The sacrifices I have to make...

When the garden center suggested planting specific flowers to attract butterflies, I planted them... no where did they mention that my Curly Parsley would have to be sacrificed!

Every year my garden gets better and better.  This year we were able to figure out a workable sprinkler system, and lo and behold... we have green grass!  The honeysuckles came and went, not before blessing my yard and my senses with their wonderful sweetness.  I love the smell of honeysuckle!  The rambling bush has taken over the old fence - yes, the rickety one from when I was a kid - and made well use of it.  Okay, it is not a beautiful new age trellis, but I challenge anyone to diminish its merit in my garden oasis.  

 Most of my springtime flowers are gone.  The goal for the rest of the summer, is to have my plants survive.  Every year they die due to the extreme heat.  So far so good.  Especially my Purple Cone Flowers.  For all you want-to-be herbalists, this is where Echenacia comes from.

I hang my laundry on the line and watch for butterflies on my mammoth Purple Cone Flowers.  Chores are so rough these days.... 

The rest of my garden is doing really well too.  So far this year I have blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, and after 4 years of pruning, watering and babying - my grapes are finally here!  I have no idea how they taste yet, for all I know I could have been raising sour grapes all this time.  I suppose if nothing else the birds will have a feast.  (...and I do like birds, so I suppose it’s all good.)

Then there’s the vegetable garden.  This years crop - peas, cucumbers, dill, and parsley.  At least there was parsley...

I went back to water one morning and all my parsley was gone.  This, mind you was a lot of parsley.  I was hoping to make a parsley salad... well, that idea went out the window.  Or, should I say... into the belly of the beasts.  The butterfly beasts.  

I sat and inspected the damage.  The closer I looked, the more I had to acknowledge that the sacrifice of my parsley offered a bigger gift.  One that my darling daughter would surely appreciate.  I called to her from the yard, ‘Charleeee, come on out here.’  She could tell from my voice it was something she might want to see.  From outside I could hear her bounding down the stairs.  The back door opened carefully.  My children have learned to heed the moment when it comes to Mommy and her excitement over nature... one never knows what is in store.  ‘Come on out honey.  Come look at this!’

Down the ramp with a skip, running across my greeeeennn grass to my use-to-be parsley area, Charlee kneeled down besides me to see what I was looking at.  

You MUST enlarge this.  Check out the feet.  :)

Now just to put this into perspective, every year Charlee asks for caterpillars.  We have two huge net terrariums to house them until they morph.  Well, this year we hit the mother load!  Absolutely gorgeous creatures camouflaged themselves on what was left of my salad.  Charlee did not know what to do first.  She dropped to her knees to get a really close look... then got up to get the magnifying glass... then decided against that, ran back and asked “Please, can I put them all in my butterfly cage?!”  

I barely finished saying yes and she was off to find them.  

Rather than try to remove each caterpillar, we used scissors to cut what was left of my parsley (boo hoo) stems with each critter attached.  Into the cage went the first, then the second, then third, then....... all the way to ten, count them, ten beautiful possibilities to look forward to.

You know what else I had to look forward to...?  Going to the store to buy more parsley!  We were sure we knew what the caterpillars liked to eat... and since there was noooooo moooorreee in my garden... off to the supermarket went I.  

Charlee carried the cage around for a while.  Adding sticks and organizing - as though the brood was interested in their new furnishings... beyond the fact that they were now in a CAGE.  No amount of parsley or sticks was going to suffice.

It is here that I must take a moment to point out the reasons behind Charlee’s logic, for she is saving each parsley-thief from a wayward demise - via becoming a tasty snack for our less-than-patient, soon-to-be-grape-eating, fine-feathered-friends.  A lesson she witnessed the hard way... After nurturing and carefully caring for a brood of store bought caterpillars, the long awaited day came.  It was time to release her first official offspring.  The three of us stood on the back deck patiently waiting and prodding the Painted Lady out of the cage.  Into the air she flew, as we all oooh’d and aaah’d.  Up, up, up... twirling and swirling in glorious first flight... climbing on invisible eddies of air..........  RIGHT INTO the BEAK of a hungry fine-feathered-fiend! (Yes, fiend... definitely not friend!)   As though we offered a butterfly banquet, this bird swooped right in.  It was a painful moment.  Alex yelled out in horror, then shook his head in disbelief.  He stomped his way into the house, not wanting to watch any longer.  Charlee stood there, the moment like stone.  Her mouth open but no sound... until the bird was gone... along with her pride and joy.  As for Motherhood Memories... I could have done without this one.... (and lets not forget the story about ‘Mary Moth.’)

It took some time... a long time... but Charlee came to the only conclusion she could.  “Everything has to eat.”  This being said, she could not find a suitable theory for the poor Painted Lady,  “It was not fair that she did not get even one day of freedom!”  

