all, what I was doing to feed my tiny family of three during this time could not have been considered ‘cooking.’ It was not completely my fault though, as I had a completely dysfunctional kitchen! We lived in one of the 2 apartments of my paternal grandfather’s house, and he – in his misguided wisdom – did not believe in counters. Or cabinets. Amazing. Counters and cabinets only invited clutter, he said. So, my cooking became very simple fare, such as breaded and baked pork chops or chicken, with a side of canned veggies and a box of Rice-A-Roni. Sometimes I splurged on a bag of frozen stir-fry and added my own beef or chicken. Woohoo! Every now and then I would decide to try ‘real cooking’ and would fill a pot with water, throw in some cut up beef and fresh veggies, set it to boil and wonder why it’s not turning into beef stew! Ha! Thinking back on my efforts can really make me cringe! I did manage a few things out of the ordinary though. When I expressed an interest in bread-making, my grandmother told me it was not as scary as I thought, and it didn’t require special cookware. So I dove in, and Gram walked me through it by phone if I got stuck. I got pretty good at making cinnamon swirl bread, still Alysia’s favorite! And I muddled my way through canning jam and my great grandmother’s special piccalilli, too. But there was no incentive to improve my basic cooking skills, and by the time I was in my late 30’s and it was just my daughter and me to feed, my meal preparation skills were minimal at best.

It was not until I was 40 years old – and just about overnight – went from being a single mom with one kid, to being a wife and mom with SIX kids, on a budget, that I had no choice but to figure out this cooking stuff, and quick! My grandmother was quite elderly at this point, and my mom worked full time and was always out and about with her hubby, so I was on my own. It was while I was struggling and plowing through trying to make homemade meals that Grammy’s tips would suddenly pop into my mind, helping me, and calming me, and making me feel like I could do this. Slowly but surely, I figured out what would work to feed all these hungry kids, and how to get it on the table hot. It has been an 18 year evolution so far, and still to this day, even though she has been gone for almost as long as I have been down here, Grammy is still helping me. Sometimes though, she has to work a little harder to get her point across.

We have hard water here, and it made canning time a dreaded struggle! Fighting the residue that boiling water would produce was taking all the fun out of canning for me. Jars could not be boiled in our tap water or there would be residue on the inside of the jars. If I took the time to wipe the jars out, they would not be hot enough to be filled. We finally used distilled water to boil the empty jars, but used tap water to can the full jars, and it was an annoying pain to clean them all after canning. Finally, one day we were canning pickles and one of the jars broke during the canning process, spilling the contents out. When I saw the broken jar, I was not happy. But then I realized that there was no residue at all on any of the jars! Just then, I was transported back to my grandmother’s kitchen, looking over her shoulder and hearing her say clear as day, “If you have hard water and want to can, just pour a little vinegar into the canning water. It won’t hurt anything and will keep your jars and canner clean!” Thanks for making canning fun again, Gram! Sorry it took you smacking me over the head to remember that one! Ha!

Cooking, baking, and canning did not come naturally to me and each recipe has been a process. It is enjoyable and cathartic for me now, but it was not always thus. Oh no. It was necessity and determination that got me here – actually it was mostly necessity since I found that feeding hungry kids is about the only way to shut them up! Ha! But I was not able to draw on my stores of information or even my imagination, since I had neither, to get these meals on the table. It took somebody asking for something special that would get me going in a certain direction. And then if something wasn’t working anymore, I’d have to go in another direction. For example, if homemade sliced bread wasn’t being gobbled up anymore, I’d try biscuits. If beef stew was inexpensive to make, but got left uneaten because it was ‘boring’, I’d try leaving out the potatoes and serving it poured over mashed potatoes. It seems to be a never ending process, one that involves discussions and figuring out options so that the meal will be liked and eaten. So I guess the reason that every one of my recipes has a story to go with it is because every one of my recipes is a new experiment and discovery for me involving the people in my life. My cooking and recipes are tied in closely with being part of a family and bringing everyone together for a meal. And that’s the best part.

Jump To Top

***********************************************

4th of July Memories

I can’t remember the summers of my adult life until I married Dennis. Summers before Dennis were just a slightly warmer time of the year, and it was easier to get around without all the winter coat & boots, and snow. That’s really all I can remember, and I guess that’s a tip off of how much I despised winters up north! Ha!

