True Calling

What is it about digging in dirt that is so intoxicating. At times, I wish I’d discovered this hobby earlier in life and perhaps I’d have gotten a degree in landscape design or horticulture. Of course, one co-worker I knew at a Kansas City software firm with a horticulture degree was doing technical writing because he couldn’t pay the bills as a horticulturalist with just a bachelor’s degree. Funny with both ended up doing the same job despite our very different educational fields of emphasis.

Maybe a person doesn’t just have one career in their life anyway. Many people change jobs and job areas of expertise along the way. Even doctors and lawyers specialize between administration, hands-on work, and consulting. Early on, you work to prove yourself professionally and financially, but at some point, your goals change to fulfilling other needs. You shift from getting your foot in the door to meaningful and inspiring. But, does the American Dream work against us when we become so entrenched with mortgages, car payments, and such to the point we feel trapped by our chosen lifestyle? Those who change careers by choice or through downsizing are often seen as unfortunate even though many would report being happier and more satisfied in the long term.

Doing meaningful work is critical to me in a very fundamental way. Having a soulful outlet to explore my ideas is invigorating whether I do it in the garden or a journal. Journaling is freeing as you can write whatever you like without limits while gardening is freeing in a different way because the plants don’t care when or how I care for them so long as I am there. When I consider the most satisfying jobs I’ve had, those that allowed me autonomy were the most satisfying, motivating, and productive. Jobs that required or used rigid methods and management styles felt suffocating, leaving me constantly wanting to escape the stifling and claustrophobic conditions.

As I consider the most challenging jobs I’ve encountered, I know that appreciating the motivations of others is critical to any task. Asking, “What is this person thinking here?” gets you into a mediation mentality to begin aligning their needs with your own. Also asking, “How important is this particular item/issue in the big picture?” is key to determining the amount of effort you should spend working to resolve your differences. The ironic thing is these strategies are useful for all types of personal relationships and not just at the office. I wonder why this knowledge was new to me and seemed inherent among my co-workers. How does one acquire certain work habits and tendencies, anyway? Are we born to work a certain way, or do we learn certain techniques that stick with us throughout our lives?

I wonder why I didn’t talk to my parents about career and life choices more. To some degree, I was looking to lead a different type of life and didn't want them judging my plans. Their traditional views on the role of women were the biggest difference between in how I wanted to live my life. To some degree, I know they wanted more for me even if they didn’t know exactly what more would mean for me personally. At any rate, I did become the first person on either side of my family to graduation from college and in doing so, broke from the blue-collar traditions that had governed my ancestry thus far.

My only real issue with higher education is that I believe colleges should do more to help students identify and plan their career goals and not just ensure they meet the requirements to get a given degree. You might like computer science, but being a software engineer may not be for you if you can't sit at a desk all day. Maybe teachers and doctors shouldn’t be the only ones who have to complete internships or residencies to graduate. Internships for all types of jobs would be a big indicator for students embarking on a career. I doubt colleges will change their ways, but it seems cruel to just give students a little bit of everything from the education buffet and expect them to go figure out how to make a career out of it.

We send our children to college thinking it will help them figure out what type of life they want, but is education alone enough. I wish I’d had someone to help me understand all the things floating through my head in college and somehow make some possible career ideas out of those thoughts. Then I wonder if it’s my job to do that for my kids? After all, I guess parents are the ones ultimately responsible for guiding their children into adulthood and beyond. Does asking these questions mean I know how my parents felt as they sent me to college? I guess I have unique insight having experienced a blue-collar upbringing and then working myself into the white-collar sect, so the benefits and drawbacks of each are quite familiar. The only real crossroads is choosing the path(s) that excite you and learning to make new dreams as you fulfill old ones along your journey.

Living with Alice

Everyone has had someone in their lives that has touched them so profoundly they can’t escape their presence even in death. This muse is so powerful and palpable it’s as if they’re always walking two steps behind you. For me, this person is my grandmother, Alice, who led a hard life and meager existence as a wife and mother of 10 children, nine of whom survive today. She was a homemaker, mother, gardener, seamstress, quilter, grandmother, counselor, nurse, and friend.

