Same Sign Three Times and a Bonus

Before I start this post, I would like to announce that I have been blogging via my phone for the past year or more. This is my first time back on a computer on the mountain. Boy, did I see past mistakes! Between the tiny screen and the tiny keys, it was hard to see what I was sharing. I have finally moved back to a computer because the book I am writing got so big it needs Scrivener for me to control it. My printer has decided to work as well, so this has been an exciting morning. There have been other technical difficulties, but that is nothing new.

Back to the three signs. Dismiss these if you wish. When events go way beyond coincidental, I call them signs from the Universe. That is what I say happened last week. I have posted about the copy of the letter that was sent from my mother to my aunt and back again. I also shared that the envelope from Canada did not have a date stamp. That catches you up for the rest of the story.

The next day two more related events occurred. The Universe knows that I am slow. First, I found the envelope that my mother mailed the copied letter to my aunt in. It had a date stamp of Dec 16, 2005. That was twenty years ago yesterday. My Gran died in 1995. Thirty years before that. I guess my Mama had been too busy to go through the box and read all the letters until then.

Both envelopes for mailing the copies back and forth.

So the third time I saw the letter I realized I needed to look closer than just to write a summary on a post-it note. That’s when the surprises started. The first paragraph blew my paternalism theory for the book out of existence.

The first sentence was, ” Well ’tis done____ for better or for worse! The letter goes on to describe their efficiency apartment and includes a hand-drawn map of it. This map is the only thing I remembered from seeing the original letter in the box disguised as a book. My goal then was just to get them in order.

The next several paragraphs glowingly described things in the apartment. Then comes the sentence, “I wish you could see my ring! … It’s platinum with five diamonds. The engraving is exquisite. It has EMD – DIP 5.10.’29 on the inside.”

Here comes number two bonus of the more than coincidental events. My sister called to tell me to look for some things I had found earlier and bring them to her over the holidays. I really wanted to do it later, but was afraid I would forget. I stopped what I was doing to go find that box and stick it in my suitcase.

The box in the box.

I opened it to be sure it was the right box and there inside that box another little box. Written on the top was “Wedding Ring (Broken).” I opened the box to find two pieces of a platinum ring with only one diamond left embedded in it. I got out my jeweler’s loop and looked inside it.

There it was! EMD – DIP on one piece and 10. 29 on the other.

My Gran’s wedding ring mentioned in the letter.

Believe what you wish. I am just sharing the facts.

FLOW

Snow Swirls

This is my first winter on the mountain, so everything is a first for me. The wind woke me up this morning. I looked out the back window to see snow tornadoes swirling where the wind met the corner between the house and the garage.

Circles mean things to me. They are a sign that I pay attention to. I know these swirls are due to the blowing snow, the wind direction and the configuration of the corner. I also know that natural forces create supernatural events.

See partial snow circles left by the swirls.

I stood mesmerized by the swirls. I remembered back to teaching about breaking waves with water in a fish tank and how the water swirled back when it hit the edge. I thought about how wave swells are really circles under the sea. Nature does not have corners nor deadends. Wind and water find their way out, over or through eventually.

I am in a time-circle now. Here on the mountain circling through the past of my family, again and again. Trying to find my way through to a present where all the pieces fit together.

Now, it is actually snowing. The air is white and fiercely dynamic. I am in the midst of a giant snow swirl.

Tiny swirl on left then tornado in the middle.

I am where I belong.

FLOW

Making Mama’s Memorial Ornaments

This will be our first Christmas without Mama. I am making memorial ornaments for me and my sister. They are pink, Mama’s favorite color.

I will share the steps for doing this. You only need plain ornaments, decorative napkins, glue, foam paint brushes, glitter and scissors.

Remembering Mama


I use paper plates to contain the mess.  This is a really messy project. That’s why I love it!

Do not sigh or sneeze PLEASE!


Used yogurt containers, Choboni flip and Qui, are great for glue and water. I labeled my glue containers M for matte and G for gloss. I have used both so you can see the difference.

Peel the back two layers off your napkins. Save these for cleaning up.

Peel off plain ply layers from the back.

Also remove the top hanger of the ornaments. Do not lose these in the mess!

I stick shewers and my fingers in the top holes to hold the balls.

Hold by the hole.

Cut out the central designs to be featured on your ornament. These go on first.  Plan your spacing and arranging.

Sometimes parts get cut off and must be replaced, like little paper Frankensteins.

Soldiers with new hat and new legs.

Then either hang or perch them on something to dry. This means leave them alone for a bit. Repeat again until totally covered.

Hung on a skewer.

If this were a Decoupage Party it would be time for Mimosas and snacks. Since I am alone, I am using the down time to write steps as I go. Pausing is hard for me.

Now use the napkin scraps to fill in the blank parts of the ornament. Overlap as little as possible. Glitter and glue will cover the booboos.

Glue more, hang to dry more.

Lastly, you cover any bare sections with custom cut pieces of plain background from the waste left from the napkins.

Let’s talk glitter. It is possible to do a perfect job of decoupage and ruin it with the wrong glitter. Very detailed designs need white, extra fine glitter. Do not use irridescent unless you want to add color, or there is a simple design, or lots of repetition or you want to cover up some ugly. Some shaggy irridescent glitter totally blocks the design

Fine white rose irridescent on left, mixed sized bling in the middle called party blend /snow swirl, white iris on the right

Party Blend or bling should be used on plain ornaments as a featured texturizer.

Party blend glitter on the left on a flat white. Flat white ornament/ no glitter on the right. Easy enough for children. Ribbon can be glued around the sides.

I usually save all residual glitter and mix it on the last ornament.  I hate the ball glitter. It rolls. Do not buy it…ever.

Let the completed ornaments dry over-night. I usually use clear spray to seal these, but don’t have any here.

Almost done.

Warning, if you sigh alot or sneeze, this may NOT be the craft project for you. I am a sigher and usually send tiny pieces of napkins and glitter all over.

Blogging and decoupaging.

FLOW

The Morphing Memoir

What happens when the storyline falls apart and you are left looking at a completely different tale. In my digging through family artifacts to write a book that was supposed to be about paternalism and over-reaching parenting in past generations of my family history, I have discovered evidence to the contrary that was never mentioned.

The thread that joined the parts has been broken. The stories have shifted. How do I piece this history back together. No one is left alive to ask about any of this.

Does every family clean up their past and hold the next generation to higher standards? What do I do with this mess?

It is funny how one conversation or one letter can change everything.

Envelope with a surprise inside. No date stamp.

I found this last night as I purged another box of letters and papers. I may have seen this letter before in the box of letters from my Gran to my great, great aunt Ethel. I got up in the middle of the night to check for a date stamp on the envelope. There was not one.

Inside this envelope was a letter from my mom’s sister thanking her for sending the copy to be copied.

So my mom found this letter after my Gran died and thought enough of its contents to mail it to Canada to be copied and returned.

Box of letters that looks like a book on bottom shelf, far left, bottom of the stack.

This flagged that letter for me. Upon closer inspection, I realized a new part of the story was in there. How did I miss this? My cousin now has the originals. I am anxious to see if this letter is in the box and if it has my sticky note attached to it. This will confirm my craziness!

I must add a side story here. I found the box of letters from my Gran to Aunt Ethel in 2024 as we were cleaning out the house to sell it.  I took pictures of everything in the house in 2022. I did not know that the box of letters was actually a box, because it was disguised as a book. So to find photo of where it was all those years, I had to go through thousands of photos, mostly plants, to find a picture of the bookcase in my parents’ bedroom.

It has occurred to me that I am the only one who can carry this through.  I am the one with the photos and memories. I would never have had the time to do all this if bad things had not happened to put me in the right place as the world has shifted around my family.

I will continue until the universe stops me.

Stay tuned.

FLOW

It’s Melting

Water drops and snow plops are making patterns in the snow.


The deer have criss-crossed the yard many times during these past three days.


Deer spent time under our porch.

Deer tracks headed under the porch.

The two rabbits that live in the thicket bedded down in the leaf pile.

Rabbit tracks around the thicket.


The quiet is now punctuated by the soft sounds of snow cascades dumping off the tree limbs.

Even endings are lovely here on the mountain.

FLOW

Diamond Dust

I have spent today in a frozen cloud. There are ice crystals on everything. I call this “diamond dust.”

Big crystals


Frozen fog makes the air white. Visibility is severly limited. It has been strange to be in a frosty cloud all day long. All sounds are muffled.

In a cloud.


Look how the frosty fog is clinging to the deck railing. It has stayed around 20° F all day.

Frozen Fog


Rose just informed me that more snow is expected here. I am content to stay inside to read and write. I can pace on the porch if I feel antsy.


This is my first big snow on the mountain. I am happy to be here to enjoy it.

FLOW

Watching It Snow

I have watched the snow in silence all morning. I am truly grateful for this period of quiet peace. I have needed to concentrate on a project I have been working on.

