Thoughts on a Garden

No matter the time of year, I find my garden to be a parable for the triumph of hope. The prep work of gardening in the spring is an investment of hard work and imagination; the payoff is not immediate. As I work, I picture the plants that will eventually flourish. In spring, my garden is a reminder that patience is a very good thing. The soil is dark, wet, and cold. There is plenty of waste that still needs removing, and it is sometimes hard to believe that things will not just grow, but will thrive in just a few short months.

I got a big start on my summer garden on the last weekend of spring break. In the sun, it was almost warm. I dug holes and then planted my dwarf fruit trees (it doesn't look like much now, but I'm hoping for some apples and pears next year), I turned over the soil in the patch reserved for vegetables and flowers, and I cleaned out my side flowerbed and planted bulbs for lots of summer day lilies, iris, acidanthera, freesia, anemone, and caladium blooms (75 bulbs are now in the ground, getting ready for summer).
Once I start digging in the soil, I recall the ironic dilemma of gardening: I spent hours devoted to getting some things to grow (the flowers and plants that I want, some more grass seed) and just as much time devoted to getting other things not to grow (weeds! crabgrass! dandelions!).

But the process has begun and though there is plenty of work yet ahead, there is also the contemplation of plenty to enjoy as well.

Behold Spring

Each year of my life (specifically, the years in which I have been walking), I've gotten a new pair of Keds in the spring. It's my personal celebration of the season. When I was a little girl, sometimes I would pick a color. But most often, my new Keds were white. Last year, in a sudden, bold change, I bought K-Swiss instead. But they were still white. The slight change felt good.

This year, I went all-out. The Spring sneakers are neither Keds nor are they white. I'm a rebel in (tough girl) khaki Keens.

No Inglés

JT takes Spanish at school and he seems to enjoy it. Lately, when we practice math facts, he answers in Spanish. But his most innovative use of the language is when I ask him to do something and he'd rather not comply. When that happens, he gives me a confused look and then says, "no inglés."

So when he's instructed to brush his teeth, or wash his face, or wash his hands, or, or, or......he just says, " no inglés."

I've got trouble on my hands.

Women's Basketball: Live-Blogging Round II

On occasion, I have live-blogged political events. And tonight, for reasons that seem sensible at this very moment, JT and I have decided that we will live-blog the NCAA Women's Basketball tournament. It's the start of round II tonight.

First off, I'd just like to say a very public thank you to Orbitz, this year's sponsor of the women's tournament. I think that we all remember when Monistat brought us the women's basketball half-time report on ESPN. That was un-cool. So thanks are due to Orbitz.

And observation number two......what is the deal with the Baylor coach's BIG hair? I went to high school in the 1980s and so I know big hair when I see it. Memo to Kim Mulkey: less hair gel, sugar.

8 pm update
We're watching the LSU-Marist game. LSU is playing at home and with the inestimable Sylvia Fowles in their corner. She's impressive but even so, LSU is only leading by two points at the half.

Also, JT just showed me the crud and lint in his belly button. I say this with love: it is nasty. If he had a better mama, the child would be clean.

8:40 pm update
Operations have been moved upstairs for the basketball season treat: watching from Mama's nest. Tiger has joined us. Soon my human companion will tuck his booty into my bed and watch a bit more basketball. He'd like to stay up late to watch the Rutgers game (we are big fans of the Scarlet Knights). but first the boy has to brush his teeth....3 minutes of lost viewing time. As he put it, "that's brutal, Mama."
9:06 pm
Pitt has pulled into a winning lead over Baylor. Mulkey's hair still huge, despite 8 point loss. Lucy is in the mix.
9:31 pm
We just watched Andrea Riley deliver the win for Oklahoma State. It was an exciting moment for a team that two years ago was 0-16 and is now headed to the sweet 16......but all that adrenaline is not exactly conducive to getting your 8 year old asleep.

9:43 pm
Live-blogging is over as I require all of my attention to watch Rutgers show Iowa State how we play the game here in Jersey. That game will be starting shortly.

But it must be said as I end my live-blogging experiment that the Doris Burke, Kara Lawson, Stacey Dales, Trey Wingo combination that ESPN is running at the desk is great. I like them all and it's a huge improvement over the Mimi days.

