Rescued

This pitcher sat among a pile of odds and end on my mom’s kitchen table, headed for the weekend garage sale. I snatched it up. Because I remembered it from my childhood. The delicate deep-pink flowers and the curve of it are part of my memories. The pitcher lives with me now, rescued from the discarded junk, cleaned up and gleaming.

I was thinking how this pitcher preserves a little piece of my past. It’s design, painted decades before I was born, stands vibrant today.

Flowers in the same colors bloom around me this spring. Their reds and blues bring cheer this season.

The flowers live for such a short time, though. Here this week, gone the next. I’m hanging on to the ceramic painted beauties. They are timeless.

What about you? Do you own something that reminds you of your childhood? What timeless beauty do you enjoy?

Linking up with Tuesday Muse, Texture Tuesday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays, Tones on Tuesday, and Communal Global.The theme at Texture Tuesday is a photo that pops.

The black and white photo is edited with Kim Klassen’s texture Storm. I used Nancy Claey’s texture Theresa on the white flowers.

 

 

 

 

 

And You Smile

Not by appointment do we meet delight or joy; they heed not our expectancy; but round some corner of the streets of life they of a sudden greet us with a smile.                                                                                                   — Gerald Massey

Can you think of a time when delight popped into your life and surprised you? This happened to me literally around a street corner on a visit to Greenfield Village in Michigan. You walk into the village and one of the first sights to greet you is a Model T zipping down the road. And you smile!

These cars, built by the Ford company in the early 1900s, still putter along surprisingly well. What’s so much fun is that you can ride in one. A nice “young” man drives, pointing out sights along the way. You pass the horse-drawn cart, the old bus. You relax in the wide, tree-lined lanes. You are transported to another time.

Here’s what Henry Ford said of his great invention, the venerable Model T:

“I will build a car for the great multitude. It will be large enough for the family, but small enough for the individual to run and care for. It will be constructed of the best materials, by the best men to be hired, after the simplest designs that modern engineering can devise. But it will be so low in price that no man making a good salary will be unable to own one – and enjoy with his family the blessing of hours of pleasure in God’s great open spaces.”

All that day, as we walked around the village, we would round a corner and see another Model T chugging along. Do you think Henry Ford had any idea that folks would still be enjoying “hours of pleasure” in his Model T a hundred years later?

How about you? What’s popped in to bring you joy lately?

Linking up with Tuesday Muse, Texture Tuesday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays, Tones on Tuesday, and Communal Global.The theme at Texture Tuesday is a photo that pops.

Photos are edited with Kim Klassen’s textures Evolve and Mary and with Nancy at A Rural Journal’s texture Silver Lining Playbook.

 

 

 

 

 

 

One Tiny Flower

Who would have thought it possible that a tiny little flower could preoccupy a person so completely that there simply wasn’t room for any other thought. 
                                                                                                                  –  Sophie Scholl*

The yellow wildflowers are here! They grow in the hills, near the river. They seem to know how to set off their soft beauty as they bloom in bunches against the rock face.

You can spot them even from a distance in their little clusters. The yellow shows up nicely in all the spring green growing everywhere.

Spring brings beauty. So much, so many colors. Yet it’s true — one flower provides wonder enough to occupy our hearts completely.

Do you ever feel lost in the mass of folks in your world? Do you feel like you’re just one tiny person at your company, in your neighborhood, in the world of digital vastness? It’s true, in a way. But here’s a reminder that one tiny little flower is of infinite value. And so are you. You are a wonder!

Linking up with Little Things Thursday, Texture Tuesday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays,Tuesday Muse, and Communal Global.

Photos are edited with Kim Klassen’s texture Daisy and with Nancy at A Rural Journal’s texture Amy.

*Sophie Scholl lived only 21 years before she was killed during WWII. Her crime: distributing anti-Nazi leaflets. Her story is told in an excellent movie, “Sophie Scholl: The Final Days.” It makes me happy to know that in her short life she enjoyed the beauty of nature.