The view from my desk.

No, it is not decorating for the holidays or decoupaging Christmas ornaments. That would be fun. I will hold off on glitter and glue until after 5:00PM.

I am rewriting my story. Not just a chapter, the whole thing. Well almost all of it.  I am culling what was myth and wishful thinking to see what is left.

This has not been an easy thing to do. If I did not feel that it was necessary, I would not be doing it. I am tackling one past event at a time and looking at it from all sides. We usually do not look at things from perspectives other than our own, especially when we are young.

Piling up quietly.

This has been hard work and has required my actually drawing scenarios and stick people and writing out what each person might have been thinking. It usually gives me a headache, but is very enlightening so I will keep at it until I get more clarification.

Watching the snow in silence is like staring into a fish tank. It somehow clears my mind like rice clears the palate.

Fluffy snow slowly falling is so soothing that it feels like balm for my troubled mind as I brave things I have refused to face.

This snow is like an angel. Nature’s way of quieting the setting and softening everything. Muting the noises and covering the colors so that things are monochromatic and muffled.

I did not say I would be making a snow angel nor snowman. My neighbor did bring me some snow cream.

I feel gratitude to my parents for leaving my sister and me this haven. It has brought me so much peace and comfort.

The results of this work are for a book that I have been working on for a long time. There have been surprises. I am sure there will be more. Bring it!

FLOW in SNOW

The Marine’s Letters Make It Home

My sister and I met Louis’s daughter and grandson for lunch yesterday. Both of them resemble him. I felt relief to finally hand over this important part of their dad and grandfather’s history to his family.


They left us to take the notebook to share with her daughter, Louis’s grandaughter. Today, they will share the letters with his widow, Linda. Then take them home for her brother and mother to read.

Louis’s grandson and daughter.

The circle can be completed without me. I have done my part to make it happen. I did this for my mother, who saved the letters for over sixty years.

Dottie

I did it for a young, lonely marine who wrote so beautifully about his first years in the military and service overseas and then came back to a different world.

Louis in 1950

Most of all, I did it out of respect for first loves. When hearts do what they do without reserve, fear or reason. Before things get guarded, complicated and weighted.

The story of Dottie and Louis is sweet. I am not sure how or why it ended. We got conflicting stories from mama due to dementia. My mom went on to marry my wonderful father. They stayed together over sixty years until his death in 2020.

But that’s another story.

FLOW

Supplies for Enduring Bad Weather

I am thankful to be prepared for the first bit of icy weather here on the mountain. Now that my body is worth more than my car, I will not be risking a fall nor a wreck.

I have a wonderful stash of napkins. These have been carefully selected and collected. I am very particular about my napkins.

Part of a vast napkin collection

I hope I have enough glitter. I left those awful tiny balls at home. Do not buy this type. It rolls off your table and across the floor. Enough of it could cause a fall. Stick with the flakey, shiny, traditional glitter that gets stuck in your hair and carpet.

Clear and iridescent glitter work best

I usually have both matte and gloss decoupage glue on hand. This glue should be thinned with drops of water.

matte or gloss glue

I guess I should check on my food stocks. Do I have milk, bread, eggs and kerosene? Why yes! But I am more worried about boredom than starvation.

Here are some suggestions for laying up your decoupage supplies for future bad weather.

Choose napkins with all sides decorated. Some only have pictures on the front.

All panels on one side decorated.

Also, randomly scattered small pictures on light backgrounds are easiest to work with.

Small and random is easiest.

Stripes with repetition are for flat surfaces and perfectionists. Individual stripes can be cut and used around the edge or middle.

Stripes are tricky.

Large central pictures are great as features on larger items.

Great feature picture.

Many items can improved by decoupage.

Light colored items

Do not try to work with thin glass Christmas balls. I have gotten all the way finished and cracked them moving them around. Thick glass, paper mache, wooden, and plastic things are best. Avoid dark colored objects. Stick with creamy, light colors or white.

I will add links to the end for further information and ideas.

DECA DECO

Glitter, Glue and a Friend or Two

Paper Gardens

FLOW IS READY FOR ICE AND SNOW

My Ephemeral Art Box

Sometimes I need to play with options of an idea I am developing. That is when I pull out my Ephemeral Art Box. It contains fragile, small trinkets that can add details to cards, letters or dress up decore with a tiny accent.

Tiny, fragile treasures to add details to projects.

I added a bluebird to Daddy’s picture frame
by cutting this bird off the corner of an envelope.

Paper bluebird glued to frame.
Corner of a Christmas card envelope


Any time I find a tiny piece of art that I can use, I pop it into this box to save for later. I snip pictures off cards and envelopes, save stickers, buttons, old stamps, even pieces of broken jewelry or matches to lost earrings.
I have bigger boxes at home, but this one came to the mountains for a workshop. That will be another post.



I will share some photos of tiny treasures I save to use in future art projects.

Scattered treasure
Tiny fairy stickers
Inside a tiny box
Fairy door buttons
Stickers may have borders or not.
Ferns without background may be stuck to glass on outside and art on inside and overlapped for a 3-D effect.

Tiny 3-D objects may be used to add details.

These may need extra glue.
I love these little doilles.
Antique card from my grandmother’s house.
Also save textured paper and fabric scraps.

The best thing about having tiny treasures to play with is they all go back into this little box.

My Ephemeral Art box

FLOW

Letters from a Marine: 1949 – 1952

My sister and I found a large envelope of letters from my mom’s high school boyfriend while we were cleaning out her house to sell it. We started to read the letters while mom was still alive in a nursing home. We just could not do it. We felt like it was an invasion of her privacy. She had dementia. Sometimes she spoke of Louis like we should know him. Once she wanted to leave him a message over the phone.  She thought he needed to know where she went. Mama wanted to leave Daddy messages, too.  Both of them were gone by then. We just let her do whatever comforted her.

After Mama died, my sis and I were sorting contents of boxes we had moved from the homeplace to my sister’s house. Here was that envelope again. I opened it and started reading the letters outloud. Louis came to life right there in my sissy’s kitchen. His letters were full of what he was doing and what he was missing.

RIFLE Practice

He was riding on a ship or a helicopter, hiking, digging foxholes, cleaning bunkers, standing watch, stringing barb wire and cleaning his rifle. He was missing deer season, trout season, football games and home.

His duty in 1951 took him to Kobe, Japan and then Pusan and Yanngu, South Korea. He describes the steep mountains and cold weather often.

Three buddies

He tells stories of a pesky mouse in his bunker that dropped things during the night. This caused some drama in the dark. There was also a lizard that drank coffee.

I have put the original letters, envelopes and photos in plastic sleeves and organized them in order in a big notebook. This treasure will be going to his daughter to be shared with her two brothers.

This young Marine was a great writer and storyteller. I see why my mom kept the letters for over seventy years. This is a window into the past of a nice person who ended up serving as a Marine for over thirty years.

I have always appreciated our military putting themselves in harm’s way. This is the first time I have closely considered their time away from friends and family, as well as the freedoms they give up to serve.

This young man missed his hometown, football games, hunting and fishing seasons, his family, his friends and my Mama.

Louis and Mama married other people, but they were great penpals for over three years. I doubt my Mama’s letters made all the moves of a Marine, but I am proud to give these to the children that missed precious time with their Marine father.

Thank you Louis.

FLOWER

The Two Lost Letters

I went through my safe this evening in order to find two letters. These two letters were opened with a knife, not my usual ripping.
I never saw them until I took a box of cards and photos home from my mother’s house in the spring of 2024 as we were cleaning it out to be sold.
The two letters were from two young men I dated while away at school. I am looking for dates on these, not just content.
There was a period of busy months when I lived in a nearby city while my mail still came to Enwood. I am hoping these letters came during that period and were simply forgotten by my parents.

My dad had the habit of turning the stack of mail face down to cut each envelope open before turning them face up to remove the contents. I do not feel that they were intentionally cut open to be read. I did find two more Christmas cards that were cut open that I had read. This gave me some comfort.

I have waited to do this. I have had so much else to decipher. I really do not know what to do with this information when I get it. I have discovered more meddling.  There were also deflected phone calls. Was my future shaped by forces I was not aware of?

I moved out of my home and into an apartment in Statesville August of 1984. I moved back to Enwood mid-November to take a job at my alma mater high school as a biology teacher. It was a much better position and I could save money living at home.

That summer and fall were a blur of preparing for my sister’s wedding in July, both of us moving away from home and readjusting to new jobs.

Date stamps on misplaced letters.

The date stamps on these letters were June 20, 1984 and Dec 20, 1984. That is when it would be understandable for my family to have been too busy to remember to pass the letters along to me. It was also a time when I was making big decisions about my future.

I will choose grace here. What else can I do? My precious parents are both gone and these two men married other women. Maybe the two letters would not have changed anything.

This is just a small part of a long story. Actually, it is part of three long stories.