And then I met Dennis and life changed completely. Our life together began in the summer and from that moment on, summers sparkled. What made the summers sparkle? Fireflies at night, and heat shimmering off the pavement since the sun seemed to be so much brighter here. They sparkled because we had kids and pets galore mucking everything up, which for some crazy reason, I thought was fun and hilarious. And with 6 kids everything became a major endeavor to figure out, like when we took off to Florida to meet Dennis’ parents and we had to rent a van to fit everyone in and we were still squished. Heck, just a run into Dunkin’ Donuts for breakfast for everyone became memorable because of the looks we would get when the order never seemed to end.

That very first summer, we had decided to visit Dennis’ parents in Florida so we could all meet. We finally pulled into the driveway of his parents’ modest 5 room home they had retired to, and were greeted with open arms by Dennis’ mom even though we had a crowd of kids spilling out of the van ready to invade her house, and Dennis’ sister and her family were already there staying, too! It looked like a flop house by the time everyone was bedded down. There was a last call for the bathroom, because if anyone got up to go during the night, there was no way to make it there without stepping on several people on the way! I knew I would love Dennis’ mom when we were woken up by a flash of light in the morning. No one believed her when she said there were so many people staying over, so she got out her camera and started taking pictures of everyone sleeping everywhere! She made me laugh.

There was a lot of noise that day. So many people meeting, and visiting, laughing, and needing to be fed! It was like running a camp cafeteria that week. Big pots, paper plates, yelling (and trying to remember) every kid’s name to see if they got a plate, and Dennis’ mom loved every second of it! After that, it was off to Disney World! This may sound strange, but even though we weren’t married yet, I consider this to have been our honeymoon. It was crazy, chaotic, and stressful also, but it was a grand time filled with a lot of vivid memories for me. I remember the van was blindingly white and hot to the touch, and when I opened the back door, kids, strollers, toys, hats, and sunglasses all literally fell out! I still remember my mouth dropping open at the sight and laughing right out loud. I also remember that the 4 oldest kids did not share my amusement and were anxiously awaiting their freedom inside the park. We had promised them, and to be honest, we really didn’t feel like having eyes rolled at us all day anyway, so off they went once inside, to the relief of us all! We all met up later, including Dennis’ parents and his sister and her family, to watch the parade after dark. Lots of memories from that day, it was definitely a summer day that sparkled.

Another vivid memory was at the end of that day when I got my very first glimpse into how Alex’s mind works. He was just 3 yrs old, and he was barely even talking still. Anyway, Dennis had found a remote control button in the front seat for the back van door, and had surprised and confounded the kids and me, by just waving his hand to open the back door while nonchalantly leaning against the front seat. Well, it took Alex just two times watching this (very closely, evidently) because when Dennis tried to pull it off a third time, Alex took off at a full run to head him off and press the remote button himself! We were all shocked and started laughing since none of us had picked up on what Dennis was doing, but the little 3 yr old squirt did! I have to say that we were all pretty impressed with our little fella!

It was also during this trip that I, and all of our amazingly well-behaved children, had the privilege of meeting Dennis’ mom’s dad, Big Pepere. What a wonderful, upbeat, and loving man he was! It was to be the last time we all would see him sadly, but it was such a joyful visit. I have a prized photo of Dennis and Big Pepere sitting side by side, wearing the same style sunglasses, which the kids really got a kick out of! To me, the photo looks like kindred spirits.

But that was all the first year. Trips like that were just impossible by the next year because Dennis had left Corporate America and was teaching instead. There were to be no extra funds for traveling with 6 kids after that! That did not mean that summers did not sparkle though! We only had 3, or sometimes 4, of the older kids during the school year, but we would pick up the youngest for the summer every year. Summers were for long lazy days of swimming and hanging around, fishing, trips to the ball park, and celebrating the 4th of July, which was the only holiday we were sure to be together for every year, and we would celebrate with a barbecue all day long, and fireworks at night. We never felt the urge to join in the crowds for the big public displays, so we would pick up a HUGE box of fireworks to set off here at home on our hill. I was worried that would disappoint the older kids, but then I found out they were all pyromaniacs and just loved setting them off for us! I can well remember them also waking each other up on the morning of the 4th by throwing ‘poppers’ at their sleeping siblings! Such love abounds, eh? Between the poppers going off, the dog barking at the noise, and me yelling to knock it off, it always set the tone for the rest of the day! Ha!