Her life, hardships, and dreams have always touched me and her influence abounds in my home among the quilts on the beds, expansive flower gardens, plants in kitchen windows, and sewing supplies tucked wherever I can find space. I had always been attracted to her laugh and spirit in spite of her depressed surroundings. Alice taught me to appreciate the simple, important things of life like cooking without a recipe and talking through problems over a sink full of dishes after a big meal.

The first time I noticed her incredible influence in my life was actually after her death when my husband, three boys, and I moved to the farm where we now live. I began doing things in which I’d had no training with ease and began recalling childhood memories of times spent with Alice sewing, canning, making cinnamon rolls, pulling weeds in her garden, band-aiding skinned knees, and erasing children’s tears with just a kiss.

I didn’t recognize these patterns as originating from Alice, really, until my mom was visiting one day and mentioned all the plants I had tucked on the south-facing windows of our kitchen. She said Alice always had plants in her kitchen windows yet I couldn’t recall that myself. Mom continued saying how Alice would have felt so at home in my flower gardens as they reminded her of Grandma Eakins’ endless flower gardens (Alice's mother). I realized I’d inherited more than just a few things from Alice. Somehow moving to a farm with established flower gardens inspired me to experiment enough to maintain the bounty we’d inherited with the property and gave me enough confidence to expand it exponentially. Now I can’t imagine living without plants and gardens to tend every day.

I remember Alice’s funeral where I did my usual trick of sneaking out of the body viewing line to avoid having my final memory of Alice as that of a shell in a coffin. I didn’t cry at her funeral because I knew she would be part of me forever. The life lessons she taught me still stick to me like glue because she had a way of getting you involved with the task so you would really know how to do it.

Near our farm, there’s a road we travel into town called Alice Road that leads to an unincorporated town called Alice. Like the gravestone that marks Alice’s final resting place, that road is just a marker leading to what was once a thriving entity that was erased by a tornado years ago. Like many small towns, it dried up and only has Alice Road to remind residents it was once more substantial. There are many such places in rural America, but this one interests me because of its familiar name.

Just before her death, she was placed in a nursing home due to rapid-onset Alzheimer’s disease, which had left her confused and unable to care for herself. When I visited her in the home, she didn’t know me and I just watched the stranger sit on her bed rocking back and forth crying and mumbling as my mom brushed her hair. It was as if her body had endured too much.

After her funeral, I went back to life as usual here on our farm but her presence began surfacing everywhere more and more. Sometimes I would cry because I missed her, but often times I found myself wanting to right all the wrongs that had been done to her in her life. I felt a strange sense of urgency to really love and care for my family and get joy out of all the normal day-to-day routines. Now I know why we moved to the farm ... because Alice wanted us to be there so she could watch over us. I like that image and enjoy thinking of her up there enjoying the view.

Junk Closet

Have you ever felt that you life is starting to feel like a junk closet that desperately needs cleaning, but is neglected for lack of time and energy? Not so long ago, that was me working at a utility company doing technical writing and business analysis. I kept putting off my writing goals by telling myself I was opting for the safe, secure career. The longer I continued with this, the more I unhappy I became with just earning a paycheck and working for companies who did not respect my values. I knew my emotional junk closet was reaching its limit and any moment the door would bust open spewing my unresolved ambitions everywhere.

When I resigned my 14-year career as an Information Technology (IT) Analyst to stay home and write, it was to prove I could make a living as a full-time writer. The first few months of my sabbatical were spent sifting through the junk where I discovered that I needed my talents to be used to sustain and inspire my family and me. The circle of life began to take on new meaning in realizing we are all products of those who reared us and those who reared them and so on.

All people wanted to be loved and appreciated but we cannot receive those gifts if we do not give of ourselves to help others. The act itself is what makes it worthwhile when you see how your sacrifices make life better for those around you. Then you will find others doing the same in return. Traditions like this have become lost in our fast-forwarded, multitasking lifestyles. We want our kids to learn faster, achieve their goals, and increase their earning potential in the hopes they will live happier and more stable lives. However, no one can do this without a strong support system (like family and friends) for stability, strength, and self-confidence to succeed.

