4 o'clocks

I had an amazing experience this morning (late morning, not early...).

Let me start at the beginning.  Towards the beginning of this past spring, probably a month after my last post, I decided to plant some 4 o'clocks.  They are like little mini flower bushes.  Supposedly they like to bloom at 4 o'clock.  Anyway, I decided to take the risk of planting using seeds rather than a little plant purchased at the local Walmart. I've noticed that plants I buy end up dying.  I'm afraid I'm a lack luster gardener.  Due to my negligence many a plant has died. If we can understand plants in the next life, I'm sure that they will have a lot to say about Meridy, the plant killer. {My great Aunt Claire used to be afraid that the snakes would come after her in the next life, calling for blood.  I think about her often after I've killed some bug, or plant, etc. I hope the snakes in the heaven are treating her well regardless.}So I figured if I bought some seeds and planted them.  The tough plants would live and grow and survive. The little flowers would grow up in native soil and would not require any shock therapy.

So I bought a packed of seeds that claimed they were easy to grow, which turned out to be somewhat true.  I have never grown 4 o'clocks before.  The packet seemed to have somewhat substantial seeds in it.  I was excited to see what they looked like.  They looked kind of  like a whole spice you would find in a little jar.  I was going to say like cloves, but I just looked it up and these little seeds look nothing like cloves. Maybe like cute little acorns?  Anyway, the point being, I thought they looked cute and was excited to plant them. I did my best to follow the directions.

I had to go on faith that they would grow.  I put them in the ground, gave them extra water, and then trusted our irrigation watering system to help me out.  I actually watered them myself also very faithfully in the beginning.  I doubted some days if they would ever pop up.  Eventually a half a week late some of them started popping up.  They began to thrive.  I attempted to plant more in the tier above them, but that failed completely.  This saddened me, but I continued to be happy that at least the first batch turned out pretty well after all and that the yard looked a little nicer because of it.

The flowers caused me joy and disappointment. The came up in different colors.  Some yellow, some white, some dark pink, and these particularly pretty ones that were white with dark pink speckles.  I felt so happy that they survived, that they were doing well, and that they were taking care of themselves and therefore would not die due to my negligence.  Then I became disappointed in them.  Suddenly they weren't good enough anymore.  They were never in bloom when I happened to notice them.  I became detached.

Then this morning, I went outside with Josie, because she was bored and needed something to do.  And for some unknown reason I decided to go look at the 4 o'clocks with her.  From a distance I noticed that some of the flowers had gone through their process of life and crumbling away and  that new flowers were blooming.  As I looked closer I noticed that where the old flower had passed away, lay those little tiny acorn seeds cupped in tiny leaves just waiting to drop.  I just felt this sense of joy.  I went into the house to get a little baggy to collect a few of the seeds to plant new locations later.  As I collected the seeds I noticed a sweet scent in the air..it was probably the rose bush, but it went well the the flowers and added to the experience.  I just kept feeling this sense of pride, and power, and accomplishment.  I planted those seeds, they grew into something beautiful, (some of the flowers were open, or "in bloom" as I was saying above) and now they were perpetuating themselves.  I was able to now collect more seeds from all of the colors to spread throughout the world! It gave me perhaps a little snap shot into what God might experience as He creates, sets things in motion, and watches them grow.  He lets us experience life, grow strong and beautiful, even if we neglect to notice the beauty, it is there. Then He must feel great joy as we and the creatures of the world continue His joy by spreading it.  He must feel joy as we find this connection to Him, by planting a garden, creating an art piece, learning a lesson taught to us by our own children.

Fake Cinnamon & Foxy Lettuce

Imagine if someone asked you the following question: "Do you think lettuce is foxy?" How would you respond?

Well this is a question I asked Nate a few days ago. The question seemed quite odd to him. "Um......no." he responded incredulously. Why did I ask him such an outlandish question? Because the lettuce I purchased is "Foxy" brand lettuce and it suddenly occurred to me that foxes have nothing to do with lettuce in the wild. Why use such a mascot or brand name for vegetables? Personally I think that Foxy Chicken makes much more sense. Or if foxes used vegetables to capture rabbits in the wild I supposed it would make more sense as a brand name for veggies. What say you?

This reminds me of another amusing anecdote. When last I visited my parent's house, I happily snacked on a cereal that looked and tasted like little churro bites. Pretty Yummy. While I poured myself a bowl I noticed that the box boasted, "Made with real cinnamon!" While I enjoyed my cereal, I thought about their claim. I wondered to myself, "If all they can boast is real cinnamon, then what is the rest of the cereal made of??" Disturbing question. Then an even more disturbing question came to mind, "What in heaven's name, pray tell, is fake cinnamon??" I mean if a cereal company can boast REAL cinnamon, it in turn seems logical that there must be fake cinnamon.

Does anyone out there have any thoughts on these perplexing questions?

Eight

Today Nate and I have been married for eight years....

.....and the baby just woke up. So, this post may or may not get finished.

The point is: I love you Nate. Happy Anniversary. :)

Spilled Milk

{Now you may be thinking, she hasn't typed anything for MONTHS and now she chooses to type about spilled milk? Why yes, yes I do. Something happened this morning to finally make me post it, I've thought about posting about spilled milk on various occasions, but haven't done it until now.

I had a little personal crisis in the summer that carried over for a little while, but I'm doing much better now. Everyone else is doing well except for the fact that we have colds. But between the crisis and the new baby who is now NINE months (can't believe it!), it's been hard to type.}

I have decided I hate the saying, "No use crying over spilled milk." Wait let me back up.

Last night was one of the worst nights ever. It was difficult to get Josie to bed. I finally gave up trying to get her to sleep in our bed, and I went to rock her. She threw up all over the floor. Thankfully it was the concrete floor and not the carpet. After cleaning up that little incident, I finally got Josie to sleep, and then she and I went to sleep in my bed for a little while. But, Josie tossed and turned in our bed after an about hour or two. Then...she threw up in it. Yuck is all that need be said. Then she tossed and turned for the rest of the night. I dragged myself out of bed this morning and found out Will got some poop on the outside potty. (Sorry that is also yuck, but very true and adds to the drama of the story.) So I had to clean that up. We were late getting Ellie to school because I was so tired from the turmoil in my bed, so Ellie got cookies and milk for breakfast. As she ate, I frantically fixed her hair. And while I was securing the ponytail holder, I slightly (and really I mean slightly) bumped the lightweight plastic green cup containing the milk. Milk spilled EVERYWHERE. On the table, on the floor, on the chair, in between the rungs on the back of the chair, and on the legs of the table.

Ever notice how no one ever says, "No use crying over spilled water"? If you sop up the water and the floor is a little damp, no big deal. It will dry. Life continues on. You spill milk on the floor and you have to sop up the milk, then you have wash the floor with soap and water, then you have to do it AGAIN because for crying out loud it's STILL sticky!!!! And if you do not complete this arduous process your kitchen will STINK and be sticky.

Frankly I don't care if there is no use crying over it, I'm going to cry, and rant, and rave because I don't care! Spilled milk is WORTHY of it. That's what it gets. That's what everyone else in the room gets who is NOT helping to clean it up.

So....then later on I was finally able to get my breakfast, I put down JoJo in her little seat that attaches to the counter and guess what was in front of her unbeknownst to me. Yep a little plastic cup of milk. And yes, she dumped it all over the floor. Fortunately for those around me at that time, I thought it was so over the top that, I didn't not cry or rave. I just ranted a little.

Oh yeah, and now there are tortilla chips on the floor. "Josie" apparently spilled them. My money is on Will.