Go Rutgers!

Easter Sunday

An Easter report:

Between JT's excitement about the Easter egg hunt (there's much less tension in the hunt when you need not compete with a sibling),

lining up the colored eggs for one last admiring look before the deviled egg execution,

and the table ready with supper (fried chicken, funeral potatoes, fresh asparagus, deviled eggs, spring salad, homemade macaroni and cheese, hot rolls, plus cheesecake for dessert), I'd say we did Easter pretty well at Sassafras House.

March Madness

Last year, JT and I spent some quality time watching college basketball games in the NCAA tournament. This year, he's a more ferocious fan than ever. We stayed up late to watch the Bruins last night. Today, we delayed our trip to the grocery store until Western Kentucky got the job done.

It's most pleasant to have a basketball-watching companion, even if he does have an odd way of cheering while he's waiting for his team to shoot a free-throw.

Navigation Skills

In the nearly two years since I have been on my own, I've learned a lot of things about myself. But the primary lesson of the last two years is the necessity of being careful to navigate away from the prospect of pain. I've become adept at the process of avoidance.

A song comes on the ipod and reminds me of my former life. So I fast-forward through that tune. I pull out my collection of carved wooden bunnies and I remember past happy memories. Can I set those bunnies on the shelf without a daily reminder of how much things have changed? Mail addressed to her arrives in my mailbox and I remember when this was our home; a place where we once planned to grow old together. JT says or does something funny, and I want to share it with her but I know that I can't. Decisions --- small or large --- have to be made and I must do so on my own.

I try as much as possible to avoid anything that will cause me to recall past happiness. But I've grown weary of navigating life so as to avoid pain. Sometimes I wonder if the fear of an unexpected hurt is almost worse than the hurt itself. Hours in the day will pass by and I'm okay and then suddenly I am reminded of how my life has changed, and I'm not okay. I miss having a life complete with a past and a future. I miss loving and being loved in return. I wonder if I will ever achieve that again. Then I remind myself not to go down that path; because there are no answers and there are no guarantees.

And so I navigate away. I think I know where I've been. But I have no idea where I am headed.

Tiger 1; Mama 0

Since the start of Spring Break, Tiger and I have enjoyed the same dispute every morning. I sit at the table, drinking my coffee, and working on my computer. Tiger sits on the floor by my chair and announces his desire to sit in my lap. If I say no, he complains loudly. If I consent, he hops onto my lap and then demands to be petted so that I can no longer use the keyboard because my hands are occupied.

I typed this entry with just one finger.

Tiger 1; Mama 0.

Bed

The prompt at Sunday Scribblings this week is smorgasbord, by which they mean writers can choose any of the 102 prompts they've posted in the last two years. I looked at the list, let the ideas ramble about in my head, and have decided to write about my bed.

I think of my bed as my own personal nest. I've always felt that way. And my nest requirements are pretty exacting: soft sheets, lots of pillows, a good mattress that feels just cushy enough (I know it when I feel it), and the proper mix of covers. I like soft colors.....nothing too bold for me because, if it all works out, I'd like to sleep in this bed, not be energized. My current bed is pretty tall so I have to climb up on it. But I like that too: I feel like the princess and the pea (though there is no pea under my mattress).

I am a girl of exacting precision when it comes to the nest. The proper mix of covers varies with the seasons. In the very depth of winter, the proper mix is flannel sheets, a warm fleece blanket, down comforter in a flannel duvet cover, and on top of it all, my down quilt. That's the bed Lucy the cat is pictured in here.
With spring, the bed needn't be so warm, and I start scaling back the mix of covers. First to go is the extra down quilt, then the flannel sheets and flannel duvet cover get packed away. I re-mix the bed one layer at a time so that by the time summer arrives, I'll be down to poplin sheets and a nice heavy quilt (because mama likes her a/c). The picture below shows that bed.
I keep a few extra quilts on the shelf in my closet to add extra warmth as needed. As I think about it, the bed changes its mix nearly every month. And now I am wondering......perhaps what I identify as exacting precision is just being picky.

That's a post for another day.

Personal Best

JT slept in this morning until 10:30 am. Or, as he put it when he finally came downstairs, "I slept in. Are you happy?"

It would seem that well-rested = sassy.