Without support, we too easily become weak and confused eventually running out of steam and giving up. Confident people know failure provides valuable lessons for understanding how to change. Taking ownership of our weak points lets us modify our life plans when needed. Having a loving, supportive family offers a comfortable environment in which to work through problems and learn from failure.

It was then I realized that by neglecting my own dreams, I was too wiped out to support my family in their own dreams. My hectic life made it difficult to sort through the chaos and I had no time to make sense of my own thoughts. So, like many others, my junk closet kept getting fuller and Fuller and FULLER.

Sometimes we make necessary life changes automatically and other times we must be more deliberate about them. Usually, our instincts clue us in to what’s right for that moment so we know how to proceed. Yet our jam-packed lives make it all but impossible to wade through the chaos much less have time to make sense of our own thoughts.

Exercise and hobbies are usually the first things in life we abandon when we are stressed to the limit. Yet, these activities anchor us and provide relaxation and clarity allowing us to reconnect with our true selves. I get my best ideas while writing or sewing or even pulling weeds in the garden as it these activities let me see things more optimistically like looking through a fog with a crystal ball.

As with any cleaning job, this self maintenance requires daily effort, but is well worthwhile as it prevents you from stuffing too many things in that junk closet to resolve later. When you're mentally and physically disciplined, you make yourself available for the next important thing in your life. Then you can sit back and wait for what the crystal ball reveals next.

Dirty Dishes

I hate doing dishes. My Mom says I inherited the trait from my Aunt Barb. She hated them so much she would hide them under the sink, in cupboards, and even in the oven. I used to hide dishes until a mishap with Tupperware in the oven once.

I am married to a loving man and have three young boys. We live on a farm in Iowa that absolutely enchanted us when we found it. It had everything we dreamed of – except a dishwasher. Even so, we opted to divide household duties (meaning I would do the laundry and he would do the dishes). The strategy worked well until he was sent to Kosovo for a year on active duty with the National Guard. Our family was sad he would be away so long, but I was panicked because that meant I would have to be the family dishwasher.

Initially we had lofty hopes of installing an under-counter dishwasher before his departure. However, we lacked the necessary water and electrical hookups and installation would be quite time-consuming. With time precious in the weeks before his departure, we opted to forego the dishwasher and I assured my partner I could handle the job while he was away.

The job was easier said than done, but necessity forced me to adapt. It wasn’t just chance, I’m sure, that one day I stumbled on a sale at a local market offering flour-sack towels for a dollar each. Their crisp, white linen recalled memories of drying dishes as a young girl at grandma’s house.

Inspired, I carted my towels home and was surprised how much more efficiently they dried dishes than my terry-cloth variety. Soon, thought, I was painfully reminded why I hated doing dishes: cracking and bleeding dishpan hands. I opted to use paper plates awhile so my hands could heal.

Eventually, getting into a daily dish washing routine reduced prolonged dishwater exposure and prevented the sour-milk of cereal bowls left to ferment on the counter for too-many summer days. The idea to throw out the dirty dishes would be too costly and difficult to explain. Fortunately, latex gloves provided permanent relief and we didn’t have to use paper plates. Surprisingly, we still have the same set of dishes we had when my husband left for Kosovo.

When "daddy" returned home, our family rejoiced in many ways. Just being together doing anything was special. One night after dinner, he started washing the dishes as I dried them. He asked about the flour-sack towels and I explained that they reminded me grandma’s house. The women would clear the table and do dishes after each meal. I would usually dry but never understood why they didn’t air dry the dishes. I realize now it allowed women time to socialize and work simultaneously.

Maybe this old-fashioned way of doing dishes is actually better in a different way than modern conveniences provide. We all want our lives to be less hectic and still full and crave more family time. Technology has created incredible ways for us to streamline our housekeeping chores, but it has also isolated us from one another. Have you ever tried to load a dishwasher with someone else at the same time? It seems one of you is always in the other’s way. It’s more of a one-person job.

As I finished drying the plates, my husband said he could do the electrical and plumbing work for a dishwasher himself since wouldn’t be starting back to his civilian job for a few weeks. The thought was intriguing, but meant we wouldn’t need to do the dishes together anymore. I’d gotten accustomed to our daily time together doing dishes and leisurely talking about our days and plans for tomorrow. The boys never seemed to interrupt us either, probably because they were afraid we’d ask them to help.

