These flowers, daisies and golden globes, have volunteered to grow at the edge of my driveway. There are buttercups with them, too, but I don’t think they show in the picture.
I like the way the yellows are so bright and cheerful and they make a drab area bright with beauty.
Remembering my dad.
Dad also liked coffee soup, which was similar to bread and milk but now with coffee. Dad liked coffee a LOT. If his coffee was too hot, sometimes he would tip a little into his saucer and sip it from the saucer. Then came the hype about coffee being in disfavor and Dad deprived himself of coffee in favor of protecting his health.
Dad liked succotash, another thing that I didn’t care for. Succotash is something that I haven’t heard mentioned for years. It’s lima beans and corn cooked and served together as one dish. He was very fond of lima beans.
And pie! Dad was especially fond of pie. He had his favorite jokes about pie. “I only like two kinds of pie,” he would say, and then playfully add, “hot and cold.” “I only turned down pie once,” he often said. “I didn’t really hear what they said that time.”
Dad had a very good appetite and he still enjoyed meals even during times of illness. We often joked in our family that we would know that Dad was really sick when he turned down food. I remember when that day came and it was no longer a joke. He was offered a cream puff, something he would have really enjoyed as a wonderful treat. I knew that he was really failing when he said he couldn’t eat the cream puff. He died about a month later.
He had lived to be 89, and had a full, rich life. He enjoyed life, –as he enjoyed his favorite foods. He used self control when eating, and lived life cautiously while enjoying the ordinary good things of every day.
Bread and milk and sugar–one of life’s simple pleasures for Dad.
Rusty walks a friend around a pond.
Last fall we went to Charlotte for a week with family. Each day we took walks. In this picture, Rusty is walking with a family member around the pond. We all enjoyed this walk and tried to walk there daily.
This sign greets you at the entrance of the Garden
This is another view of the Hospice Garden of Life. Hospice uses the butterfly symbol and the artist has put a beautiful butterfly into the welcome sign. The Garden is starting to come to life again this season. We planted geraniums and wax begonias last week. On Monday we will complete the mulching. That’s a task that takes a lot of effort but it does keep the weeds down and adds beauty to the Garden.
I’ve been very busy lately. I keep meaning to update my blog but days pass without me taking time to do it.
Now I’m dealing with Rusty’s medical problem. He had surgery to remove the tumor that we discovered just before Easter. Now he needs constant watching so he won’t rip the stitches out. I have to keep him very close to me.
I have most of my planting done now. I still have lots of weeds to pull. Things are looking good to me. I feel pleased when I go outdoors and see my growing things.
We have been getting the Garden of Life at the hospital ready for summer enjoyment.
Hospice Garden of Life
My mom as she was years ago.
This morning I read, “I’m planning on making some pies for Daddy. I don’t mind it once I get started but I hate to get started.” (Mom was 59 in 1972)
How much I can identify with that statement! There are many things that I really hate to get started but once I start I don’t really mind the task after all. Why don’t I remember this, as my mom did, before I get started, when I’m just thinking how much I really don’t want to do this task today?
I really do identify with my mom this morning and I appreciate the many times she pushed herself to do the things she would rather put off. She knew that in the long run, she would end up enjoying the work, and she would be pleased with her results.
My mom often was a good example to me. Thanks, Mom!
In the book, Victories in the Valleys of Life, by Charles Allen, he shares this poem by an unknown author.
I’ve dreamed many dreams that never came true.
I’ve seen them vanish at dawn.
But I’ve realized enough of my dreams, thank God,
To make me want to dream on.
I’ve prayed many prayers when no answer came
When my hopes and my faith were almost gone,
But answers have come to enough of my prayers
To make me keep praying on.
I’ve trusted many a friend that failed
And left me to weep alone,
But I’ve found enough of my friends true blue
To make me keep trusting on.
I’ve sown many seeds that fell by the way
For the birds to feed upon
But I’ve held enough golden sheaves in my hand,
To make me keep sowing on,
I’ve drained the cup of disappointment and pain,
IU’ve gone many days without a song.
But I’ve sipped enough nectar from the roses of life
To make me want to live on.