This current brood sat every night safely by Charlee’s bedside.  Every morning, before anything else, she inspected the cage.  A new batch of parsley was offered and the waiting game commenced.... This went on for days.  

Then it happened.  Charlee woke up and began the head count, 1, 2, 3... never making it to 10.  There on the roof of the cage was the first cocoon.  My I-am-not-a-morning-person child burst out of her bedroom at 6:45 am with a booming announcement.  “There’s a COCOON!   MOMMY, there’s a CocOON!”   

This was now the new morning ritual.  Ten times I had the pleasure of my daughters pleasure.

I have to say, even after purchasing the caterpillars for the cage, I never got to see one actually creating a cocoon.  This time I did.  Very cool!  Such a delicate task.  I find it amazing that they hang from such a fine line... but then again, don’t we all?

Once the feedings stopped, I sort of forgot about them.  Not before trying to find out what kind of butterfly’s we stumbled upon... Uh?!!  Do you know how many different kinds of caterpillars there are?!!  Good Grief.  I decided to exercise a little patience and enjoy the surprise... you know like waiting till you deliver to find out the sex of your baby.  Why do we always have to know everything?  Why?!

The days passed.  Summer camp started.  I opened the bedroom door to rouse my sleeping beauty, and saw fluttering in the cage another.  And a beauty it was!  (Forego the sleeping part... this guy wanted out.)   There was no problem getting Charlee to wake up this morning.  She navigated, in her wobbly, groggy state, onto her knees to inspect closely thru the netting.  From the tangled mound of her bed sheets she insisted “Ohhhh, we have to let it go.”  She is such a great kid.  I never have to explain the ‘we can’t keep it’ rule.  She gets that nature needs to be in nature.  

We stood on the front lawn, once again waiting patiently for the doorway to be found.  The proverbial window of opportunity for all.  Once again, the butterfly’s opening performance was full of swirls and twirls.  Air eddies lifted her in unmistakable breezy steps.  Up, up, up...  (Envision this for a moment... enjoy the bliss... Now insert the scary theme music from Jaws.)  Cue the fiend... and the anxiety... and the yelling.  As if it would matter, we all started to shriek at the eyes that were clearly eyeing our friend.  Our screaming worked, the fine-feathered-friend - thankfully - flew away!  The focus shifted back to the butterfly.  Alex called out, “Fly!  Go, don’t just sit there!  Go!”   I let out a wary “Oh, No?!”  (Seriously?  Do we have to do this moment again?!)  We scanned the skies for more fiends.  I had a brief thought of getting a tennis racket, or the hose, to ward off any unfriendly flighty attempts... then I reminded myself that I love birds.  Remember me?  A want-to-be avid birdwatcher... minus the time.  

Settled into the leaves of the nearest tree, we decided our butterfly was as safe as she could be... for now.  The rest was up to her.

So far we have released 6 magnificent - and I do mean MAGNIFICENT - creatures.  One is more beautiful than the next.  (Click on the images to enlarge them, it's worth the view!)

...and she's off.

If you scan by the brown leaf in the center,  you can see her...

And the next...

Freckles... just like me.  :)

And the next....

And next...

How awesome that this mammoth beauty came from that little bleached out wrapper!

And...

Even the underside was beautiful!

And lastly... proof that siblings can exist on the same planet!  Of course there has to be a worthy common cause....

** This was written outside on a beautiful sunny day - under my new canopy - with Toots at my feet... that is unless she spotted a lizard.  Then all bets were off.......

Exactly when does getting older... get old?

Life the grand illusion.... or is it delusion.

As a child you long for birthdays. My daughter is so looking forward to her next... the big 10. It’s double digits for the rest of her life - that is, unless she makes it to 100. (She, herself, points this out.)

The only problem she has with getting older, is that every adult she has a conversation with about age, tells her how they wish they were younger. Every reason, memory, ailment as to why... is summed up for my cherub child.

Left with thoughts to weigh her mind, she now is not so sure about the joy associated with her pending birthdays.

“I was so excited about getting older. About growing up. I don’t understand?! Why does everybody want to be younger?!!”

My motherly advice... “Live for now. Right NOW. Enjoy who you are today. Every minute that goes by is done. If you stop wishing to be older, and adults stopped wishing to be younger... and everyone was just thankful for the place in time they have right at this moment, no-one would miss a second because they were too busy wishing for what was or what will be.”

She soaked in the words, relieved at the notion that right now is perfect! Though there is something to be said for anticipation.... Alex wants to get older so he can drive. Charlee wants to get older to obtain some of those physical changes a girl gets when womanhood takes hold. (I am duly bracing for both!)