So, I offered, “Maybe we don’t need a dishwasher.”

He just smiled and said, “Works for me if it works for you.”

Occasionally, I still do dishes and my husband reminds me I can leave them for him to do in the morning. I just smile and say “No problem. There’s just a few.”

Running through Screen Doors and Other Nuisances

I admit I wasn’t paying attention when I ran into our screen door and ripped it. I was thinking about getting the pool chemicals and got side tracked. And that stop sign I nearly walked right into yesterday was another mishap. I was thinking about getting a new printer/scanner/copier and my mind was in never-never land … again. I did stop myself after stepping on the metal base wondering why it was there. At least I didn’t knock myself out cold.

Such is my life as a woman with attention deficit disorder. Staying focused on what’s important is a constant daily and hourly struggle for me. Some days I’m very lucid and have no trouble keeping on task. Other days, I cannot seem to remember anything. Therapy and medication have helped me a great deal, but behavior modification (or changing how you deal with things) is the best treatment of all. My 30-year adventure with attention deficit not only includes my own experiences, but also those of my 9-year old son, who also has ADD. Along our journey, I have observed and documented many of the life skills we use to live successfully with (and not suffer from) attention deficit.

Essential Life Skills for Living with ADD:

1. Get a Calendar and Notebook.
I use these tools as my “safety net” to help me to keep appointments and due dates as well as doing the ordinary day-to-day functions of life. I write down every place I need to be and thing I need to do. That way, even if I’m having a bad day, I can always know what my purpose is for any given day. Some days I can recite the list verbatim without even looking at it. Other days, the list itself is my lifeline.

Keep separate task lists by purpose, such as:
· Household chores
· Work tasks
· Hobbies
· Groceries/Shopping Lists
· Books to read

Each list has it’s own page, date, and list of “tasks.” I prioritize them to ensure I do the most important things first like this:

Household Errands
· Call to get Sean’s Concerta script
· Pick up script
· Fill script at pharmacy

I write down EACH STEP. Also, I schedule enough advance notice so I have a few days to get the task done in case I forget or get sidetracked with something else. This cushion helps me avert disasters - like not having enough medication for my son. That would require me to keep him home from school lest he drive the teacher insane.

2. Keep is simple.
Only do what you must during busy times (like getting ready for work/school in the mornings). The essentials are the only things you really NEED to get done. Let the rest go and add additional tasks you think of your To Do list.

3. Use Routine to stay on target.
Do your routine tasks in the same order each day. Habit will help you remember what to do next if you do it the same every day. Then, you won’t have to rely on your memory. Again, this is especially helping during busy times of the day.

4. Stick to the routine.
Don’t attempt to do forgotten extra tasks like homework or laundry in the morning. Modifying the routine for unexpected events will divert your attention from your usual tasks. You may become too focused on the diversion and completely forget the normal tasks. Again, add additional tasks you think of to your To Do list and resume your routine. I doubt your boss would understand about your coming in an hour late to work because you had to fold the laundry.

5. Allow extra time during busy periods of the day.
Don’t count on always being able to get your morning routine done in the minimum amount of time. Build in an extra 10-15 minutes each morning (or more if you need). This gives you a cushion for disasters such as coffee spills, traffic jams, locking your keys in your car, etc. Allow time for your mind to wander and explore – it’s how you learn and grow. Don’t try to keep such a rigid schedule you cannot succeed. For example, I know it should only take me 30 minutes to get ready every day, but some how I can never make that happen. I’m always remembering other things I need to do that distract me from my simple routine. Instead of fighting myself, I just allow a little more time. It reduces stress because I’m working with my ADD and not against it.

6. Talk quietly and slowly.
Whenever you talk with your spouse, kids, co-workers, slow down and look them in the eyes. Touch them on the arm, if needed, to get their attention – don’t raise your voice. Use your words and reason with them when there’s a problem. If you are particularly upset about an issue (especially in a work situation), give yourself a break and come back to the discussion later. When you feel strongly about something, you are unlikely to be constructive in the discussion. Rather, you may say or do impulsive things you later regret. Waiting a few minutes will allow you to think about what you want to say calmly and avoid a potential heated confrontation. Write down your ideas if you think you will not remember them when you go back to the discussion.