Over time, as the kids got older, they started inviting their friends, and their dates, and the new neighbors moved in and were invited, and they started inviting their friends and family, and bringing food, and lawn furniture, and one year we looked around and realized that our little family day-long celebration had turned into a bit of a block party with maybe 40 or 50 people! Preparations started 2 or 3 days before for me in the kitchen, with Dennis and the kids raking and cleaning up outside. The lawn furniture from next door started making its way down here the day before, and the pool toys were inflated and thrown in the pool until we couldn’t even see the water anymore. We’d be up at dawn on the 4th to get the smoker going and finish setting up, and by early afternoon, the pilgrimage to our backyard had started, the pool was filled with screaming, happy kids plowing their way through all the toys, the coolers were being filled by the guests bringing their own, the smoker and grill were both going full blast, the big kids were setting off small fireworks, and everybody was eating, visiting, talking, and laughing. Good times.

We had added things over time until it was almost like our own little carnival. We had cornhole and horseshoes set up, I passed out themed hats, necklaces, and such, we started splurging for holiday theme plates, desserts were red, white, and blue, and when the sun started setting and it was too early for fireworks but the kids were getting antsy, we had a s’more station set up. Then out came the fireworks glasses, the glow sticks to turn into bracelets and necklaces, and the sparklers. I remember one moment, after putting away a bunch of food, I heard Dennis call me to say the fireworks were starting so I walked outside. It was twilight, and I was coming up from behind everyone facing the fireworks about to be set off in the cul-de-sac. Everywhere I looked, I saw people. People in chairs, on blankets on the ground, parents holding kids, some of them still wet from the pool & wrapped in towels, some lazily playing with sparklers that were hissing and spitting, the kids were wearing glowing necklaces and bracelets and waving around glow sticks, and all the guests were glowing too! It was toned down at that point by sheer exhaustion and anticipation, the air was filled with quiet and excited chatter. It felt like the most perfect moment, one we all wish for when we think of holiday gatherings. The sight of it all was just so peaceful, and I was immersing myself in it, breathing deeply and being so thankful for this time.

KA-BOOM! I should have known not to take my eyes off Steven. It was right at that moment, he chose to set off one of those firework bombs ‘just to get our attention!’ Sheesh! The moment was gone, replaced by excitement, oohs and aahs over the blasts of light and sound, until finally, after midnight, the last of the revelers wandered off home. By dawn’s early light, all there was to see was what looked like the aftermath of a hurricane! It always took 2 days to clean, but we laughed & smiled the whole time talking about everything that happened.

And then life changed again. We have been together for nearly 2 decades now, long enough for the kids to all grow up and move out. The big bashes have gone by the wayside now, and it is just the two of us for the holiday. The neighborhood has changed around us, and where we would hear fireworks being set off for days around the 4th, we didn’t even hear enough for the dogs to get upset over this year. (Ok, it’s quite possible it was just our kids making all that noise in the past!) So life changes and we adapt, but we still find ways to make summers sparkle. Right now, we have to get ready for the weekend visit to Alysia and Al’s with a run to the market, and there’s still some post holes to be dug for the new chicken coop, I’m only halfway through my raking project, and our gardens need tending, and so many other projects that keep us busy and our summers sparkling!

Jump To Top

***********************************************

So this is how it all works around here:

Me: Do you have any thoughts about where this should be planted?

Dennis: In the ground.

Me: Ha Ha. I would like your input here, can we discuss this?

Dennis: The only thing to discuss is where you want this planted. It’s YOUR garden.

Me: I know it’s MY garden, but sometimes you have good ideas. But if you are going to be obnoxious about it, then I pick this spot.

Dennis: Well, I would put it over there, and let me tell you why.

At this point I can hear nothing but my blood pressure rising! But at least I finally got him into a discussion about where the dang stuff should go! Even now just sitting here writing this, I am shaking my head and laughing to myself because it is the same every. single. time. I don’t know why it has to be this way, but I do know that good things come of it when we are both figuring something out.

It always starts out as a simple request, but Dennis is an engineer and when presented with a request or dilemma, the wheels in his head start turning. Our whole yard transformation started years ago, when I was looking disdainfully at the broken up cement at the top of steps at the edge of the driveway. All I said was “Do you think if I cleaned out the cement and put some soil in here, I could have a little garden instead of an eyesore?” Well, yes, we made it so! Dennis even lined it with rocks to keep the soil in and Voila! But it was not to end there. Ohhhh no no no no. Once he got the idea into his head, we had gardens popping up all over the place. He would ask where I would like a raised garden, and between the two of us, we would figure it out, and he would build it.