Flower

Past Family Picnics

I drove to our family’s favorite picnic spot along the Blue Ridge Parkway yesterday.

Julian Price Picnic Area

This is called Julian Price Picnic grounds. Just up the road is Price Lake and Julian Price Campground. My family spent many happy days at these places.

Gravel beach in the creek’s curve.

The Dudley side of the family picnicked in this spot often. Someone always went early to save it.

Deep part of creek.

We loved it because of the stones across the creek and the gravel beach in the curve where the water got deeper.

Loved playing on these stones.

I sorted through decades of photos to find these of past picnics. Many of these people are gone now. I will say to those of you who have not lost somebody close yet, you never stop loving them. You just have to find different ways to express that love after they are gone…Like writing and talking about them.

Boys being boys.

These photos made me smile. All these children are grown up now. We have such sweet memories of them playing in the water on those hot summer days.

The Dudley family enjoying each others’ company.

As I sat there alone, I was not lonely. My heart felt grateful again. What a great family I have had and still have.

Love you Dudleys!

FLOW

Daddy’s 5,840 Slides

I got the neighbor’s children to help move all the boxes of slides and the three projectors to one place in the basement. I was tired of looking at them every day. They have been downstairs for months now. I am finally strong enough to go down the steps. I went down yesterday to look and take photos. I need to know what is ahead of me.

The slide closet in the basement.

Each box with a reel in it potentially holds 140 slides. There are 41 reel boxes and a shoe box of little boxes and random letters. That means there could be 5,840 slides.

Three projectors and more slides.

My sister and I purged hundreds of inherited slides when we emptied our parents’ house. These inherited slides were mostly of people we did not know in places we had not been. There were even hundreds of double slides and a binocular stereoscope viewer. At first we were careful and respectful in our purging. By the end we were thinking these folks were self-absorbed and took way too many photos of their dog and cat.

My plan is to purge and color-code these thousands of slides while I am snowed in this winter. I will keep a fire going in Daddy’s big stove as I sort through sixty years of slides. This sounds like a great way to spend snowy days. Mr. Flower bought me a lovely blue Lodge pan for cooking on the stove if there is a power outage. Daddy would have loved that.

I have done some sorting before when old friends were coming to stay here on the mountain. We hiked Grandfather Mountain with this family in our younger years. We made a slide show just for them. Their color was purple.

It was a wonderful visit. The last before my parents passed. We suspected such and wanted it to be perfect.

I am determined not to leave this purging task for my children to tackle. I will confess that the inheritance of stuff has changed the course of my life. I do not want my two children to be overwhelmed by what I leave behind. They have too much stuff of their own right now.

I will bravely tackle this task for the sake of the family that follows, so they won’t have to wonder,  ‘”Who are these folks? Where are they? and ” Who is that spoiled beagle in all these photos?”

FLOWER and the slides

Zoo in a Box

Inside this little box is an entire zoology course.

Zoo in a box

The cards are arranged by the common names of animal phyla in order of complexity: fish, mollusks, insects, amphibians, reptiles, birds and mammals.

Sixty postcards of rare book illustrations

The pictures are copies of paintings from the collection of the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. There is information in the front of the box about the history of the museum and the processes used to make the original prints. I would call this ‘Museum in a Box’ but that title will come in a later post about another box.

Fascinating information about museum, books and printing methods

Each postcard has information on the back about the subject, artist, and location of the animal’s habitat. I love reading the descriptions because many of the animals are strange to me.

I will be at my desk on cold days perusing the zoo.

FLOW

My Paper Plants

The green is gone here on the mountain. My other home is never this brown in November. The wind and cold have kept me inside more than I am used to. These conditions are causing what I call “green anemia.”

Plant people know what I am referring to. I do have a few special plants here, but they cannot compare to my indoor jungle back home.

Two clivias, a cereus and an epiphyllum

To address my need for green, I have a large selection of paper plants. I have put these out on the Zebra so I can walk by and get a plant buzz. I will take you on a tour of my paper conservatory.

Mary Delay Notecards

Here is the back of the box. If you have never seen her work made of cut colored paper, stop reading and look her up. I have several books about her life. You need to know her.

The Passion flower on the right is my favorite.

My sis ordered an antique book about her for me as a gift. It is one of my treasures.

THIS book has artwork from Kew Royal Botanical Gardens. It has groupings so you can pick your fix for the day.

Botanicum curated by Katie Scott and Kathy Willis

Almost every page is frameworthy.  I consider this another treasure.

Ornamental shrubs

Wildflowers

I got this WALL COLLAGE set with two sided cards and sticky circles. You can make your own diplay of plants, animals, fungi, planets… If you have a little scientist or artist, they should have something similar to play with. Cards could be sorted or copied. I can imagine a lot of thoughtful quiet-time with this.

Wall collage kit

The last book I will share is a sticker book.

Unbelievable artwork

I have not removed a single sticker. It is too precious to dismantle.

Desert plants section
Rainforest section

I will share more in another post. This is how I plan to survive my first winter on the mountain. If you know someone who suffers from “green anemia” you may want to get them a survival kit of paper plants.

FLOWER

Pure Gold Pauses

When I was teaching college biology I used to pause before an important point and alert my students that a gold nugget of knowledge was forthcoming. If I had been my student taking notes, I would have drawn an asterix in the margin, maybe skipped a line for the pause and breathed in.

I do this backwards as I read. I highlight the gold nugget and put an asterisk in the margin. If I consider the point really valuable, I flip to the front book jacket and write down the page number with a brief note or symbol.

I sometimes called these pregnant pauses because various facts were about to be birthed into a bigger concept. All the pieces finally came together to be joined forever, never to be seen as separate again. Like spinning gold from words.

Pure Gold Pauses take careful consideration and viewing a concept from all sides.  It is a skill that takes one’s full attention and relentless practice.

I just finshed a book with so much gold in it that I dried up three highlighters.  It was HOW TO KNOW A PERSON by David Brooks.  I am a fast reader but this book required quiet reading and pauses before and after each section. I will read it several more times as I wander where this book trail leads, but for now I will return to the asterisks, reread the pages I noted in the front cover and then site quietly for a time with my phone on silent.

I have always admired David Brooks, but now I love him. He is on every page of this book trying to see and be seen, hear and be heard, love and be loved. He has written other things and will write other things. This may be his magnum opus.

When I look back at my notes, page 164 got a grief post-poned note, page 165 got a WOW, page 250 got a heart.

If you have ever lost a soul-mate (mine was Sandra) you must read about his friend Pete. This part was raw and honest and helped me feel less bad about not doing everything right at the end. We cannot know what we do not know until we do know when it is too late.

Make time to pause. Read this book full of pure gold. Be ready to learn about yourself.

Thank you David Brooks.

FLOW

Writing for Non-writers

I have shared many books that I find interesting on both my blogs. This one is about writing for folks who NEED to write. It is not about form, style or getting published. Allison Fallon has a business called Find Your Voice. She helps people write their life’s important stories.

There is real power in taking your recurring thoughts that keep swirling around in your head and writing them down. This helps clarify thinking and get you out of “the maze.”

I am on a long journey of this exact type now. It has been transformational for me to finally face past trauma and unpack the roles of each person, especially me, in order to thoroughly understand what really happened and why it affected me as it did. This is what healing is about.


This book gives good advice about how to get your story on paper and why that will make a difference in your life. This is exactly the book I need to guide me as I start a small writing group.  I will not be their fearless leader, I will be writing alongside them as part of the tribe.


I posted on a community website that if anyone wanted to struggle with me, they are welcome. I am just trying to get my stories down as clearly as possible. This group will be about just getting it done. We will not be editing nor correcting.


If you have hesitated to write about an event that needs to be out of your head and onto paper,  get this marvelous book. It will inspire and encourage you to finally start.

You need to be brave…not perfect.

FLOWER

Separated from my Schlumbergera

This is the first time that I have been away from my Schlumbergeras while they are blooming. My daughter, Rose, sent these photos today.

Prepped with weak bloom food and less light.

They are in better shape than expected, because I prepared them for my absence while I was home last month. I cleaned them up, added a weak bloom solution and some sprinkle fertilizer.

Salmon Schlumbergera

My collection is much smaller now, but I know that the houses of my friends will be full of these bright blooms.

Blooming in cool semi-dark basement room.

I will add a several links below from days gone by when I was obsessed with these plants. They burst into bloom just when that first hint of cold-weather-blues kicks in. That is why I love them.

Saved by Schlumbergeras

Blooming Again?

Beauty By the Pot

I hope I can find that GOLD one again. If you have one from me, please save me some links next spring.

To share: Twist off pieces. No scissors. Three links minimum. Harden off for 3 days, then dust with root hormone and plant in light, loose soil.

FLOW away from her flowers

The View from My Bed

I am hold up in the dreamhouse of my parents on top of a mountain. I have moved into their former bedroom because of the wide doorways and giant bathroom with handicap railing everywhere.