7. Prepare, prepare, prepare!
Don’t mentally avoid difficult situations. If you get stressed by meetings with your boss or talking about finances with your spouse, for example, schedule a time when you are comfortable to discuss the issue(s). Don’t wait for your boss to come to you if you know you have an issue that needs addressed. Any change in the expected routine is difficult for people with ADD. Often, they react to the change stronger than the event itself. I’m guilty of that many times. If I know in advance, I can mentally prepare myself for what “might” happen and it doesn’t seem so difficult when the event arises. Also, if you schedule the event yourself, you know when you need to be ready and can plan accordingly.

8. Stay active.
Working out, running, walking, aerobics or whatever form of exercise you choose is a great way to channel your extra energy. Daily exercise is also good for your body and helps you reduce stress.

Remember, even with medical treatment for your ADD, you won’t always handle difficult situations appropriately. As a parent who has ADD, I some times get angry and frustrated in working with my son. When needed, I retreat to another room to calm down and reflect on the situation. Feelings of failure occasionally run through my mind because I feel I cannot do myself what I’m expecting him to do. But, after careful thought, I go to him and talk things over. Afterwards, we do something together like read a story. Then, I explain why I got upset and how I handled it by giving myself time alone to think. I hope my life skills lessons will help him improve his self-monitoring and adaptation skills in dealing with his own internal attention deficit issues.

Since both my son and I have ADD, we have developed a special, unique connection. For example, I understand, and share, his trouble sleeping because there are too many thoughts running through his head to submit to rest. So, we play games or watch exercise videos together in the evenings to relax and spend our extra energy. The other night we did Taebo together for the first time. We had a riot jumping, kicking, and punching to the video. I wonder if Billy Blanks knows what a great form of therapy this is? He could really make a lot of money marketing that video to people with ADD. Maybe I should call him and discuss a marketing deal.

But first I really need to fix that screen door. With any luck, I won’t have to fix it again next Spring.

Confessions of a Decorating Addict

Does having a decorating addiction require therapy? Lately I consider rearranging my home's interior to be much like an ever-changing garden. Each season and each year bring different climates, colors, and combinations to keep the view interesting. Much like putting annuals in different spots in my garden adds variety and interest; I think moving furniture from room to room and place to place makes our home feel comfortable in a new way. Spring brings exciting sights and smells of floral fantasy inside with cut blooms like daffodils, tulips, peonies, and lilacs sprinkled in bud vases through the house. Summer’s heat yields vegetable harvests and smells of canning pickles, peppers, tomatoes, and apple butter. Fall brings orange pumpkins, caramel apples, and golden straw bales. Winter’s barren landscape makes me tuck away the floral pictures and decorations for the year in exchange for more simple images like Amish paintings and quilts for warming up with a mug of hot cocoa after sledding.

But doesn’t everyone long for the peace of a well organized and uncluttered home so you can freely enjoy your family and peaceful surroundings? The toiling and sweating all afternoon rearranging the house makes it feel brand new again. My family has come to expect the unexpected when they enter our home as my decorating binges seem to be more frequent in the winter months when I get cabin fever. They just snicker and say, “Mom, you re-arranged the house again.” I used to explain my rationale, but anymore I just say “Yea” and let them move about the rooms and get a feel for the new digs. I use the same furniture we’ve had for years, but often move things from one room to another depending on the look I’m trying to create. I store unused interior decorations, rugs, etc. in basement and when I feel the need to change things (for fall, Christmas, or the arrival of spring), I swap things out and put in new accessories to compliment the new look. I get inspiration from the piles of magazine pictures from various home and garden articles in my home office. I love collecting interesting or fun ideas to stow away for future ideas or home improvement projects.