Then he started building rock walls around them, and that got MY wheels turning. If there was an eyesore that was just eroding away, I got my master rock wall builder to enclose the area and we’d have a new garden. Eighteen years down the road here, and I am constantly remarking that it is eye candy out there. Although, it is not the floral explosion I originally had in mind! Ohhhh no no no no. Between the over abundance of shade, unfriendly clay instead of soil, and the ravenous deer, I have had to learn to appreciate different shades of green, variegated leaf colors, and fuzzy or thorny leafed plants to fill out my gardens. I learned what some deer resistant flowers were thanks to this conversation I had at the local farmer’s market:

Me: I need some deer-resistant flowers.

Farmer: *snorts* Buckshot

Me: Is that a flower?

Farmer: No, you put it in a gun.

Me: *Stares farmer down & he can tell I’m not going anywhere*

Farmer: Fine! I got some Lantana, the deer don’t like the feel of the leaves on their tongues…USUALLY. But if they’re hungry, they will eat anything!

Me: Thanks! I’ll take the Lantana. *smiling happily*

So, I learned that fuzzy or thorny leafed plants are least likely to be eaten. I also learned to hunt in the woods for ferns to transplant because if they grow in the shade of the woods, they should grown in my shade, etc. So I always start out with a simple idea for my plants, but Dennis sees what I am trying to do, and he always finds a way to put it over the top for me. He suggests something, I get on board, his wheels start spinning, we get the ground work laid out, and I go and get the first plant ready to be transplanted and ask:

“Do you have thoughts on where this should be planted?”

“In the ground.”

*sigh*

Jump To Top

***********************************************

Once Upon A Time….

We have been asked a few times how we started on this journey of ours. I have always thought of it as something that evolved over time. But I guess if someone gave me a pushpin, and stood me in front of a timeline where I had to pick one single moment, it would be when our heating and cooling system finally died on us a few years back. We had been nursing it along, spending several hundred dollars on it the summer before, only to have the repairman inform us that his next visit would be to replace the whole thing. When the system did indeed break down for good, we just couldn’t face taking on another bill and were completely unwilling to go deeper in debt. We had just barely gotten a foothold on our finances after 15 years of struggling and sinking deeper. So we said no. N.O. Period. Luckily, we stood together on this in full agreement. Truth be told, I think we surprised each other how adamant we were to do this, because what we were refusing to do, was what everyone we knew would think of as non-negotiable. You did not live in the heat of NC and CHOOSE not to repair your air conditioning! But we did, and we felt strongly about it. We were not willing to stay on this road going nowhere spinning our wheels. We had no inkling of the journey or life changes we had set in motion with this simple rebellion.

Our system had failed once before, years earlier, and it was a simple repair of a fuse. However, we did not know this and never called a repairman since it was summer and we were living on a shoestring. Dennis had started teaching by then and he had no income during the summer. I, however, was working 3rd shift at the grocery store, and I recall very, very clearly how horrendous that summer was for me trying to sleep during the heat of the day with no air conditioning. It didn’t help that all the bedrooms were upstairs where it was even hotter, we still had all the kids living at home, and I couldn’t even close the door and windows for quiet. Well, I could, but breathing is something I like to do! Ha! Before the next summer came around, Dennis had a friend come to check it out and we were back on track for the cost of some home canned applesauce and jam!

It was a decade or so later that the system broke down for good, but even so, the memory of how difficult that summer had been without air conditioning was still fresh in my mind. However, when faced with either going backward financially (again) in order to have an air conditioned house, or finally gaining some control financially at the cost of sweating a bit, we chose to sweat. I was nervous about it, but we figured we had a pool to cool off in, and I was working at the school by then, which meant I wouldn’t be trying to sleep during the heat of the day. So we held hands, stood up on that ledge we were sitting on, and took a leap of faith into the unknown.

The first thing that happened was that instead of hiding inside all day to avoid the heat, we started migrating outside immediately, all the time. We weren’t mindlessly watching TV or finding things to do to ward off the boredom of being trapped in an air conditioned house. Adjustments were made – meals were grilled when possible to keep the heat out of the kitchen, the seldom used patio set was now our dining table for every meal, lawn chairs were strategically placed all over the property so that no matter where the sun was, we always had a shady spot to land in, and we found a way to have both dogs outside at the same time to help keep them cool too. We started taking a real interest in our property outdoors instead of just a lackluster effort to garden that we gave up on during the heat. Now we were outside for the bulk of the day, and each of us gravitated towards new projects. Dennis had been building me small gardens in spots over the years for my flowers, but now he had decided to try his hand at growing our own vegetables. He started by reading and researching on what would work up here on our hill, and by watching the sun patterns on the property, and then building raised beds in the spots that he thought would be the best for growing vegetables.

