Tree Envy on the Prairie

For some people it's shoes. For some it's electronic devices. For others it's kitchen gadgets. You know, the items that call out to you, "Buy me! You need me! You must have me!" Frankly I get bored shoe-shopping, electronic devices confuse me, and kitchen gadgets bring with them certain expectations. But, trees....ahh, there's my temptation.

I stood under this beautiful tree in a local nursery and as the branches swayed past me in the breeze, I envisioned my girls holding a tea party under its glorious canopy. Obviously my daughters, or more likely granddaughters, couldn't hold their party at the nursery; I'd have to create a tea party canopy of my own. How could I deny my posterity such a pleasure? I couldn't and later that morning numerous travelers on Viking Way unwittingly joined in the slow-moving motorcade behind the creeping (lest a branch be broken in transit) truck transporting the weeping Katsura.

The girls have named our lovely specimen Charlotte and I hope to keep her happy. Well, as happy as a weeping tree can be.

Laura Ingalls would be envious. As a matter of fact, she visited. Or maybe it was Holly Hobby, it's difficult to tell.

She ran away before I could get her name.

But I caught her on the porch. Little Cholita-on-the-Prairie I believe she's called.

And if she stays tiny long enough, she may get a tea party in a billowing tent of blue-green leaves.

Now there's a certain Maple that's calling my name....

A Perfect Rose

Our sweet girl was baptized on the 4th of July. Rose is always radiant, but when she came up out of the water, she simply glowed. I helped her slosh into the changing room and rubbed her dripping head with a towel. She whispered, "I feel so wonderful" and hugged me, leaving a wet spot on my dress. The quiet reverence of the moment reminded me of our first meetings with each of our children. Whether in a delivery room or on the 4th floor of the Lottery Hotel, each time a child entered our family, the spirit compelled us to whisper and savor the perfection of this priceless gift from God, so newly arrived from His kingdom.

After Rose's baptism, I sensed her newness once again. Our precious, feisty, exuberant child number three, as spotless as a newborn babe. A perfect Rose.

Thyme Crunch

With Rose's baptism tomorrow on the 4th of July, we had family arrive to celebrate her religious rite of passage with fireworks and hot dogs. I had hoped our courtyard might look somewhat finished. The concrete stones had been colored and sealed, Bruder was dutifully (O.K., he was being paid) spread topsoil, and all I needed to do was plant thyme--eight flats of thyme with 18 plants per flat. And since I knew 144 thyme plants would never do, I cut each plant into 4 plugs, thinking we might just make it with 576.

I greatly underestimated 2 things. 1) How much thyme it takes to plant a 2,700 foot courtyard, and 2) How much time it takes to plant a 2,700 foot courtyard. I don't have enough of either.

I took this picture after about 3 hours of sweat and dirt and you can see the full flats waiting to be touched. And three more nearly full flats on the steps. Three hours to plant 2 flats. If you could see Cholita in full frame in this picture, you'd see she's holding a bag of candy--Japanese candy courtesy of Bruder to be specific--and knowing that my children were eating candy for lunch didn't help me to stay focused on the job at hand (or under foot I guess). The noises from the house also led me to believe that the necessary cleaning tasks that I'd laid out for my children were not getting done and that our house would be in shambles when the relatives arrived. Needless to say, I was forced to abandon the courtyard. But.....

someday when I have enough thyme/time, won't it be gorgeous?

Flying

I never had any indication that our windmill was unhappy with us. How could I have known such a thing? But apparently it yearned for greener pastures and in the big windstorm this past week, with its blades spinning furiously, it levitated off the ground and flew over the fence and into the greener pasture it was looking for--the horse pasture. I didn't see it, but our friends who were working on the concrete dove for the ground in case the helicopter/windmill flew their way.

And speaking of flying, my boy is coming home! While we sleep tonight, Bruder's plane will be roaring over the ocean, bringing him back to the United States.

In his absence, we painted his room, hung trim, installed blinds, and made what I think is a pretty darn cool guitar display. When Lucy saw it she said, "I feel like I've stepped into a Pottery Barn Teen catalogue." Rose was speechless and Cholita just said, "Awesome." Let's hope Bruder likes it too. Since the windmill flew the coop, I've had a bit of a complex.

P.S. Cholita is obsessed with the hanging guitars. She asked if she could touch them and I told her in no uncertain terms that she could not. "I can touch the red though, right? The paint's dry, so I can touch the red." I couldn't necessarily argue. "Yes, it's dry. I guess you can touch the red." So she touched the red rectangle, but I knew her fingers were hungry. Then she pulled an age-old trick. "Mom, look over there." And being gullible, I fell for it. "What?" I asked turning toward the bunkbed. "Oh, nothing." I looked back and she was innocently stroking the red paint, but I know better. That little stinker touched the guitar.