We all have our hopes and aspirations... Mine is to - really working on this! - live in the now. After all, as the song goes, “These are the good ol’ days...”

I don’t want to rush a second. These moments with my beloved children will soon be a mere memory... a sober fate for us all. I do long for the days of old, not because I want to be young again, but because I want to go back and be fully in the moment. To really soak in my time with loved ones.... knowing all to well that once they are gone, there is no more. Those are the thoughts that weigh my mind.

No going back.... so I do the next best thing. I work at being in the moment. Enjoy every second. Cherish my cherub and my ever growing man-child.

Someday I will be looking back, wishing for this very day.... might as well be in it and enjoy.

A moment that hangs on... a clothes line?

My morning walks are always accented by the ‘Hansel and Gretel’ house.

I often wonder if people know the subtle impact they have. Many a times I have walked past this house and smiled at the mere act of the owner hanging her laundry on the line. This a ‘chore’ I love to do. Don’t ask me why.... I just love hanging laundry out on a clothes line. The sun shining on my skin, the birds chirping and flitting around, the wind making the clothes dance to their taunts. And since no one wants to get caught having to help me... it proves to be a quiet, zen like moment for Mommy.

This being said, Mrs. ‘Hansel and Gretel’ does it so much better. She wears a cute brimmed hat, her linens are soft pastels and somehow seem to float more gracefully on the slightest breeze. She smiles as I pass, offering a warm ‘Hello.’ Sadly not the norm these days. I welcome her hospitality and mirror her greeting with one of my own. Her yard is chock full of flowers. Every color is accounted for. She must prune her yard routinely, for I’ve yet to see a wilting blemish to her obvious showcase.

Toots loves this part of our walk. I slow down to let her sniff her senses away. Of course, she thinks it’s for her... let her. The reality is, it’s for me. I want to enjoy this... drag it out... linger in my heartfelt moment.

What's in a cup of tea?

My memory of my childhood includes one that just passed.
So sad how the pages of life just keep turning. There is no time to catch your breath.

Joan, my girlfriends mother, was a gentle soul. Strong, quiet, smiling and welcoming.
I remember many a cup of tea upon any visit.

Joan had a unique knack for reading tea leaves, so having a cup of tea was an entirely new adventure. I had to contain myself from rushing thru my relaxing beverage.

There we all sat as she turned the mug over. Inspecting and scrutinizing with great care to discover what was there.

These were wonderful times. Warm, home style memories to hold dear to my heart.

Tea will never be the same..... Joan, you are missed!


I ask you, What’s in a cup of tea?
Tell me, is there something you see?

My dear friend Joan.
It’s you I am so happy to have known.

In better days, vibrant and bright,
these are the memories I keep thru the night.

You opened your heart,
with a mere kettle tea pot.

Multitudes would visit,
and still you’d find room to sit us.

We waited for the steamy whistle to blow,
our ready tea cups all lined in a row.

Why couldn’t we know how special the time?,
where we friends met and would so divinely pine.

We steeped our brew and aroma filled the air.
I, for one, am so happy I was there.

The cup’s are no longer full, our stories have been told.
They’re turned over in their saucers, and waiting to unfold.

I ask you again, What’s in a cup of tea?More than you’ll ever know... for me.

The pending Attack... Me verses The Mat.

I think I am going to have a heart attack! Or a panic attack... or some kind of attack. I don’t know which attack it will be, but I know it’s coming.

I went to see Alex, my 12 year old no longer little baby, at his wrestling meet. I missed the first one due to overlapping schedules. Charlee is now in Theater Group and I was not able to leave her there alone. This day the schedule still overlapped, but leaving her was now an option.

I raced over to the OMS in the hopes of getting a glimpse of Alex in his meet. The parking lot was full, my first indicator that this might be a big thing. When I opened the school doors, a wave of noise streamed into my face. People were yelling, shouting, cheering.... Bells were ringing, hands were clapping, feet were stomping. My heart started to pound in unison. I ran to the noise, hoping it was not Alex’s turn I was missing.

In the middle of the large gymnasium were two bodies dressed in blue wrestling uniforms. Their suits were similar, other than white/yellow or red trim. They had helmets on to protect their ears, as well as mouth pieces. I am sure mouth pieces... lest these boys need serious orthodontic care.... I could not see if one of these boys was my son. I navigated around to try to get a better facial view... they were in the midst of wrestling ‘moves’ and duly struggling into the next position. The referee was close. At times he himself on the floor. All of a sudden the boys were now standing, still wrestling but standing. The crowd roared. My heart was racing. I still couldn’t tell if this was Alex? Looking at them wasn’t working. I couldn’t imaging my little cute son behaving like these boys were... I started looking into the stands. There was a sea of blue outfits to sort through. Deciphering by means of merely the opposing white, yellow, or red trim was impossible... and I never realized how many people had brown hair?! No Alex?!