With Love, to Boston

Boston. Our hearts ache for you this week. For your people, for those gone too soon, for those hurt, for those struggling. But this is what I know about you, Boston. You are a city of heroes. Always have been. We saw that again this week. The bravery of those in uniform and simply citizens makes us proud. Even the small acts of kindness — the police officer who made a run to store to get milk for kids under the lockdown, the marathoner who gave his medal to another runner who got only a few blocks from the finish line when the explosions broke her dream of finishing. The strength and perseverance of your people shined bright all week.

This is what I know about Boston, a place I visited just a few times but love, love, love. Boston is the home of the Freedom Trail, a walking path meandering by places where heroes stood.

The old buildings stand tall among the new, the brick among the glass, a picturesque place for us to enjoy.

The balcony of the Old State House is where the Declaration of Independence was first read in public. Future First Lady Abigail Adams reported to her husband John that at the end of the reading, “three cheers rended the air.”

Inside the Old State House you can explore the building, imagine the people rushing up and down the stairs. You can see a drum played at the Battle of Bunker Hill, just a few miles away. The Boston Massacre unfolded in front of Old State House.

The Old North Church is where Paul Revere watched for the lights — one if by land, two if by sea — and rode off on his epic journey to warn the patriots that the British army was on its way.

The heroes of older times lie buried in the graveyards on the Freedom Trail. Their legacy inspires us to cherish freedom and liberty for all.

Boston, your heroes of April 2013 inspire us, too. We want to pass on their legacy in acts of kindness, in looking for those who need help and being a helper, even in small ways. For these present-day heroes of Boston, for their bravery and courage, let’s rend the air with three cheers.

Linking up with Texture Tuesday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays,Tuesday Muse, and Communal Global.

Photos are edited with Kim Klassen’s textures History, Revolution, and Felicity and with Nancy at A Rural Journal’s textures Zia and nc0332, which is from her collection, Boston.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Celebrating Spring

In Spring we expand and stretch in all directions. It’s green exuberance and giddiness, bright clown colors, and Easter colors too; the rebirth of the tender growing soul.

                                                                                                                    –Anne Lamott

The colors of Spring are everywhere now. To celebrate this season, here’s a sampling of the colors in my neighborhood: sunny yellows, regal purples, happy  reds, peachy tones, and sparkling blues.

Here’s wishing you a week of color during this time of “rebirth of the tender growing soul.”

Linking up with Texture Tuesday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays,Tuesday Muse, and Communal Global.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good Reads: Bread and Wine: Of Love and Blueberry Crisp

Bread and Wine by Shauna Niequist is a book that expands on this quotation by C.S. Lewis: “God never meant man to be a purely spiritual creature. He uses material things like bread and wine to put new life into us. We may think this rather crude and unspiritual. God does not: he invented eating.”

I have a natural bent to the mental and I’m very good at missing the sensory entirely. Lost in thought, I can wander along and be oblivious to the colors of the blooming rosebush, the curl of the wave before it crashes on the sand, the song of the bird in the tree outside my window. I’m trying to be more aware of the world through my senses, though. Shauna’s book is ideal for me because she revels in the physical beauty of food. She describes the crunch, the sizzling, the chopping, the swirling, the delightful oozing of sauces, the pungent smells. And of course, the taste of the delicate, spicy, sweet, sea-salty, vinegary (my favorite — I pour balsamic vinegar on everything, and Shauna loves it, too!). All senses engage in the food.

This book will give you a new eagerness to experience this matter God invented called food — in its endless and wondrous forms. You have permission to experiment with flavors and combinations and enjoy foods in whatever way they speak to you.

The real focus of Bread and Wine is not the food, though, but the people who share the food. “Sometimes food is the end and sometimes it’s a means to the end; and sometimes you don’t know which it is until it happens.” When family, friends, strangers gather around a table and enjoy a meal, somehow that act of sharing food opens up people to become more vulnerable, to relate to the others at the table on a new level. “The heart of hospitality,” writes Shauna,” is creating space for these moments.”

And that’s the heart of Bread and Wine. We are encouraged to start where we are, not wait until we are ready to serve a four-course gourmet dinner. Serving a meal is “an act of love, not a performance.” I appreciate that Shauna makes it clear from the first pages that she is going to give us recipes, but we should make them our own. There’s no right and wrong, just start here and experiment and add flavors we like. Throw in what’s in the cupboard; no need to run to the store for a certain ingredient. It’s not perfection we’re after; it’s people feeling at home at our table.