Wow fancy!

If you were describing your dreamhouse, your description might include plus rugs and fancy light fixtures.Those amenities did not make the cut here. From start to finish their priority was quality and convenience. These are the exact attributes that have helped me survive these months of mobility struggles.

Every room has a view. I can see other mountains from any bed I choose to sleep in. I feel like I live in the sky. This is such a joy.

My deer, Misty, and my present read.

It has felt like my parents were planning this house not just for their infirmities,  but also for mine and my sister’s. Since I have moved here, I have felt loved and cared for even when I am alone. I am grateful for this every day.

If you look closely in the mirror, you will see a ponytail that has not been washed in five days.

I appreciate my practical parents more and more as new challenges arise. I do not need to be impressed, just embraced by wise people who planned for what would be needed.

Feeling grateful again to…

Bop and Kiki, Carl and Dottie, Mom and Dad

I still feel your love. I hope you can feel mine, too.

FLOW

Building a Bridge

I have been constructing a bridge from the past to the future. This bridge is not made of the usual materials. There is wood, but also words. There are metals, as well as medals. I am trying to carefully craft a legacy for my children that will not involve the purging of  thousands of useless papers and hundreds of unnecessary objects.

Something about that tedious purge process cluttered my brain. I am grateful we did not have to rush through this sorting. We also hired help which made it less overwhelming. I think clutter and chaos come from postponing decisions.

I now live in the house with all the books, dishes, photos, tools and jewelry that were kept. This is where I am building the bridge. I am sorting items that mean something to us and adding labels to them. Sharing explanations of why these objects are still here. What meaning do these have in our story?

Time is running out for this sort of task. We must write while we can remember. We must leave lessons for our future family. These objects and photos have significant stories. If these are not preserved, they will be just knickknacks and old photos of dead people.

We are just now discovering some tales from the past. There have been surprises. I think it is important for young people to understand the history behind what makes a home and a family. Parents try to be perfect, but that is never possible. Why not share the struggle? That is where wisdom comes from.

So as winter rolls in on my mountain I will be sorting, labeling and writing. I have contacted another family about a crossing of paths. I am sending things they may want to put in their bridge they are building.

There must be a crystalization and connection of past events that lead to a future. The time to build your bridge is now.

Holding these artifacts connects me to treasured memories of people and events that shaped me into the person I have become and I have influenced the character if my children based on these experiences.

I look forward to this process of preserving our significant family events for folks who have been or may be influenced by our legacy.  I will be slowly sorting and selecting the materials worthy of forming our bridge across the generations.

I plan to share steps as I go through the process. Maybe this will inspire you to cull your collections and record your favorite memories.

FLOW

My New Left Hip and My New Attitude

Today was the day! I now have two new hips with double balls. My right hip was first replaced in August 2024 and then  revised in June 2025, after three dislocations which involved three ambulance rides to three different Emergency Rooms.

I have been in almost constant pain for ninteen months, due to an arthritic right  which was replaced with a faulty prosthetic hip and an accident which jammed my left hip just three weeks before schdeuled first replacement of the right one.  Blah!

I am not a graceful person. I have spent my life focusing on the physical work I was accomplishing. I used my body like a machine, or maybe like a man does, or like  fool does? Well that habit has backfired.

This is my sixth joint surgery; one shoulder, two knee replacements, two hip replacements and one hip revision. I am only sixty-four.

I am lying in the hospital bed tonight thinking and blogging between nurse visits, because there is no point in trying to actually sleep in a hospital.

What lessons have I learned from this long, painful journey?

First, I have always tried too hard. I will NOT place blame on Daddy who wanted a son, or Mama who wanted a little lady, or even my sister who wanted a playmate sister instead of an introvert who dug in the dirt. I have continued to try too hard through adulthood. Maybe I felt I needed to prove my worth as the youngest child or earn my value as a non-boy. I am still trying to figure all that out. Do not hold your breath for the answer.

Daddy and his girls.

I have finally stopped this over-achieverness because I could not be Wonder Woman while waddling around with canes and walkers,  grimacing and crackling like an old crone.

My friends and family have warned me NOT to fall back into my go-for-broke patterns after my new left hip heals.

Next, I treat myself like somebody else now. I have tried to be kind to my body and mind after years of mis-using them like appliances that can be fixed. There will be more careful planning and pausing from now on. I will be spending funds to hire others to do things I should not have been doing at all, much less solo. I will work smarter NOT harder.

I will stop with one LAST epiphany that I noticed about my new self today.  This may also be of value to you.

“To be part of a team, you must be part of a team. “

I have tried to be the whole team, instead of team a member. I have no super powers nor am I a genius. WTF Flower?

NOW,  I will focus on doing what is essential and needed. I will ask for help when I need it. I will tell folks what I need. They are not mind-readers and neither am I. Flower will quit showing off!

I have always been determined to be independent and do things without the help of others while also insisting on helping others.  Who do I think I am? I feel compelled to improve conditions wherever I am. That is not admirable. It’s OCD! Why is this true Biddle Boo?  I have usually refused help that was gladly and lovingly offered out of stubborness and pride.

It has taken ninteen months of brokenness for me to realize that the ebbs and flows of life are natural. I can quit shoveling sand against the tide like a maniac.  I can stop trying to prove I am as tough as my Daddy,  or as smart and pretty as my Mama or as extroverted and popular as my sister.

I will be just me…no pearls, no curls,  and no merit badges, but I will wear a shirt. Ha

The ladies and me.

I plan on thinking more and hiking more.

I will be pausing to observe and enjoy.

It’s about damn time!

FLOW

Bloom When You Can

It is October 21 today. Mr. Flower just sent me this photo of one of the daylilies. This one is in the Bunny Yard, which no longer has bunnies. Instead it is visited by the neighborhood ground hog. The fence keeps out the deer herd.


My home garden has gotten very little attention from me in two summers. This bloom may not look like much to you, but to me it is a message of hope.


This ‘Breed Apart’ daylily is showing its grit. It is exhibiting resilience. ‘Breed Apart’ is  budding up and blooming in Autumn despite neglect, drought, and cold.

Breed Apart daylily


‘Breed Apart’ showed up and did what it was supposed to do. It bloomed where it was planted.

“Grow where you are planted.”

I have said this to my daughter, Rose, many times. Her life has been peppered with less than ideal conditions. She has grown and bloomed despite this.

Sometimes the “where” is not optimum. In this case the “when” is not optimum. But here are the lovely faces of ‘ Breed Apart’ in October.

Blooming in late October

I apprecite the survivors. They are beacons for what can be accomplished even under challenging circumstances.

I would like to salute and celebrate all the BREED APART survivors who bloom where and when they can.

FLOWER

In honor and memory of NOBODY’S GIRL.

The Storytellers’ Chairs

Now that the Zebra table has been restored, I can focus my attention on the storytellers’ chairs.

Our Gorgeous Zebra

These chairs were in the lovely home of my maternal grandparents, which was full of many interesting things.


In my first memory of this pair of chairs, they were mossy green in a livingroom with green carpet. A big picture window looked out onto Hibriten Mountain. Their house was perched high on a hill. The street name was Ridgecrest.

The green wingbacks were one of the places our Grannypaw sat to tell stories. The grandchildren would gather around on the  carpet to listen to his stories and jokes.

Grannypaw telling stories in the green wingback chair.

While all this sitting and talking was going on;  my Gran, Mama and the aunts visited in the kitchen while they cooked and cleaned up. The significance of this tradition did not dawn on me until I became one of the women in the kitchen.

My maternal grandparents

When the Ridgecrest home was sold, the two wingbacks were moved to our home on  Enwood. My mama had them recovered in a soft coral-pink shade of velvet.

One of the pair eventually got moved to the corner of the den. My sis and I called this corner Hong Kong because Daddy seemed to be far away as he sat silently sipping coffee.

My Daddy in Hong Kong

The other chair was put in our livingroom which also had green carpet and a big picture window. My daddy sat here to tell stories, listen to music and listen to my mama play her piano. He would sit in this chair when we had company and tell stories.

Daddy at Christmas


Several years back the wingbacks’ bottoms began to sag. We feared a guest would fall through, so we placed footstools under their seats. This is embarassingly tacky, but it was better than embarrassing or endangering a guest. When we transported the pair to the mountain house, the footstools came, too.

Footstool reinforcements under saggy seats.

Mr. Flower and I loaded up the two Storytellers’ Chairs into our truck today. We drove them off our mountains, through some hollars and hills and then climbed up onto another mountain near Boone.

Two wingbacks and a roll of new, blue fabric.

The pair has been delivered to a furniture rehab facility to get their seats shored up and covered in a soft, sky-blue, leather-like vinyl.

Wingbacks in the workshop.

We look forward to the pair’s rehab and return. Then some of the younger folks need to take over the storytelling tradition. Wonder where we can find some?