Since our lives are ever changing, it seems appropriate our home should evolve as well. I’m a clutter buster and frequently sort through stuff we haven’t worn or used in a year and tote them to Goodwill. This pension for interior design has become my way of compensating for the winter dull drums I get from November to February. During the spring, summer, and fall months, I can be found outdoors digging in dirt and improving our farm’s landscape. I am also drawn to landscape and gardening magazines as my overstuffed Garden Ideas folder demonstrates. Once I read an article about Martha Stewart that discussed her pension to perfect everything she does. Her blend of comfort, style, and knack for new and interesting ideas/methods fascinates me. The visual appeal of anything she creates is awe-inspiring and I understand why she describes homemaking as a “lost art.”

As long as there are families and cohabitants, there will be the act of home keeping in one form or another. Some homes are more utilitarian while others are stylistic, but I do think that today more family members are involved in the process, thankfully. Working parents and busy kids’ schedules require each member of the household to pitch in with chores to get everything done. For me cleaning, rearranging furniture, and gardening are much more than utilitarian and provide necessary therapy to invigorate my soul. If I’m upset about something, I clean the house or pull weeds in the garden because there’s always plenty of dirt and weeds that need eradicating. These chores help me work through my frustrations to avoid being grouchy.

Over the years, I’ve collected a considerable variety of cherished objects, but our modest abode couldn’t possibly display them all at once. I store unused decorations and artwork in our garden shed basement carefully tucked away in plastic storage containers. As the seasons change, I swap out the decorations for new favorites to enjoy again. This rotating cycle provides renewed interest and appreciation for my favorite finds. Occasionally, I swap stuff with my sister and she can enjoy my collectibles in her home while I add new interest displaying some of her artwork in my own house. The fun part is we can trade back anytime we like!

Shoulda Called a Plumber

My introduction to plumbing was an intense ordeal. I was home alone while the kids were at school and my husband was away on business. I was cleaning in the bathroom, bent down to pick up a stray toy, and somehow managed to kick the plastic handle on the toilet’s water shut-off value. Water began gushing out flooding the floor as I frantically tried to screw the knob back into place. I realized it had broken off and wouldn’t go back on so I’d have to turn off the main water beneath the house.

Since I have never done any plumbing work on our house, I had no idea where the main water shut-off was located. I piled towels on the leak and rang my husband up on the phone. He told me how to shut off the water to the house and suggested I call a plumber. Grumbling profanities, I navigated the crawlspace under our house, located the water shut off value, and got the flooding temporarily stopped.

I’m not sure if anger or curiosity made me wonder if I could fix the leak myself. But after looking at the broken valve again, I went to the garage remembering some spare plumbing parts on a garage shelf. I grabbed all the various valves I could find and ran back to the house. I managed to manufacture a new value from spare parts and got the leak nearly fixed. The valve was working, but the hose connected to the new value was dripping slightly. The washer in the old-style hose looked worn, so I would need to trek to town for a new hose.

This meant I would have to crawl under the house for what seemed the fiftieth time on my already scraped and swollen knees. I refused to call a plumber at this point as giving up now would just make me more irate. With aching knees, I crawled under the house once again to shut off the water main. While crawling back out from under the house, I began crying in frustration and pain and stopped to rest a bit on the sidewalk. Our dog, Lucky, came by and licked the tears from my face as if to say, “It’s alright right, I’m here for you.” I hugged him for being so sweet and understanding and for being there for me.

Exhausted and soaking wet, I took a break to email my sister to share my ordeal. However, I couldn’t quell the thought of doing the work myself to save money. After some sisterly advice, I donned some clean, dry clothes and headed to the hardware store. I got a flexible hose, which installed easily and worked flawlessly.

The incident gave me a big sense of accomplishment, but not enough to consider any future plumbing work. I guess my husband was right to begin with; I should have just called a plumber.

What Gardening Has Taught Me About Life

1. Weeding and house cleaning are never ending jobs.
   
2. While it’s true you don’t always reap what you sow, you won’t find spring tulips if you didn’t plant those fall bulbs.
   
3. Relationships and lawns need regular nourishment to thrive.
   
4. Planning a garden is like planning a vacation; having a map helps you know where you’re going and how long it will take you to get there.
   
5. Happiness, like a garden, is a journey and not a destination.
   
6. Like life, your garden changes from year to year so you can enjoy the beauty of the unexpected and appreciate today’s view as it may never appear the same again.
   