Hard rock and warm fuzzies

Lyle came home for lunch every day last week. In the past decade, I can count on one hand the number of times he's pulled himself away from the office to see me mid-day. But the pizza oven evidently holds a special place in his heart and he can't be away from it for any significant amount of time.

Lyle poured the forms for the oven, grill, and firepit on a day off and then started work on the courtyard early on a Saturday morning.

He carved stones...

He poured, he smoothed, he carved, he poured, he smoothed, he carved....

And called his efforts on the first day good.

Then he had to return to the office and let the work go on without him. It was hard, but with the lunchtime visits, he still felt connected.

Charlie oversaw the work while he was gone and seemed happy with the progress.

And today we've reached the front walk. One more day, and the pouring is done. Then the concrete gets colored, we put down topsoil between the joints, and plant creeping thyme.

Our good friend and concrete genius, Forrest, told Lyle that when he moves, he'll give him his concrete mixer. It was as tender a moment as I've seen in many months.

"Lyle, I want you to have my mixer."

"Oh, no, I couldn't take it."
"I want you to have it, man. There's no one else I'd give it to."

The sun was dropping behind the Olympic mountains and they stood together in silence.

"Thank you," Lyle finally managed, too choked up to say more.

ABBA, meatballs, and Bjorn Borg

Last week these items pretty much summed up our knowledge of Sweden. But we are slightly more enlightened since our Swedish house guests arrived. They are a family of 12, with 8 of them staying in our third floor. One of their older daughters attends our church and we offered to have her parents and six of her siblings stay with us during their 2 week visit. They spend their days at their daughter's apartment and we just visit with them in the morning and at night. Cholita adores them and has trouble going to sleep if she hasn't seen "the Swedish people" arrive back home. The dogs love them even more and wait at the door and whine . Apparently Charlie and Olaf now understand commands in Swedish. I never knew our dogs had such a gift with languages.

The Rosen children all play different instruments and they do concerts around Sweden. Our kids excitedly told us it's like having the Von Trapps in our attic--- without any Nazi tension.

With our new found interest in Sweden, I took the girls to our town's Mid-Summer festival.

The dancers arrived by boat and were lead by a violinist to the maypole.

The outfits alone made me want to cart my kids over to the Sons of Norway Lodge to sign them up for dance classes.

But my girls' reluctance to join hands around the maypole was a sign that maybe the classes wouldn't be successful. And getting Bruder into lederhosen seems unlikely.

Horns blasted from the street above, signaling the arrival of the Vikings.

They looked like they'd been at sea for many years.

And isn't it cold in the north?

No bother, their old bones were warmed by the bonfire. And thankfully the eldest Viking didn't remove his vest.

The girls made floral wreaths for their hair.

And Rose had her face painted.

It was a beautiful evening in our lovely Scandinavian Washington town. I'll never hear "Dancing Queen" again and not think of our wonderful friends from Sweden. And if we ever visit, we know we've got a place to stay.

Our dogs will stow away in the luggage.

Bruder and da' Buddha

It's amazing to see these pictures and know Bruder is half a world away. The giant Buddha was certainly impressive, but the first thing Bruder told me on the phone was that the 100 Yen stores are AWESOME! He and his friend, Brandon bought air soft guns and have been in battle mode since then. Teenage boys are an interesting breed.

I've been airing out his room in his absence and used half a tub of spackle repairing holes in his walls. Despite his destructive tendencies, we miss him.

Sayonara Bruder

Today, for the second time in my life, I watched one of my kids walk onto a plane all by themselves. The first time it was little five year-old Rose. We were heading to Beijing and she was heading to Boise.

This time the child is older, but heading much farther away. Bruder is currently 5 hours and 10 minutes into his flight to Japan, with 6 hours and 17 minutes to Tokyo, but who's counting. He'll be staying with our good friends, the Fry family and will have a wonderful experience. I fully expect him to see the sights, eat some sushi, learn about the culture, and (knowing the Frys) come home an Eagle Scout.

Since he was flying solo, we got him "unaccompanied minor" status so we could walk him to the gate. He was horrified when we checked in and he was given a bright red United badge to wear prominently on his chest. Somehow (hmmm, how did it happen?) it was lost between check-in and gate. The gate agent asked him about his badge. While Bruder stammered and stuttered, he was given yet another bright red badge. If the badge makes it off the plane, somewhere on his person, I'll be shocked.