FLOWER

Our Gorgeous Zebra

The Zebra just got delivered. It could not be more beautiful. I cannot stop crying. The Zebra’s long journey is over. It is restored to its proper glory. My Daddy would be marveling at the craftsmanship that was hidden under the dark stain and dirt.

Those legs!

The Zebra is just plain gorgeous. The artists at Restoration House in Blowing Rock, NC brought it back to life to be loved by many more generations of our family. Thank you Klutz family!

Two artists from Restoration House, Blowing Rock, NC


I took photos of all sides, legs, tops, wooden wheels, drawer and back. (which is too pretty to be against a wall).

Beautiful back of the Zebra

It will stay in the middle of the great room beside Daddy’s chair, so we can see it and pet it for a bit.

Bottom shelf is still zebra.

The Zebra top veneer was replaced by solid oak. That old veneer was missing a corner, crackly and warped. Now, the top is solid and ready to be used.

Oak top, drawer open

I am proud of the three or more generations of my family for having the insight to save it and transport it. It is finally where it belongs.

The Zebra’s tiny, wooden wheels.

My heart is full. I only wish Daddy could have seen it. But maybe he can.

FLOWER loves the Zebra and her Daddy

Four Legs of a Zebra

Our Macho Zebra

Our Macho Zebra

I got a call that the refurbished Zebra was almost ready. I let the experts choose the stain color. When Ruth said the name of the stain over the phone, I knew Daddy must have been involved.

Our Precious Daddy

My sister and I used to get so silly that we rattled our usually calm father. When this happened, he would get tongue twisted and use the wrong words. This would make us squeal with delight, because we thought it was so cute. Our laughing would get him even more flustered and his face would turn red. 

We have favorite stories about poor Daddy mis-speaking followed by our shrieking. One of these involved Daddy using the term mocha instead of macho. He would just grin when we repeated ” He thinks he’s so MOCHA.”

All pieces of our clean Zebra ready for Restoration House.

When Ruth said the stain they chose was named MOCHA, I laughed outloud and said that sounded perfect. I immediately called my sister to report that our Zebra was going to be MACHO.

Now, I can share the before photos of our famous Zebra foyer table. This is a big deal to me. Our Zebra will finally be restored and put in our family home.

Four dirty legs with little dusty wooden wheels.
Missing piece of Zebra veneer off the top.
One leg and the lower shelf.
The lower shelf’s Zebra veneer not as damaged.
Filthy dirty Zebra bottom of top.
Top, middle and four legs.

Get ready to see the refurbished

“MACHO ZEBRA” … HOORAY

Excited FLOWER

Surviving and/or Thriving

Yesterday was the day of the potted plant migration into my workshop. I am pleased that there is a lot more room in there this fall due to the purging and adoptions. I can easily get to my art supplies. I am able to walk all the way around the workbench to water and preen my green treasures.

Once I had every plant in an optimum spot, I took an assessment of the condition of each. These are the survivors. I have given many away, but many also died during my absence. I do not push my plants with strong boluses of fertilizer. I am a coaxer. This type of care gets them ready for the long game. Slow and steady gets them ready.

After I prepped all plants, I asked myself if each was thriving or just surviving. I made mental notes of which ones did not bloom this year. There were quite a few.

The hoyas did not bloom. These long arms should not be shortened,  because the blooms form on the ends. This one is going to a new home today.

Hoya

The two surviving woody hibiscus plants from the Hibiscus Circus did not bloom. There was one bud on each now. I wemt ahead and chopped it back mercilessly.

Hibiscus

My precious Night Blooming Cereus plants did not bloom. I am glad I could enjoy the many blooms on my friend Palmer’s miraculous plant that he adopted from me years ago.

Night Blooming Cereus

The Bird of Paradise has never bloomed. It requires a greenhouse or a conservatory to thrive in. It needs a new home. A big, warm,  new home. Its blooms are supposed to be white. Any takers?

White Bird of Paradise

My precious Clivias did not bloom. Neither my yellow ‘Good Hope’ nor my orange ‘Fire Lily’ put up a stalk this year. These will be spending the winter with me. I count on those glorious blooms in early spring.

Clivias

To bloom well, plants must have optimum conditions for thriving.  But do not take surviving for granted. It takes grit. Picky, needy plants are greedy plants.

I think this country is going to learn some lessons about grit like it did during the dust bowl and the depression. The lessons will be difficult. Some may not survive. Maybe we need to read Steinbeck instead of Epstein.

FLOW

More Relief and Less Grief

I have just done a potted plant and garden inspection with a walking stick. Not my usual shovel. I did not need the temptation!

I ate my first and last tiny tomato from the garden today.

Tommy toe snack

There is still a good crop of jalapeno peppers to be harvested. We make crazy hot poppers that make folks cry.

Jalapenos

I am proud that I have found new homes for so many of my potted, green babies. The migration of pots going inside today will be so much easier. Mr. Flower and my son will be in charge. They know the drill.

Ric rac/ fish bone cactus

The Schlumbergera survived and benefited from a nip of cold. Some are even budding up. My collection used to be 3x this size.

Schlumbergeras

Some of my pickiest plants died in my absence. I have mixed feelings about these losses. I regret their demise, but not a tear was shed. No guilt was felt. My attachment to them was not strong. There was more relief than grief.

Epipyphyllum and black elephants

Some tiny treasures disappeared. I do not know if they died or were eaten. Many hypertufa troughs are totally empty. My  fences were breached in several locations. We have deer, rabbits, raccoons, foxes, possums and ground hogs at the lake house. It has been a thirty-year battle to garden here. I am not up to it anymore.  My efforts are best spent elsewhere. Boundaries is my new mantra!

Fence corner pushed apart.

I was happy to see the little Chinese Dunce Caps blooming. These are treasured and tucked in a safe spot in the rock wall, but still need some attention.

Chinese Dunce Cap

I will accept the fate of my plants. No matter relief or grief. I have been shoveling sand against the tide for too long here.

It’s time for relief!

FLOW

Giant Wooly Bears Tumble and Roll but do NOT Sting nor Predict Weather

I try not to keep my house and garden too clean. It makes visitors uncomfortable and intimidated. No white gloves inside and only dirty garden gloves outside. I want all to feel welcome.

I used a leaf blower today to clean off the porches, patio and door jambs and door slabs outside. The wind was blowing, so I was in a leaf tornado when I spotted a fuzzy black ball rolling away from the doorway.

Giant Wooly Bear

The blowing had dislodged one of my little friends from its hiding place. I took the opportunity to take some photos before recreating the mess I had just moved.

This caterpillar is hairy but NOT poisonous or stinging like many that have bristles/setae. Its best not to pick the bristly ones up. Some of the cutest ones give painful stings.

Its name is Giant Wooly Bear. It does NOT predict the winter length and harshness. Neither does the Banded Wooly Bear which has black ends and a brown middle..but that’s another story.

This Giant Wooly Bear is the caterpillar stage of the Giant Leopard Moth. The species name is Hypercompe scribonia. I had to use the internet to look this up. I found all kinds of misinformation and even how to keep them as pets. All this gave me a headache.

Let’s focus on what I know.

The shiny black setae/hairs are arranged in star-like tufts that do NOT sting. The tufts deter predators which usually do not like fuzz in their mouths and throats.

Non-stinging setae/tufts

The red-orange bands only show when it rolls up to protect itself. Red is a warning color to would-be predators. 

Giant Wooly Bears roll up really tightly holding the tail and mouth together. Do not try to pry them open. You will cause harm.

Enjoy carefully looking at any caterpillar and then put it back where you found it. You would not like being taken out of ypur home and moved to a foreign location would you?

But that’s another story.

FLOWER with a blower.

In a Tree in the Fog and Rain with a Squirrel and a Chipmunk

This tree is important to me. It is an unusual oak. It may be a cross of Scarlet and Red. Its acorns are plentiful and beautiful.

Its mast is food for our deer, turkey and chipmunks. Maybe crows? I do not know. One must be fast to gather acorns or there will only be caps on the ground.

Too late.

This tree reaches over our two porches. When I am on them I feel like I am in this tree. My younger self climbed trees, so I love this sensation.

I am socked in by a thick fog this morning. This tree is the only thing I can see. I spent time on each porch listening to the rain and sounds from unseen sources.

Dead limb in the fog.

I was surprised to see a squirrel looking at me and my camera. It is the first one I have noticed here. It moved too fast for a photograph. The squirrel seemed to be deliberately headed onto my roof. We have meant to have those reaching limbs trimmed. They touch the roof during storms. Now, we have another reason to cut them back.

A chipmunk also scurried up the trunk while I was watching. It is one of many around here.  The little ones must climb for their acorns.

This big oak is the guardian of the yard.   A huge poplar was killed by lightning, so this tree is even more important. We too have lost our caretaker parents. We will be the guardians here, now.  Any home should be a haven.

It is early October. This place is recovering from the shock of Hurricane Helene. I do not expect a normal fall season. There is healing going on around me. I plan to watch and learn from nature.