7. Friends and flowers can pop up in the most remarkable places.
   
8. Even though “work” and “weed” are four-letter words we spend countless hours toiling away and rarely stop to appreciate nature’s bounty. Scheduling time daily to smell the daisies and have a family dinner nourishes the soul to make the laboring more worthwhile.
   
9. Sisters are the sunflowers in the garden of life.
   
10. Much like pruning a rosebush requires navigating the thorns, good communication requires analyzing the circumstances. Both activities often require the use of good gloves.

Gardening from Scratch

My initiation to gardening came from, of all places, a white business-sized envelope containing a hand-drawn map of the farm my husband and I had just bought from an out-of-state retired couple. Their realtor gave us the keys and the envelope when we finalized the purchase. Upon opening envelope, we pleasantly discovered a hand-drawn map of the landscaping around the house and barn. The author included the common names for the myriad trees, bushes, bulbs, and flowers she’d nurtured during her tenure as the lands’ caretaker and revealed tips in the margins for locating seasonal surprises like raspberry bushes and early spring bluebells. For me the map was a story of the garden’s beginnings and between the lines and drawings, I sensed a desire for us to enjoy and maintain its peaceful beauty.

Using the map, we set out to locate some of the natural wonders we’d inherited. We began at our farm’s entrance and walked along the grassy meadow flanking the left side of the long lane leading to the house and barn. Along the west fence by the meadow, we found the raspberry bushes and thought it would be nice to mow a grass path for harvesting the berries as they ripened. After studying the area, we opted to mow an L-shaped path starting at the back yard and running the length of the meadow’s west edge, turning east to end at the lane. It would make a nice walking trail to get the newspaper and mail and provide easy access to the raspberry bushes.

Our new path encouraged us to explore more of the wooded areas of our property. Just as the map promised, on one hillside in mid-spring we found a sea of bluebells as far as the eye could see. We continued exploring and uncovered several more black raspberry bushes and some mulberry trees. We eagerly picked many berries that first year and enjoyed them on vanilla ice cream and cheesecake. We also learned that pants, long-sleeved shirts, and gloves are required gear for picking berries among our thorny thickets.

After living with our country landscape for a couple of years, we started imagining ways to incorporate native species to adorn the walking path and break up the grassy meadow. The meadow covered about five acres and we originally thought a pond would be nice there, but the amount of effort required to create a pond was not something we wanted to tackle at that point. Instead, we planted one two-acre patch of prairie grass and wildflowers and another two-acre section of alfalfa beside the prairie grass with a five-foot wide walking path between. To finish the area, we removed the dead trees from the fence line west of the walking path.

Last spring, we added two ornamental flowering crabs and two flowering callery pears to adorn the start of the walking path near the back yard beside three white pines we put in a few years earlier. A homemade bench I created from an old oak tree sits near the flowering trees flanked by two butterfly bushes. My vegetable and fruit gardens are located nearby in five large tractor tires, which I use as raised beds. The arrangement saves my back and knees since I don’t have to squat or stoop down to pull weeds or harvest goodies.

The woods along the road have been transformed as we cut down the dead trees in the woods, which allowed us to make room for shady flowers, hostas, and ground covers among some large rocks in the center. Where the lane splits the woods in two, I added day lilies, Virginia blue bells, carnations, and other perennial beauties. I enjoy the look of the mowed grass along the path and in the woods because it frames the space nicely and looks more manicured.

Abundant spring rains and hot, muggy temperatures this past season made our landscape so lush and green it resembled a rainforest. I didn't have to water the grass or my flower gardens much at all, which was a real treat. I was able to spend some of the time digging up crab grass roots in the flowerbeds (lucky me), which will hopefully reduce my weeding requirements this next year too. I also eliminated one of the one island beds in the back yard that never looked quite right to me. The vegetation was sparse and weedy, so I opted to dig up the “keepers” and relocated them. My husband tilled the remaining soil where I then sowed some perennial ryegrass seed.