Then the crowd sounds surged, I looked back to the entangled boys. One grabbed the other and twirled and twisted, up around over, and with a loud - painful - plunk, the other landed on his back. If there wasn’t so much screaming I am sure we could have heard the wind being knocked out of him. But he didn’t give up. My heart almost did.... but not him. He wriggled out of his compromising position to the delight of the audience. All I could think was ‘That BETTER NOT be my son!?!’ Here started my panic... I do not know how I am going to survive my son being on the mat!

Alex saw me from the stands. He ran to greet me. "Alex! I was looking for you. Did you go already?" I was relieved to see him and hoped, for my sake, he already fought. I did my motherly scan: he was still breathing... no blood, able to walk, nothing broken... This is good! Please say you went already, so I could listen to your story intently and not have to endure the agony of the slowing clock of a wrestling match.... waiting for a bell or a chest pain..... please....

‘No. I didn’t go.’ He was disappointed, I didn’t know what I was.

I asked, thru the lump in my throat, when his turn was? He didn’t know. Another boy was set to hit the mat. Yes, in the literal term! The coach met with him on the side for ‘the pep talk.’ Their heads were close to combat the noise level. A few ‘moves’ were gone over, a ‘get going’ slap, and the team member was in position. Now a second set of boys flailed around on the mat. Alex smiled at me knowingly. He knew I was a bit overwhelmed by what was happening.
I had no idea that this sport was so extreme. Stupid woman! And I pushed my son to join?!

"Alex, honey this is intense! I didn’t realize how involved it was. I don’t know how I am going to sit here and watch you do that?!" Directing my gaze to the boy now thudding to the mat, after just flying threw the air... Alex nodded his head seeing my dilemma. He smile that of a man. You know the smile, the confident, smirky, he will survive against the odds smile. I smiled back. Behold... my son was stepping into manhood before my eyes.

"I guess I can’t go out on the mat, huh?" He laughed and rolled his eyes. Then in all seriousness looked me in the face "NO! You can’t!" My son’s warning was noted. I can’t make a scene. No going on the mat for any ‘You touched my son? I am going to kick your ass!’ moments.... Apparently I am going to have to live through it.

Good Lord!

The bell sounded and the exhausted boys shook hands. Alex ran off to see when he was up. I stood there duly kicking myself for suggesting wrestling...

Another ‘pep talk,’ and another set of boys scuffled... the audience cheered and gasped. All I could think was there was not enough ‘talk’ or ‘pep’ from any man, to get my being out on that mat!! Well maybe a fearful tear from my son.... but that doesn’t seem to be happening....

I gasped again when Alex returned and told me ‘I won’t be wrestling today. I do not have a weight match.’ Only this gasp was that of utter relief!! He was disappointed!

Thank you God! Now maybe my senses can calm down. Maybe we can even move to Tonga before the next meet! Apparently I’ve got till Thursday... hmmmm.... surely enough time? With the amount of adrenaline racing through my veins, I see no problem making it happen.

Nancy's mental gymnastics

Words, thoughts, scattered oughts...
All tornadoing in my mind.

Those fleeting momentary expressions ...dared forever lost,
or possibly of those that cement and bind?

I have to get them out.
Lest they continue and whirl about.

My brain burns with activity...
as my fingers, on the keyboard, struggle to keep up.

Sort, organize, rid, forget, let go...
to right myself, I must write.

I’m real,
not to be ignored

Here lies the stored me, for all to see.
Do you need to read between the lines?!

I see clearer, the pattern is down...
The emotion is no longer in me, but on the paper I am holding.

Here my words have settled,
and so, too, the corners of my brain.

For now I close this chapter, that is... till the next presents...
The words keep coming... is this all in vain?

Or could this be the way it 'just is'...
The way to ‘me?’ Is this My Write of Passage?

Mom's mental gymnastics... she started it!

Every day at this darn computer I sit,
trying to put together words that fit.

Words that create a picture or a story true,
not only enjoyed by me, but also by others too.

Until my bleary eyes and fogged mind become a part
of the many written words I struggle to with clarity impart.

So if between a comma or period or a written word
you see a little figure trying to scream to rightly be heard.

It is just me, the author, in her script so engrossed
that life outside those pages is lost almost.

Until some little child or human comes with life's gentle knock,
bringing me out of my word maze with a reality shock.

So I have to reluctantly cut the creative word-mind cord,
knowing other parts of my life should not be ignored.

But how I love my time with each large or small word I finally write,
able a picture to draw, a story to share or to give or gain insight.

written by my Mom a.k.a Janice Adele Bowers