Fall 2025 many leaves are browning and falling

My time in the old oak in the rain and the fog with a squirrel and a chipmunk will be a treasured memory. I am part of this. I belong here. It is my haven. I do not take these things for granted.

FLOW

My Daddy and the Boy Scouts

When my Daddy was a young boy there was not a Boy Scout troop in his town, so he started his own. He and some buddies formed their own troop, did their own paperwork, earned badges and even went to Camp Philmont.

He had stories about riding a horse down steep terrain by letting it have the reins. His guide told him to point the horse toward the ravine and drop the reins. I envisioned my Daddy as a young boy leaning back on his horse as it charged over the cliff like Jim Craig in The Man from Snowy River. I guess liability was not a concern back in those days.

Decades later he started another troop with his friend Jack, this time as a leader. Daddy  kept his training records. If you look at that date, you will see March 1961. Just three months before I was born. This is more proof that he wanted a boy. Sorry Daddy!

Training certificate from 3 months before my birth.

Daddy and Jack took their troop, which included lucky Jack’s son Jay,  on many trips. They even took their scouts back to Camp Philmont. I am glad for Daddy that he got to return there again with the boys from our church.

I was envious of those boys going on all those adventures with my Daddy. He took my sister and me on adventures too, but we did not get to earn any colorful badges.

Flag pole toppers and badges

I am proud of my Daddy for going ahead with male bonding and high adventures with the boys of the community. He was a very patient mentor. His scouts have shared how much that troop and those trips meant to them.

I saved these badges incase some of those boys never picked theirs up. If any of you guys have a troop of your own, let me know. I have the brass flagpole toppers for your flags.

Female Flower

Fall and Frost Chores

As the air gets brisk here on the mountain,
I feel the need to get home.
My family sends me photos of leggy plants and late blooms.


There are deadlines to be kept. One is for fall and the other for frost.
I have kept garden journals for decades. The entries are by months.
All I have to do is flip to the Octobers of the past to see what needs to be done.

Blue Ginger

Both fall and frost must be taken care next week. My family will help me. I appreciate their support. I have given away dozens of plants. I will continue to down-size my collection, until it is a size that I can manage and move by myself.

There will be a flurry of cleaning and preening all plants the must go into my workshop. It will take on the look of a crowded jungle until spring. Plants will cover every surface and hang from the rafters.

I do not clean my gardens outside until March. The mess is a haven for insects and wildlife over the cold months. I may add extra mulch around some tender favorites. I will need help for this, too.

I am still wobbly and in pain. Hopefully that will end. My left hip will be replaced on October 24. This hip was damaged by a fall on August 4, 2024.  My whole left side was jarred and jammed just two weeks before my unsuccessful surgery on my right hip on August 24, 2024.

I have been in constant pain for 18 months. I  have thought about this quite a bit. Mostly I think of my precious Daddy who had rheumatoid arthritis for decades and kept moving. I also catch myself hobbling like his mom who had arthritis and wore shoes that were too small and too pointy.

I also think of the miles I ran on roads and sidewalks before there were properly cushioned running shoes.  I still have a habit of carrying heavy loads, because I do not like asking for help. I remember all the times I waved off men in parking lots who offered to help me load 60 and 90 pound bags of portland cement and masonry mix into my vehicle. I worked like a man with the joints and muscles of a woman.

Now, I need help doing many mundane tasks. I do not like this helplessness. My hope is that I will be strong again in the spring. I will be more cautious with my repaired and healing body from now on.

Next week, I will need help with these fall and frost chores. Seasons do not wait for us to be ready. They come when they come.

Not sooner, not later.

Are you ready?

FLOW going slow…for now.

Four Legs of a Zebra

This story is not finished yet. The legs are still disconnected and some stripes are missing. 

That is about to change this week.


The dismantled zebra spent over forty years gathering dust in my Daddy’s shop. When we sold our homeplace on Enwood, we moved the zebra to the mountains.

I hired the neighbor’s children to help me take the zebra outside and brush it off and hose it down.

We carried it back in the basement for me wipe it down and dry it off. Then I carefully rubbed it down with special oil.

My neighbor helped me load the zebra into my car.  I drove it to a special place for rehabilitation. I pondered its sentimental value against the rehabers’ cost estimate. How much is an old zebra worth these days?

I stood by my car looking at those old legs wondering what to do. I thought of its long journey; from Piqua, Ohio to Lenoir, North Carolina then to Charlotte and finally to this place in the mountains.

I had to trust my ancestors who bought the zebra and kept the zebra and dismantled the zebra and moved the zebra. I had to trust my father, the woodworker, who stored the zebra in his shop for decades. Who was I to determine its value?

They will start work on it this week, stripping it down and repairing it. Then we will go examine it and choose the color of  its new coat.

Something about this gives me peace. That I have done my part in this arduous journey and now, at last, the zebra will be whole again.

Maybe that’s all any of us are supposed to do…Our part. Not the beginning, not the ending…just a leg of the journey.

I will share the results when this story ends. For now, we will trust the zebras handlers to do their part and bring the zebra back to life.

FLOW

Color on the Rocks

I am a fan of plants that spread. They soften lines in the garden. I like the look of spilling over rock borders and walls.

This ice plant is growing nicely in its spot along the rock border. I like that it stays low and compact. This one is neater than some I have grown in the past.

Ice plant ‘ Orange Sunset Orange Glow’


This color combo really pops. The yellow center with petals which trsnsition from orange to pink lives up to its name ‘ Orange Sunset Orange Glow.’

Ice plant between stones and sedums


Its tag claims hardiness to -30°F. This is also deer resistant. If it survives several seasons I will be thrilled.



FLOWER on the mountain

On the Book Trail

I read books about things that interest me. Those books refer to other books on the subject that the author used to write their book. I look up those books and read those, too.
I call this ” following the book trail.” That is how I have found some of my favorite books. I have been following the book trail lately as I wait for my next hip surgery.
This book, Every Living Thing by Jason Roberts, is about the lives of two naturalist in the 1700’s who attempted to classify all living things.

I have read about them and even taught about them many times, but I never really knew their stories until now. This book starts at the early lives of Carl Linnaeus and Gorges-Louis Leclerc (de Buffon) and details their development into the important researchers they became.

Their stories involve the struggles of obtaining an education and a proper place in society and science. These two men followed very different paths to get to their goal. Both stories are amazing!

If you love biology, you will enjoy this book on how our present classification system came into existence.

FLOWER  (sitting still and silently reading about science)

Another Survivor of Neglect

I got two of these ‘Daybreak Coreopsis. I placed them as bookends of this small flowerbed.

This area has been neglected all summer. I am grateful that “Lil’ Bang” has thrived through my neglect.

Lil’ Bang Daybreak Coreopsis

It is a perennial so I hope it will survive the cold here on the mountain.

The tag claims hardiness to -20°F. We shall see.


FLOWER

That Little Lantana

This Lantana is a ball of color. I love that its buds, new blooms and mature flowers look like a bouquet.

Hot Blooded Red Lantana

The red could not be redder. No wonder it is named ‘Hot Blooded’ red. It is an annual. I will remember this winner when I look for plants in the spring.

Really red!


I am in Zone 5. I have been learning a new landscape. I picked this plant for its deer resistance.

I save all plant tags to help me find the best performers again.



FLOWER

Memories in the Light

On my deck there are two artifacts together that are highlighted by the sunshine in the mornings. They are sort of like a shrine. The windchime is there to remind me of my cousin, Mark B.. The gazing ball is for remembering my Daddy who loved all things blue.

Memories in evening shade.

It has taken years to remember these two people without the sorrow that comes with loss. My world shifted and I carried on with the emptiness. Then once the pain faded, it has been like they are part of me and my surroundings. There seems to be a new kind of presence in their absence.

Two gazing balls? One is present, one is made with light.


I look at these two forms and see how the glass refracts the sun and metal blocks the sun to make a shadow.

Two windchimes? Only one is truly present. The other is made by an absence of light.


That’s how I feel about what is left. The object’s presence works with light to make the colors and shadows for the perception of second presence. There must be light for this to happen.

One ball, one chime, no light

It’s the light that makes this possible. My love for them and their lives made the missing and memories possible. I still perceive things differently because of my love for them. My reality has been changed. So in a way something of them is still here, because I still love them.

FLOWER

I wrote this for a dear friend and his two sons. Their dear Lisa is suffering no more, but her light is still here, because their love for her is still here.

Keys

I know it makes no sense that I have kept these keys.
We never figured out what most of these were for.

Mystery keys


Some are for cars long gone, some are for houses sold and offices left.
There are even dog tags from past pets.


Daddy had a reason for keeping these.
Maybe one day, something will need unlocking and I will bring out the box and open a lock that needed opening.


I know it makes no sense to keep these keys, but I cannot get rid of them just yet.