I, on the other hand, decided it was finally time to reclaim our little plot of land back from the woods and started raking, woods and all! It took me the entire summer, two rakes, and countless pairs of work gloves to do it, but in the end, I had done virtually the entire 1/2 acre. I say ‘virtually’ because I had finally run out of all steam, but still had just one area of maybe 10’ X 10’ left. It was a tough spot too, with 20 years of leaves to rake through and wheelbarrow out. I was like the marathon runner who could see the finish line, but was collapsing. I just so wanted to finish! I had done the whole, entire 1/2 acre with just a hand rake, and yet I couldn’t even make myself get up, let alone rake out that patch. I was just sitting there dejected, staring at this patch, when along comes Dennis. He had been teasing me all summer long about my crazy project of ‘raking the woods’, but that day when I couldn’t do one thing more, he sat me on a big rock in the shade, took the rake from me and went to work raking out that patch for me. He had that spot cleared in about an hour, hauled out the leaves, and when he was finished, he said “There! Now you have cleaned up the whole lot and can see where the property lines are!” He was my hero that day and it made me want to marry him all over again. <3

After that, we went to cool off in the pool. This was another ritual that evolved from having no air conditioning. We had gotten the pool for the boys for when they lived with us during the summers. They no longer played in it by this point in time, but it was there, so Dennis would get in every couple of days to clean it. Other than that, it just sat there looking pretty. Now, however, it became the oasis at the end of the day for us. I don’t suppose I should admit it became our bath time too, but it did! Ha! We would swim around cleaning the pool (we clean it from inside the pool by creating a whirlpool and scooping everything up when it ends up in the center) and then we would relax and this time became our quiet discussion time. We would talk about the day, what we got done, what we think we would like to do the next day, toss ideas we might have back and forth, cheer ourselves on our victories, laugh at our efforts that didn’t work out so well, and talk about our dreams for the future. It is a lovely time for us now, cooling off at the end of the day in the pool that had been so neglected until we started our journey together.

It has become a lifestyle for us that we would never have thought we would enjoy and love this much. We had no idea we would end up here, but there’s no going back for us now. We have made so many discoveries and had so much fun so far that we look forward with excitement to continuing our “Journey of a Lifetime!”

Jump To Top

***********************************************

Colleen Takes A Spin Down Memory Lane….

One of the things Dennis and I did during our few short months of being ‘empty nesters’ was to take dance lessons. Yes, indeed! We were enjoying our freedom and had taken to hanging out at the local country music dance club, and we wanted to learn how to do the two-step and line dances so we could join in. We ended up at a dance studio for lessons, but we were struggling with the instructor assigned to us, and we were losing interest fast. She was tiny, maybe 5’ 1”, and soft spoken; and Dennis & I are…well, NOT tiny nor soft spoken in any way, shape, or form. Not only couldn’t we hear her, but having someone significantly smaller than we are trying to show us dance moves is no more effective than dancing with a child. I was waiting for her to step onto the tops of our feet to dance! Ha! She also did not get our sense of humor or find our cracking each other up amusing at all. I am pretty sure by the side looks she was giving us that if she could, she would have written us up for detention. Not that we would have minded at that point! This snippy little snippet was always pushing us to learn the salsa, or the rumba, which we had no interest in, and told us the two-step lessons, which we were interested in, were on a different night. Blah blah blah, this girl was no fun!

And then one day she was late, or sick, or overbooked, or something. Whatever it was, we found our dance salvation in a new instructor! A tall, young man with a voice we could hear, good clear instruction that made the dance steps easier for us to figure out, and yes, he even had a sense of humor! We started to enjoy the lessons again, so we stayed with him for the duration of our classes. The classes didn’t last much longer, though, as both our money and freedom were running out once the children started finding their way home again, but no matter. In that short amount of time, Dennis and I learned the basics of the waltz and we loved it. One night our new teacher was trying to convince us to try the rumba again and we had reluctantly agreed, but the music that came on over the speakers was a waltz…and not just any waltz. It was Moon River. This song melts me every time. I love this song so much that I refuse to listen to it very often because I never, ever want it to get ‘old’ and to lose that little gasp of excitement when I hear the first strains.