“This was a woman’s pride, to have a recipe worth stealing. To this end my mother hid her scrapbook,” Gail Anderson Dargatz wrote in The Cure for Death by Lightning.
This statement intrigued me because I was not used to the idea of having a secret recipe that someone else would envy and try to duplicate. I think it’s flattering to be asked for one of my recipes and I share them freely.
I started to talk to people about the idea of secret recipes and asked questions such as, “Do you have a secret recipe? Did your mom have one? Can you tell me a story about a secret recipe?”
One woman, Jackie, told me that her sister-in-law’s family made special nut rolls and were very willing to give out the recipe but the nut rolls never tasted quite the same as those the family made. Finally she found out that there was a secret ingredient, a liquor, and the family didn’t want others to know that they had used it in their baking, so they never included it in the recipe.
Jack told me that his mom made nice big molasses cookies. He would ask her for the recipe and she would always say, “I don’t know. I just make them.” He tried many ways to make those cookies but he was never able to get the cookies to be like the ones his mom made.
Mildred had a similar memory. “Mom made the best meatloaf and meat patties,” she told me. “But she would never tell us how she did it. ‘I just use a pinch of this and a pinch of that,’ she’d say.
No secret recipes for her, Amelia says. She has shared her special recipes with her family and one of her grandchildren put them into a family booklet so that her whole family could enjoy them.
Virginia has a friend who won’t share recipes. She always says, “I don’t give out my recipes!” Her friend likes the idea of having something that she can do that someone else can’t do. “It gives me a ‘let down’ feeling when my friend refuses to share her good recipes,” Virginia says.
It can be vexing to ask for a recipe only to be told that it’s a secret. Or it can bring back fond memories of favorite family foods that can no longer be shared because the recipe was stored only in the maker’s memory.
Do you have a secret recipe?
As a Hospice volunteer I am sometimes asked to visit patients who welcome visits. For the most part, I volunteer time in working at the Garden of Life, but I enjoy visiting people, too.
When I was asked to visit this older man, something prompted me to ask if Rusty could go with me. Rusty loves people and is a great ice breaker when I meet new people. It turned out that he was very willing for Rusty to come. He had dogs all through the years but is without a pet right now.
Rusty took to him right away and he really enjoys Rusty’s visit. I’m glad that I thought about taking Rusty with me. It’s not only good for my new friend, it’s been very good for Rusty, too.
Just a few days ago I moved my old rocking chair from a place where it’s inconvenient for me to sit when I have a few minutes to a light, airy place in my new sun room. Now it really is a good place to relax and perhaps read the newspaper or a book.
Moving the old rocking chair sparked memories. It was 1959 and my husband and I had just become parents of our first baby. She was a beautiful baby and we were both thrilled to have her. We wanted to be the best parents ever. When she got her days and nights mixed up and slept all day and stayed awake all night and wanted to be held, it became apparent that we really needed a rocking chair for my comfort and hers. He went to a second hand store and bought this rocking chair.
These are things I thought I would remember forever but now I discover that the specifics are fuzzy. How much did it cost? I can’t remember! But, it was just a couple of dollars if it was that much. My mind says it was a quarter, but then I think, “No, it had to be a little more than that.” It was not in very good condition, and here’s something else I can’t remember. The caned reed bottom was broken, but did he buy it with a wooden board nailed over the broken bottom, or did he put the wooden panel over the broken place? I don’t know, but for years I used the rocking chair with the wooden panel tacked over the broken reed caning. I spent many hours that first year rocking my baby in that chair. I painted it a bright cheerful pink color and decorated it a bit and I rocked a lot.
We had three more babies and I rocked them all in that rocker. I got tired of that pink color and painted it more conservatively. And then I learned to do caning! I took the wooden seat off of it and put a proper caned seat into it. I really felt proud of myself when I learned to cane and repaired my rocking chair like that.
It’s been years since I rocked babies in that rocker but I still have a real fondness for it, because of the memories of rocking my little ones, and the satisfaction I felt in learning how to repair the seat.
I think I’ve found a very good place for my old rocking chair and I intend to relax and enjoy rocking in its new location.
We brought this rocking chair home in 1959.