Cholita was all smiles while we waited for the boarding call.

But her mood changed rapidly when Bruder got into line without her.

"I'm going too!" she screamed.

"Bruder! Bruder! Come back!"

If he thought the red badge made him rather conspicuous, the hysterical screaming toddler didn't exactly help him blend into the woodwork, or accordion walkway, whichever the case may be.

I wonder if he could still hear her when he got on the plane?

As Bruder's chariot to Japan pulled away, Cholita waved and said, "Oh, this is horrible."

But she rallied on the airport train.

Sayonara Bruder! We miss you already.

Pink porches, projects, and a birthday

Two weeks of all-quiet on the blogging front. It wasn't for lack of material, just no time to plug my camera into the computer. I refinished the porches and Cholita got one look at the pink primer and was so pleased. She sighed a happy, contented sigh and proclaimed it gorgeous.

When she saw the brown paint that went over the primer, she couldn't hide her disappointment. "Oh, Mom. Yuck."

We laid a drip line around the plants in our mound. And covered it all with mulch. The plants can get the water they need for the first couple of years and then they're on their own. My goal is to eventually do as little garden upkeep as is humanly possible, while still growing things a little more lush than cactus and gravel.

Construction on the courtyard has begun! With the help of a sod cutter, another area of grass is gone.


The current dustbowl will soon be a faux flagstone (shaped concrete) courtyard with creeping thyme growing between the "stones". Lyle made the 10 foot circular form to mark out where a water feature will go. It might be something like this self-circulating bubbling urn or it might be a small pond; we're not sure, but it will be something wet.

Lyle is totally revamping the hot tub structure and will build an arbor off the back to shade an eating area. Behind the eating area will be a fire pit and built-in grill and...the piece d'resistance....

The pizza oven. Lyle has informed me that it can cook a whole pizza in FOUR minutes. Granted, I don't know how many hours it will take to get the oven up to the scorching temperatures needed to accomplish such a feat, but Lyle is extremely excited. I suppose when a husband begs for an oven, even a seven foot tall oven, you should grant him his wish.

Our lovely Rose turned 8, and true to form, the climbing rose was in full flower for her special day.

We went to Red Robin where Rose was pestered by the mascot

And sung to by the waiters

And made to feel very special.

Much to Cholita's dismay, only the birthday girl was given dessert. Cholita's begging began politely enough, but it took very little time for her to be literally down on her knees loudly pleading for a bite.

Lyle was very involved and oh-so-helpful as the battle over the sundae escalated. I felt like Elasta-Girl yelling to her husband Mr. Incredible, "Engage! Engage!"

He may fall asleep at dinner, but man, does he get stuff done. I'll keep him.

Oh, and the sunsets have been amazing.

Still to come: The Von Trapps in our attic, Rose is Electric, and Bruder goes to Japan....

All Signs Point to Spring

It's such a fabulous time of year. The flowers are blooming, the vegetable garden is thriving, birds are chirping, and The Farm Montessori had its Spring Festival. All three of my girls have attended The Farm and if they offered classes through high school, they'd all still be there. Cholita just finished her first year.

Now that she's finished with school, she has more time to help around the house which in turn gives me more work to do. But she does provide me with interesting stories to tell around the dinner table.

A mother bird has moved into Cholita's birdhouse. The girls check on her daily and she snaps her beak at them if they get too close. Lucy told me they named her Angela because it means God's messenger. As the threesome skipped outside, Rose yelled, "Isn't that perfect?" I thought it seemed rather exalted for a bird, but I guess she's as much God's messenger as anyone else.

The climbing rose is blooming. Would you believe it's a yellow rose? The red buds go through every shade of orange before they bloom yellow. It's always in its full glory just in time for our own little Rose's birthday in June, which she thinks is fitting.

The asparagus is coming up and Lyle has started his yearly chant, "I cuss, you cuss, we all cuss for ASPARAGUS!" Asparagus is a more complicated crop than any of the others we've tried and Lyle is fairly protective of it. I have to ask before I harvest anything in the asparagus bed.

Cholita has taken on the watering job. I love how she has to hold up her dress. She's the daintiest gardener I know.

She makes it look so fun that the other kids beg to have a turn.

Cho seems reluctant to share.

I planted a Nelly Moser clematis against the barn and I check on it almost as much as the girls check on the bird. The flowers are so gorgeous.

I find it amazing that with just the slightest bit of guidance, the brittle, skinny little vines twine around the trellis and grab hold.

Something about its upward climb seems encouraging and makes me happy and hopeful. I think it's the same feeling my girls get when they look at the mother bird. Maybe I'll name my clematis Angela too.