The room was full of students and teachers ready to rumba, and our teacher said “Ok, while the DJ figures out the music, I’m going to do a quick demonstration of a rumba step…” However, when we heard Moon River begin, Dennis and I just looked at each other with a glint in our eyes and without saying a word, we abandoned our instructor and the rumba and just took off, losing ourselves in a glorious waltz in each other’s arms. There were no faltering steps or hesitation, we just floated and twirled an absolutely perfect waltz the whole way around the room. The room was packed, but they actually cleared the way for us, and I heard one lady say “Look how pretty they dance.” I will never forget the bliss of that lovely waltz we had on Moon River, and I still smile and sigh when I think of it to this day, 15 years later.

And it doesn’t even matter that we never did learn the two-step!

Jump To Top

***********************************************

The Things You Find….

Yesterday was one of those days. I had not planned the chaos of a major clean out that ensued – only to sweep out from under the shelf in the kitchen. But then I saw the cobweb. The BIG cobweb that looked like a city. There were lots of dead bugs in it which I will admit I was grateful for, but it was obviously time to do a big clean! I had been wanting to move some things downstairs that I did not use very often so there would be room for those that do get used a lot anyway.

So, one by one, each box and sundry came off the shelves, both shelves got pulled out, curtains came down, and everything got washed. As everything got pulled out, I spotted an old envelope tucked into the baseboard. Opening it and realizing what was inside was one of those moments that makes you catch your breath. It was a handwritten thank you note from Dennis’ mom who sadly passed away 9 years ago, along with a page from a newspaper with several muffin recipes on it. She had sent it up with the note which is probably why it was in the kitchen rather than safely put aside. The note was from 2006, thanking us for going down to Florida and staying the week to help her care for Dennis’ father who had just had back surgery. When we got the call, we didn’t hesitate to put our beloved Jasmine into the kennel, pack up the car and drive the 14 hours it took to get there. We spent a lovely week, actually. Mom only needed us as backup in case anything happened, and for someone to be there so she could run her errands and such. I spent the week cooking meals and freezing them in single serve portions so Mom could have a break from cooking when we left, Dennis took over all the chores Dad would have done, including some gardening Mom had been wanting to do, and we all got to visit quite a bit. I well remember the talks we would have with Mom sitting in her favorite red wingback chair, leaning over to grab her latest knitting project out of a huge Christmas tin emptied of the popcorn that had come in it. Mom was an avid and talented quilter, but she also liked knitting and crocheting because she could pick it up and put it down quickly. She was someone who could not sit still and was always working on something. If I could have chosen one thing to remember her by, it would have been that red wingback chair, and the Christmas tin with her knitting in it. I do believe she would have absolutely loved being a part of our homesteading journey and we do miss not having her with us for it.

It was bittersweet to find that letter in her own hand. It had been hiding for years, but I figure when she saw I was cleaning out, she decided it was a good way to say ‘hello’ to us. We love and miss you dearly, Mom!

Jump To Top

***********************************************

15 Minutes in the House of Boudreau

(Colleen ran across this short piece she had written a year or two ago and thought it would make a great addition to her collection of stories.)