Lately I’ve become quite fond of using potted geraniums and tea roses in my landscape. I like the versatility to move them around when the mood strikes me and will eventually bring them indoors in the fall. I like to have flowers all year long and my potted beauties let me have blooms everyday with a little encouragement from bloom food during the cold winter months. I’m only able to keep a few potted flowers inside, but the geraniums love their home alone the south facing windows. One day I’d LOVE to have a small greenhouse/sunroom off the kitchen so I could garden year-round and start seeds in early spring.

For now, I settle for bi-monthly feedings of bloom food to get my indoor geraniums to sprout flowers regularly indoors as the snow blankets the landscape outside. In fact, they seem to enjoy their new home as they bloom better now than they did outside on the front porch in the spring/summer. I suppose they bloom better because they are my only babies right now and they don't have to share my attention with the rest of the flower garden, which is good for all of us since we have to share the indoors for many more cold, winter days yet.

Cookie Dough Philosophy

The real irony of life experience is that when you are young and shapely, you are ignorant and naïve. As you age and gain wisdom, the firm body disappears, ever so slowly, until you find yourself taking all the mirrors in your house to Goodwill.

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With thoughts of spring dancing in our winter-laden heads, my sister and I have been bouncing around ideas for loosing weight in preparation for shorts and bathing suit season. Living on a farm, I prefer working outside to stay fit and shed the winter pounds gained from long-bouts of cabin fever during our cold, snowy Iowa winters. My sister, who is eight years my junior, remarked on how her body seems to “go to pot” the older she gets. She said her daughter even informed her one day, quite manner-of-factly, that she had a big tummy and behind. Not at all amused, my sister told her that wasn’t very nice and wondered if perhaps those sit-ups she quit doing had been working after all. We agreed there must be such a thing as too much honesty.

Being the eldest, I decided to share some wisdom with her I’d given my three sons several years ago. I told them there are two things in life that, as boys and men, you must never do:

(1) Hit a girl, and
(2) Tell a girl she’s fat.

I stressed that doing either will result in much pain and suffering. Guess they must have listened because I’m pretty sure they’ve never hit a girl and they don’t use the “F” word (fat). My sister said I totally made her laugh with that one and vowed to have the same talk with her kids.

She brought up an interesting point: maybe the wisdom we gain from knowing what’s inside a person is what counts is actually what makes us heavy. I always assumed a discussion or person labeled as heavy was sarcasm, but maybe it’s meant literally. If this is true, it could explain why it gets harder to loose weight as you age.

On the whole, hearty people are more jovial than their frail counterparts. Does that mean it’s more important to be happy and loved than being thin? Even though that sounds a bit like a promotion for a fast-food commercial, shouldn’t our daily activities make us enjoy every day of our life to its fullest? Of course, the same could be said about people obsessed with eating and not able to do the things they want in life because their body restricts them.

Thinking about my dad’s constant warnings about weight gain and our society’s hyper-obsession with body fat and body mass index weighs heavily on my mind and usually makes me want to eat my favorite foods just to feel good. I struggle to find activities that are as comforting as chocolate chip cookie dough or cinnamon rolls. Food involves so many of our senses and makes eating a very intoxicating experience.

For me, the most memorable smell is homemade cinnamon rolls. The aroma reminds me of baking these goodies with my grandmother helping her roll out the dough, sprinkle on the cinnamon/sugar mixture, roll them up in a long tube, and slice them into sections with dental floss. My dad also used to take me to Benny’s diner in my hometown as a child. The diner is gone, but I still remember the smell of those fresh, hot, square-shaped Benny Rolls with the pat of butter on top. We would smear the butter all over the melted icing and longingly savor each morsel.

Another food memory reminds me of making cookie dough with my sister when we were girls. We’d make the dough and just before baking the cookies, we would take several tastes. Some times, we would run out of time and store the batter in the fridge to make the cookies later. Of course, we would often taste the dough again and our dad would ask if we were ever going to actually BAKE the cookies.

This memory prompted me to ask my sister during our weighty discussion if she would give up cookies forever to be skinny. She said maybe, but then asked if that meant giving up cookie dough too. We had a good laugh and decided having a to-die-for body was not worth living without cookie dough. And in spite of my father’s objections, I think it’s OK to make cookie dough and never get any baked cookies out of the batch. I know my boys agree because nothing makes them come running faster than the sound of the mixer switching off when I’m making a batch of cookies.