The heartwarming stories in Bread and Wine will have you laughing and crying. The recipes will have your mouth watering. The real food for thought, though, is the way we see that sharing a meal can trigger profound moments of connection with others. If this happens over a bubbling blueberry crisp, all the more reason for celebration.

Bread and Wine released April 9 for your reading — and eating — pleasure. Enjoy!

 

A Place of Peace

Have you ever missed something fascinating because it’s too close? Mentioned too often? Too unmysterious? This week I realized that in my years in San Diego, I had never visited the mission. I learned about it in grade school, but somehow never went to see it. So I did.

It’s the oldest in a string of missions winding up the coast of California. It was founded in 1769 by Father Junipero Serra. The original buildings are long gone, but those there now date from the 1830s. By California standards, that is historical indeed.

The mission is walled in with gates. The walls are high.

I wandered into the church. A caretaker locked the door behind me. I got the feeling it’s a protected, private place. But I was free to go through the church into the garden. Ah, the garden.

Here, inside the tall walls, I felt peace. Spring blooms scent the fresh air. Crosses made of bricks dot the grounds. The bells stand ready to ring. No noise, no cars, no hurry. Time doesn’t seem to matter.

My trip to the mission brought an unexpected respite from the hustle and bustle going on outside its walls. I plan to go back. Because I know it’s a place of peace.

How about you? Where do you go when you want to find a place of peace?

Linking up with Texture Tuesday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays,Tuesday Muse, and Communal Global.

Photos are processed with Kim Klassen’s textures History and 3003. Some of the photos have 2 textures, which is the assignment this week.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Place of Light

You will find something surprising on the Freedom Trail in Boston. Along this walk of historical buildings that date from the American Revolution is a memorial built only a few years ago. You round a corner, and here is what you see.

This is the New England Holocaust Memorial. It stands as an imposing tribute to hope. The idea for this was born of survivors of the Holocaust who live in Boston. They survived the camps with at least a tiny shred of hope intact, and they started over. They are successful in life, with families and businesses.

The designers wrote, “The memorial to darkness is built with light.” And so what you see and experience is the light through the glass walls. The 6 glass towers represent the 6 death camps in Poland during WWII.

On the soaring walls you see numbers etched in the glass — 6 million of them to represent all those who lost their lives in the Holocaust. You walk through the glass, marveling at the sheer number of numbers.

My husband Curt snapped this photo of me at the memorial. I think I was torn between smiling for the photo and thinking that it’s a travesty to smile at such a sobering place. Yet we can smile at the hope this place represents.

Last week, a Commemoration was held at the memorial. The committee organizing this writes: “This year, we honor the strength and resiliency that enabled individuals to survive and rebuild lives of meaning, dignity and purpose. Their courage in bearing witness and transmitting memory to new generations sustains our commitment to remember the Holocaust for all time.”

I can’t begin to imagine the life of the survivors. But we can all honor them. We can learn from them. They show us a picture of hope and resiliency. We can cry for them and for the unfathomable sorrow of the Holocaust. We can smile because hope lived through the darkness and shines again in the light.

Linking up with Project 52 and Little Things Thursday.

Photos are processed with the textures Lincoln and Braveheart from Nancy at A Rural Journal.

 

 

 

 

 

Neighborhood Gates

Ever notice the different styles of gates in a neighborhood? A sample of front gates on my recent walk shows a pleasant variety.

Gates both close off and provide access.  They exclude and invite. They provide privacy and they open up to allow us to share space.

We can build fences in our lives. We also have “gates” that we can open a crack or open wide and let people in. Some of us are naturally more transparent. Being an introvert, I sometimes find it hard to open up and share my life. I’d like to get better at it.

How about you? What kind of “gates” do you feel comfortable with?

Linking up with Texture Tuesday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays,Tuesday Muse, Friday Fences, and Communal Global.

Photos are processed with Kim Klassen’s textures 0303, 2303, and Kristen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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