Slaves to Fashion

Today was "Fashion Disaster" day at my girls' school--at least they told me it was fashion disaster day. I didn't see any evidence of that when I dropped Lucy and Rose off this morning and saw other normally dressed children running into school as the bell rang. Hopefully my girls had their date right because otherwise they may REALLY have had a fashion disaster. Either way, at least they had each other. "You think I look weird? Check out my sister."

Cholita saw absolutely no disaster in her sisters' attire. With awe in her voice this morning she said, "Oh, you two look GORGEOUS!"

Proving that fashion is indeed a matter of taste.

Berm Baby Berm

The title of this post should be sung to the tune of the Bee Gees disco hit, Burn Baby Burn. Ours is a slightly different landscaping version. I also could have named this post, "It takes a lot of dirt to make a mountain". Oh, does it ever. When we started, we figured that we would need 2, maybe 3 yards of dirt to make a respectable mound out of this big flat triangle.

One yard fits in the bed of our truck. This took SEVEN yards!

We also wanted to move some rocks down from the top of our hill. This could not be done with human strength alone but luckily for us we have the very best type of neighbor--one with large machines who is always happy to rev them up and move big things. This morning I felt the ground shake, heard a rumble across the back lawn, and knew it was rock moving time. As I was directing our neighbor until he was over each rock, I felt like I was at the video arcade using a giant claw machine....A little to the left, a little to right, now grab that teddy bear!

You have been chosen!

The end result was worth the extra work and extra dirt. It was even worth the bulldozer tracks across the front lawn.

Rose, our Doubting Thomas, said she loved it. And if Rose likes it, we know we've done something good.

One summer yard project done. About ten to go!

Totally Called It

We have different children. I don't mean different as in strange (although that might be appropriate as well), but vastly different from each other. Anything I may have learned with Bruder, didn't apply to Lucy. The stuff I'd learned with Lucy didn't work at all with Rose, etc. etc. So the other day Lyle and I started a project. It was a big project and done spur-of-the-moment as is typically done around here. We decided we didn't like the triangle of grass in front of our house and so as soon as the kids left for school we grabbed shovels and started digging. The kids had no idea we were doing this and when it was almost time for them to come home from school Lyle and I guessed how each of our children would respond to the big change in the front yard. We agreed that Bruder wouldn't notice--possibly ever. Lucy would think it was very exciting, and Rose would be furious that we dared change anything. Cholita was home and helping us dig, so she was our partner in crime.




Bruder came home first. We still had shovels in hand and he walked right up to us and started talking about something he wanted to build in the garage. Didn't notice at all.


Next came Lucy and Rose. Lucy said, "COOL! What's your plan?" We were excitedly sharing out landscape vision when we were interrupted by wailing from inside the house. Rose burst out the front door and screamed, "Stop destroying nature! Put that grass back NOW!" Bruder sauntered by from the garage and asked what Abby was screaming about. He didn't wait for an answer and went inside.


We bribed Rose with a popsicle to get her to calm down but still couldn't coax a smile. The dog was a week-long house guest. As we were working on projects out front and out back we had doors open on both ends of the house. I was inside the kitchen when our two dogs ran by followed by the beagle, followed by Old Fatty. A few minutes later the foursome ran back through the other way. I felt like I was living in a zoo.

By evening time we'd put in topsoil and planted a Japanese Maple. Bruder came out on the porch and his jaw fell open. "Hey, didn't we used to have grass there?"

The next day as we laid out a few sparse plantings Lyle and I both realized that this bed was a bigger project than we'd envisioned. This weekend we're going to dig out the tree, haul in more dirt, build a mounded berm, replant the tree, and place some large rocks on either side. It will be gorgeous someday, I promise.

Out back we've got more dirt-moving going on. We scraped away the sand from the volleyball court and spread topsoil and grass seed. One the the primary reasons for getting rid of the volleyball court was the perpetual sandy footprints through the house. What a relief to be rid of that sand, I gleefully thought. Until I saw this....

There's always something.

We're also working on a courtyard and wildflower garden. Stay tuned for "after" pictures!

Awareness

Prostate Cancer Awareness Month, AIDS Awareness Month, World Heart Week, High Blood Pressure Month, Brain Tumor Action Week, National Stuttering Awareness Week.... If there's a medical condition or disability, chances are it has its week or month in the sun. And deserves it. But there's something more widespread than AIDS and more prevalent than any one cancer, and yet it gets just 24 hours. One day to educate people about a chronic liver disease that affects 1 out of every 12 men, women, and children across the globe. On May 19th it's World Hepatitis Day.