I was rudely awakened last night at 11PM by my dogs barking at Louis coming in, so once again I did not sleep well and was taking a nap after work today. Fifteen minutes ago, the dogs once again woke me up when Dennis and Alex came in from school. They were both rushing around trying to get ready to go out hunting for a couple of hours before the sun sets so I figure it’s time for me to get up. As I was sitting on the bed trying to wake up, I could hear the boys were arguing. I started to tell Dennis something, but he cut me off in an irate voice asking if the boys were really arguing or not. They were, but Louis always has a way to diffuse an argument. Evidently Louis was trying to tell Alex a story that Alex did NOT want to hear at which point Louis demanded if he was going to listen or not. Alex responded in an equally LOUD voice “DO I LOOK LIKE I WANT TO HEAR IT?” Louis answered “YOU LOOK WITH YOUR GLASSES AND LET ME JUST SAY THEY LOOK FABULOUS ON YOU!” At this point they are both laughing and still shoving each other and arguing and I inform Dennis they are only kidding around. So Dennis asks what I was saying, but I have forgotten completely. He thinks I’m just pissed off and starts yelling he’s got dogs barking and kids fighting and I yell back that I know what he’s got and I was sound asleep when it all started! At this point the dogs go into histrionic barking over someone pulling into the driveway, Louis is screaming some inane thing at them about already having enough Avon or something like that, and it turns out to be Steven whom we haven’t seen since his weeklong vacation so that’s a good thing. Dennis and Alex are still trying to get out of the house while visiting quickly, the dogs are still barking, Dennis can’t find some oil he needs to clean his gun with when he comes home and Steven immediately rats out Alex who left it at Steven’s house 2 weeks ago. I point out that at 29 he should be over ratting out his brother but this only makes both of us laugh! Steven has also just announced he is taking Louis with him on an errand for which I am grateful – being the loving mother I am! It was about this time that Louis is amazed at finding money in his pocket and Steven puts him in a headlock trying to get it from him and they are wrestling and bumping off walls shaking my pictures. Once that is settled, Steven asks if Louis wants to spend the night at his house but Louis has a date. Steven is a little hurt but takes it well…right before he sucker punches Louis except not in his face, but below the belt if you get my meaning! Steven walks out laughing while Louis is crumpled on the floor with his father standing over him looking down with a grin asking if he’s okay. He is and he jumps up after a minute and I offer the opinion that maybe he should cancel his date if he’s gonna talk like a girl all night anyway! So everybody’s talking and laughing and the dogs are barking, doors are slamming, cars and trucks are pulling out, and then it happens: Silence. Even the dogs are quiet and all I hear is the echo of all that chaos and the hum of the refrigerator. And then I realize I’ve only been awake for 15 minutes. Wow.

Jump To Top

**********************************************

Something Fishy

I spent a lot of time at my Aunt Sarah’s house as a kid. She was my grandmother’s sister, and she had these ceramic ballet dancer figurines hanging on the wall in her bathroom that just enthralled me. Thirty years later, as I am standing in our guest bathroom that had just been painted yellow with an abstract fish border at the top, I suddenly decided that what the walls needed were ceramic ballet dancers. It made no sense – abstract fish and ballet dancers, I know, but once I have a bee in my bonnet…

So off I went to eBay to find some, and evidently I have very good taste because the figurines were selling for much more than I was willing or able to pay. Bah! I kept looking around in my disappointment and happened upon some bright and colorful fish. Hmmm, I figured I could make do with some pretty fish. They were a good price, too, so they were ordered, but I didn’t tell Dennis. He was not ‘on board’ with my idea, so I wanted to make sure they looked as good as the picture first. But they actually were better than the picture and I was tickled pink when they came in. I excitedly showed them to Dennis who responded with confusion and an eye roll, and that caused me to hesitate, but then I just went ahead and informed him that I had found and ordered starfish and seahorses as well!! Woohoo!

A couple of years later, I came across 3D portholes quite by chance, and they just HAD to be added to my bathroom walls! The portholes came with 25 fish stickers too, and that was just another added bonus in my eyes! So many eye rolls from the family! The kids would scream when they went in, exclaiming that they were being attacked by a shark, or an eel was winding around their leg and they were about to be electrocuted, or they couldn’t swim and were drowning, and on and on. They all made me laugh…and roll my eyes!

I did find ways to get back at them, though. My favorite was to catch someone on their way in and ask them to come out and exclaim how much they love the fish decor. I would laugh and laugh at the looks of horror when the family heard someone going on about loving it! Oh yes, this bathroom provided much too much enjoyment for this family, let me tell you!

And then one day, after I had cleaned it and was looking around to be sure I hadn’t missed anything, I realized that for all their moaning and groaning, nearly every member of the family had added something to the ocean theme. Hanging from the ceiling, there is a seahorse on a swing; there are 2 conch shells, along with some smaller shells and pretty rocks; someone added a Happy Meal ‘Nemo’ toy; one of the kids made a puzzle and glued it to a hard back and hung it up; and there is even a soap dispenser in the shape of a fish. All I ever put in this room were the fish on the walls. This bathroom seems to be our family’s ‘running joke’ and we have all had a hand in the decor. Thank goodness those fish stickers can be peeled off and used again in our new bathroom whenever we finally move! Won’t my family be excited when they find our fish bathroom from the old place in our new place?! Oh boy!! I can hear the happy sounds of astonishment already!

Jump To Top

***********************************************

Thanks Grandpa!