FLOWER

Two Twining Together

I love vines and I love purple. I did not plan this combination. Nature planted the morning glories. The Passion Vine is a hybrid called ‘Blue Crown.’ A hybrid is a mix of two different strains.

Passion Vine and purple morning glory.

If you are a follower, you know how I feel about vines. I have learned life lessons from them due to their faith in reaching up and out and their grabbing hold for support when needed. They always strive to go higher. They inspire me.

I had wanted to live my life like a strong and magestic tree, but my fate was to live like a vine. I have struggled to accept my interdependence. Thankfully the vines keep modeling a different path in ascent.

Two ‘Blue Crown’ Passion blooms

I have watched vines grow amazingly high and strong when in the right location.  I have also watched them crawling across the ground searching for support. Like the tomato vine that I had to step over to take these photos.

Wandering tomato vine.

I have had to guide some climbers that lost their way and grew up under structures to be trapped in darkness. Some even ended up enclosed in pots and under stoneshrooms and had to be rescued and rerouted.

Wrong Turns

Sound familiar?

Maybe you are a vine, too. I have some vine friends that I am entwined with. We support each other and end up the better for both of us. Win:win as twins!

Passion on the treehouse.

And about that purple? That color is regal. It does not have the boldness of red nor the dark hue of blue. It is a tween color. The red and blue join to make something beautiful together. 

Wild purple morning glory

Sometimes it takes two different lives to achieve perfection in combination. Do not try to be everything all by yourself.

Great combo!

I no longer wish to be a tall and sturdy tree. I do admire their strength and grandeur. I have accepted my vineness and my purpleness. Others have different fates, but mine is as a vine.

I would be remiss if I left out the down side of entwined vines. Sometimes they reach for the sky and there is no support.

Reaching for the sky.

Then they bend back on themselves or twine so tightly together that they both droop and die.

Dead end, turn back

Sometimes interdependent becomes co- dependent. If you are a vine, you must be selective about what you connect with. Not all partnerships are beneficial for both.

Choking: co-dependence

FLOWER

Plants with Claws

Plants need to protect themslves. They cannot run away from danger. They have to survive where they are. This means some form of defense is needed.

Agave with weapons.


My century plants have claws. I have been scratched and stabbed by these over the years. The new claws are a lovely red, warning color.

I got both of these agaves from a charming plant store on Oakracoke Island years ago. That is where I first saw a Century Plant bloom close up. Wow, they are amazing.

Yes, I am the one posing in the road. Ha

Once in a Lifetime


My two babies are about big enough to put in the ground. I must be careful doing this. I will not worry about hungry enemies with teeth. A claw in the nose will do the trick.

Armed agaves

Then all I have to do is wait sixty years or do for it to bloom!

https://www.facebook.com/share/v/177LgXGhoc/

FLOWER

Dahlias Down

I did not dig these dahlias last fall. Nor did I remove their tomato cages that were placed for support. These are on a hill that I have fallen on many times when I had the legs of a mountain goat. I will not be doing much gardening here.

Site of last year’s fall and face-planting.


So the dahlias have been on their own for two seasons now. They seem to thrive on neglect, except they do need staking. I hate seeing flowers face-plant. Better them than me!

Falling Snow Country dahlia

It  pains me to see Thomas Edison so down.

Thomas Edison with bowing blooms.

Snow Country is falling like snow. Firepot is a complete mess. All the dahlias need a good dead-heading, but since their care-giver has had two hip surgeries and one to go, they must hold their own another season.

Firepot needing some preening.

They may need tending, but I must say they look the healthiest I have seen them in years. That’s what I am working toward for myself. Healthy and strong despite the falling.



My dahlias may be down, but they are still thriving without any help from me. Hooray solitary survival!

Snow Country face for photo. Ignore the shadow.

FLOWER

September Sedums

Anything edible must be protected from the deer herd. I even dug and divided my collection and gave many away.

Autumn Joy was beheaded before the fencing


I am not sad about this. I love sharing plants. I do not love feeding wildlife. I am a biologist first and gardener second. Feeding wild creatures makes them lazy and dependent. They will keep coming back for more.

Pot out of reach of hungry mouthes.


I only break that rule during weather anomalies like droughts and extreme cold. Even then the assistance is sporadic and in different locations.

Sedum on the steps.

So the sedums you see here are isolated in strategicallylocated pots or inside fences. There is plenty of wild vegetation around for them to eat.

Bees love sedums.

I have keep wild spots in and around my yards. This encourages nature to stay in balance.

Bees even sleep on the blooms.

The bees love my sedums but love my weeds equally well. Nature should win. It’s been growing things a lot longer than we have.

Sedum safe in trough, on wall, behind fence.

FLOWER

Red Spider Lily

These lovely blooms greeted me as I walked down the sidewalk to go into my home.

Lycoris radiata


I have been away for weeks. I was glad to see the bright, complex blooms of Lycoris radiata.

Red Sider Lily

FLOWER is home

The Perfect Pumpkin

It’s the time of year when pumpkins are everywhere. All sizes, colors and textures are available. When I was kid, all pumpkins were orange. There were no colorful, bumpy designer hybrids.

Picking the perfect pumpkin was easier back then. There was one color, orange. There was one texture, smooth. There was one shape, round. So the choice was limited to the perfect size.

Traditional pumpkins and a ghosty goard.

Our home was controlled chaos back then. Mama taught middle school. My sis and I were in the marching band. There would be no pumpkin carving and lighting. A little pumpkin would do.

Too big!

There was no time or need to peruse a pumpkin patch. We just grabbed our little, round, smooth, orange pumpkin from the produce section of the grocery store.

So many choices!

The perfect pumpkin was about the size of a person’s head. We put it on the mantle for our Halloween decore. It looked great there, so we left it through the fall. Then Thanksgiving arrived. Our band marched in several parades as well as at most football games. We left the pumpkin on the mantle through that holiday.

The mantle with the pumpkin stain.

Some time before the Christmas holidays the perfect pumpkin started slumping. This new pumpkin posture went unnoticed for a while. Eventually its squatting was spotted.

We lifted the poor pumpkin out of its puddle of goo. We cleaned the wooden mantle as best we could, but a round, discolored mark remained.

That mark is still there on the left side of the mantle. That discoloration is a treasured sign of a home that was lived in. A busy family hurrying through the holidays ignored the pumpkin until it demanded attention by rotting.

There are lessons here. I hope one of the Enwood neighbors will pass this story along to the new owner, Zach.

He can hold his little girl up to see the spot and tell her the story of two little girls that grew up in that house long ago.

And the lessons? That is for him to puzzle. To pay attention to time passing. To know that perfection does not last. To enjoy things while they are fresh.   To know when its time to make a change. Whatever suits.

FLOWER

Life with Wheels

First comes the walkers. Just to keep them steady and vertical. Carting two walkers  around is better than a fall or not going at all.

Mom and Daddy with training wheels.

My dad had rheumatoid arthritis for decades.  He hobbled around determined to keep going. He finally ended up with a bright red rollator, so he could keep moving, and cart things around.

Racy red rollator

We only used a wheelchair when necessary. It was during one of those times that I felt the pain of inaccessibility.

Daddy in his chair.

We planned an important outing with friends. There was not a close parking space available. The rest of the group went down the steps. I wheeled Daddy back and forth along the back of the parking spaces. I was literally running by the third pass with tears of fury in my eyes. I saw no break in the curbing to get up to the sidewalk. I finally saw that someone had parked in the space between the two handicapped spaces.

A car was parked in the marked out space between the two handicap spaces blocking the ramp.

I pushed his chair up to the curb. He lifted himself out of the chair by holding on to a car. I popped the heavy chair up over the curb and helped him settle back in.

It is such a small barrier, but is too big for a wheelchair.

Then we went down a looooooong, steeeeeep ramp to get to our destination and rejoin the group.

Looooong, steeeeep sidewalk. A worker helped me get him back up the hill. Grateful.

Wheels help, but it is still a hardship

Mama got weaker and needed wheels. Her rollator was smaller and blue. Sometimes she would be confused and push it with one hand and have her walkingstick in the other. Later she used Daddy’s red one.

Mama with Daddy’s wheels.

We would walk up and down her street. She was still in charge of the world then. She would lock the house and put the keys in her pocket. Sometimes the cordless phone from the house went in there with her cell phone.

Mama and her wheels

We would put Mama in daddy’s wheelchair for outings. One of our favorite places had a dirt walking path. We had to carefully navigate the twists and turns on a slope to get down to the flat path. There were trenches from washing in the curves. My sis and I had to strain to keep mama’s chair from flipping. Sometimes strangers would help us. Mama would shriek when she was scared. We were quite a spectacle on those outings.

Better access for strollers and wheelchairs

Wheels help, but it’s still a hardship.