There's a small alphabet of different hepatitis viruses out there. Probably the one most people think of is Hepatitis A, a fairly common food borne virus that generally tends to be mild and doesn't lead to chronic illness. It's not even included in the one out of 12 number. World Hepatitis Day is highlighting those who live with chronic Hepatitis B or C. Although different viruses, both can lead to cirrhosis of the liver or liver cancer. Both are blood borne and commonly passed through used needles, sex, and from mother to child in the birth process. Hepatitis B and C are not sneezed or coughed onto someone. They're not passed through toilet seats or doorknobs. An infected person's blood has to get into the blood stream of another person. In the case of Hepatitis B, that other person, especially if they're under age 21, would likely be immunized.

One out of 12 is a huge number. It's a number that's often ignored because in most cases you'd never guess a person has hepatitis. If you think you've never met someone with chronic hepatitis, you're wrong. They're athletes, businessmen, mothers, fathers, children. They look fine. They often feel fine. They may live for decades completely unaware that a virus has taken up residence in their liver cells. The yellow eyes and bulging abdomen that people think of when they picture hepatitis happen only at the end. Seventy-five percent of people with Hepatitis B will thankfully never get to that point. They'll live long healthy lives and die of something completely unrelated to their hepatitis. That's wonderful news. But upwards of 25% may die of liver failure or liver cancer and that's far too many. The amount of research though is small. A drop in the bucket really. In this country, with an effective immunization readily available and required for all school-age children, Hepatitis B is considered a non-issue. Why spend money on something you can prevent from happening in the first place? A valid point. But what about those already living with it? It's near pandemic proportions in poor areas of Asia where mother to child transmissions are common. Yet those areas with the greatest need for a cure have the fewest resources to make it happen.

I adore a person who happens to be "one out of 12". She's smart and beautiful and active. She loves red shoes and dress up clothes and she has a virus that's scarring her liver. She is our baby and she's been a brave fighter since the day she was found as a 4 and a half pound infant in southern China. She fought to gain weight and be heard in a crowded orphanage. She was brave when she was shuffled from orphanage to foster home, back to orphanage, and then handed to people unlike any she'd ever seen before. She was brave for her liver biopsy at age 2 and only requested a red popsicle and balloon in exchange for her hospital trip. And she continues to be brave now on week fourteen of a difficult year-long treatment. She's been amazing, tolerating anywhere from 2-5 needle jabs per week either to draw blood or inject medication. Her carry-on to Mexico contained syringes, a sharps container, and a cooler of medication. Hepatitis B is a tenacious virus that doesn't go down without a fight, but there's nothing it can teach our daughter about tenacity. This is a girl who already plans to wear fancy shoes and eat lots of cake at her wedding someday and we're confident that she'll do it. And we're determined that she'll still be wearing fancy shoes and eating lots of cake at her daughter's and granddaughter's weddings too--although she may be a bit heavier and wearing more practical shoes after all those years of cake-eating!

Frankly I'm as "aware" of hepatitis as I ever hope to be. But in this time of world awareness, my hope is that the stigma and myth of hepatitis as a uncommon disease of the "fringe populations" is dispelled. This virus doesn't care if a person is gay or straight, IV drug user or preschooler. If a person has a liver, there's a hepatitis virus that would love to meet them. My daughter doesn't "have" to tell anyone about her hepatitis. Her doctor has given her free reign to participate in all normal childhood activities without any need for disclosure. We knew about our daughter's disease before we adopted her, but it's something we've never openly talked about because it's her story, not ours. Our daughter is chatty though. She said a prayer in her church primary class and asked for a blessing on her liver. She sometimes talks about her medications or her blood draws. How can we expect a three-year-old never to mention something that's so much a part of her life? But we'd hate for her to think our silence equals shame. She hasn't a single thing to be ashamed of and she fills us with pride and joy. For her, everyday is Hepatitis Awareness Day. For the rest of us, I pray that researchers can find a cure to this disease, that people will know they can hug and kiss our daughter without concern, that everyone (especially pointing a finger at China) will immunize their children, and most of all that our darling girl will someday wear fancy shoes and eat lots of cake at her wedding.

Our future son-in-law, the gobbler

As the ending credits rolled on "Barbie: The Twelve Dancing Princesses", my little girls dipped and twirled and had the following conversation:

Rose: I know Genevieve liked the pauper, but I still would have waited for a prince.

Cholita: Yeah, me too.

Rose: But I guess he wasn't really a pauper, he was the royal cobbler.

Cholita: The royal gobbler?

Rose: No, the royal cobbler. He makes fancy shoes.

Cholita: Oh, I would like that.