Thirty some-odd years ago, when my oldest daughter was an infant, I headed out to my maternal grandparents’ country home on a Sunday, and ended up down in the basement visiting with my grandfather while he was fishing out something my grandmother needed. Why? It was most likely because someone grabbed my kid for a cuddle and I took the opportunity to escape for a break, hoping she would get passed around for awhile! Yeah, I have always qualified for Mom of the Year! Ha! Anyway, I noticed the sole plant down there needed watering, so I took care of that. Grandpa noticed and commented that it only got watered once a week now – on Mondays when Grammy did her laundry down there. The stairs were becoming difficult, and the plant didn’t like being upstairs so it stayed downstairs in its cold and sunny spot, un-watered for the most part.

I had always loved that plant, not only because it looked like shamrocks and had pretty pink flowers every so often, but also because of the history of it. It was older than Grandpa himself and he loved to tell me he found out how old it was when he almost knocked it over as a kid, and his mother scolded him, saying that he should be more respectful because the plant was there first! Grandpa always got a chuckle from that memory.

I mentioned that I hoped the plant would make it through the summer with only being watered once a week, and Grandpa asked if I would like to have it. I was floored! Of course I would love it, but I was not so confident that I could guarantee it wouldn’t die! Oh, he was not worried as long as I could find a spot for it.

I thought about the 150 year old un-insulated Victorian house I lived in and knew I had quite a few spots I could find for it. So, home it went with me. I even got myself a ceramic planter and stand to put it in and there it lived happy and healthy in my cold but sunny bay window for 15 years. Every time Grandpa visited, he made sure to check on it, and always had a pleased smile of approval at how well it was doing. I loved being the caretaker of such a special plant.

And then life changed. All of a sudden, I and my ticked off teenage daughter are moving to North Carolina to start anew. Good-bye to the old Victorian house and so many other possessions accumulated over the years. All we could take would be mailed in boxes, or shoved into my little hatchback car next to said pissed off daughter. The plant and plant stand were among the few things squeezed in to the car. It all worked out in the end, we all adapted and made our new lives here, with the exception of this cherished oxalis plant that Grandpa entrusted me with so many years before. There just didn’t seem to be any way to keep it cool enough despite the constant air conditioning. Even the sun down here was too much for this former glutton for sunshine, and I just couldn’t find the right spot to make it happy. I tried and tried to find a spot in our home it would like and thrive in. Alas, the oxalis limped along for a couple of years, until we had to travel for a few days and it didn’t get watered. That was the death knell for it, and there was nothing that was going to coax it back to life this time. My grandfather had passed away by this time, so losing this plant was just absolutely heartbreaking for me.

The plant sat dead in the planter for a few weeks until finally I just had to accept that it was time to throw my cherished oxalis out. My grandmother had always told me to never throw plants out in the garbage. Throw them out in the yard somewhere for compost for the other plants, and maybe -just maybe- it would seed itself and grow a new plant for you. So out it went to the woods line, dumped out with a heartfelt apology to my grandfather. I put a new plant in the planter, and I guess I got over losing the plant, knowing that I really did do everything I could to save it, but I did miss it and wish it could have handled the climate down here.

Years, maybe 5 or so, went by, and life continued happening and changing, seasons came and went, and we kept enjoying life. Although we are working and planning to move to a piece of land more suited to our wants and needs, we do appreciate the place we have now, and we love doing what we can to make it better. Our yard is defeating at times, but we don’t give up on it and we are outside all summer long enjoying it and working on it. I love walking around the yard checking to see how all the flowers are doing, but one year we couldn’t afford to buy flowers for the yard and I was making do by finding plants in the woods and transplanting them. I even made up a whole patch of ragweed because it was a pretty yellow flower! Ha! So there I was just standing in the yard, looking around to see if there was anything else we could use when I spotted a delicate pink flower surrounded by shamrocks. I looked around and realized they were sprouting up all over the place, and they looked just like my oxalis. But they couldn’t be! Could they? I looked straight down at my feet and realized there was almost a bouquet of oxalis, it was such a large patch! It was big enough to dig up and put in a large planter, so off I went and got a flowerpot and did just that. Then I could take a close look at it, trying not to get too excited, but then I saw that yes, this was a tubular plant!! Each flower was growing out if its own little tube and all the tubes were stuck together!! THIS WAS AN OXALIS IDENTICAL TO THE ONE I LOST!! Same shamrock leaves, same color flowers, everything! But instead of thriving in cold, it now was thriving in stifling heat! I know there are non-believers when I tell them this story, but I am absolutely convinced that the plant I threw out seeded itself and adapted to the climate as it regenerated itself, and it was my grandparents who made sure it happened so I could have my cherished plant back. A gift from the heavens that is still alive and well another 15 years later. Thanks Grammy & Grandpa! <3