I caught myself wishing for my own wheels last weekend. Each step is painful. My hip  surgery is six weeks away. I wanted to go to an art show. I knew by the time I parked and walked there, I would be in too much pain to enjoy it. The same thing occurred with an outdoor concert two weeks ago. There will be other events after I am fixed. I will get to go places then. My problem is temporary. I can console myself with thoughts of a more mobile future.

Safe access is crucial.

BUT what if that wasn’t the case? What if this is as good as it gets? What if wheels were my new normal…forever?

What if loooong, steeeeep ramps and washed out curves, and curbs remained obstacles and barriers for the rest of my life? That would be challenging sometimes and impossible other times. No art shows, no tours, no concerts, no picnics…

Accessibilty matters.

Not being able to go to places you love and do things you have always done is disheartening.  Others must go and do without you. It is isolating and lonely.

The new sidewalk to the walking path.

Wheels help, but it is still a hardship.

Please, respect the signs.They are not there for convenience. They are necessary, so that someone with wheels and their loved ones can keep living their lives together.

And do not be shy about stepping in and preventing some fools from tossing their elderly mama into a ditch, on a hill, in a curve near a lake.

FLOW

After the Water

I wondered if Alice was concerned about some special plants that she treasured most. Her answer surprised me. “No” she said “I will miss them all being together.”

Drowned garden after the water

This is why her garden glows. She sees the plants as part of a mosaic. Alice designs a living,  green community. She makes tapestries of flowers and leaves.

Alice and her Mexican Sunflower.

I have to admit I have never thought this way. I garden one plant at a time. I guess that’s the biologist in me. This thought is so new! I am glad I am not on the river right now. I would be tempted to hobble out with a shovel to rearrange my colors and textures and heights.

I did finally get Alice to name several plants that she was happy to see come up after the flood. A Lenten Rose from her mom survived. It is small with crumpled leaves, but is putting out new leaves. She was also glad to see the white Clematis that she rescued from a construction site. This photo is my favorite from all the ones I took. It looks like a shining star.

Rescued White Clematis

A redbud and dogwood came through unaffected. An azalea survived but looks sick.

Dogwood thriving

Two pink Star Gazer lilies came up in pink profusion.

Looking at Alice’s garden gives no hint of the past disaster. She said she bought bags of wildflower seeds and threw them everywhere. Alice healed her garden, and maybe herself, with bulbs and seeds. I would need that, too. I have said many times “My hope is green!”

Queen of the Night

I bet Alice and Palmer would say that, too. I know ‘My Friend the Fairy’, Madge would second that. She gave me the Cereus. All this is probably her doing.

My Friend the Fairy, Madge

Talking with Alice and Opal has filled my head with stories that came back to me as I marveled at the many changes that they have navigated through. I thought of changes in my own life that I neither caused nor expected. We all have our own hurricanes and floods. We all must survive hardships that show up uninvited. I guess that’s why Alice’s garden and Opal’s lamp meant so much to me.

I get it. This rising up after a storm. Do you?

FLOW

Alice Underwater

I knew that Alice’s garden must have been flooded by Hurricane Helene last September. I asked her for a blow by blow of the events leading up to her evacuation. I was on the edge of my seat. I could not even take notes. It was like hearing about an apocalypse. She says she is just now confronting the trauma.

Water rushing by her raised deck.

I inquired about exactly what moment she  knew it was time to leave. She said it was when she took this picture of her pumpkin floating. Alice said she ran to grab some valuables and when she opened the door to run out, water rushed in.

Let that sink in readers. (No pun intended) Water rushing into your home. I closed my eyes and asked her to describe the water. It was moving, nasty and dark she said.

We sat in silence. Her home was no longer her priority, her safety was. She drove to higher ground as debris floated past in the dark flow in the streets. Whoa!

Here is Alice showing how high the water got on her lovely home and garden. She said there was also a storage unit of family art and a camper stored near a river that were also a concern. I cannot imagine how scattered her thoughts must have been, with one goal; front and center…GET HIGHER!

Alice showing the high water mark during Hurricane Helene September 2024.

This brave woman was telling this without breaking down. This is grit people!

She could have walked away and started over, but home is home. I asked many questions about when she decided to replace her precious garden. This is when I wanted to cry. She had already ordered bulbs before the hurricane. She opened the packs and planted them as soon as the water receded. Any bare spot got a bulb. I told her it seemed like she was dressing a wound. She agreed. There was no choice made. Like a mama healing a hurt child, she moved forward. She filled the emptiness and healed the wounds and moved forward with a faith that I marvel at.

Bulbs as bandages.

Think of it Readers. I did not stop to leave a note at a recovering garden. I stopped to visit a gorgeous garden. The most lovely garden I have seen in this town. Little did I know I would be hearing a tale of resilience and survival…not gardening tips…but LIFE tips. Once in a while this world gives you more that you asked for. That is what happened when Lucy and I met Alice and Opal.

Bulbs and a resilient redbud.

This amazing woman that the Universe chose to connect me with is a beacon of hope for ALL who struggle. Who of us can say our home was full of brown water and our garden drowned and survived to thrive? Alice can!

Next post is about when the water receded and what plants survived. This is so inspiring. Go plants!!!

Goosebumps again!

Alice you are a WONDER!

FOWER…your biggest fan.

Five People and a Queen

The first thing that happened was the Cereus ‘Queen of the Night’ plant that I gave to my friend, Palmer, had sixty buds on it, many of which bloomed last night.

His wife, Lucy, was with me in the mountains, so he was texting photos of the angelic blooms to his wife well after dark. The unusual thing about that is these sixty blooms are the third round of blooms on Palmer’s Cereus plant. Palmer is a plant whisperer.

Palmer the Plant Whisperer

I have been admiring a fabulous garden that I pass several times each week, so I finally had time to pull over and leave my card in the mailbox with a note asking if I could write a post about the exuberant garden.

More about this garden in next post.

The gardener and I have been texting back and forth for days. We decided to meet for lunch on Labor Day(today) at a restaurant near her home. I took Lucy with me to lunch.

I told this new friend, Alice, that I would bring her two of my favorite potted plants to add to her collection. The two plants were Queen of the Night/ Night- blooming Cereus/Epipyhllum oxypetalum with the angelic white blooms and Epiphyllum orchid cactus ‘Over the Top” which blooms pink.

A baby Cereus plant for my new friend, Alice

As we ate lunch, we three shared the photos that Palmer sent of his Queen of the Night blooming and Alice was excited about adopting such a glorious type of plant. I have blogged on this Cereus before and have stated many times that if an angel were a bloom, it would be a Cereus bloom.

Palmer’s Cereus blooms

Since Alice saw on my blog that I did decoupage, she wanted to show me a lamp made by her late mother-in-law using a reverse decoupage technique. She had just moved her sister-in law, Opal, into the house next door. It was Opal’s lamp. I was very interested in seeing it, so we went to pop in on Opal to get a look at this reverse decoupage.

Here is when the universe showed itself!

The lamp was decoupaged with a large picture of a Queen of the Night bloom.

Reverse decaupage lamp

There were gasps and waves of goosebumps. We hugged each other knowing fate had brought us four together with an assist from Palmer and his cell phone. I had to go home and lie down because the connections were too complex to be coincidence and I needed time to process all the events leading up to the magic.

Orchid cactus bloom

You do the math. Palmer’s plant bloomed last night. Lucy was staying with me, so I got to see the pics. Alice met us for the first time today. I brought her a Cereus as a gift. Her sister-in-law, Opal, just moved here with the lamp that has a Queen of the Night bloom on it.

WOWZA!

FLOWER

Gifts from My Angel

I opened a special package this morning. The gifts were given by the two beautiful daughters of my soulmate, Sandra who died in July of 2024.

Treasures from Sandra

Sandra’s two girls were about the same age as my son and Rose. We went to the same church for decades. Our families were involved in many of the church’s children’s activities together.

This meant that we spent alot time laughing together. Things never go as planned when young ones are involved.I remember vividly when Sandra and I were supposed the be helping with the Christmas program. The two of us were sitting on the floor out of sight of the audience facing the stage. I think our role was to mouth the words of the songs for the young performers to mimic.

Mayhem broke out on stage. Angels were everywhere. Hay was pulled out of the manger and thrown. Lines were forgotten. Wings were bent, halos were tilted. I think someone picked up rubber baby Jesus.

One of us looked at the other and mouthed the word, ” Fiasco.” We both burst out laughing while doubled over on the floor of the sanctuary. Modeling singing and mature behavior became impossible.

This is who we were together. One word or facial expression was all we needed to communicate. Sandra’s photo is by my bed. I miss her every day. Sometimes when I see something hilarious I start to think…” I need to tell Sandra.”

Now, she is my angel. Her symbol for me is the hummingbird. She is missed greatly but somehow I feel her with me.

Her girls sending me these treasures is proof that she is still doing things here. How did they know to give me a Nativity pin and an angel? Maybe they heard the ‘Fiasco Story’ from her or maybe Sandra told them what treasures to share with her buddy Flower?

Thank you girls.

Flower